I was at a Kwantlen gathering and they were describing the Fraser River like a mother and how it must be treated with respect.
We see that at this time of year when the water reminds us that the river banks and dykes are man’s boundaries, not the river’s. It will go where it pleases.
My parents used to tell the story of coming to Langley in the winter of 1947.
“We wanted to escape the snow, cold and drought but we had never seen so much rain and mud in all our lives,” Mom would tell us.
They came west with three small children and my Grandma to purchase a dairy farm and settle on the coast.
“In January of 1948, we went to look at a farm on River Road just east of 272nd, Street in Glen Valley,” Mom recalled.
“When we got there, John and his Mom walked right past the weathered farm house and went to check out the barn, the fences and the fields. They didn’t even seem to notice the ankle-deep mud or the poor shape the house was in. For Dad, it was about the barn and the animals.”
Inside the old house was worse. “Paint and wall paper were peeling, linoleum was worn through, there was an old wood cook stove and an ice box and the bedrooms were dirty and drafty.
“I was in tears.
“When I pointed out what a mess the place was, Grandma, who had 11 children, said, “Nothing that hot soapy water and a can of paint can’t fix.”
As it was, they couldn’t afford the property so Grandma bought a little house and Dad went to work as a hand on a large dairy farm on Livingstone Road.
“In May we heard about the sandbagging and evacuations and Dad went out to help move other farmers’ livestock from the rising river. Then the river crested in one of the worst floods in many years.”
“We drove out one day to the top of the hill and looked at the flood and realized that the farm we had looked at was gone, the house and barn weren’t even visible.
“I thanked God for sparing us this tragedy and I said a prayer for the family that had lost everything. I just remember the frustration of all those hardworking men who could do nothing to stop the damage.”
We are drawn to the peace and serenity of water and the quiet and isolation of the forest and what great locations those are to build a retirement home or a summer spot.
But sitting smugly, high and dry in my residential neighbourhood, I can speculate that if someone builds on a river bank, in the middle of a coniferous forest or on top of an active volcano, they should be prepared to have to evacuate once in a while.
When it comes to man and nature, we are just in the way.
At least that’s what McGregor says.
