The email address was unknown to us, yet there was something familiar about it, and so with trepidation, we opened the message and rejoiced that it wasn’t someone trying to take over the controls of my laptop.
Instead of bad news, it was a moment of unexpected joy. The sender was a friend made many years ago while we were immersed in the everyday events of an inter-provincial organization related to fairs and exhibitions.
It had been several years since we last connected with our friend Dianne, but when we found out she and some of her family members were planning to visit Moose Jaw, we did not hesitate when she invited us to meet her for coffee the following week.
Over the years we’ve driven through Virden, Man. while enroute to somewhere else and we always said to each other: “We should give Dianne a call.” To our shame, we stopped only for gasoline and a snack or two to keep Housemate engaged in the trip until we arrived at our destination.
A Christmas card and letter always made their way here from Virden, and we reciprocated and kept in touch that way — until the most recent Canada Post strike, when I thought about sending Easter greetings instead of Christmas cards. It turns out Dianne had the same thought, but we both failed in our plan.
I remember well the first time we met Dianne. She was the secretary-treasurer of the Virden Agricultural Society, and I was employed by Western Canada Fairs and during the summer visited as many member fairs as we could work into our summer schedule.
Upon reading about her fair, we were impressed by the number of heavy horse entries that were anticipated. We exchanged fax messages to arrange to meet on the second evening of her fair. We were to go to the locker room area of the hockey arena.
We suspected she might be in one of the coaches’ offices or maybe the referee and linesmen’s dressing room.
Nope, there sat a woman on a bench in front of some lockers. She was surrounded by file folders and banker’s boxes. A telephone, I believe, had been connected for her. One look and I knew we would be friends forever, she in her controlled chaos, and I operating in the same way back at home.
I eventually convinced her that Virden should take its turn at being on the Western Canada Fairs executive and eventually being president for a year. She had excuses for not getting that involved, but she was pleasantly overruled by other WCF delegates from Manitoba.
Dianne managed the presidency with dignity and a lot of fun. That year, the Canadian conference was held in London, Ont., and the three of us headed east to mix and mingle.
That trip was one of the first memories we dredged up while sitting at a corner table in the Casino Moose Jaw cafe. We talked about the jousting competition we watched one evening, and then she asked Housemate the pertinent question: “Do you still take the silverware home in your pocket?”
We laughed at that memory, but Housemate assured her he tried not to do that any more, that his guilt in London was a one-time set of circumstances.
Our visit was over much too soon, but we promised to stay in touch, and she made sure we had her present address and her phone number. I had already put her mobile phone number into my device.
Who knows when we will visit again, but it is so much fun to have friends who can pick up a conversation after being apart for so many years. Thanks for not forgetting us, Dianne.
Joyce Walter can be reached at [email protected]
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.
