On nights when sleep eludes me, I walk along the streets of Elrose, remembering the days of my long lost youth. This seems more interesting than counting sheep. In these pensive moods I can see every store and every home, even some of the dear and gentle people within. Would you like to come and walk with me? Perhaps we should begin our walk at the north end of town at the Canadian National Railway station, an interesting place because it housed both a railroad station office and the living quarters of the Mason family, with four bedrooms upstairs. Some of the village housewives rather envied the perks the Masons received from the railroad company: free rent, free coal, wood, electricity and ice, railroad passes that led their family on wonderful train adventures --
but most important, free water delivered by train three times a week. Water being so expensive, this seemed the height of luxury. Other families had to buy their water. This water had to be hauled form a spring six miles from town. In mind's eye I can still see jolly Orme Atwell, who brought water into town in a great vat in a horse-drawn wagon. This water was sold from door to door for five cents a pail, and used as sparingly as possible. Water was a precious commodity, and tubs were placed at the downspouts of each home to collect every drop of rain that might fall. My walk continues past the Case garage, and on to Moon Chow's Liberty Cafe. Moon Chow would have some interesting stories to tell me about his family in China in his sing-song Chinese American accent. He had left his impoverished homeland to support his family with no hope of ever seeing them again. It was sufficient for him to know that he was caring for his wife and children with his checks each month. One year he proudly announced that he had a new son, and a few years later another arrived. At six years of age this did not pose any problem for me, but later on I began to wonder. It would seem that the Chinese are so eager for sons to carry on their name that details are insignificant. He was proud that his wife had more sons to care for her. Moon Chow never took part in any community activities and I used to think his life must have been lonely indeed. We always welcomed him to our home, but his visits were rare and brief. However, at Christmas time, he would come with marvelous gifts. How we children enjoyed him and he was always so happy to see us when we came in to his cafe. He had become such a beloved member of the village that when he died in the 1950s they wanted to have a funeral for him and bury him in the village graveyard. However, Chinese friends arrived and took him to be buried elsewhere in a Chinese cemetery.

Now I come to Mundt's Confectionery; why, the very word confectionery would make me want to stop. As a child I spent much time viewing all those marvelous treats stored in glass jars in the long counter, my nose pressed against the glass, a nickel in my pocket. Mrs. Mundt was one of the village characters, interested in everything, always up on the latest village news, and eager to pass it on. She was very involved in church and community projects, a willing and cheerful worker. She loved to go to the city but since they did not have a car she had a bag packed always in case someone might be driving up, and invite her to go along. She would not keep them waiting. She brought back all the latest fashions and ideas. I remember her coming to our home and having mother help her make a pair of satin pajamas for her daughter Helen. They were planning a "pajama party," the first in Elrose, and it was to be quite an affair. Later they would be called slumber parties, but I still think the original name best. As well as having the first bakery in Elrose, Mundts had the first boarding house; teachers and bank staff would stay with them. Often as we passed we could hear them singing around the piano; it seemed a happy place. When the Mundts moved to Turtleford in 1934, they were missed. Their young people, Dorothy, Helen and Weir were part of the young circle. Our brother would miss his friend Weir.

The Hunt-Graber Garage was a busy place with its gas pumps, repair shop, car dealership, and business office. This was considered the most successful business in town. Always dressed in fine suits and driving new cars, Mr. Graber and Mr. Hunt seemed too important to be bothered with a six year old, full of questions, so I would pass on. But many years later I found them to be such warm and friendly persons.

Next door I see the telephone office with Mrs. Claridge on duty. All those telephone lines and slots seemed a great mystery to us. (Later Mrs. Claridge would retire and the telephone equipment was moved to the other end of town, next to the Hillman home, where Irene Atwell would be the one to say, "Number please.") Earl Olson had a barbershop in this Claridge Block.

Next came the McKellar Brothers store, a partnership of George and Dick McKellar. A few years later Roy Hunter would take over this business and still later the Croskerys became the owners. I remember it as a large store filled with wonderful things. Today it is the Senior Centre and grey-haired persons who as children used to love to go there with their parents, now go to reminisce about the good old days, play cards and bingo. They have come full circle. I think the McKellars would be pleased to know their store is being used for such a useful purpose.

The Royal Bank was an awesome red brick building with the family quarters on the second floor. One day I ventured inside the bank and found I as not tall enough to see the clerks behind the wickets. It seemed a gloomy, dark, solemn place and I quickly scurried out the heavy wooden doors back into the sunshine. The Baxters were the first bank family that I remember, then the Fairmans came with two lovely daughters near my age who became good friends. In 1939, Mr. Walker became the new bank manager and they lived in the apartment above the bank. One night, when I was twelve, I was "baby-sitting" the young Walker children. All went well until the children were tucked into bed and all was quiet. Strange noises came from below, and I was convinced that someone was robbing the bank. It was such a scary evening that I never had the courage to go back.

The fire hall and town jail came next, with its friendly, happy caretaker, Watt McKay. Watt's life was rather a mystery. Born in England, he had suffered from shell shock during the first world war. According to legend his parents sent him to Canada, perhaps to get him out of the way. When he arrived in Elrose there was no job available for him, so the town fathers let him live in the fire hall, free. He never found steady work, but occasionally did small jobs at the hotel. It was said that he lived on remittance money from his parents, and a small war pension. It was a meager living for him there in the fire hall, but never did you see a happier man. He seemed content with his lot, visited with everyone who passed by, and took great pride in ringing the fire bell when the occasional fire broke out. An accomplished pianist, he would walk to Rosetown from time to time to play the organ. One Christmas we invited him for dinner, and he was overjoyed with all our Christmas excitement and a good home-cooked meal.

Mr. Hoegi's store always seemed a little special with its poplar trees in front, giving refreshing shade on hot summer days. He seemed to be a confirmed bachelor, but when a pretty nurse came to Elrose he courted and married her to the dismay of all the younger men in town who never had a chance. Edna Smith is working in the store, and she gives me a smile and a wave as I pass.

The sunshine on Swallem's garage gives a dazzling display, for shiny pieces of glass are embedded in the stucco, a modern innovation. This type of finish never became too popular, possibly because we young people couldn't resist pulling off the glass pieces. The showroom usually displayed one or two of the new cars, but business was not good so the Swallems soon moved away.

Our wonderful town hall came next, our entertainment centre. Dances and concerts were held here. Occasionally a movie came to town, and it would be the highlight of the month. The pictures were always old, the film would split and we would wait long minutes while it was being repaired. The girls loved the Shirley temple movies, the boys flocked to Tom Mix and cowboy adventures, and the older ones enjoyed the "Thin Man," "Charlie Chaplin," and "Charlie Chan" series. During the depression years, when we had to provide our own entertainment, we had community concerts. Each district would have four wonderful extravaganzas each year. Remarkable talent was discovered with plays, musical numbers, bands and folk dances. Afterwards, lunch was served, a fitting ending for a special evening. One could expect lots of egg sandwiches, for hens were plentiful. But there were usually cakes as well, and with lots of coffee and the evening ending on a happy note. In the upper rooms of the hall, the Masons and Eastern Star had their lodge rooms. These rooms were always a mystery to us for we were never allowed up there. It was a temptation to sneak up there unnoticed, but I never had the courage.

Now I will cross the street to the Pool Room and walk back on the other side of this business district. The proprietor, Mr. Fisher, was often in front, playing his "bones." It was a strange musical instrument, real bones, that he would click together in good rhythm. He enjoyed it immensely, which was good for he had little to be happy about as times were hard. The Fisher family moved from Elrose in the thirties, and I would like to think that life was better for them elsewhere.

Mr. Borkowski, the shoemaker is busy resoling a shoe. There are few things more fascinating than watching a shoemaker fashion a shoe surrounded by the lovely aroma of leather and polish. As I sit and watch him, while he is tap-tapping on the sole he tells me, proudly, that his daughter Elsie is going to become a nun. Since she is his only daughter, I realize that he will never have grandchildren. But I won't mention this to him.

Next door was Stewart's Tailor Shop. How difficult it must have been for him to make a living during those years for few people bought new suits. Mrs. Stewart had been a professional singer in United States in her youth, and was always called upon to sing at any concert in the town hall. At first her singing was lovely, but as the years passed her voice became quavery, and she was unable to reach the high notes. It became agonizing for the audience. But how could one stop asking her when she was so willing? One day the thought occurred to her that since she had been a professional singer, she should charge for her solos. This provided the perfect out. Of course there were no funds for a fee. They thanked her kindly for her past performances, and blissfully that was the end of that.

Oscar Jack's Drug store was the smallest building in town, but then Oscar was the smallest man in the village, so it was fitting. You cannot imagine the amount of drugs, cosmetics, and candy that he was able to display in that small space. Some of the young girls would steal candy and cosmetics, and I could never believe how they had the nerve. I never even thought of if, for I could imagine wrath of my father and the disappointed look on my mother's face. I bought all my candy.

Bolger's Meat Market always had a fine display of meat. The sawdust on the floor was delightful to walk through. Sometimes when we went in he would give us a wiener, and we would eat it raw with great relish.

Then came Herr's Garage. Mr. Herr wore an ugly wig, and sometimes it would be all askew, to our merriment. It was always interesting to check it out each day, and I am grateful to know he never knew of our amusement. The Hotel on the next corner would provide a long stop, for something interesting was always happening. The Sherm Atwells were the owners now after the Myers moved away, and their son, Ken, was a good friend. He had a new bicycle, one that made our old and battered bike seem obsolete. Often he would let me ride it, and it was good fun. Mrs. Atwell was a bubbly, friendly person. She put on the best parties in town, always having some novel idea for a theme. She kept a scrap book of Elrose events that I would love to see. Their daughter, Marilyn, has it now and I'm sure she knows what a collector's item it is. Doug Fraser was one of the bachelors who lived a pleasant life in the hotel. As the Federal Elevator agent, he enjoyed going home at night to a delicious meal in the hotel dining room and then joining some of his cronies in the rotunda for a bridge game. But other bachelors had a different story to tell, those who lived on remote farms in the windswept prairies. Too far from the village to join the other farmers for Saturday shopping and visiting, they would stock up on enough provisions to last the winter. What a lonesome life they led on those winter months with the blizzards banking snow against their primitive shacks. Before the days of drop-in centres, and senior citizen activities, with no near neighbours to visit, they lived a lonesome life without even a radio. Their only entertainment was playing solitaire or reading western novels in their humble bachelor quarters.

One lonely old bachelor, after an especially hard winter, came to town in the spring with a shotgun. The endless cold and solitude had sent him quite mad! He went down Main Street knocking windowpanes out of business places. He caused quite a bit of havoc before one brave soul, Mr. Lucas, relieved him of his gun. He was taken to the Mental Asylum in Battleford and never returned. Life was hard on persons living alone, with no one there to share their joys and sorrows.

Another bachelor we all enjoyed was Bill Grogan who lived a mile down the tracks, close enough to walk to town frequently. Bill had come from "the States," where he had an interesting career as an umpire, even working at professional games. He continued to do this in Elrose, and was called up on for all the neighbouring sports days. He was known as a fair and highly respected "ump." Perhaps it was the lure of homestead land that brought him to Elrose. He had a small farm a mile east of us, near the dam. He farmed with horses long after everyone else had gone to tractors. His love of horses was as strong as his love for all things western: and he loved to tell us cowboy stories when he came to visit. Near him was a dam, which we called "Grogan's Dam." Dams such as Grogan's and the Government Dam were a constant fascination to the young boys in town, and a constant worry to parents. Ignoring all pleas from mothers to stay away from them, young persons could not resist the lure of these exciting places. One year, Hector Fortier, Doug Graber, Leslie Mason and Lorne and Art Hillman ventured off to one of the forbidden places, the Government dam. Before long, Leslie fell in. Not able to swim he cried loudly for help. Lorne and Art Hillman were much too small to be of any assistance, but when they heard his anguished cries, they prayed. Leslie always gave as much credit to the Hillman prayers as to the brave older boys who pulled him out by his hair.

The Carolyn Cafe! What marvelous memories it conjures up: meeting with our high school group after skating, hot chocolate and raised donuts, ice cream on hot days. The men enjoyed Jack's delicious Denver sandwiches, served with his usual flair. But you were also welcome when you didn't have a cent to spend and just wanted to sit in a booth chatting with your school chums. Young people coming home from college for the holidays, service men on leave all gathered here to join their friends. It had all begun when Carrie Maines had a dream. Why not open a coffee shop in Jack's Barber Shop? And why not have a Ladies Beauty Shop in the back? She was able to work it all out and it was a marvelous success. How she was able to wear all those hats is a mystery: manager, cook, beauty operator, bookkeeper. Amazing!

The Baldwin block came next. Although the Baldwin family had moved to Saskatoon, the building still kept that name. Some friends lived in the apartment above the Baldwin's shop. I felt so brave as I climbed up all those stairs to their home, it seemed to me that they were living almost in the sky.

Next door, the Duxbury's Hardware store with shiny copper boilers, pots and pans hanging on the wall that were a fascination to me. I will wave at Stafford and go on to the Elrose Review Office. The owner, Mr. Lester, was a stern, melancholy figure, and I was greatly in awe of him. I never once stepped into his office, but our dad always said that he published a fine paper. The Elrose news was well written and interesting. However, some of the local items submitted from the nearby communities were rather amusing.  When news was scarce they wrote of neighbourhood visits, who bought a new car, who went up to the city for a day. Certainly not earth-shattering news.

And now we have finished our walk down Elrose main street. But another night I might venture farther on to the residential district. There were special homes that I loved to visit. As I pass the Daw home in my reverie I think of the many pleasant hours spent there. Mrs. Daw became our Canadian Girls in Training (C.G.I.T.) leader, and what marvelous memories come rushing back about those evenings. It was a United Church affiliated club; we wore middy blouses, navy skirts, and thought we looked terribly smart. We met at the Daw home for singing, projects and Mrs. Daw's marvelous lessons. She told us fascinating stories of life outside our little village, and broadened our horizons. It was a camaraderie that none of us would ever forget.

The next house is the McCarrons and I remember her lovely welcoming smiles. She introduced me to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a wonderful treat on the way home from school.

As I pass the Hillman home I think of pleasant times with them. If you stopped in the morning she might be making an apple pie. She would simply dazzle us by peeling an apple with no breaks. We would watch in wonder as that lovely red peel became longer and longer, and oh the joy of eating them afterwards. If you should drop in in the evening you would find her children all sitting around the big dining room table doing homework. They would be busy with pencils and pens for homework, and scissors and paste made of flour and water for art projects. Mrs. Hillman was determined her children would have a good education. The Hillman home was visited by all the young people on Hallowe'en for she made the best rice krispie balls in the village. The tent in their yard was the envy of all the town boys. The Hillman boys slept there under the stars on summer nights. Why this seemed almost as wonderful as camping! In the daytime the tent became rather a club house and it was a great place to gather and hear Gerald play his horn. My brother has fond memories of Gerald letting him play the horn, and it was probably this experience that made him a good trumpet player later on. There were many other friendly homes to pass by on my walk down memory lane, but after all my walking and visiting, I find myself nodding my way to slumber land.