Travel tales: Maritime memories v2.0

     

     In anticipation of another day of "travelling back to yesteryear," our chauffeur, niece Joan, appeared right on time. 

     Collecting us and our luggage, we left the Amsterdam Inn, making our way out of the city. 

     We decided to travel a quiet, country road leading to my home village of Salisbury, a route I had travelled many times during my youthful days. 

     I soon became aware just how little this area had changed. Motoring past farm homes of people I once knew, I couldn't help but wonder their whereabouts, and what life had brought to them. 

     Enjoying the peaceful drive and the morning sunshine, our eyes suddenly spotted a huge field of bright, yellow, sunflower faces.

     Joan willingly pulled to the side of the road, so the girls could capture this "feast for our eyes," on film. 

     

     To the community of my childhood, and, another trek down memory lane to show Karen and Debi the elementary school I attended, now converted to a residence; my little country church; nearby the site of our community ice rink; a visit to their grandparents' (Eagles and Estabrooks), gravesides. 

     Also, the location of my home where I was born, now a part of a highway expansion that includes a large, restaurant service station called, Irving's Big Stop. 

     

     We decided it was a good time to pause here for refreshment. While having lunch at the restaurant, I looked out across to the field where my home once stood. 

     During a few moments of reflection, I tried to remember my early days there as a child, envisioning my hopes and dreams. I realize this part of my early history laid the foundation of who I am today. 

     While the landscape of our lives keep changing, to recreate the magic and moments of by-gone times, just cannot happen.  

     

     The modest village of Salisbury had been the centre of my growing-up years.  

     Memories etched in my heart; grocery shopping with my parents as a young child, meanwhile, delightfully distracted by the assortment of penny candy, along with the sights and smells of Colpitts' country store; curiously watching the local blacksmith fit farm horses with new shoes; meeting teenaged friends to take in a Saturday night movie at the community hall; my high school days here; and years later, married in the village church. 

     Now, meandering along these same streets with my daughters, I see the many changes the passing of years always bring. 

     

     And yet, there are some things that never change, like the good 'ole down-east' welcome I always receive. 

     The hot afternoon sun reminded us that a cold treat at the nearby ice cream stand would be just what we needed. 

     
     Engaging in conversation with an amiable group of ladies who were parked on a bench — enjoying their ice cream under the shade of the elm trees — I was surprised to learn that one was the wife of Floyd, my fellow classmate at elementary school. 

     

     It was time to end our exploring for the day, and so we were off to Portage Vale and Joan's home for the night. 

     En route, a surprise stop — a quick "hello" to Brent, Joan's son, for a hug and to tour the lovely home he had recently built. 

     As Lloyd greeted us on their shady verandah, we were soon relaxing in the coolness of the late afternoon — a glass of lemonade in hand. In those peaceful moments, we became absorbed with the panorama before us — soft, rolling hills and green countryside, their lovely, picturesque farm spread out before our eyes. 

     

     After Joan's delicious supper and an evening of great conversation, we felt, indeed blessed. 

     
     Upstairs we traipsed, and laid our tired heads upon our pillows, in the quaint rooms of this delightful homestead. 

     We were delighted to hear next morning that our breakfast was to be at the Taste and See cafe at Sussex Corner. We knew that our day was off to a great start. 

     Joan and Lloyd's son Stephen, just happens to be the mayor of the town, and their daughter-in-law Janice (Stephen's wife), along with Joanne Barton, own and operate this cafe, together.

     It has quite a charming atmosphere, advertised as a place where the owners want you to see that "the Lord is good and the food is good." 

     A chalkboard hangs, where patrons can write inspirational quotes or words of wisdom. Known for their organic coffee and gluten-free muffins, I was impressed to see handwritten words of encouragement on every takeout coffee cup holder. 

     

     A "Keeping it Holy" sign on the door explaining their Sunday closure, and a cowbell that satisfied customers can ring as they leave, were just a few of the unique touches. 

     

     Goodbye hugs among the cousins, and our blessings for their continuing success, we moved into our day. A motor trip to Fredericton awaited us, with Gerry once more at the helm. 

     Her son and daughter-in-law, Mike and Anne-Marie, welcomed us to their lovely home at Upper Kingsclear, a few miles beyond the city. 

     

     How we enjoyed Anne-Marie's delicious lunch she served  on their patio, along with lots of love and gracious hospitality. Rodney, another of the girl's cousins they hadn't yet met, dropped by on his lunch break, adding to the delight of it all!   

     Fredericton is the city where I attended Teacher's College as a fetching, young lass. 

     Memories of those exciting days drew me back in time, as we drove along the street, Waterloo Row, searching for No. 216. The changes over the years, made it difficult to find the exact, immense Victorian-style home that housed me and a dozen or so other university students. 

     

     But, I like to think the hilarious shouts of laughter that resounded from one of those upstairs bedrooms — as we prepared for our fall masquerade — is still echoing down the corridors of time.  

     

     While walking the streets, we came upon the New Brunswick Sports Hall of Fame, a museum located in the heart of downtown Fredericton. 

  

     We were proud to find, among their considerable portrait collection, former professional ice hockey player Mike Eagles, who's residence we had just bid farewell to.

More stories to come... 

I'm not yet finished with "tales of a town" — Fredericton.  




— beulah