Be My Guest

In a house that no longer exists, near the end of World War II, my grandparents started keeping a guestbook. Even though they had been married for nearly 30 years and had ived in many houses in tiny prairie towns where my grandfather worked as a banker, the first entry in their book on December 25 1944 reads:

EDMONTON
10226 122 STREET

The first guest was Dorothy Mortwedt, a member of the family my grandmother's parents first met when they homesteaded in the Peace Country decades earlier. Her name is followed by the names of people who live on in my memory and in the stories I was told. My mom's high school friend Betty Murphy. Margaret Watt whose parents built the farmhouse where my grandparents later retired and my cousin Peter now lives.  Rowe Harris who married Margaret Watt sometime later-their married names reappear a few years later. Myrtle Melsness who writes "Who do you see more often?" Jean Mackie. The names of people who had come to the city from the north or from small towns where my grandparents once lived to shop or visit or receive medical care. Neighbours from just across the street. Soldiers stationed far from home during World War II.

By April of 1945, my grandfather was promoted to manager of the Highlands branch of the bank and they moved to 11215 68 Street in Edmonton's Highlands district. More names, like the Ingledews and the Dunbars from Halcourt, Pete McNaughton who "stayed the longest" according to his entry. The Hellers and the Funnells- more people i vaguely recall from my childhood. In a child's writing, Garner King's name appears. His mother was an old horseback riding friend of my grandmother. My uncle Sam's name first appears in 1946. 

Dinner parties, New Year's parties, Thanksgiving dinners, anniversaries. An entry from an engagement party where my mom's  friend wrote, "Evelyn Krantz- but not for long!"  An international dinner featuring Chicken Chow Mein and Crepes Suzette where the guests commented in French.  Visitors from Alberta and BC, but also exotic places like Nova Scotia and New York City and Jamaica and Seoul, Korea. 

In June 1952, there's a new heading. "BEAVER LODGE". 

That's when my grandfather retired from the bank and they moved north to be near family just outside Beaverlodge, where they lived until they died. 

I keep reading. My dad's name appears for the first time on Thanksgiving 1953 along with the names of a bunch of other teaching colleagues of my mom. More people whose stories I have heard but I never really knew. 

December 30, 1965 was my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary. It seems the whole community came out. On that date I come to my own name in the careful printing of a 7 year old.  Above it, my cousin Sarah has neatly penned the names of my younger siblings. Younger cousin "Karen 8" has also signed.

The entries continue up until 1974. the occasion of their diamond anniversary. Both of my grandparents were gone soon after that.

Fans of Swedish death cleaning-that practice whereby you clear out all the sentimental items from your home so your kids don't have to deal with them when you die- would have tossed that book into the dumpster decades ago, perhaps when my grandmother died in 1978. But my mom saved it and passed it on to me- the family historian. 

Taken together, the book and it's entries tell a story. A story of not only a home that no longer exists but a way of life that is almost gone. A way of life where people treasured their guests and honoured their presence. I hope to carry that tradition forward, so I have put additional pages into this book. Next time you visit, remind me to have you sign it.

Sign my book. 

Sign it to prove you were here.

Sign it so our history is not erased.

Sign it so we can remember our time together.