A Historian Rambles

November 15^th.

Everything is linking together more and more. I'm learning more about different family trees. Names keep reappearing, particularily teachers, as they switched schools within the area. Also Peter Erasmus, who was both a school teacher, a fur trapper, and an interpretter. In 1889 Peter Erasmus owed the Hudson's Bay Company $50 .68, but his credit is listed as good, and John A. Mitchell, a storekeeper, owed twice that.

But who is Dowsett Plewman? http://www.smokylake.com/history/graves/dowsettplewman.htm Is Dowsett a guy or a girl?

History is written by those who lived. It is written by the grandchildren of those who had kids. To find information on someone who was childless... is much harder.

November 14^th.

I really am addicted to this history research. I can't help it. I feel drawn to it. I'm much, much, much more cheerful on days when I spend an hour or so working on research, even if I have a stiff back from my computer.

Yesterday I expanded the graveyard section of my website. (Ooh... aren't graveyards fun? There's so many untold stories behind them... and so much to think about and be awe inspired by. Just think of the fact that all of these stones mark out someone who lived and had worries, just as you and I do.) The address to that section is http://www.smokylake.com/history/graves/ if anyone wants to check it out.

I'm a bit discouraged though, about the whole history thing. Its really hard to be totally obsessive and happy about a project and then be forced to go over to the university and think about less meaningful things. And on top of that, the university is full of people who haven't a clue what its like to be obsessed and give me very weird looks when any of my historical interest leaks out.

Today though, i've turned away from the graveyard section for a bit, and started working on a school section. Now that is even weirder for me, becuase I'm typing in things about how great these little small town schools were, and the voice in my mind is screaming about how torturous my small town school was. It was horrible. Absolutely horrible.

Oh. And just in case anyone was wondering about my new wiki signature (thanks Neal!) the signature is a very tiny version of my "logo", from my webpage (not my history webpage, but my personal one.)

October 21.

Two nights ago I discovered the Cree name of Anna Masterchild's father. (Anna was the adopted native daughter of a missionary I'm studying.)

And last night James located for me two references to Percy Sutton's, both of which exist in books he promises to get out of the library for me today. (Percy Sutton was the husband of another missionary that I'm studying).

I am delighted. Oh... what wonder. What delight to find little clues in this mystery that I am unravelling!

Although the content of my history webpage (http://www.smokylake.com/history/) is coming from a wide variety of different people and sources, the webpage is being assembled by one particular person: me. Christy. I am a 20 year old who grew up in Smoky Lake and then moved away to go to university. For the past two years I've returned during the summer to work at Victoria Settlement Provincial Historic Site and have greatly appreciated the experience of working there.

What am I trying to do with the webpage?

The webpage is for the most part, a way for me to indirectly confront the question of what life is about. What point does life have? What purpose is there to my existence here today?

History is about what happened and is happening. Its about trying to connect how things happened and how everything interrelates. History is asking "Why was Ella McLean's life the way it was?" And, in asking that, I'm also asking, why is my own life the way it is.

History is about people. Its about seeing what remains of people and what remember about the past and how we interact with the past. Its very interesting to see what information remains about people and where that information is hidden. If you had to describe your grandparents, what would you say about them? What would you say about your great-grandparents? What would you say about your own life?

History is about stories. The stories we tell ourselves and the stories we tell other people. Its about identities. What identities do we shape for ourselves? How do we see ourselves?

This history webpage is about Smoky Lake. But in the process of looking at Smoky Lake, I'm also seeing glimpses of the world. Digging through old newspapers I see letters and editorials about the concerns people had about international, national and provincial political issues. I'm seeing how world events affected Smoky Laker's. That's neat. I want to continue to research the world so I understand more about what these different events were, that influenced the people in this interesting community.

Home for the weekend I sit in my parents basement with the two computers, the scanner and boxes and boxes of old newspapers. My parents run the local newspaper, they wrote the newspapers, year after year for over twenty years. And I'm digging though old issues, discovering stories about my town.

The national hall burnt down on Friday, February 13, 1987. That's what I'm working on right now... retyping all the old stories about the national hall, when it was built, when it burnt, how the insurance didn't cover it, how money was raised to rebuild it, what the sod-turning ceremony was like. And its beautiful... seriously, I find myself somehow by doing this... by reading this stuff, preserving it neatly on a webpage for all to see. There's something fascinating about understanding how people and organizations worked... how the basement of the building had to be expanded at one point to hold more coal, and how 1987 was the first year when the costumes for the Ukrainian New Years celebration were stored in the building, so they went up in flames too. I remember the night it burnt, walking down to see it... I remember afterwards jumping on the cement steps which lead up to nothing. I remember the building being rebuilt. I would have been six at the time.

And stories delight me... all of this... delights me.