There and Not There

I’m in Alberta at an artist retreat. The population 5000 rural town is similar to ones I know in Wyoming and Colorado, only there are Mounties leading the rodeo parade and flags with maple leaves. When I smile and say hello people return the smile, but they seem to know I am a traveler. It could take years, if ever, to be accepted as a resident.

Even though families of most of these people have lived here for several generations, there is a history of coming from elsewhere primarily by choice or even under duress from other countries.

I’m reading a book by David J Goa called “Working in the Fields of Meaning” who gives insights into the importance of place and memory as he questions our willingness to include stories of newcomers.

“How do we seek to understand those in our midst who have carried the ground of their ancestors into new lands of their immigration and settlement? If we wish to understand those with ancestral soil in their hearts we will have to look to see what is in our own hearts and learn to appreciate both what is there, and what is not there.”

“The reclaiming of memory and meaning is perhaps the most dominant theme of any writer who has experienced erasure or relocation. The artist uses the page to create a container for memory and meaning.”

“In Krisjana Gunner’s poem ‘Memory II’, the narrator acknowledges the risk of losing story in relocation: It’s a long way from Glasgow to Quebec … the sea is bottomless with story.’‘

“There are those who think it is desirable to exercise their power in order to ignore or erase or silence or trivialize the story of others. There are those who want to build a pyramid of story, a pyramid where only one story can be on top. Is there room for the story of each individual? Is there world enough and time? Is language large enough?”