Write On!

              A Near Tragedy- Hero's Story - 1 1 -
used his driving expertise and voiced encouragement and we were across that
shaky bridge - relief indeed! I'm sure my father received a few more grey
hairs that day.
As we bounced along the rough road on our way home we couldn't
help but think how fortunate we were to be on the right side - our side of that
Bear Creek Bridge. There were no phones in the area, nor radio station and
absolutely no way of letting Mother and family at home know what the
conditions were had the bridge gone out or where we were, alive or not, plus
the precious chicks. We had several head of stock at home and no chore man.
There were two fresh cows and neither Mother nor my sister could milk them.
Our little log house and barnyard never looked more attractive and secure to
us than on this very stressful day. I'm sure the baby chicks were more than
ready to be warmly housed and fed also. Yes, we had survived a near tragedy
in the early days on the homestead.
Incidentally, the bridge held and didn't float down the creek. It is still
in about the same spot but was replaced with a larger, higher and sturdier
structure years later. The water in this creek was barely running last fall and
one could easily walk across. Some of us " old timers" can only marvel at the
power of " Old Mother Nature" with memories of years gone by. •
HERO'S STORY
Marilee Kosik, Darwell W. I.
3rd Place, Memoir, 2002
We all have our heroes... sports figures, movie stars, great explorers
and men of medicine. But, all my life I guess, I have been intrigued by flying
and fryers. As a small child in Central Ontario I remember gathering armloads
of silver strands from the countryside that had been ejected from aircraft,
supposedly to interfere with radar contact. Aluminum foil was not a household
staple in those days and this gift from the airplanes was used in many
Christmas decorations and gifts. I remember being startled by the artificial
thunder of planes breaking the sound barrier and running outside in hopes of
catching a glimpse of the tiny contrail they sometimes left high in the sky. I
never could see the plane itself, just where it had been. I envisioned their
bird's eye view of the world, the thrill of such great speed and the adventure of
far off travel. Although I had never met a pilot, I thought the men who flew
planes must be some superhuman beings. Then I moved to Northern Ontario
and my life became intricately entwined with airplanes and the men who flew
them. My home was a fly- in fishing lodge on a three- acre island. Airplanes
were our transportation and our lifeline, bringing groceries, fuel, mail, building
materials, boats and new faces. Pilots brought news from the world " outside"
and were a great source of entertainment. We had no TV but those pilots
offered it all; news, sports, drama, comedy and adventure. No longer did I
have to look up from the ground and imagine: my heroes had come to me.