This First Person column is the experience of Lin Hermanson, who lives in Bassano, Alta. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
It was 7:45 a.m. on a Saturday in June 2013 — in the middle of one of the worst floods Alberta had ever experienced.
The Bow River had burst its banks, wiping out our cabin in the tiny resort community of Hidden Valley, Alta. Two days later, my husband, Brad, and I had just pulled up to Highway 1, hauling our fifth wheel stuffed with everything we’d managed to save from the flood waters.
We were exhausted, grubby and scared as we idled at that empty intersection. We had nowhere to go. Our options were left for Strathmore, Alta., or right for Bassano, Alta.
Bassano had a central town campground, so we turned right.
Funny how one decision can literally be a turning point, and what an adventure this introduction to small town living has been.
Brad and I had lived in Calgary since we were kids. He was an architectural designer and I was a social worker. We raised two kids in the city. But after retiring in 2011, we made a bold move to sell our house, live in the cabin while the resort community was open during the summer and then be snowbirds for the rest of the year.
That dream washed away when we became flood refugees.
Half an hour later, we parked our rig in the campground. I jury-rigged a coffee pot — two folded paper towels stuffed into our go-cups and then poured the boiling water dripped over the coffee grounds. Meanwhile, Brad dug out the lawn chairs. Then we collapsed into them, shell-shocked, but with coffee in hand. We sighed.
Then, in the distance, we heard a band.
As the rodeo parade rounded the corner, we moved our chairs closer to the curb. Small town parades involve candy — a lot of candy — thrown to the curb for young and old.
But we must have looked as bad as we felt because rather than throw candy our way, the first group ran up to place suckers and toffees right in our laps.
That was the first of many acts of kindness.
At first we thought we’d just camp in Bassano for a few weeks and that we could salvage our home. But that hope died quickly. Hidden Valley wasn’t rebuilt.
Jyoti Gondek marked the flood’s 10th anniversary by outlining mitigation improvements since then, but she says there are still vulnerabilities along the Bow River to address.
Later we thought we could stay in our fifth wheel in Bassano for the summer, go south for the winter and put off a decision until spring. But Brad wanted someplace to come home to.
In the end, we decided to stay because Bassano — population 1,200 — had everything we needed: a library, a pharmacy, a grocery store, a hospital, an outdoor pool, a few restaurants and a liquor store. Plus, we were two hours from our kids in Calgary, an international airport and our medical specialists.
Three months after we arrived, we bought a house. The night it was finalized, we celebrated with dinner at the Italian restaurant in town and I mentioned our milestone to our waitress. She winked and told us the table behind ours was celebrating, too.
“See the blond there? She sold her house today,” she said, and took us over for introductions.
Bassano was welcoming, and certainly different from Calgary.
Many things are so easy here. You can get a medical lab appointment the next day. You can walk to the post office, stop at the library and pick up milk on the way home.
When I need winter tires put on, I learned others in town just call the mechanic to pick up the car. When I volunteered to teach children knitting at the library, I was surprised there were no sign up or waiver forms required. And when we bought decking material, we learned the staff would just deliver it.
“You bought the house by the pool, right?” they asked.
People are hardwired to connect and, at the beginning, we felt lonely and were floundering without a plan.
Soon, however, we were invited off the street one evening to check out the historical society. Someone gave us a spare coffee pot. Brad was asked to drive for Meals on Wheels, I joined a book club and we bought seasons tickets for the local concerts.
I still miss how in the city, you can be invisible. Brad and I are avid readers and we love to take our books to a coffee shop or pub and read together. We gave that up because we were constantly interrupted by folks wondering if we had had a fight, asking what we were reading or wondering why we didn’t read at home.
But I love that we’re a community and I feel a bond with every person who lives here, even if I don’t know them well. We are a part of the funerals, baby showers, pancake breakfasts and community meetings, and those connections mean something to me.
Five years ago, my dad died. No one in Bassano knew him. I was in the produce aisle of the local grocery store shortly afterward and a new acquaintance came up.
“Lin, I heard your father died. I am so sorry,” she said, wrapping me in a big hug right there.
Would that have happened in a city? I don’t think so.
Bassano was home.
Telling your story
CBC Calgary is running in-person writing workshops to support community members telling their own stories. This story came from a workshop held in partnership with the Bassano Memorial Library.
Read more about these workshops at cbc.ca/tellingyourstory. Read more First Person pieces from our workshops below.
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