Chapter 5: Wrong Side of the Tracks

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The name Tadanac is Canada spelled backwards with a T. This is how we learned to spell the name of our new hometown. The area where we lived was perched on a hill above Trail, British Columbia, on the west side of the smelter plant.

We moved into our section house, one of three drab brown buildings, sandwiched in between the Cominco smelter plant’s parking lot on the east side and railway tracks about 10 feet away on the west side. We lived underneath a 300-foot-high smokestack. The city’s hockey team was called the Trail Smoke Eaters, a very fitting name.

The air quality and environmental conditions were unhealthy throughout the whole community, but likely more dangerous for us, living as close as we did to such a huge, polluting industrial complex. I have read in recent health reports that children in that area were being tested for high blood lead levels because of the amount of lead being discharged from the smokestacks. My family was never tested. Unfortunately, younger children tend to me more vulnerable to pollution, and I was the youngest. The pollution was probably so much worse back then, 60 years ago, when regulations were not so strict, then it is now. I would never know how much the exposure might affect my long-term health. And I would later have several serious health issues in my life.

A section house was owned by the railway and its purpose was to provide a residence for members of a railway section gang and their families. That was us. It was a basic house with nothing fancy but, compared to our living accommodations in Eagle River, it was a vast improvement.

The main floor was divided into four rooms, the kitchen and primary bedroom at the front of the house, and the bathroom and living room at the back. The layout was functional. The stairway to the second floor was off the kitchen at the front of the house. Upstairs were three bedrooms, with two smaller ones at the front, and one large at the back. My oldest brother Doug was given a small bedroom, and I, being the only girl, was given my own bedroom, the other small one. Bruce and Raymond shared the large bedroom at the back. My brothers must have been pleased to have full bedrooms, instead of living together in what amounted to a cramped uninsulated attic in Eagle River.

The smelter plant is now called Teck Trail Operations and is one of the largest fully integrated zinc and lead smelting and refining complexes in the world. Those employee section houses no longer exist.

I was a very accepting and easygoing kid. I was happy to go wherever my parents took me and never complained about moving to a new town or a different school. I quickly forgot about my friends and my relatives in Eagle River. We now had indoor plumbing, running water and television, comforts we never knew before. I took things for granted and did not think too much about what we had and what we did not have.  

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Suddenly, I realized that I had lost sight of my mom and the group. It must have been quite some time since I had last seen them. I had been preoccupied by so many precious things and all the activity around me. I stood there scanning around as far as my eyes could see. I started to panic, my stomach dropped and my heart pounded in my chest. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost them.

It occurred to me that I didn’t know the address where we were staying or any of my relatives’ names. If someone asked me who I was with, they wouldn’t know who my mother was. I didn’t know which direction they had gone and I was not sure I could find the car again. I had not paid any attention to where we had parked, nor did I even know what kind of car we came in.

I saw groups of people mingling everywhere, but some were so far away that I couldn’t identify anyone. All the adults I could see seemed to be dressed in shades of black, brown and grey, similar to the colours my relatives were wearing. Where could they have gone?

I approached a few groups to see if I recognized anyone, but no luck. One pathway led off from the main field, which was wider and more travelled than the others, some groups were heading that way. I decided this might be my best option, to follow the crowd. I kept glancing left and right in case they might have split up and were in smaller groups. The path snaked around some bushes and opened up into another large field surrounded by trees.

I stopped and stared again. By this time, I was agitated. My heart and my mind were racing, wondering what I would do if I couldn’t find them.

Finally, I spotted a group far away in the distance, watching the ducks by the edge of a pond. It looked like my relatives. I ran as fast as I could, and was so thankful and relieved as I got closer — it was them! By the time I reached them, I was out of breath and panting heavily. I went to my mother’s side and looked up at her. She hardly glanced at me. I tugged at her arm.

“Why did you forget about me?” I asked.

She was too busy talking and looked slightly annoyed that I was interrupting her conversation. She did not seem to be the least bit concerned about my absence.

It occurred to me that she had not even noticed that I was missing, nor did anyone else. I suppose kidnapping and molesting little children was not a common crime in those days. I was not quite seven years old so it was possible I could have been lured away by some evil stranger.

I wondered how long it would have been before my family might have started to look for me. Perhaps when they got to the cars and stopped yapping. And then, how would they have found me? What would I have done while I waited? I shuddered when I realized I had narrowly avoided some awful trauma that day.

It was a good lesson for me, even at that tender young age. I must always take care of myself and should not depend on others. I needed to pay attention to my surroundings, always know where I was and how to get back to a familiar place. I should never assume that someone would look for me or help me. I decided it was better for me to look after myself.

I should have learned my lesson when I got lost in the bush while blueberry picking. But I was just a little kid, a bit adventurous, and I guess easily fascinated and distracted by my surroundings.

I also started to realize that my mom seemed to be very self-centred. She was more concerned about what she was doing and who she was with, rather than what her young daughter was doing, or even where I was. And when I got lost and then found her, she seemed oblivious. Even if she wasn’t concerned about my absence, she could have at least faked it when she saw how frantic I was. This would have comforted me somewhat.

A creep could have snatched me away and I probably would have been gone forever.

These uneasy feelings I had about my mom would only get worse in the years to come. Some horrible experiences would make me really question why I was ever born.

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