My Time Machine Trip (part 1) by Leanne Dyck

Manitoba

May 14, 2024

I woke early (5:15 am) to set out for points east. I dubbed this my time machine trip. It allowed me to reconnect with people and revisit places that shaped me.

photo by ldyck

My plane landed and Linda was there to meet me. 

In 1985, my friendship with Linda began when we enrolled in the University of Winnipeg's Child Care Worker Training Program. The program crammed two years of study into eighteen months. It combined theory with hands-on experience. Linda and I have been friends ever since.

While in Winnipeg, I planned to stay with Linda, her husband, their cat Sassy, and their dog Finn. I arrived at Linda's a bundle of excitement and nerves. Finn met me with his own bundle. The two bundles exploded and Finn told me I would have to find somewhere else to stay. I respected his opinion and set to work to find a solution to my problem. 

photo by Marjorie

Marjorie and me

Marjorie--my aunt by marriage--generously opened her doors and welcomed me into her guest bedroom. By the time the dust had settled and I lay my exhausted body down and closed my eyes, it was midnight. There was little of May 14 that I hadn't experienced.

May 15

Susan was my best friend in elementary school. We've lost touch and reconnected periodically throughout our lives. When had we last chatted face-to-face? I couldn't remember but Susan did--in 1994, Susan and I had visited in her mom's living room. Recently, we reconnected again. Thanks to Facebook. Winnipeg's Stella's restaurant was the setting for our long overdue face-to-face chat. We invited Linda to jon us and the three of us shared laughter and memories for six hours. Six hours. Yes, we had a lot to catch up on. 

photo by ldyck

Susan and Linda

May 16

I treated Linda and myself to a slice each of Vegan Oreo Chocolate Cake at Baked Expectations--a bakeshop in Osborne Village. 

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

Linda

Osborne Village holds cherished memories for me. In 1990, as a new couple, Byron and I moved into a second-floor apartment there. We lived in that apartment building (River Crescent Gardens) for about three years and our love strived in that artsy, funky neighbourhood. 

May 17

My middle brother Randy drove me to Eriksdale, Manitoba. 

photo by Val

photo by Val

I was born in Eriksdale's first hospital. My dad was born in Eriksdale, as well. My grandfather was one of the first settlers. Two of my three brothers still live there. Simply put, I have deep roots in Eriksdale. 

While in Eriksdale, I stayed on my oldest brother Rick's and my sister-in-law Val's farm.

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

Val and Rick, and my cousin John

Highlights of my time in Eriksdale include helping Rick feed lambs, spending time with family pets, going for long walks with Val, chatting with my niece Darlene, attending a kitchen table party, touring the Eriksdale museum, and...

photo by Val

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

having ice cream at Havakeen Lunch. I pay tribute to Havakeen in this short story...

photo by ldyck

Rainbow Ice Cream

My mom let me go. I'm not sure I would have had I been the mother. I was so young crossing that road--a major highway, semis sped down. But Mom let me go knowing it was a child's rite of passage. I never remember her taking me. I do remember her calling, "Be careful crossing the road."

I headed to a white building with a sign that read:  'Hav-A-Keen Lunch'. Keen was like cool, back then. The business--a mom and pop truck stop--was shared by the Havards and the Keens, hence the name.

A bell rang when the screen door slammed shut behind me.

Sometimes she popped out of the back, where she lived. Sometimes she was wiping the counter. She always greeted me with a smile.

"Hi, Mrs. Havakeen."

Maybe she tried to correct me. Maybe she said, "Just call me Mrs. Keen." Maybe she added a dear to show me she wasn't mad. I don't remember. I do remember her asking, "What'll you have?"

I dumped a handful of coins on the counter--pennies, dimes, nickels, and a quarter. "What will this buy?"

"A chocolate bar, pop, an ice cream cone..."

"A rainbow ice cream cone, please," I said spring, summer, fall--never winter, the road was too slippery.

Mrs. Keen dipped the spoon in a bucket of water and then into the pail. A large box with a child holding a triple scoop cone hung on the wall. She pulled a cone from the box, filled it with ice cream and handed it to me.

Rainbow ice cream:  swirls of chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and mint. Why choose one favour when you can have them all? Rainbow. It was like eating a better tomorrow.

I always made it home safe and sound. Sometimes with rainbow ice cream dripping down my arm--melting under the hot sun.

Did Mrs. Keen know how important she was to me? Did she know how special she made me feel? I like to think she did.

May 20

Rick, Val and I spent most of the day in the car. We drove to St. Rose du Lac (north of Eriksdale). I treated everyone to breakfast. We came back by way of Portage la Prairie. The landscape changed during our drive from rocks and swamps to Lake Manitoba's great expanse to rolling hills and fertile land. 

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

St. Rose du Lac Grotto

That tour reminded me of car rides through Eriksdale's backroads with my parents after church. 

photo by ldyck

Next Sunday, my adventure continues in Southern Ontario

Rural Manitoba Memories by Leanne Dyck (family memoir) part 6

 In Part Five of Rural Manitoba Memories, you learned what my dad did during and after World War Two, how he met my mother, and how they suffered through having three boys before being rewarded by... (joking)? 

And now for the rest of the story...

Dad: When Leanne was in elementary school, in 1970, Ollie started work in the hospital first in the laundry department—where they started at six thirty.

Ollie liked cooking and moved to the kitchen as a cook’s helper and then before she left she was the assistant cook and started at 9:15 AM. Ollie left the hospital after fifteen years.

Interlake Spectator Newspaper: Mr. Jim Willetts, Postmaster for 31 years [1950-1981] at the Eriksdale Post Office, was honoured by about 200 people from the community and area as they gathered to pay tribute and express their appreciation to Jim at a surprise retirement party for him on August 15th [1981]...

As well as performing the duties of postmaster, Jim provided service over and above the call of duty. He was someone who people would turn to for advice and counsel; he would rewrap parcels with string and paper if they looked like they needed better protection. Besides these things, Jim's good sense of humour lightened the day for many people. 

In other words, Jim has been more than a Postmaster. He has been a friend to countless people from all walks of life and to people of all ages.

It was humourly suggested by the M.C. that Jim's influence was so great that his retirement caused the whole postal system to shutdown...

With Jim's retirement as postmaster of the Eriksdale Post Office, another era has come to an end, but we know that Jim will continue to serve the people of this community and this area with devotion and dedication.

Dad in the 1950s

Dad: Ollie and I continue to live at the junction of Highways 6 and 68. We have no regrets at leaving British Columbia and making our home in the Manitoba Interlake.

Uncle Jim: I am very proud to call Jim my friend. No one could have a better one. He was honest and true, but in later days, in spite of all his friends he was lonely, tired and sick. Now he is where he wants to be, with his beloved Ollie.

Leanne: Mom passed away on April 28, 1998. Dad on December 11, 1999.

Lasting Love

Leanne

This story was inspired by the love I witnessed in my mom's palliative care room.

Defenceless, I lay in this cage of sheets and blankets as cancer prowls, leaps, sinks its teeth into my flesh and devours me--piece by piece. I struggle for life; all I gain is courage.

My husband stands straight, tall, so close to my bed. He is all I see. He is my life. His long, thin, weathered fingers stroke my brow. My life is in his touch.

Our love has endured so much--worry, anger, misunderstanding, longing, pain. Will it endure this?

Others think he is strong but I see his damp eyes, his Adam's apple quiver, his erratic breathing. I know his fragility. My strongest desire is to keep him safe from sadness, from grief, from loss, from what is happening to me. I want to hold him and I want to tell him that we've won, that we will be together forever.

But though I fight, I am leaving him--slipping away.

He must withstand this. He must be strong. I will give him strength. I frown at him, with soft eyes. Don't let it win. Have faith. Our love is stronger. I tell him with my eyes.

"May I kiss you?" He is always a gentleman.

"If you dare." I grin. He's used to my teasing.

Our lips--our hearts touch.

"Was it worth it?" I ask. "Was it worth your life?"

"Oh." He breathes. "Oh, yes." He forces a smile.

Then I know; I know we've won; I know our love will never die.

I'm indebted to the Eriksdale Municipal Heritage Advisory Committee, whose hard work published the Beyond Beginnings: Eriksdale History Book in 1996 and Lucy Lindell who published Memory Opens the Door in 1970 and 1974 (second printing). Other sources included a toast to the bride written by Aunty Kay and an obituary written by Uncle Jim. Writing this memoir is an act of loving tribute that I plan to continue--digging more deeply, unearthing more memories.

It's been 14 years since I visited Eriksdale. In two days, on May 14, I'll sail from Mayne Island and board a plane in Victoria, BC. I'll fly all the way "home" to Eriksdale. Someone should warn them. Not only will I be visiting Manitoba but I'll also... I'll tell you all about my trip when I come "home" to Mayne Island. Bye for now...

Thank you for reading

Rural Manitoba Memories

Click here to Re-read Rural Manitoba Memories. 

Rural Manitoba Memories by Leanne Dyck (family memoir) part 5

In Part Four, you learned that my grandparents moved from Manitoba to BC, after WWII. This Sunday?

Where was my dad during World War II? How did he meet my mom? Did he follow his parents to BC or stay in Manitoba? And exactly when did I show up?

Rural Manitoba Memories

Dad: In June 1940 I joined the army, The Queens Own Cameron Highlanders. In 1941 I transferred to the Air Force and spent the next four years on radar stations on the east coast of Canada and Newfoundland, which at the time was a foreign country.

In spring 1945 while home on leave I met Olavia (Ollie) Olafson from Lundar.

When Ollie Meet Jim

Leanne

Perhaps, Mom was making supper. Maybe I was writing a story. I was seldom without a pen.

I asked, “How did you meet Dad?” I was a teenager yearning for romance.

“I don’t remember,” she told me. “The first time I saw him was in the Orange Hall. I was trying to watch a movie. A tall man, a few rows ahead, had his hat on. He was a wall without a window.”

“Did Dad ask him to take his hat off?”

“Your father was the tall man with the hat.”

Dad? The guy who held the door open for everyone? “But how did you meet?”

Once again she told me that she didn’t remember.

“Really? You can’t remember? When I meet the man I love that story will remain in my heart until the end of my days.”

“That’s nice,” she threw off.

Mom went back to making supper, while I watched my muse dance. And eventually, I told Mom...

You were working as a nurse’s aide when they rushed in a hockey player—a goalie. He’d been hit in the head with a puck—just above the eye.

Would he lose vision in that eye? They needed to act fast.

As the stretcher sped past the pretty nurse’s aide, the hockey player stretched out his hand and caught her wrist. “Do you think me brave?” His face was covered in blood.

“Brave? I think you’re stupid. You could lose that eye. Imagine stopping a puck with your face.” But as she looked into that one blue eye, her heart told a different story.

No doubt Mom heaped praise on my story. She always encouraged my writing. But she no doubt also told me, “Your dad suffered that injury when he was a teenager. I worked as a nurse’s aide years later, during the war. I think that’s when we met—when he was on leave.”

“On leave? So how did you date?”

“We sent letters back and forth.”

“Letters?” My tongue tasted the word--sweet like honey to a young writer. “Where are they?”

“I burnt them years ago.”

 “You burnt them. How could you burn them? Why…?”

Dad: Upon receiving my discharge in August 1945, I returned to Eriksdale and got a job on a Manitoba government survey crew. Ollie and I became engaged the following spring.

Uncle Jim: When Kay and I got married in the spring of ‘46, Ollie and Jim were our Bridesmaid and Best Man. One Christmas Eve before that I was sitting in the hospital kitchen at 4:00 am, when Jim walked in. He had been to Lundar to see Ollie and the bus had left early so he walked all the way from Lundar down the railway track. It was -35 below too.

Dad: In May I left for British Columbia, where my dad and I purchased a store in Lynn Valley. I returned to Manitoba. Ollie and I were married in September 1946.

Olafsons from Lundar

Leanne (Willetts) Dyck

A sturdy square oak rocking chair with a padded seat and back took pride of place in my grandparents' living room. The plaque, engraved in Icelandic, held words of thanks from a grateful community to its midwife—Helga Bjarnson, my maternal great-grandmother.

Helga was born and raised in a rural community in northern Iceland. I was told that she read her Bible every day. Was it her devotion to the Lutheran church that caught the eye of the local pastor? Something did, for he hand-picked Helga to study midwifery under a doctor in Akureyri—a seaside city in northern Iceland. After she had completed her studies, Helga was squeezed aboard a ship that set sail for Canada.

All of my Icelandic great-grandparents left Iceland in the late 1800s. In fact, due to inclimate weather and poverty, half the population was forced to leave the island they loved. They left knowing that they would never return. As there was little room on board the ship, possessions were restricted. However, they were advised to take as many books as they could. Iceland has long been a literary nation.

Grandma Olafson: My mother told me that she was surprised to see that a crowd had gathered around the Winnipeg train station. She wondered if it was a warm Canadian welcome. As she left the train, she overheard some people in the crowd talking. “We came to see the ice-land-ers—the people made of ice. But all that came off that train were all those blonds.” 

Leanne: In Manitoba, they settled in an area called New Iceland. Today we can identify the area by the towns’ Icelandic names—Gimli and Arborg and Hecla and Vogar and Lundar and…

My great-grandparents were grateful for the land they were given. I don’t believe they realized that they were moved onto that land strategically. They were pawns in the Chess game the Canadian government was playing against the Indigenous Peoples.

Mom’s family had lived in Lundar since the late 1800s. When Mom married Dad she moved from Lundar to Eriksdale. She was the first person in her family to make this move but not the last. She opened the floodgates and two sisters followed—both marrying Eriksdale men. Grandpa and Grandma Olafson eventually moved to Eriksdale—thirty years later. Before, during and possibly after, Mom's oldest sister moved to BC and her two brothers moved to Winnipeg.  (There's more story there. A writer's job is never done)

Grandpa and Grandma Olafson

Dad: [In] 1950...I became post master.

Lorna Anderson, my assistant, and I worked well together until I retired in July 1981.

A first class letter went for four cents and Christmas cards, unsealed, were two cents. We sold a lot of two cent stamps!

At this time mail order shipping was the order of the day, with Eaton's of Winnipeg and Simpson's of Regina being the giants of the mail order.

That first Christmas we received sixty-five bags of parcels off the train one night. We had quite a time finding room for all the mail.

The main source of revenue was stamps and money orders, but the Post Office offered other services as well: there was a Savings Bank, we sold radio licenses and unemployment stamps.

Birth Order

One day, in 1949, my grandpa—who was never afraid to say anything to anyone—asked my parents, “So you’ve been married for three years. Time’s a ticking. When can we expect a grandchild?”

My mom, Olavia, looked her dad dead in the eye, “Oh, I don’t know… How about in five months?”

And much merriment ensued.

In June 1949, my oldest brother Rick was born. Three years later, in March 1952, my brother Randy arrived. Another three years, another brother, Keith in December 1955.

Three boys in six years. Both of my parents liked math. But no one was counting on me. I showed up in 1962--a little late to the party, but I made it. 

I'm blessed to come from a family of writers. People who wrote for fun and to build community. Their writing built this memoir.

 The memories continue...

Read the next installment of 

Rural Manitoba Memories

Last week, my husband and I celebrated a significant milestone...

Rural Manitoba Memories by Leanne Dyck (family memoir) part 1

 Writing purchases for the writer a kind of immortality. 

My dad, my aunt and my paternal grandparents all wrote--for fun and to build community. I've collected their writing for many years. This memoir was pieced together from that collection (with additional words, here and there, from other contributors) as a loving tribute to my family. 

Aunty Kay and Grandma Willetts

Rural Manitoba Memories

Aunty Kay: They say the greatest things parents can give children are roots and wings. Leanne’s roots are right here in a little town in the Interlake where she has grown up surrounded by a loving and caring family.

Leanne: My paternal grandfather’s hand-written memoir begins…

Grandpa: I, J. H. Willetts was born on May 7, 1886, in a small house in Allastone Mene near Lydney, Gloucestershire.

Leanne: Grandpa was the fourth son in a family of ten—eight siblings, two sisters, and six brothers. In 1889, his youngest brother Albert died of diphtheria. Albert was four and a half. Three years later, in 1901, Joseph, an older brother by three years, died in a mine accident. Joseph was eighteen. Life was tough in Allastone Mene. It’s not surprising that Grandpa would want to try a new somewhere else.

One fine May day in 1906, after promising to visit his mother, Grandpa packed his bags—or, no doubt, bag. He travelled to Liverpool, boarded the good ship Lake Manitoba and set sail for Montreal. Grandpa was twenty years old.

Aunty Kay: Daddy came to Selkirk, Manitoba as his brother Charles had a contracting business there. He worked for a few months on construction for the Canadian Pacific Railway near Kenora. In the spring of 1907, he decided to take up a homestead in the Manitoba Interlake.

Lucy Lindell, local historian: Eriksdale’s first white settler was probably Jonas Eric Erikson, who applied for his homestead on March 20, 1906, though presumably, he had been living there as a squatter prior to that date. It is known that Manuel Erikson, Jonas’ son, had a small log shack near the southern most corner of the north west quarter of the section, adjacent to his father’s quarter on which is now, the village proper.

Leanne: Eriksdale was built on the ancestral home of the Cree. Manitoba is the birthplace of the Metis nation. All through grade school, I had Cree and Metis friends and classmates. As reported in the 2016 census, Metis was the third largest ethnic group. The largest ethnic group was English, followed by Scottish.

The Rural Municipality of Eriksdale, Manitoba was formed in 1918.

The memories continue...

Read the next installment of 

Rural Manitoba Memories

Did You Know...

Kat Brown, The essential books to read about neurodiversity, January 31, 2023

It All Started Here by Leanne Dyck

I was born in a rural hospital--E M Crowe Memorial Hospital. But who? And I wasn't the only one with that question. So I did some research and... Wow! 

E M Crowe Memorial Hospital

Elizabeth Mary Alexander was born in Clifton--a rural community located in Colchester County, Nova Scotia--on March 31, 1856. Yes, that's right, she was born at the height of the Victorian era. Queen Victoria reigned from June 20, 1837, until her death on January 22, 1901--63 years. The era was named in her honour. Victorians believed that a woman's place was in the home. Unless... Unless you married rich. Then the societal expectation was that you would adopt a cause on your husband's behalf. You know like a public relations agent. Elizabeth married wealthy grain merchant George Reading Crowe and set to work bettering the good name of Crowe. She held important positions in a number of organizations--the Manitoba branch of the YWCA Dominion Council, the Winnipeg YWCA, the Westminster Presbyterian Church Ladies' Society, the Women's Canadian Club of Winnipeg, and the Women's Missionary Society. 

It was as the President of the Women's Missionary Society that Elizabeth M Crowe became involved with the community of Eriksdale. Under her leadership, the Women's Missionary Society searched for a location in rural north-central Manitoba to establish a much-needed hospital. They choose Eriksdale. 

'The building was soon started with a member of Mrs. Crowe's family as its architect. However, before the completion of the hospital, Mrs. Crowe died [on November 6, 1918] and as a memorial to her services and benevolent donations, the hospital was named after her... The hospital was officially opened in May of 1926.' 1

 

'In 1940...the upstairs of the hospital became the maternity ward with a delivery room, nursery, and six patient beds.' 2 

 

The E. M. Crowe Memorial hospital was the site of an event that should be included in the history books. On November 13,1962 at 4:46 PM, I was delivered by Dr. Gudmundur Paulson. Dr. Paulson served as Eriksdale's physician from 1939 to 1980.

Mom told me that an elderly patient protested my infant cries by knocking on the ceiling of her room--the floor of ours--with her cane. 

'In November 1962, the digging began for a new hospital, and in September 1963, the new E. M. Crowe Memorial Hospital was opened.' 1--'a seventeen bed, plus five bassinets, acute care hospital, with modern x-ray and delivery rooms, and wide spacious halls.' 2 

Mom--Olavia Willetts--had a long history of involvement with the hospital. In her twenties, she worked as a nurse's aide. In her forties and fifties, she worked first in the laundry room and later in the kitchen. Mom was an honorary member of the hospital guild--having served the guild for over 30 years. Over the years the guild helped to raise funds to support the hospital. On August 10, 1984, Eriksdale's Guild Memorial Park was officially opened to honour their tireless work. 

The E. M. Crowe Memorial Hospital has changed much over the years but Elizabeth Mary Crowe's legacy remains. 

Helpful resources...

Elizabeth Mary Crowe by the Manitoba Historical Society  

Books about the E. M. Crowe Memorial Hospital in Eriksdale, Manitoba...

1 Memory Opens the Door, Lucy Lindell, 1970 and 1974

2 Beyond Beginnings, Eriksdale History Book Committee, 1996

 

On this blog in November...

Sunday, November 20

Writing Tips from 19 Guest Authors

My guest authors generously share writing tips and give insights into their own author journey.

Sunday, November 27

Island Invasion (short story) by Leanne Dyck

This short story was inspired by 

The Inconvenient Indian by Thomas King

Craigdarroch Castle

Even though I have no mind for dates, I love to learn about history.

Rainbow Ice Cream (short story) by Leanne Dyck

A childhood memory of crossing the street to buy rainbow ice cream with a handful of coins--pennies, nickels, dimes, and a quarter. A childhood memory of a very special woman. 

(I was always a wanderer)

My mom let me go. I'm not sure I would have had I been the mother. I was so young crossing that road--a major highway, semis sped down. But Mom let me go knowing it was a child's rite of passage. I never remember her taking me. I do remember her calling, "Be careful crossing the road."

I headed to a white building with a sign that read:  'Hav-A-Keen Lunch'. Keen was like cool, back then. The business--a mom and pop truck stop--was shared by the Havards and the Keens, hence the name.

A bell rang when the screen door slammed shut behind me.

Sometimes she popped out of the back, where she lived. Sometimes she was wiping the counter. She always greeted me with a smile.

"Hi, Mrs. Havakeen."

Maybe she tried to correct me. Maybe she said, "Just call me Mrs. Keen." Maybe she added a dear to show me she wasn't mad. I don't remember. I do remember her asking, "What'll you have?"

I dumped a handful of coins on the counter--pennies, dimes, nickels, and a quarter. "What will this buy?"

"A chocolate bar, pop, an ice cream cone..."

"A rainbow ice cream cone, please," I said spring, summer, fall--never winter, the road was too slippery.

Mrs. Keen dipped the spoon in a bucket of water and then into the pail. A large box with a child holding a triple scoop cone hung on the wall. She pulled a cone from the box, filled it with ice cream and handed it to me.

Rainbow ice cream:  swirls of chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and mint. Why choose one favour when you can have them all? Rainbow. It was like eating a better tomorrow.

I always made it home safe and sound. Sometimes with rainbow ice cream dripping down my arm--melting under the hot sun.

Did Mrs. Keen know how important she was to me? Did she know how special she made me feel? I like to think she did.


This short story was inspired by something my husband found. Here's what my husband found:  link

Next post:  Published on Sunday, November 26th at approximately 5 PM
Interview with children's picture book author Maxine Sylvester 

Directionless by Leanne Dyck (short story)

If you're lost never ask me for directions. Here's why...

'Eriksdale' by ldyck

The day I brought my boyfriend, Byron, home to meet my parents, Mom made us a mouth-watering meal. After supper, she brought us slices of pie and coffee with... "Leanne graduated from High School with an award in Language Arts."

"She completed nine-months in service to this country," Dad added, between sips. "Through a program called Katimavik."

"And earned a diploma from the University of Winnipeg," they chimed in together.

I felt like a prized pony. I looked over at Byron and I thought I saw him yawn. 

"What's she done lately?" he asked. "I'll tell you. She tried to take me to Rosser."

"Rosser?" Mom asked. "Where's that?"

"Exactly." Byron looked from Mom to Dad. "Ya see, instead of remaining in the centre of the province and heading for Eriksdale, Leanne's navigation took us west to Rosser. We would have ended up in Saskatchewan if I hadn't clued to." He swung his hand at the window to a whirling mass of blinding white snow. "In. This. Ravaging. Blizzard." He took a sip of coffee. "That's what your daughter has done, lately."

Eriksdale, Manitoba
Rosser, Manitoba

Book review: The Break by Katherena Vermette

Some are told 'you are your brother's keeper', but in this day and age we are warned 'don't get involved'. So the question is if you saw someone in need what would you do?

In The Break, author Katherena Vermette addresses this question head-on. 

Young mother Stella sees what she thinks is an attack. She does something. She phones the cops. But she's Aboriginal; she's female. When the male cops come she feels like she's the one being investigated. 

Should she have kept out of it? Did she do enough? These questions haunt her throughout the book--and they've stayed with me after I finished reading The Break. 

Abuser. Victim. Vermette explores these loaded words.

Published by House of Anansi (2016)

If you're in a library or bookstore, find The Break on the shelf. I'll wait. Got the book. Great. Now flip it open to the title page. There you'll find...

Trigger Warning:  This book is about recovering and healing from violence. Contains scenes of sexual and physical violence, and depictions of vicarious trauma.

Read this warning but don't put the book back. 

The Break left me with a warm feeling. Vermette knows her craft. Her characters are developed with care and understanding. The story handled with sensitivity.

More...

If you enjoy reading this book, you may also enjoy A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Red Tent. I did.

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini
published by Penguin Canada (2008)

Hosseini explores the treatment of women in Afghanistan. The brutality that is depicted is off-set by the fine string of hope that connects woman to woman--a fragile (yet unbreakable) bond of friendship.

The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
published by Picador USA (1997)

Dinah, the Bible barely mentions her, but in the pages of this book she speaks, sings, dances, breathes. We follow her from virgin to mother to crone--and even to her final breath. 

Favourite Quote...

'Innana is the centre of pleasure, the one who makes women and men turn to one another in the night. The great mother whom we call Innana is the queen of the ocean and the patron of the rain... The great mother...gave a gift to woman that is not known among men, and this the secret of blood... In the red tent...the gift of Innana courses through us cleansing the body of last month's death, preparing the body to receive new month's life, women give thanks--for repose and restoration, for the knowledge that life somes from between our legs, and that life costs blood... You will become a woman surrounded by loving hands to carry you and to catch your first blood and to make sure it goes back to the dust that formed the fist man and the woman. The dust that was mixed with her moon blood.' (p. 158)