oxblood doc martens Helen Jayne Reid
It one of those warm evenings in late summer when everything and everyone seems to move slower than usual. Even the joggers on the Corner Brook Stream Trail float by in slow motion. The swans on the Glynmill Inn Pond simply drift, without bursts of speed. It a languid time of summer. Stress is alien. There just time to explore and play. So that what we are doing this evening. It is 2004.
One of my stepson favourite places in Corner Brook is the playground at Margaret Bowater Park. Inspired by the corkscrew slides that used to stand there, he re named the playground Squiggly Park when he was old enough to talk. We called it Squiggly Park right up until the renovations.
I notorious for never finishing my meals. It probably one of the biggest reasons I dislike eating with other people. For those friends who know me well they don have to ask, you finished with that? They just swoop in like gulls and take what they want. However, on the rare occasion when they mistake a pause in eating for a full stop, I have the option of wielding my fork. One firm tap on the back of the hand with a dirty utensil and my food is mine again. If only it was that easy for all things like, say, glass installation art from the 1960s.
Photo: Corner Brook at night from the lookout on the highway behind Corner Brook Plaza.
On a warm September night in 1997 my cousin Dee and I were driving around Corner Brook sipping on coffee. We drove by groups of people congregated on parking lots, trading stares with the stationary as we rolled on past them. We had no destination we were just out for a drive, savouring the sensation of movement faster than our bodies could carry us. We sang Mr. Shankly at the top of our lungs,
and cresting the hill on O Drive just before the intersection with University Avenue, Dee said out of the blue:
know that the lights of Corner Brook spell out the word when you look at them from Cook Lookout, right? One night after I had settled in New Brunswick I was lying in bed when an airplane flew over my house. The sound was familiar and comforting. I grew up in Reidville directly across the river from the Deer Lake Regional Airport. Planes flying over my house were an everyday thing. Sometimes I didn t even hear them, that s how familiar the sound was. As I lay in my new bed in my new house in my new province, homesick and trying not to cry for the sound of an airport next door, I realized there was another sound I was missing too. The Mill Whistle.
The Corner Brook Public Library is on floors 2 and 3 of the Sir Richard Squires Building. It was called a skyscraper when it was proposed, but the Sir Richard Squires Building only dominates the landscape when you stand below it. In a city shaped like a bowl it s the hills that scrape the sky. I understand the excitement that word may have held in 1965, but to me, now, it s funny. I m not sure how many of us look at the building and marvel at its design. For me it s a brick and steel blast from the past,
and I love it for that reason.