An Interpretation

A Place for Starting Over
by Anna Mioduchowska

Biographical Note
Anna Mioduchowska is a poet, translator, author of stories, essays and book reviews. Her work has appeared in anthologies, literary journals in Canada and Poland, and aired on the CBC Radio. In-Between Season , a poetry collection, was published by Rowan Books in 1998.

Introduction to Essay :
Anna Mioduchowska was a young newcomer from Poland when she moved with her family to a rented bungalow on 112 th Street near 106 th Avenue in 1962. They were the last tenants to occupy the one-bedroom home before it was demolished. The Allison Arms, a walk-up apartment building, stands on the property now. Here is Anna's thoughtful reflection on one bit of land in Edmonton, and its meaning to successive waves of immigrants.

The Allison Arms apartment building (1)

The rectangular three-storey walk-up on 112th Street might not invite a casual passerby to stop and reflect on the lives that unfold behind the red brick and white board facade.

It's a nearly exact replica of the building beside it, and there are three more across the street. One of the balconies sports a bicycle, another a barbecue. Yet the mellifluous name - Allison Arms - displayed above the numbers on the address plaque, bestows a distinctiveness on it that, ironically, brings to mind British period dramas, a connection that is reinforced by the name of the community: Queen Mary Park. It is ironic, because images of elderly gentlefolk, who rarely if ever change their address, or their daily routines, are at such odds with the reality here. Statistics indicate much of the population in this community is young, single and transient. Over 50 percent are new immigrants attracted by the relatively low rents, as well as central location.

People from more than 40 countries, speaking more than 20 major languages, are believed to be living in this area. Just standing on the corner of 112th Street and 107th Avenue, one can see Acajutla Mexican and Salvadorean Restaurant, Pho Huang Noodle House Restaurant, Than Thao Video and the Tuyet Mai Café. Residents can't afford to cultivate too many routines as flexibility is their key to success, and most move on as soon as their finances allow. What remains are the buildings, but even they have a relatively short lifespan.

Union Street Hair and Tanning

Allison Arms, along with the tall, graceful pine and thick-armed elm, which partially shield it from prying eyes, has occupied this spot for almost 40 years. That's twice as long as the modest house which previously stood here, and carried the same address, and which along with the rest of the single-family dwellings in the neighbourhood was demolished in the mid-1960s. The last tenants to inhabit the white, one-bedroom bungalow was a family of five, newly arrived from Poland. After six months under their sponsors' roof, they were on their own for the first time, in a tiny house rented from Tadeusz Niziol. The middle one of three children, I was in Grade 8 the winter we moved in, and it was here, at 10633-112 Street, that I participated in the dramas associated with new beginnings. The only remnant of that period in this block is the attractively landscaped comfort-pink stucco house with lime-green window and door frames - Union Street Hair and Tanning - located on the corner of 112 Street and 106 Avenue.

When I park my car by the curb on a cold sunny day, the street, the whole city is covered with a thick layer of fresh snow. Snow is a great equalizer. It conceals, it smoothes out, it provides the same glittering finish to dissimilar surfaces. It brings out the same need for warmth and safety in all of us, no matter what our financial status or how long ago we have claimed a particular spot for ourselves. I have good memories of this neighbourhood; of the house, which for three winters had kept us comfortable, of the backyard, where we could throw down a blanket and our swimsuit-clad bodies on a hot summer day, and garden which yielded a good crop of raspberries and vegetables. Under the power of these images, the functional, severe angles around me blur, soften. Yet I'm not here on a sentimental joy-ride. I have not forgotten the small daily humiliations stemming from the ignorance of language and custom, the yearning to belong, my parents' exhaustion, the bouts of homesickness so severe the body refused to get out of bed. I am also aware that this is a very different neighbourhood today.

There are no green spaces between the walk-ups for the children to play. A liquor store and a pawn shop stand just half a block away on the corner of 107 th Avenue. In the evenings, a young woman dressed inadequately for the cold shivers under one of the attractive lamp posts.

The house on 112th Street

The address first appears in Henderson's Directory in 1943. Most of the block is a green space, and Ella and Arthur Turner, who move into the house that still smells of fresh paint, feel like pioneers. Their brand new home is located on the Hudson Bay Reserve, much of which is still undeveloped. There is only one other bungalow in the short block between 106th and 107th Avenues, six bungalows on the unpaved 107th Avenue east of the intersection, and five west of it. Although located on the wrong side of the CNR tracks, next to an industrial area, this is not a bad location. The red and green street cars running every ten minutes along 107th Avenue between Calder and Rossdale, connect the couple with the downtown, and with their jobs.

Rationing is a way of life but aside from an occasional sugar shortage, it hasn't made life too difficult. Dairy products, eggs, and bread are delivered to the house, other groceries are available only a short walk or bike ride away at Kirks Grocery on 11023-107 Avenue, or at Sunlight Grocery on the corner of 109th Street. Ella can have her hair cut and permed at Susanne's Beauty Parlor. A shipper at James Brody's shoe shop, Brod-Ease Shoes, on 10127-104 Street, she probably takes care to look her best at all times. The city is swarming with good-looking American soldiers who do not stint on appreciative glances.

Previously employed as sign painter at Henderson's Signs, Arthur now works for Northwestern Utilities. He likes his paint brushes well enough, but like most young people, dreams of moving up in the world. He puts his spare energy into yard work. Ella wants a place where they can sit outside on hot summer evenings, watch the tomatoes and peas ripen in the garden. Arthur is planning a square, flat-roofed gazebo by the side entrance to the house, with benches running along the side, a project he will eventually bring to fruition. The only inconvenience is the roar of airplanes continuously taking off and landing at Blatchford Field just north of the neighbourhood.

They probably don't have much in the way of furniture, but there's a war on, and they're just starting out. The kitchen is equipped with an ice-box filled with fresh ice twice a week by a man from the Arctic Ice Company, and four chairs around a simple wooden table. The bedroom contains two tubular metal frame beds pushed together, a chest of drawers, plus a wooden box for blankets and wool sweaters. The living room's best feature is the fern, a gift from Ella's friends at the shop. The coils in the worn Winnipeg couch serve to ground the radio, their main source of war news. Arthur pinned a map of the world on the kitchen wall and religiously marks all the battles taking place in Europe and on the Pacific. They don't have a phone, but not many do. There is no mention of children in the directory, and until the mid-1980s, Ella is listed as working outside the house.

On Saturday nights during the war years, the tram might convey the Turners downtown, where they will either go strolling along Jasper Avenue, or take in a new show. War hasn't dampened Edmontonians' appetite for a good time and Hollywood obliges with musicals, comedies, and satisfying war dramas. Ella makes sure to take along a jam pail of bacon drippings she has been saving for the war effort. After the show, they enjoy coffee, and pineapple or cherry tarts at Picardy's. In the winter, they walk to the skating rink on Jasper and 112th Street, where a live band entertains the skaters on Sundays.

In the post-war years, the neighbourhood steadily fills up with houses, as well as new businesses along 107 th Avenue, which is paved in 1948, the same year the red and green street cars are replaced by trolley buses. In 1950, the Turners have the option of shopping at 7 th Avenue Pharmacy at 11023, and between 113th and 114th streets: Crown Food Store, 7 th Avenue Cleaners, Howard Drugstore, and Sue's Grocery, joined two years later by Shirley's Beauty Salon, and Central Cycle and Hardware.

The late 1940s and 1950s see the area bloom along with the rest of the oil-rich city. In 1952, Ella and Arthur witness the official birth of the Queen Mary Park Community League. It takes up residence in the no longer used Prince Rupert Golf Course clubhouse, and soon becomes a vibrant entity; families flock to the box socials, regular dances, talent shows, bridge nights, Christmas parties. There are children in almost every house, one can see them on the streets, playing hopscotch and tag, pitching snowballs or baseballs at each other.

In 1953, Arthur Turner, promoted to foreman at Public Works, and Ella, a sales clerk at the Holt Renfrew - jobs they will retain until the 1980s - sell their little nest to Joseph Pierce, retired CN Express Messenger, and his wife Susan. It is the beginning of a general move of the local residents to the better appointed homes in new residential areas, a trend which will eventually result in developers buying out whole blocks of single family dwellings and replacing them with the low-rent walk-ups, and apartments that are there today. In 1956, King Size Photo, a shop that will survive until the 1980s, opens on the corner of 112th Street and 107th Avenue. Three years later, the long awaited Loblaws establishes itself between 114th and 115th Streets.

The Pearces have lived frugally all their lives and the new prosperity does not greatly affect their lifestyle. Their children are grown and on their own, so the new house is large enough for the two of them, and small enough to keep in perfect order. Even so, Susan worries about the near future, and looks on with raised eyebrows at the cars which grow longer every year, the electric kettles, and drive-in restaurants. Still, she's happy for her children when they get nice things for themselves, and likes to watch Ed Sullivan when the neighbors invite her and Joe for an evening of television. Joe has a hobby, the result of which will delight, and exasperate the next inhabitants of the house.

In 1960, Joseph and Susan celebrate their golden wedding anniversary. Two years later, they sell their house to Tadeusz Niziol, and transfer to an apartment.

The Wojno family, 1963

The location is ideal for my family, the next tenants. The trolley bus takes Jan Wojno, my father, to various manual jobs the first few years. It carries Jozefa, my mother, a former teacher, to a garment factory, where she will work until arthritis puts a stop to her new career 10 years later. There are no ESL classes, no organizations to ease immigrants into the new life; the bus carries my parents to their weekly private English lesson with Mrs. Dunn, who along with English grammar and vocabulary feeds them tea and cookies, much appreciated on cold evenings. She also provides a shoulder to cry on when my mother finally breaks down after she had been flying high for days on the amphetamines the doctor had prescribed to cure her fatigue. The children are expected to absorb English in school, as if by osmosis.

Saturday mornings, my mother also travels to the Polish Hall, just north of the Prince of Wales Armory, to her other job as teacher in the Saturday Polish School. Sundays, the family boards the trolley bus to attend mass at St.Andrew's Church on 124th Street, or the Holy Rosary Church on Princess Elizabeth Avenue. The dentist, Dr.Batiuk in the Tegler Building on 101 Street, and the family doctor, Dr.Szerman on Jasper and 110 Street are also easily accessible. Luckily, both the St.Catherine's Elementary/Junior High, and St. Joseph's Composite High School are within easy walking distance.

Only those who do not possess a car can truly understand the importance of a good grocery store in their neighbourhood. Loblaws is close enough for the groceries to be pushed home in a shopping cart on a Saturday, a luxury that is not available to the present tenants of Allison Arms, as Loblaws closed down in the early 1970s. Neither is an N.A.D.P. milkman who delivered fresh milk, cottage cheese, and buttermilk to us in the summer.

With Father's help, Tadeusz Niziol, a caring landlord who drives one of the Edmonton Public Library's three bookmobiles for a living, builds a room in the basement for my sister Basia and me. Mother curtains off part of the long narrow living/dining room for Jack. The furniture consists of metal fold-out beds at first, and an arborite-and-chrome kitchen table with vinyl-covered chairs. Father buys two sets of legs for the donated round table top. The short set transforms it into a coffee table, and the long set into a wobbly dining table used for special occasions.

Three of the wooden chests that had crossed the Atlantic with the family become desks - a chest stood-up sideways, with the lid nailed on top is just the right height. The other chests become book-cases. Wood-patterned wallpaper takes care of aesthetic needs, as well as protects from slivers. As soon as the first purchases are paid off, the living room receives a burgundy sofa, for which 17 dollars must be delivered to Eaton's twice monthly. Every penny is accounted for in the family budget, yet there is there is always enough to send Christmas parcels with good tea, coffee, raisins, chocolate, and other delicacies to the closest relatives and friends in Poland.

As if to make up for the absence of television, the house offers its own attraction to the children. The walls and the ceiling in the basement, as well as in the garage, are covered with pictures that had been clipped from magazines by Joe Pierce, and over the years glued into an infinitely fascinating collage. Faces of royalty, politicians, movie actors, photos of ships, airplanes, cars, monkeys, strange ceremonies, have of way of reaching out and snagging whoever is passing by. We recognize some of the personalities - Roosevelt, Churchill, de Gaulle, Princess Grace, Clark Gable - and gaze in wonder at the unfamiliar landscapes. They become a vehicle to take us away from the constricting and problem-ridden worlds of school and home. This wallpaper offends our mother's esthetic sense, however, and she spends her rare free moments, patiently soaking and peeling the pictures off.

We long for good bread. A slice of the white toast bread from Loblaws can be rolled between one's fingers into a hard little ball. "It's Not Bread, It's McGavins!" printed in bold letters on trucks and billboards around town becomes a family joke. To assuage the longing, Mother buys Graham flour and on weekends bakes a few moist brown loaves. They are always slightly caved in but that does not detract from the taste. I instinctively understand that like the unorthodox living arrangements in the house, the bread is best kept private, and since I come home for lunch, it's easy to keep it that way for a while.

Since 1966, over twenty single individuals, and/or families, have lived under the flat roof of Allison Arms at any one time. Multiplied by the building's age, that adds up to a whole village. Like the Turners and the Wojnos, many of the people who move in are making a new beginning, yet each one follows a distinct path. In the 1970s additional businesses appeared on 107th Avenue to serve the now more densely populated neighbourhood. Between 111th and 112th streets: Sky Chief Service Station, 7 th Avenue Car Wash, and a two-floor business building. The appearance of Catholic Social Services, followed by Native Outreach within a block from Allison Arms, reflect the shifts taking place in the area.

The Community League, whose membership drops dramatically as the houses give way to apartments, goes into hibernation for over a decade, to wake up to an entirely new set of challenges in the 1980s. With 89 per cent of the community's population listed as living in rental units, schools are threatened with closure.

Avenue of Nations, 2003

Home owners look on with doubt at the apartments; many of the tenants come from virtually every corner of the world and most don't join the League and attend its functions. They don't hold block parties.

You don't know who they are is a refrain as old as humanity itself. For most of the newcomers, the language barrier, the lack of hours in days filled with work outside and inside the home, study, the ongoing search for better employment, does not permit extra-curricular activities. There is talk of gangs, prostitutes have moved in on 107th Avenue, unofficially referred to as the Ho Chi Minh Trail because of the large Vietnamese refugee population in the district. It takes a concerted effort on the part of the League and of organizations such as The Avenue of Nations Business Association, the Seventh Avenue Community Enrichment Project, the Immigrant Neighourhoods Community Planning Association to start cleaning up the area.

St. Joseph's High School, 2003

Today 107th Avenue is known as the Avenue of Nations. It is so brightly lit many of the prostitutes have moved on, but the community is still far from becoming the cohesive, influential unit it needs to be to make this a healthy and attractive area.

There is at least one day in the year when representatives of the various groups in the neighbourhood of Allison Arms come together. Every November, St. Joseph's High School organizes a ceremony to honour those of its students who went off to fight in the Second World War. In the centre of the long, glass roof-covered courtyard, stands the War Memorial with two plaques containing 575 names. On the day of the ceremony, veterans with their families and friends, dressed in their best to honour the occasion, fill half the courtyard. Facing them, children from the neighbouring St.Catherine's Elementary/Junior High sit cross-legged.

112th Street, 2003

Among the first group, seated in rows of plastic chairs, many remember the 1920s and 1930s. They are mostly descendants of European immigrants - Irish, French, Italian, Ukrainian, Polish, Scandinavian - or are themselves older immigrants. Some have lived in this community all or most of their lives. The second group forms a much more intricate mosaic; every part of the world is represented here. Several of the children don't speak English yet and attend ESL classes offered in their schools. A number of aboriginal children, descendants of Alberta's first families, are here, too.

High school students crowd the balconies that ring the courtyard. Dressed carelessly, they look on with poker faces. They come from different parts of the city, and again, many come from places as diverse as Cambodia, Vietnam, India, Somalia, Columbia, Iran, and the former Yugoslavia.

In a year or three they will be looking for further education, or for work, and an affordable place to live in a community with access to groceries, health services, child care, recreation programs, green spaces, and a low crime rate. I fervently wish them luck.

Quote: "I have good memories of this neighbourhood; of the house, which for three winters had kept us comfortable, of the backyard, where we could throw down a blanket and our swimsuit-clad bodies on a hot summer day, and a garden which yielded a good crop of raspberries and vegetables."