Thank you

As much divide as there may be between tourists and locals, the fact remains that there is little difference between them.

Sure, there are those who have been here for eighty-one years, like the gentleman who chatted with me briefly while he waited for his table to be called at the fall supper in Invermere this week. His name escapes me, but then the food was quite distracting.

Others have been here despite being born elsewhere. Like Slovenian Erna Bukovnik and German Klara Trescher who were, at the same time, cooking up a storm in the kitchen for the 200 hungry guests. But to categorize people here into one of two groups, locals and non-locals, is quite a narrow perspective. In line for food with her family was Ellie Rodriguez, Spanish teacher at the College of the Rockies, who has told me recently that there is a large South American population in the valley, a group I’d like to get to know better.

There are exchange students at the high school who continue to bring new and interesting customs and ideas to the valley. I, myself, am as much a visitor as anyone, having been here for less than a year and originating from (gasp) Toronto.

Some groups of “locals” have funny accents, as Marke Dickson refers to the Kiwi flavour he still adds to the English language despite being a resident here for years. He considers himself as much a Canadian as anyone. And he is right to.

Because to be a valley resident, or a Canadian for that matter, is not something that you fill out on a tax form or figure out depending on a line on a map. Were that the case, we all may as well declare allegiance to our post box number and indulge in an even greater divide.

What overcomes the great polarization and makes us a part of a community is something far more simple. And I was reminded of it this week, ironically, by a group of grandmothers and someone who could speak little English at all.

First, one of the diners at the fall supper was a woman whose English was slightly better than my French. Again, the food got the best of my memory and her name now is a blur.

She was visiting family in town from Quebec and we had spoken briefly earlier.

As I was busy taking photos of the banquet, she approached me from the hungry crowd. She had left her food behind and went out of her way to ask me in the few English words she could muster, if I would like a coffee.

Then, a few days later, I was lucky enough to be in a room full of grandmothers at the Go-Go Sisters’ dinner to support the Stephen Lewis Foundation. With smiles, they fed me home-cooked food and welcomed me to their community while at the same time helping out another community a world away.

They were small, but noticeable gestures that made me feel at once like I was a member of a group, however it might be classified.

The rooms were no longer a collection of factions but singular groups enjoying the spread. To those who go out of their way to make outsiders welcome and ultimately create their own community, one phrase is most suiting, in whatever language it may be spoken: Dankie, merci, thank you. – Dave Lazzarino

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