The Good, the Bad and the Ugly | Small Town Connections By Norma Galambos


Your hometown is a big part of what makes you the person you are. It is where your story begins. 

In the early years of the 20th-century, rural Saskatchewan folk mainly socialized within their country districts. With the advent of better roads and vehicles, gatherings in towns became popular. People from the districts had the opportunity to meet, and then they stuck within their hometown community. Going to the lake was something we did a lot of as teenagers. Marcelin teens went to Martins Lake, Blaine Lake to Martins or Redberry Lake, Hafford to Redberry and the Leask ones hung out at Emerald Lake. Overtime everybody mingled and went to all the lakes if they wanted.

That newfound freedom progressed to travelling to functions in other towns and then to the city's bright lights. Now online dating is another way for people to meet. 

In high school, girls and guys dated people from surrounding towns, and many weddings soon followed. Couples tended to marry young, as living together was frowned upon. I would never have even broached that subject with my parents. As far as my siblings go, they married people from Leask, Marcelin, Mildred in Saskatchewan and Spruce Grove, Alberta.

School dances were a way to meet young people from other towns. These dances were a huge deal, especially the annual fall freshie dance. Sadly, they have become a thing of the past. Writing this story made me realize the significance of dancing as a form of socialization for my parents’ generation and mine. 

After meeting The Hubs at Emerald Lake in the summer of 1976, we had our first date at a school dance that fall. We grew up on farms in the same municipality, but he was four years older, so we didn’t travel in the same circles before then. 


The Hubs bottom left

Of course, every dance had an after-party, and if you were cool enough to make it to that, you were popular on Monday morning. Every town had its party spots with names like the shack, the pit, or a code word. When I was a parent of teenagers, I finally understood why my mom wasn’t thrilled for me to go to places like shacks or pits. 

It is strange to think that in the 70s, none of us teens had a cell phone. When you were out on a Saturday night, you felt free; your parents’ couldn't call or text you. Well, it was all fun and games until you got home or your parents came looking for you. We didn’t have cameras to take pictures of our teenage days, maybe that was a good thing. 

We tried to pull the same stunts that teenagers before and after us did. The ones we thought we would never fall for when we became parents. If someone else’s parents were more lenient than yours, you told your parents you stayed at their place and then went out to a dance or a party. When you’re that age, you get in trouble because you don’t think past the moment you're in; ironically, now I am trying to live in the moment. As a group of small-town friends, we stuck together and had each other’s backs. Parents also kept a watchful eye on other people’s kids. That’s just the way it is growing up in a small town. Growing up in a tired little town, at times, felt like living in a glasshouse.

Rivalries between towns seemed to track back to three things: girls, cars and sports. Rumours spread quickly by word-of-mouth, but the implications were not nearly as widespread as they are with today’s technology. Either way, they can be vicious and hurtful.


Me front row/center right 1978 - 79


19781979

I feel sorry for teens today; news can be shared across social media by morning if they mess up. With people texting each other instead of talking on the phone or in person, I believe the art of conversation has taken a hit. It’s interesting to think that the first conversation between humans occurred 50,000 to 100,000 years ago. It was mostly grunting, mumbling, pointing, or through symbols and cave paintings. We still mumble and point; due to the lack of a cave wall, we use emojis to communicate. 

Each of the four towns in our school division (Leask, Marcelin, Blaine Lake and Hafford) had school and community teams. The Leask Rams, Marcelin Marauders, Blaine Lake Comets and Hafford Vikings competed fiercely for supremacy (which was a beat-up trophy and more importantly, bragging rights). I remember all four schools waiting in their respective groups for the announcement of the overall point winner on track and field days. 


1972 - 73

It was when coming of age meant getting a high school jacket that you wore with intense pride. A lot of those jackets are still around 45 years later. Marcelin School eventually closed, but the other three original schools of the Blaine Lake School Division remain in operation. Several amalgamations increased the size of Saskatchewan school divisions. Leask is now one of the forty-four schools in the Prairie Spirit School Division.

Not owning a set of wheels meant you were reduced to borrowing your parent's vehicle on the weekends. Burning an entire tank of gas made it hard to claim that you didn’t venture far the night before; your story didn't hold up under parental interrogation. It wasn't hard to burn copious amounts of fuel by only driving around town. Some boring weekends found us driving around our town, then going to other towns and doing the same thing. There weren't any all-night gas stations in rural areas then, so you were hooped unless you were stealthy enough to refill from your Dad’s fuel tank. 


The Hubs front row second from right 1972 - 73 
Back L  - R Bruce Peake, Billy Sanderson, Floyd Badger, Danny Derr, Dennis Stiglich, Claude Robin
Mr. Gunter
Front L -R Andy Jessop, Dennis Badger, Allan Budan, Brian Galambos, Lorne Valuck


1978 - 79


1974 - 75


1973 - 74

It seems like yesterday we drove around sitting so close to each other that you couldn't slip a dime in between. If there was a console between the seats, girls would sit on that to get closer to their man. 

When I was an older teen, going to Venice House in Prince Albert for pizza or to the drive-in in Saskatoon was a big night out. 

It is a reality that towns need to come together for kids to participate in recreational activities. New friendships form when kids play on teams comprised of players from multiple communities. Someone previously on a team you played against becomes your teammate, and barriers between communities lessen. 

Adults in the area curled, played hockey, softball and broom-ball. The Hubs played hockey for the Marcelin Junior B Knights for two years. The team was made up of players from different towns and competed against teams in NSJHL.

After his Junior B career, he joined the Leask Flyers men's hockey club. They played in the 5-40 Hockey League, which consisted of teams from Leask, Marcelin, Blaine Lake, Hafford, Borden, Radisson, Mayfair and Maymont. The league was very competitive, and tempers often flared. Players considered tough guys had a reputation to uphold. He loved playing hockey and was very passionate about it. He has the false teeth to prove it, although he wasn’t innocent in on-ice altercations by any means. 

There were those infamous individuals that weren’t afraid to show up at a party anywhere. A few of them became rural legends; everyone knew them by name. When they walked in, the local crew sized them up, and it felt like the theme song from the Clint Eastwood movie The Good, the Bad and the Ugly should be playing in the background and the town folk clearing the streets. Gatherings and dances were still the most fun, though, when there was a mix of people from different places.

My parents weren't keen on me venturing to other towns for parties or dances. In their minds, Hafford was too far, and Shellbrook was too big. Every dance was pretty much the same anyway. Everyone congregated at the back of the hall, and every time someone walked through the door, we all turned to look.

On occasion, a few guys or girls would get a bit too territorial, and a scrap would break out. Some brave souls would step in and settle things down, and then everyone carried on with their night. No one was standing there filming the goings-on. These dust-ups provided fodder for the Monday morning debriefing of the weekend at school. 

Who had the fastest car, loudest music, most lights, biggest tires and the loudest mufflers was important to the guys. The sight of a lit-up truck with stacks, a cool dude behind the wheel, rapping his muffler is something I’ll always remember. I guess you could call it the mating ritual of the 70s and beyond.

I’m not exactly sure why teenagers wanted loud mufflers, there was no way you could sneak home late undetected, and the police always stopped those vehicles. I guess it was worth it to be cool. 

I liked those mufflers when I was a teenager; as a parent, I could detect the sound of my son's muffler from a mile away. A boy with loud pipes coming to pick up your daughter was also less amusing. Guys with vehicles like that were stereotyped as bad boys.

Challenges were thrown down. A stretch of old highway was marked off with orange spray paint to make a race track; you know, a “Greased Lightnin” situation. There were two lengths marked off on the track, a quarter-mile for the newer vehicles and a half-mile for the older vehicles that took longer to get up to speed. It was aptly named Kilwinning International Raceway (KIR to the locals) due to its proximity to Kilwinning, a hamlet where all that remained was a store/gas station. Spectators parked in the ditch or a nearby field. A nod of agreement between the drivers started the race, and someone at the end waived a rag to signify its completion. 

The Hubs claims he raced his 1968 Galaxy at KIR, but says he can’t remember if he won or lost. My thought is that means he lost; no guy forgets his drag racing victories.

I’m not saying that small-town rivalries were necessarily a good thing, but competition is a natural human instinct. It gives us the incentive to excel.

Small towns have a comfortable feeling, the vibe that only a place with one main street can give you.

If you like this story, I would love it if you shared it! Thanks, Norma


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Comments

Ann (Madsen) Burgos said…
I am so glad I was lucky enough to grow up in a small town (Leask) in Saskatchewan. I have great memories.
Cheryl said…
I Love you stories! I lived...your stories!
That’s awesome; thanks for reading.
Yes, for sure Ann, thanks for reading. Norma
Pam Hilland (Somogyi) said…
I love reading your stories. I feel so connected to them, even though I grew up in BC. My dad was born in St Benedict SK!
Thank you so much for reading my blog, Pam. Back in the day The Hubs worked in Humboldt and played hockey against St. Benedict so I went to games there.

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