Thank You Roger

I opened the door to the shack of the rig's dining room and there before me was the man I would marry nineteen years later. This would be the man whose son I would bear, give up for adoption and find twenty years later. This would be the man who would perish from lung cancer five weeks short of our fourth wedding anniversary. This would be the man despite our twenty-nine year age difference that would be my best friend and support leading me into living life to my highest potential. This would be my first love that in death would comfort, restore and guide me into rebirthing a new Carol Ann open to all the magical wondrous possibilities and belief that my best is yet to be.

And how did I end up on an oil rig you may be wondering?

Thanks to my older brother Roger, who had begun a life homesteading outside of Athabasca, Alberta, I decided to head west from my home of Stratford, Ontario, at the age of twenty. His wife, Beth and I needed jobs. We heard about the oil patch requiring cooks for their bush camps. This sounded like a marvelous idea and the two of us were quickly hired on. Adventure was already part of our lives living in Roger's hand hewn log cabin without any amenities, so going further into the bush to live suited both of us. The rig was miles north of Manning, Alberta down a long bush road. It was a bit of a shock to see my new home away from home. The day was December 26, 1973. Little did I know how this co-creative effort was about to rock my world.

It was a few days after arriving to the rig that I wanted to do my wash, yet to my dismay upon inspecting the laundry shack I discover I cannot manage the ringer washer. I headed to the kitchen shack in pursuit of a man. Upon opening the door, I stood timidly as I caught my first glimpse of this future love. He was conversing intently with another. The two men turned and the older one greeted me with a disarming welcome smile.

"Would one of you be kind enough to assist me in a lesson with the ringer washer?"

The older man jumped to the ready setting me at ease. "Hello, my name is Bob." He opened the kitchen shack's door for me to step out before him and off we went into the snowy night. I was mesmerized by his attire in a blue down jacket, blue jeans and white shoes. How very odd. We were in the bush surrounded with deep snows and he had on no hat and spiffy clean white shoes.

To my amazement I watched this friendly gentleman thread my dirty clothes into the ringer. Then came the invitation that would launch our destiny. "Carol Ann, could I offer you some New Year's Eve celebration in my shack?"

I hesitated as I recalled my employer's strict instruction to not become involved with the men on the rig. Bob is the petroleum engineer in charge of the drilling. But it was New Year's Eve after all. "Thank you, yes that sounds good."

Shortly after being in his shack the other man from the kitchen popped his head in the door. "Do you guys want to go for a ride?"

"Dwight come in here and meet Carol Ann." He stepped all the way inside as Bob continued. "Dwight is our driller. Do you think Beth would like to join us?"

A few minutes later the four of us sat bundled in the warm truck for a ride down the dark bush road. Where does one drive to in such a place so late at night I pondered. Dwight expertly manoeuvered the snowy bush road to the landing strip carved out of the trees.

"Shall we go for a walk, Carol Ann?"

Moments later I found myself plopped in a large snow bank with this man who awhile earlier had helped me with my wash. Funny thing about that laundry interest of his, it would be years later that he took great delight in patiently hanging up all of my "ditties" in our Arizona backyard.

I prefer to use whole names and began to call him Robert which seemed to please him. He was known to everyone as Bob. I declined his offer of Scotch whiskey. It was a chilly place to visit in a snow bank close to midnight and his arm became wrapped around me.

This Robert effortlessly crept his way into my young heart and I found myself going over to his shack every night when I was done in the camp kitchen. He was very creative in finding excuses to invite me over. At that time he had a moustache and would ask me to trim it for him. On an outing to civilization he had come back with red wine and this became our drink together. Initially, I had refused to partake in this because I had become indoctrinated into the Mormon Church prior to leaving Ontario.

The odd fact is that this was also due to Roger. He was a friendly soul and had invited into his Stratford home two young Mormon missionaries. I had become enamoured with one and we had envisioned a future together.

I became a Jack Mormon enjoying our evening wine with this handsome moustached charmer and our kinship evolved in the long dark hours of the northern winter. We had the very best time getting to know each other.

Despite being in the middle of the bush we found a lot of entertaining things to do. He would take me with him in his blue Jimmy blazer over the camp roads to check on his other rigs. He let me drive which landed us in the ditch with great laughs and a call on his radio for help from the rig. Robert was a pilot of bush planes also. Often he would go by plane to other sites to check on the wells although most of the time there was a hired pilot for these outings and a few times I went along for the ride. Sometimes a helicopter was our mode of transportation. I never knew what was up his sleeve next.

We would often just go for long walks down the camp road away from the rig and I would drop myself into the blanket of white to make snow angels. With little boy delight and great chuckles he would join me in these snowy creations.

I was often in the large cooler getting kitchen supplies. He would make it his mission to find me, flinging open the door to my surprise and with long legged strides cross the floor to envelop me in a bear embrace. Then a moment later with a grin, he was gone back to his work. Without any effort our hearts had become entwined. It was rather a shock to me due to the age difference and the fact that he was married with four sons. His oldest boy was older than me.

Yet neither of us gave any consideration to the consequences of this bush camp romance. That fated first night came that I did indeed stay in his arms. No doubt the night crew on the rig were placing bets for this. Our shenanigans did not go unnoticed. Somehow the news was passed on to my employer.

My behavior with Robert was not taken lightly and my days as a second cook came to an abrupt halt. I had nicknamed myself Spud and now Spud was asked to put down her potato peeler. Mashed potatoes for a hungry rig crew calls for a massive amount of potatoes to be peeled. Wowsers! I was most dismayed and yet Robert was unfazed. I could continue to stay with him at his shack he happily suggests.

I had gone into this bush camp without any birth control and soon I had indications of pregnancy. My brother David in Ontario was about to be married. I was expected to be home for this family event and so I made a tearful goodbye from Robert. While in Stratford a pregnancy test revealed I was indeed with child. I remember standing outside the doctor's office in a payphone calling Robert and tearfully telling him this scary news.

What was I going to do? I had to head back west and said farewell to my family. I was greeted with big hugs by my love. He took me back to the scene where we had lovingly co-created this new life forming inside me. Long discussions ensued into the night. I remember him broken hearted as he collapsed on the floor of his humble rig shack in tears when I told him my decision.

"Robert, I believe I will give up this baby for adoption. I do not believe in abortion for a situation like this. And I do not want to raise a child without a father."

The possibility of him leaving his family was not an option. His marriage with Marion was never a true partnership in genuine love and yet they shared the birth of four sons. The boys were raised by Marion due to Robert's oil and gas consulting taking him overseas for extended time. Their home was in Calgary, yet he was rarely there.

He agreed to stand by me and support my decision. There was never any moment in my mind of him abandoning me. This potential child held us committed and bound together although the endless questions of how this and how that were unanswered. We were both in shock and needed to absorb this life altering news.

Robert knew a lot of people and kept in touch with many of his buddies. "I know a man in Spokane, Washington whom I would like you to meet, Possum." He had started calling me Possum and my nickname for him was Toad, as in J. Thaddeus Toad from the "Wind in the Willows".

"Who is he and why do you feel this?"

"Walt is a dear friend who is a psychiatrist and I believe he would help us to make sense of this situation."

I was not going to disagree with him and so we went off on this trip together. We met this Dr. Walt and indeed it proved to be a very wonderful time. Both of us shared our hearts with this kind soul and yet in reality this was more about Robert working through his turmoil. It did seem to put his mind at ease to talk to a buddy. Robert had to get back to the rig and I had someone of my own to visit.

Near to Spokane was the home of the Mormon missionary I met in Stratford. Looking back at this I cannot believe I even did such a thing and yet in my circumstance my desire to have this baby was motivating me down a strange path. I had written a letter to the missionary and advised him of my situation. The visit with his parents was truly not wise yet desperation had led me astray. I was searching.

I loved Robert and yet marriage was not possible with him at that time. Yet for me to have to give up a baby was not something I really wanted either. This ridiculous visit to their home proved to be very hurtful. Religion certainly can cast ungodly standards and judgments wherein it is no one's place to do so. In their eyes I was deemed a sinner and an adulteress.

The fact that our future baby was conceived in love had no bearing on their harsh judgment. This event forever steered me clear of religious dogma and enforced my belief in my own spiritual strength and convictions.

I went on to Duncan, Vancouver Island to stay with my Uncle Russ. They were going away and I was able to be there alone. I went into Duncan in search of answers to my dilemma. I wanted to remain living out west to be near Robert. I could not advise anyone in my family of my situation nor risk visits from them during my pregnancy.

My angelics were watching over me. I was lovingly steered into an office of a Catholic nun who worked with family services counseling people during trauma. Her name was Sister Freida Raab and she held the answer to my prayers. She listened patiently to my pleas for guidance. "I may have an answer for you if you are willing to live in Prince George."

"Yes, I need to stay out west."

"I know a family who has a daughter named Vivian about your age that has her own apartment. I can explain your situation and see if she would be willing to have you as a roommate."

"That would be marvelous, thank you."

The call was made and thanks to the family's kindness to strangers they agreed to this plan. My obstetrician was a kind British man named Dr. Phillip Woods. My case was a welcome change for him he explained because he performed more abortions than births.

After several weeks he confided he may have a potential family for my baby. I was relieved but found myself hesitant at the same time. I did want to keep this child and yet I could not see myself as a single Mom without his father by our side. Yet that was definitely not possible.

My heart ached over this agonizing decision creating many a sleepless night. There seemed to be no end to the questions in my mind which had no answers and the fear I may never see this child again pained me beyond measure. Who are these people my doctor is considering? Do they really want another baby and will the child get as much love as I could provide if I kept the child? Vivian was glad I was having the baby and yet seemed to think I would be capable of raising him myself.

Thankfully, my light in the darkness was Robert's constant support and our visits together. My roommate was not approving of this Robert love of mine which added to my strain. Yet I was most grateful to her compassion and the kindness of her family which welcomed me into their home.

I wanted to find a job and decided to try tree planting. I enjoyed this outdoor fresh air adventure and yet it was very tiring for me. Camp life can be challenging and there is a lot of time for gossip. I did receive looks from folks as my little love growing within me had begun to show. One day I could no longer feel the baby kicking. I worried that overexerting myself constantly bending over all day had put the baby at risk. This was not true and yet my concern for the baby stayed on my mind.

Some of the women bet a male tree planter to streak through the camp and to great guffaws from a cheering crowd he took up the bet. After about three tours of tree planting I decided to hang up my shovel. I left the streaker behind. I returned to Prince George and spent most of my time swimming in the apartment pool, bicycling and walking. Phone calls and mail from Robert were a blessing.

Once my mind was finally made up about the adoption I knew I could stick with my decision. The last time I saw Robert prior to delivery I was very close to my due date and he was worried that I should not be flying in that condition. Yet I insisted we see each other. We met in Banff staying a couple nights at a cozy log cabin in the trees. His open romantic attentions to me in public created a lot of stares since I was heavy with child.

Robert was distraught by my decision to not allow him to be with me when I gave birth. I knew it would be tough enough on my own yet believed in my heart this was for the best. If he saw the baby I knew it would make it harder for both of us and add to his guilt about not being able to raise the child.

We shared a teary farewell with my promise I would call at the point I was on my way to the hospital. A few days later, in the middle of the night my waters broke and I made my phone call to Robert. "I am on my way and shall call you after the birth."

Vivian drove me to the hospital and had been my coach during child birthing classes so she was by my side. In all honesty I wanted only to be alone and yet I was so grateful for her help I agreed. A few hours later about 8:00 am a healthy kicking nine and a half pound baby boy greeted my startled eyes. It was October 15, 1974. Tears of relief poured from me as I gazed into his blue eyes for the first time. In that moment I was his one and only Mom. A few minutes later I was alone in my own hospital room and the baby in the nursery.