It gets in your blood, they say. The first time I was in the
Yukon I was 15. When I heard about this project through my youth group in the
Anglican Church, I just knew it was for me, the way one “knows” these things in
ones walk through life. We were introduced to many communities and did what we
could there and it was a wonderful experience. Most memorably, one of our team
felt a practical joke too much to contain. We were commissioned to paint the
curling rink in Carmacks and the pun being too much for her, our friend painted
on the long roof in huge, roller-sized, letters, “RINKY DINKY CARMACKS.” Needless
to say the church elders were not amused. We heard of a trucker who almost went
off the highway where the roof was clearly visible to passersby. She had to
wash it off. Years later, by chance I ran into her and smiling broadly I brought up the
incident. She went dead quiet and I could tell she was pained by the memory. I
was sorry to see that for the follies of youth can be forgiven. We all admired
her spirit.
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