Lögberg-Heimskringla - 01.08.2010, Side 10

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10 • Lögberg-Heimskringla • 1 August 2010
W.D. Valgardson
Riverton. Riverton. This river town sitting astride the Icelandic River. In my
childhood, it was the edge of civ-
ilization. Here was the jump off
spot for going North. It was the
first town freighters, fishermen,
and trappers came to when re-
turning from weeks and months
of isolation. The hotel was leg-
endary for the drinking and the
characters that drank there. It
was the end of rail, growing at
Hnausa’s expense when the rail
line pushed through to stop here,
to anchor the town with its water
tower, its railway station.
It was supposed to become
the capital of New Iceland but
fate intervened with cold, stormy
weather. It had a large saw mill
but that burned down. It never
had the political good luck and
the beaches of Gimli, nor the
good soil of Arborg but what it
had was loyalty. The town took
shape in the memories of its
people, even those that moved to
Steveston and White Rock, who
crossed oceans to work in dis-
tant lands, making such an im-
pression that it is never far from
any of them. I know because, al-
though I only taught high school
in Riverton one year, the town
and its people are never far from
my thoughts and, after wander-
ing far and wide, I sometimes
wonder if I wouldn’t have been
better to have settled here and
made a life among the Iceland-
ers, Ukrainians, Mennonites and
Native People?
The defiance against all odds
that is part of the culture was in
evidence when I arrived on June
10. On the Riverton Building
Supply store there was a sign
saying “Mosquito Weaponry
Sold Here”. That defiance was
evident as the celebration went
on in the rain. A race track had
been set out on the main street
and with a bathtub turned into a
go-kart, bath tub races were in
progress.
Riverton is changing. There
was the tent advertising Menno-
nite Ethnic Food. When I was
living in Riverton, the Men-
nonites were nearly invisible.
The first Mennonite student had
come to the high school. Grade
nine didn’t corrupt her and she
stayed. Incidentally, she and her
family became my family’s life-
long friends.
The most popular sidewalk
stand wasn’t svið or harðfisk
but quesadillas, tortillas, and
burritos.
Some things were still the
same. Vínarterta was for sale.
Phyllis Hokanson had made
cookie sheet size vínarterta
in spite of having bronchitis.
Valarie Hokanson was with
her but her contribution was
on sale across the street where
Jean Gudbjartson and Louise
Schelenberg were selling
pönnukökur. They and nine
other ladies from the Djorfung
Ladies Aide took over the high
school home economic’s room
and in seven hours made one
hundred dozen of the rolled
pancakes. They were selling
tickets on a basket of various
Riverton perfumes. I bought
some tickets even though I don’t
use perfume.
The train station that has
been restored and turned into a
museum was a hive of activity.
There was free coffee and treats.
People sat outside in spite of
the wet. But all the talk was of
the Homecoming Dance. I had
hoped to go to the dance but it
was sold out with 165 people on
the waiting list. People had come
from far and wide to attend that
supper and dance. Old friends
reunited. Old memories shared.
Home is where the heart is and
if the homecoming is proof of
where the heart is, we know for
a lot of people it’s in Riverton.
Riverton
homecoming
pHoto: W.D. VALgArDson
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