George Edgar Brown

It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of George Edgar Brown of Lethbridge, Alberta, on Tuesday, June 4, 2024. He will be greatly missed.

The Old-Timer’s Tale

By Harriette Belanger

Palmer, Alaska

Today I’m old and busted up

Hair all thin an’ grey

Years ago I came up North,

‘Cause “up there they really pay”!

I started out with a muck stick,

‘N then hopped stakes for awhile

(When you’re young an’ foolish,

‘Bout anything’s your style!)

But I had an eye for skinnin’ Cat,

Got an oldtimer to be my nurse.

He had it all written up there in his head,

Chapter… page… and verse.

I watched those big rigs shovin’ muck

My young eyes really glowed!

They were exciting, they were great!

(an’ on them you get big dough!)

One day a skinner went down the road,

An’ I got my chance at last.

There I was on that mighty throne,

With POWER within my grasp.

Thru summer’s long unblinking sun,

And the icy blasts of fall…

From Six to Eight and up to Nine

The monarch of them all.

They got to be just one big pain.

I had those big cats tame.

I had to try for greater heights

Rubber tires were my next game.

Then they got rough and made me ache.

I saw old Father Time

He was peering from the shadows,

And pulling on the lines.

So I broke in on the grader-

That takes a knowin’ eye.

An’ it’s something you can keep at

As time goes slippin’ by.

With your eye steady and lovin’

On every back slope, super, and berm

Your feet easy on the ole controls,

And your hands sure an’ firm.

Now here’s pure satisfaction,

Work that really pays

Both in cash- “coin of the realm”

An’ in other important ways

Feels good when you’re workin’ that old D-9…

To see a job well done…

Those 657’s move a lot of muck

An’ are really sorta fun…

But for one who’s already been up the trail,

From here to there an’ back,

That ole Fourteen is better yet

Then anything on a track.

There’s quite a crew up there in camp.

Ole “So-‘n-so” ‘s brought a deck…

An’ Ole Four-five-six is a-callin’ me.

An’ I’m down to my last check!

Each year I see the yellow leaves,

And watch the geese fly high.

Termination dust moly on the highest peaks,

An’ the cold-time comin’ nigh.

Each spring I say I’m going south

By fall I’m much too broke-

Each summer I earn gobs of gold

But there’s a leak there in my poke.