I’m feeling pretty lucky these days, to be staying in the town of Eastend as writer in residence at Wallace Stegner House. His are pretty big boots to fill, but it’s a privilege to be here, and to have his smiling face on the wall above the desk.
I’m working on a history book about my colourful corner of the world, but somehow getting away from the nearby history I stroll through and think about every day makes the obvious, well — obvious.
Viewed personally and historically, th[e] almost featureless prairie glows with more colour than it reveals to the appalled and misdirected tourist. As memory, as experience, those Plains are unforgettable; as history, they have the lurid explosiveness of a prairie fire, quickly dangerous, swiftly over.
Wallace Stegner, Wolf Willow, 1955
I am not appalled. I may be misdirected. I am certain that history has not yet been fully written.
I am indebted to the Eastend Arts Council for the chance to stay. I hope their stewardship of this place continues long into the future.