The Slocan Valley writer Rita Moir has just published The Third Crop, a photographic history of the early days of the Slocan Valley, reports Linda Crosfield in her blog Purple Mountain Poetry:

And what a book it is! It chronicles the people who lived and worked in the Slocan Valley until the 1940s in a winning combination of Rita Moir’s exquisite language and the wonderful photographs she talks about. It begins: “Four distinct groups of people arrived in the Slocan Valley, through choice or by force, by the middle of the Second World War…Aboriginal people lived in this valley first; then came the European and Doukhobour settlers, then the Japanese-Canadians.”  (Source: Purple Mountain Poetry)

The Third Crop (Sono Nis Press 2011) is subtitled A Personal and Historical Journey into the Photo Albums and Shoeboxes of the Slocan Valley, 1800s to 1940s.

Rita Moir signing books at the launch of The Third Crop (Photo by Linda Crosfield)

Linda’s blog post describes (with lots of photos) both the book and the celebration of it at the Vallican Whole on August 21. The overflow turnout was a testament to Rita Moir’s decades of unwavering commitment to community-building in the Slocan Valley.

Rita’s Speech

Rita Moir has kindly sent us a copy of the speech she gave at the launch party. Here is the full text:

You may have noticed all the tents and set-up outside. Talk about history keeping on being made. Next weekend is the 40^th anniversary of the Vallican Whole, and so much of my own history belongs here. It’s because of this building, and the effort that went into it, that made me understand how every community in this valley has worked to build our entire community, from the halls to the bridges, from the farms to community organizations.

         I want to thank Ray Kosiancic for inspiring the title for this book. He showed me how his family hung the third crop to dry – that final bountiful harvest you could only hope for after a first and second cutting. That image of the third crop stuck with me during the five years I gathered this material. I started this project in 2006. In the process I moved from my log home of 34 years – the caretaker’s residence you see next door. I moved down the road and helped build my new home with my partner Dan Armstrong. During those five years since I started writing, my mother had heart surgery – twice. Friends died. Babies were born. Mountains became prairies. Life intervened and these photos and stories which you had so generously offered to me languished in boxes in my own home. I felt embarrassed about how long I was taking. I could hardly go to the Slocan Valley Co-op without someone asking me when the book was coming out. And then they stopped asking and that felt even worse.

         But really it was you, and publisher Diane Morriss’s faith, and Jim Brennan’s enthusiasm for the photos, and Katherine Gordon’s whip, that kept me going.

         Ray Kosiancic, the Tedesco family, the Avis’s and the Hufty’s, Ann Deakoff, Jerry Plonidin, the Sherstobitoffs and Nazaroffs, Dawn Anderson, the museum  people like Kathy Provan and Ken Murray, Stan Wilson and Webb Cummings, Larry Ewashen, Shawn Lamb and Laura Fortier. You kept me going. Rod Currie, who took all the wonderful modern day pictures that give us such perspective – you kept me going.

         How could I not go on when Yvonne Clark – Roy and Nancy Tedesco’s daughter – searched through her son’s belongings after he had been killed, to find the original photos I had screwed up and scanned wrong. How could I not go on when 94-year-old Molly Hufty gave me her photos and memories, then later lost her memory? How could I not go on after John Braun put a piece of plywood on top of a wheelbarrow, pulled out the photo albums, and moved our makeshift table around the yard so we could follow the shade from tree to tree?

         What motivated was not only the shame of letting all of you down, but my own drive to write about the community I love.

There was a capacity crowd at the book launch (Photo by Linda Crosfield)

         I had to find a way to drive this book, or for this book to drive me. To make me want to keep searching and looking for the endless detail. What was it? Katherine Gordon, in her book The Slocan: Portrait of a Valley, had already done an excellent job about writing about the history of each culture. I didn’t want to duplicate her work. What made me care enough to put in the thousands and thousands of hours? Really, what I care about is how we build community – whether you are native or Anglo or Doukhobor or Japanese-Canadian or hippie. I wanted to write about how communities are built: the arrivals, establishing a structure, the abundance, the conflicts and resolutions, the families and friends who sustain us. What makes us who we are, what everyone has contributed in their time.

         I wanted to write – not divided by culture – but what we all have contributed to make the Slocan Valley what it is today. I wanted to write about the waterways, the building of the roads, the dams, how we learned our building skills, how we built schools and halls, how we harvested apples and raised and hunted animals, how we logged and mined and held fall fairs and dances.

         I wanted to write about the ancestry of place, how yes, we can all fight, and often do – about who was here first or who lived here the most generations. But I don’t want to do that. I wanted to include all the people, the ones who lived here willingly and the ones who lived here in exile and came through no choice of their own. I wanted to celebrate the process of building a structure and a culture.

The cake (Photo by Linda Crosfield)

         I want us to respect each other’s stories, what we have contributed in our time and what we give to each other and what we pass on. I wanted to say: Our Stories Matter, and I wanted to say: Look, even our young people want to write about our valley. To know our RURAL stories are worth carrying into the world – be they stories about making lapsha, or treeplanting, or stories about families that have big bonfires and big guns, or families that once burned down their own homes. I am so proud of our young writers whose work appears in this book. They’re our third crop. They’re our rich harvest. And they’re here with us today. Martina Avis, Jordan Mounteer, and Natasha Jmieff – please stand up and accept our thanks for carrying our stories forward.

          The ancestry of place, the history of place, is bigger than any group. We all built it, whether we lived here originally, whether we came here by force or choice, and whether we left of stayed. And I will tell you one other thing: I was struck repeatedly by the importance of culture and how it helped people survive. You’ll see a number of pictures of the Japanese Canadian internees. Some are famous pictures from museums – the ones Tak Toyota took at the train station in Slocan.  Other photos of the internees are from family collections. These photos show the importance of a culture they worked to maintain. You will see the difficult pictures, the anguished faces. But you’ll also see the sports days, women’s sewing groups, the Obon festival. I am not using these photos to say that people were happy in their internment, but rather to show that even in horrendous circumstances, the culture we make can help us through.

                 In this book you will find a map of the Lemon Creek internment camp where there now is nothing to mark that history. The map shows the names of all those families, and I am so glad we found and were able to include this story.

          I’m happy I did this book. I feel deeper and richer for the effort, for the stories and pictures you trusted me with. What you have in your hands is because of you; it’s because of Diane Morriss, who not only published this book but put on this entire celebration. It’s because of Jim Brennan, who painstakingly worked with the old photos, and helped me when I floundered. It’s because of the designer, Frances Hunter, who took a lot of photos and a bunch of words and made them sing. It’s because of Dan Armstrong, who kept a steady pace, and always kept faith in me and our valley’s collective history.

          And now, anyone who has me in their car as we drive up or down the valley will hear this: Slow down! See there? That’s where the brick factory was, right near the Fominoffs’.  Or…That burner in Crescent Valley? That was the Patrick Brothers mill – you know the Patrick Division of the NHL?….That ridge? It burned off it 1909, or was it 1910?

          Thanks for coming – enjoy the food, enjoy the music, enjoy the book, enjoy each other. And remember, there’s a big celebration here next weekend and every one of you is invited. The Whole’s 40^th is an anniversary and celebration of looking back and looking forward. You don’t have to have been here forever. This is for everyone. And we’re starting it off on Friday at 6:30 with the dedication of bench donated built and donated the Slocan Lions Club in honour of T.C. Carpendale.

Thanks to Rita Moir for sharing her speech notes with us. Readers, you are encouraged to leave a comment below. There is no annoying log-in procedure. Just start writing.