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1967 brings back so many memories.

First, historic background. My great, great (etc.) grandfather was the Sergeant-At-Arms to Gen. James Wolfe so we have been here for a long time. After the French were defeated, senior officers and even some non-coms were given large tracks of land to encourage them to settle in Quebec.

Also, we are related to the French Le Moyne family, whose three brothers were explorers who, among other things, mapped out Hudson’s Bay and founded New Orleans. Before he died, my grandfather donated his land to the federal government during the Second World War; it is now the largest army facility in the province.

In 1964-65, the federal government established a sa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½ Student Exchange program, moving high school students all over the country. I was one of the lucky six chosen in Kamloops to go to Montreal for two weeks.

I stayed with a French-Canadian family and heard real (not high school) French for the first time. We travelled by train ($69 for a lower berth including all food!). The tripartite exchange had folks from Montreal going to New Brunswick and students from New Brunswick coming to Kamloops as well.

In Kamloops, I met a girl from Hartland, New Brunswick, and fell madly in love for the first time!

In 1967, I was attending my second year at the University of British Columbia. The government was encouraging groups and individuals to undertake a Centennial project. I decided that mine was to swim in both the Pacific and the Atlantic during that summer. The Pacific was easy, the Atlantic a bit harder for a young student.

But I hitchhiked and bused across the country to Halifax and managed it in a swampy area just south of the city.  Made it to Hartland as well and renewed our relationship.

Hitchhiked to Montreal and stayed with my uncle and spent four days at Expo 67. 

My favourite pavilions were the Russian and Canadian; the former I cannot remember why but the latter had huge screens all linked together and showing sa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½ at its greatest. I also liked the sa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½ Pavilion; as I recall, it was done like a First Nations longhouse and it stood out from everything around it. Bused it all the way back home thanks to a contribution from my uncle.

My wife and I RV’d to Quebec City last summer so I could show her my great-grandfather’s uniform, which was displayed there in 1965. Sadly, it is gone, replaced by mock-ups of uniforms. Nobody could tell me where it went.

Since 1967, I have travelled, worked and vacationed in every part of sa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½, including all provinces and territories. I doubt very much that anyone knows this country as well as I do but I am sure that many love it as much. — Peter Fairchild