The Radisson Zion Museum is a Provincial Treasure

I recently took a short trip from Saskatoon to the town of Radisson, Saskatchewan.  I had traveled through the town before, but had never been too interested in the town's museum - the Radisson Zion Musuem.  I'm not a prairie museum enthusiast because usually I see neater pieces of history just driving around.

This time, however, the museum's owners lured me inside.  And it was incredible.

Privately owned and funded, artifacts fill every room of the old Zion church, and every room took my breath away. One of the owners, a warm and bubbly Barb, said that she, her husband and another partner had amassed and funded the collection, renovated the church, and now run the museum entirely on their own, just because they love doing it.   Their passion shows in every detail.

Just a few of the many photos I couldn't help but take...

Love Old Prairie Towns? Then You'll Love This Site

I heard about Prairie Towns on CBC radio this morning.  It's a work-in-progress type of site, and the author welcomes input and photo contributions from readers.

Very well-organized, Prairie Towns features photographs of original mainstreets, schools, churches, residential buildings, rail stations and practically everything else.  As a photographer of ghost towns, I find the pics on this site fascinating.  Go ahead and check it out.

One of my favorite hamlets, Tuxford, Saskatchewan.  From the website Prairie Towns

I photographed the building on the far right in the summer of 2014.  Quite neat to see it in its original condition.

Library of Congress Takes on John Newton's "Amazing Grace"

John Newton

I've always loved John Newton's "Amazing Grace", as has probably most of America. In 2007, the Library of Congress published an impressive collection of recordings, essays, original transcripts and virtually anything else related to the song's origins, evolution and significance.  You can find the collection here.

I'm not much of a 4th of July enthusiast unless my plans include wearing a bikini top and shorts in D.C. and eating jello 3-tiered parfaits.  It's stories like this one that not only reminds me of the country's beginnings but also reminds me of the power of redemption.  

Learning To Be White At Saskatchewan's Residential Schools

It's easy to forget about the legacy of Saskatchewan's residential schools, especially if you live, as I do, on the east side of the city.  Last weekend, however, I found a primer-type picture book at a garage sale, stamped inside with the name "St. Phillip's Residential School".  The book's insensitivity to culture needn't be pointed out, and was indeed the point.  These schools sought to eliminate the "indians", or at least make them White. 

A few pages from the reader...

St. Phillips Residential School was opened in 1899 and closed in 1965.  It was located in Kamsack, Saskatchewan.  

For more on the residential schools, I highly recommend the following websites:

• Where are the Children? Healing the Legacy of the Residential Schools 
• Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada
• Saskatoon Public Library's Indian Residential Schools: Histories, Biographies, and our Future

Lost and Found Photos of Centre Hospitalier Angrignon

Finding old photographs at thrift shops is both sweet and bitter.  Sweet because when you hold a 50 year old photograph in your hands you hold a piece of history.  Bitter because this history belongs to someone else.  When estates are sold, often the objects that have little monetary value are either thrown away or are sent to thrift shops.  But I wonder if there is someone to whom these items are priceless.  

I found the photos below in a disintegrating photo album amongst the vinyl records at a Renaissance Thrift Shop in Montreal.    The album was not priced.  At checkout, the cashier shrugged and charged me 99 cents.    

After a little investigative work, I learned that these photos were taken at the Centre Hospitalier Angrignon, Verdun Pavilion, which at one time operated as a teaching hospital for nurses.  

A part of me wishes I could keep these photos.  Sending them to the Verdun Historical Society or other such place feels so much heavier than giving up piece of history that wasn't mine but became mine - for 99 cents.