Coming to Canada
In 1958, these newlyweds began a new life in Canada with high hopes and three packing crates
“So,” the customs official looked up from a large sheet before him and smiled. “Where would you like to go?”
My husband-to-be Werner and I were at the Canadian consulate in Köln, Germany, to obtain our immigration papers.
“Well, we are used to mountains and we’d like to get away from overcrowded places,” was Werner's reply.
The official looked again at his records and said, “Oh I know, I’ll send you to Calgary, Alberta. It’s in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and the Calgary Stampede will be on soon—this time next year, you will enjoy that!”
The official drew two lines under “Calgary” and that was how our future destination in Canada was decided.
We left the consulate office and gazed at the big map of Canada, which was on display in the entrance hall.
Now, where might Calgary be in this big land? I began my search in the East, but Werner found Calgary first, towards the West.
“Oh, poor Mom,“I sighed, “I will be twice as far from home than anticipated!”
“I wonder what ‘Calgary Stampede’ means,” Werner pondered.
When our papers arrived by mail, he built three big wooden crates. He painted them bright red and highlighted the numbers 1, 2 and 3 in bold, black letters. These crates were to hold all of our belongings for our upcoming move to Canada.
On the morning of July 7, 1958, we were married in a beautiful little medieval church. Werner and I wore black suits, completed by a white shirt for him and a white blouse for me. After the ceremony, we had a lovely luncheon with our family and close
friends. Then, we were ready for our big trip across the Atlantic.
In the early afternoon, my uncle took us to the train station and two hours later we arrived in the seaport of Bremerhaven. There, we watched as our three distinctive crates were lifted up and into the ship’s hold, and we soon were on our way to begin a new life in a new country on a new continent!
In a private celebration, we tossed my wilted wedding bouquet out through our cabin’s porthole.
After ten days at sea, we spent five days travelling west to Calgary by train, scanning the horizon for the promised mountains as we approached the city.
In 1958, the trains stopped right in downtown Calgary at a flour mill with a big plaza in front. After disembarking we stood there, looking slightly lost no doubt, trying to locate some “German friends of friends,” who had agreed to meet us but whom we did not know. After a long wait, everyone departed except for one other couple. As we approached them, we were warmly greeted and they made us feel so very welcome. They kindly showed us “the ropes” and, with their guidance and support, we began to settle in to our new locale.
Crate Number 1 became the very first piece of furniture in our small, rented suite. Werner transformed it into a shelving unit that was curtained, but accessible, in the front.
Crate Number 1 is still in the family, having been transformed yet again, this time into an insulated box as an outside shelter for our cat, Sandy.
It seems incredible to me that all this happened more than 60 years ago! Over the course of all those years, Werner and I built a good, prosperous life together. We have two children, as well as four grandchildren, and are very grateful for the opportunity we were offered to better our lives here in this generous land called Canada. ■