Not the Truro I remember

Sitting in a downtown Truro coffee shop on Heritage Day my mind wanders back to the Truro I grew up in.

I’m sure having lived away for 31 years in various provinces may give cause to many likes and dislikes from being exposed to various Canadian communities and how one would now view their childhood hometown.

I was born in Truro at the old hospital – not the old one, the old, old one – and raised mostly in the east end.

Trains ruled the town. Tracks 10 wide, engines constantly shunted cars readying them for their next trip. Brick buildings adjacent to Prince Street tracks, “the round house” employed many in our neighbourhood and provided dangerous fun for kids hopping aboard a shunted car to catch a short trip towards Salmon River.

My education began at Alice Street School the first year the new section was opened, boys in one entrance, girls in the other.

There was road hockey in the lower school parking lot during no-snow seasons and ice hockey on the school’s outdoor rink.

The walk to Truro high took us through a few paths and eventually through to the train station; you know, the majestic one with the penny scales. In disbelief I watched the centre tower being demolished as we stood near the Irving garage on the corner of Inglis Street.

Walking home from school I often wondered how a person could spend all day in the little tower that operated the train gate on Prince Street.

Grade nine was spent in the old school where the police station now stands and wood working in the now museum building on Young Street.

Cobequid Education Centre was only a few years old when my studies began, fullly carpeted and capable of providing a static shock to the students around you on class change, should you desire, of course.

I remember Prince Street as being two-way and all shopping was downtown – The Met, Woolworths and Margolians with its creaky wood floors. There was the sugar bowl on Inglis and pool hall on the Esplanade a few doors down from the The Scotia Hotel.

Then, there was the old Normal College that once held coffee houses in the parachute club for teens and then our YMCA, now a beautiful library.

Truro felt alive – a working class town, a ski slope on Wood Street – vehicles drove up Serpentine Drive through the park past camping sites

The “Pond” provided a watering hole for “only men allowed” patrons.

I felt Truro to be an industrial town, it didn’t need to be pretty. It had trains, warehouses and feed mills where rail cars pulled alongside.

I’m not convinced these were bad or good memories or at all accurate; time does that to a person. Perhaps these memories are just fond ones.

Today my Truro has many new apartment buildings, condos, subdivisions and seniors housing. Ryan’s IGA, Snooks Save Easy have been replaced with big bright grocery stores.

Downtown is again spirited. New stores, coffee shops and restaurants have come to life targeted at a new generation and seemingly doing well.

Victoria Park has great new walking trails, a busy summer bandstand and a park now open all four seasons.

The old parts of town and their railway houses are beginning to be renovated; albeit some will suffer in the years to come.

Since moving “home” – although spending more years away than living here – I tend to visit old neighbourhoods and go down the proverbial memory lane and try to generate historical memories.

This is not the Truro I remember; yes, the land and many buildings are still here, and those people – “oh, I remember you” – are still here. This Truro is a growing, fantastic little town. It suits my personality; it makes me smile, makes me want to once again become part of the fabric of this place.

It’s not the Truro I remember but it is my Truro and I’ve fallen in love with it again.