I was sitting in a university lecture hall one day when I saw this photograph* pop up on the screen. 

My first reaction was to gasp and say: “Garry Spotowski!” as though the person doing the presentation would have no idea who was in his photograph. Once the guest lecturer continued his presentation, a little more confused after my outburst, I turned to the person next to me and said: 

“I know him! That guy in the photo!” 

Not only did I know the guy in the photo, but he was the reason I was sitting there in that lecture hall. Garry Spotowski met my parents when they had both just moved to Edmonton in the late 1990s. He was my dad’s roommate and the officiant at my parents’ wedding a few years later. When he passed away in 2017, he left me and my sister a small inheritance, enough to pay my university tuition. 

This is a story I've told many times to old friends and people I went to high school with. It’s a story that ties me to McCauley, a place that was so intertwined with who Garry was, and what he cared about. Ultimately, that’s why I shared this story with even more people this summer while workshopping an idea for a McCauley heritage project – part of my learning experience as an interpreter for the Edmonton City as Museum Project. McCauley is a character in and of itself in my memories of Garry: in the park, in the backyard, and on the balcony and the back deck. That sense of place is what continues to bring me back to McCauley, in hopes that I could learn more about this person whose life continues to weave with my own. 

I embarked on this project a little starry-eyed. I wanted to interview people and publish their stories and memories in a way that would contribute to the fabric of the neighbourhood. It was ambitious, but I was lucky enough to talk to people for this project who were gracious enough to just pick up the phone and meet with me despite not necessarily knowing where it was going. At times I felt like a journalist, chasing a story or a source, and at other times like an historian, collecting and curating information to share with the public. In doing so, I realized that those two things aren’t as far apart as we think they are. You’re considering your audience, your content, your delivery method, and your process. 

My considerations for this project revolved around those four things, and how they could reflect the McCauley I knew and loved. Community-centred. Diverse. Resilient. Forward-thinking. In the end, although I was unable to complete the project due to time constraints, I learned that when imbued with meaning and memory, places become not just pins on a map, but living things that are constantly shifting and changing. The McCauley of my childhood, of forty years ago, and of tomorrow, are very different, but they are nonetheless a part of me. A part of who I am. And that will never change.     

Abigail Struthers is a student at the University of Alberta. She worked with the Edmonton Heritage Council’s Edmonton City as Museum Project over the summer.

*The photo accompanying this article is the one that was used in Abigail’s class. Garry Spotowski worked in the Waste Management department at the City of Edmonton.