Notice that lovely bushy tail of our latest visitor. This is our entertainment.
A sad joke....
"What does a cloud wear under his raincoat?"
Thunderwear.
Our story changes....
********
It was Friday, November 30, 1984.
The weather was comfortable in the beginning of the day; the temperature slightly above normal.
I had spent the day working at the Camp Arnes office hovering over my huge wooden desk – designing the next brochure.
It was about 4:00 that Wilma called and asked me if it was one of those “Friday” where everyone was leaving the office early. I looked around – no it was going to be one of those “Fridays” where everyone worked just a little longer.
"Pick me up at five." I answered.
At five I heard the car pull up and went out the back door. The weather had changed… the temperatures were plunging.
I also sensed immediately that something else was wrong. There was a panic in Wilma’s eyes. "I can't find Candace, Cliff, and I'm worried."
Wilma isn’t an alarmist so I knew this was serious. There is something to be said for fifteen years of marriage - not every thought has to be voiced to be understood. We didn't have time to talk because once we were in the car, we would appear calm for the children's sake, Odia and Syras sitting in the back seat.
I decided to pass Candace's School, MBCI on our way home, then drove slowly – back tracking the route that Candace would have taken walking home from school. The city suddenly looked abandoned. Everyone taking shelter from this new cold front sweeping into the city. No sign of our oldest child!
Once home, Wilma started to call around, researching the lists of friends. But I needed to get out there and walk, do my own foot search.
The first walk back to the school, I simply retraced Candace's steps that she would have taken, looking for signs of anything unusual! I felt incredibly self conscious! What actually was I expecting to find? There was no signs of anything, none of her stuff on the sidewalk, no signs of anything weird.
On the way back, I started going down the back alleys all in the direction of home. I had this uncomfortable feeling that I still wasn’t searching thoroughly enough, to do this I would need to look into the dumpsters, behind them, look between houses, around garages etc.! And if I did look into the dumpsters, I was gripped with the fear of what I might find! I started peeking in random dumpsters, peering in dark corners, searching, peeking behind objects. It was getting dark, tears running down my face, obscuring my vision and freezing. What if she was out here, in the dark, alone....?
When I got home, I knew it was time to call the police. It was about seven-thirty.
The police came! We were so relieved! Their questions were precise and systematic, but all of them were fashioned to confirm the underlying supposition that every disappearing thirteen-year-old is a runaway. We tried our best to explain that she had plans, that her best friend from Steinbach was coming over for the weekend and that there was no way she would abandon her friend, any friend because she was all about friends in her life! That this was an event she'd prepared for all week!
The more we pushed the more they pushed back saying we were religious and out of touch with teenagers of today! That she'd show up at school on Monday morning! Therefore they refused to at that point to announce her as a missing child! We were very disappointed to say the least!
After they left, I needed to get out and do something. Wilma did her research her way – I did mine by going out and searching.
I started by walking west down Gray Street towards the railway tracks, Nairn Ave. looming ahead on my left. This part of the railway tracks had been turned into a community park of sorts. I walked along crossing the railway tracks towards the far side of the overpass on my left, my runners filling with snow. I stopped, but heard and saw nothing unusual. Except my feet getting wet and cold!
Then, at the west end of the overpass, I turned left crossed underneath into the shade "moon-shade" underneath the bridge. I was shocked at the depth of the shade the moon was casting, and ran across into the moonlight, high stepping it because of the deep snow getting into my runners!
That’s when I realized the storm had passed the moon was out. I stopped, looking around in the fresh light of the moon. The stars were shining, the moon was bright.
“How can you give me so much light "GOD" and not show me where my daughter is?” I called her name – several times, her name echoing in the steely silence and cold - and just stood there waiting for something, an answer, cold, in the snow up to my knees. The stars continued to shine but nothing, God wasn’t responding. The beauty of the night mocked me! I felt the darkness of my pain, Tears, gasping for air, weeping in pain for what horrors my oldest child might be experiencing right now!
Then, turning my wet face to the skies, I filled my lungs with bitter cold air and let out a long blood curdling scream!
Nothing changed! But, did she hear me? (The shack where she was found was not that far away!)
At nine-thirty we telephoned the police again, again they assured us that they would put out an city alert.
We waited by the telephone – surely someone would call.
Then approximately eleven o'clock that night, two uniformed police officers appeared on our door step.
This time it was obvious that they had come to investigate us.
They wanted to know what kind of parents we were. What was our relationship with Candace like? Had we argued with her? Was she upset that I hadn't picked her up?
After a few more questions, they more or less told us that they thought it was extremely unlikely that Candace had been abducted.
They told us that there are approximately a hundred runaway teens on the streets of Winnipeg at any given time; any child over twelve who disappears is probably a runaway. We were also told that there hadn't been any abductions in Winnipeg for seven to ten years, so what made Candace any different than all the other cases with which they were dealing? Why couldn't we just admit to ourselves that we'd had a quarrel with Candace and she had run away?
I told them that I worked for Camp Arnes, the largest Christian camp in Manitoba, and that I had been a pastor at North Battleford Mennonite Brethren Church. I thought that if anything would immediately impress on them our solid family values, integrity, and love, it would be our Christian commitment.
The more outspoken officer perked up and said, "I know what the problem is."
We both straightened. "What?"
"You," he answered, glancing at both of us.
"What do you mean?" I groped to understand.
He spelled it out. "You're both religious, and Candace is rebelling."
We continued to describe the relationship Candace had with her friend. She might run away – we weren’t the best parents. But – and it was a huge but - she would not have run away this weekend.
Eventually, still looking skeptical, the two officers took her picture, promising to put it on city wide computer and to cruise the community. At that point we were grateful for crumbs.
However, their visit gave me a new perspective. This was the first hint that this wasn’t only about a disappearance, we were on trial as well. We needed to go on the offense. We needed to alert the organizations that were involved. I called the school Dave Teigrob at MBCI.
By this time people were already in bed but I wasn’t about to be deterred.
"I'm sorry if Dave is sleeping, but this is an emergency."
In answer to my questions, Teigrob said Candace was in good spirits when he saw her and was as puzzled as we were.
When the front doorbell rang around midnight, Dave Teigrob, the school counselor and vice president of MBCI. "I couldn't go back to sleep," he explained simply.
He had nothing to offer us, he said, other than to stay with us. He sat on our couch and told us over and over again that his last encounter with Candace had left no reason for alarm. It was exactly what we wanted to hear.
By two o'clock there was nothing left to say. Dave assured us that he would call us in the morning, and we would be fresh with new ideas. By then Candace might have called.
I was exhausted. He gave us hope.
A sad joke....
"What does a cloud wear under his raincoat?"
Thunderwear.
Our story changes....
********
It was Friday, November 30, 1984.
The weather was comfortable in the beginning of the day; the temperature slightly above normal.
I had spent the day working at the Camp Arnes office hovering over my huge wooden desk – designing the next brochure.
It was about 4:00 that Wilma called and asked me if it was one of those “Friday” where everyone was leaving the office early. I looked around – no it was going to be one of those “Fridays” where everyone worked just a little longer.
"Pick me up at five." I answered.
At five I heard the car pull up and went out the back door. The weather had changed… the temperatures were plunging.
I also sensed immediately that something else was wrong. There was a panic in Wilma’s eyes. "I can't find Candace, Cliff, and I'm worried."
Wilma isn’t an alarmist so I knew this was serious. There is something to be said for fifteen years of marriage - not every thought has to be voiced to be understood. We didn't have time to talk because once we were in the car, we would appear calm for the children's sake, Odia and Syras sitting in the back seat.
I decided to pass Candace's School, MBCI on our way home, then drove slowly – back tracking the route that Candace would have taken walking home from school. The city suddenly looked abandoned. Everyone taking shelter from this new cold front sweeping into the city. No sign of our oldest child!
Once home, Wilma started to call around, researching the lists of friends. But I needed to get out there and walk, do my own foot search.
The first walk back to the school, I simply retraced Candace's steps that she would have taken, looking for signs of anything unusual! I felt incredibly self conscious! What actually was I expecting to find? There was no signs of anything, none of her stuff on the sidewalk, no signs of anything weird.
On the way back, I started going down the back alleys all in the direction of home. I had this uncomfortable feeling that I still wasn’t searching thoroughly enough, to do this I would need to look into the dumpsters, behind them, look between houses, around garages etc.! And if I did look into the dumpsters, I was gripped with the fear of what I might find! I started peeking in random dumpsters, peering in dark corners, searching, peeking behind objects. It was getting dark, tears running down my face, obscuring my vision and freezing. What if she was out here, in the dark, alone....?
When I got home, I knew it was time to call the police. It was about seven-thirty.
The police came! We were so relieved! Their questions were precise and systematic, but all of them were fashioned to confirm the underlying supposition that every disappearing thirteen-year-old is a runaway. We tried our best to explain that she had plans, that her best friend from Steinbach was coming over for the weekend and that there was no way she would abandon her friend, any friend because she was all about friends in her life! That this was an event she'd prepared for all week!
The more we pushed the more they pushed back saying we were religious and out of touch with teenagers of today! That she'd show up at school on Monday morning! Therefore they refused to at that point to announce her as a missing child! We were very disappointed to say the least!
After they left, I needed to get out and do something. Wilma did her research her way – I did mine by going out and searching.
I started by walking west down Gray Street towards the railway tracks, Nairn Ave. looming ahead on my left. This part of the railway tracks had been turned into a community park of sorts. I walked along crossing the railway tracks towards the far side of the overpass on my left, my runners filling with snow. I stopped, but heard and saw nothing unusual. Except my feet getting wet and cold!
Then, at the west end of the overpass, I turned left crossed underneath into the shade "moon-shade" underneath the bridge. I was shocked at the depth of the shade the moon was casting, and ran across into the moonlight, high stepping it because of the deep snow getting into my runners!
That’s when I realized the storm had passed the moon was out. I stopped, looking around in the fresh light of the moon. The stars were shining, the moon was bright.
“How can you give me so much light "GOD" and not show me where my daughter is?” I called her name – several times, her name echoing in the steely silence and cold - and just stood there waiting for something, an answer, cold, in the snow up to my knees. The stars continued to shine but nothing, God wasn’t responding. The beauty of the night mocked me! I felt the darkness of my pain, Tears, gasping for air, weeping in pain for what horrors my oldest child might be experiencing right now!
Then, turning my wet face to the skies, I filled my lungs with bitter cold air and let out a long blood curdling scream!
Nothing changed! But, did she hear me? (The shack where she was found was not that far away!)
At nine-thirty we telephoned the police again, again they assured us that they would put out an city alert.
We waited by the telephone – surely someone would call.
Then approximately eleven o'clock that night, two uniformed police officers appeared on our door step.
This time it was obvious that they had come to investigate us.
They wanted to know what kind of parents we were. What was our relationship with Candace like? Had we argued with her? Was she upset that I hadn't picked her up?
After a few more questions, they more or less told us that they thought it was extremely unlikely that Candace had been abducted.
They told us that there are approximately a hundred runaway teens on the streets of Winnipeg at any given time; any child over twelve who disappears is probably a runaway. We were also told that there hadn't been any abductions in Winnipeg for seven to ten years, so what made Candace any different than all the other cases with which they were dealing? Why couldn't we just admit to ourselves that we'd had a quarrel with Candace and she had run away?
I told them that I worked for Camp Arnes, the largest Christian camp in Manitoba, and that I had been a pastor at North Battleford Mennonite Brethren Church. I thought that if anything would immediately impress on them our solid family values, integrity, and love, it would be our Christian commitment.
The more outspoken officer perked up and said, "I know what the problem is."
We both straightened. "What?"
"You," he answered, glancing at both of us.
"What do you mean?" I groped to understand.
He spelled it out. "You're both religious, and Candace is rebelling."
We continued to describe the relationship Candace had with her friend. She might run away – we weren’t the best parents. But – and it was a huge but - she would not have run away this weekend.
Eventually, still looking skeptical, the two officers took her picture, promising to put it on city wide computer and to cruise the community. At that point we were grateful for crumbs.
However, their visit gave me a new perspective. This was the first hint that this wasn’t only about a disappearance, we were on trial as well. We needed to go on the offense. We needed to alert the organizations that were involved. I called the school Dave Teigrob at MBCI.
By this time people were already in bed but I wasn’t about to be deterred.
"I'm sorry if Dave is sleeping, but this is an emergency."
In answer to my questions, Teigrob said Candace was in good spirits when he saw her and was as puzzled as we were.
When the front doorbell rang around midnight, Dave Teigrob, the school counselor and vice president of MBCI. "I couldn't go back to sleep," he explained simply.
He had nothing to offer us, he said, other than to stay with us. He sat on our couch and told us over and over again that his last encounter with Candace had left no reason for alarm. It was exactly what we wanted to hear.
By two o'clock there was nothing left to say. Dave assured us that he would call us in the morning, and we would be fresh with new ideas. By then Candace might have called.
I was exhausted. He gave us hope.
"Come away, O human child:
To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."
- William Butler Yeats
To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."
- William Butler Yeats
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