Little Town on the Prairie

• When the Greyhound bus finally slithered into Regina, Saskatchewan, I happily claimed my suitcase, slammed it into the trunk of a rental car and made good a northeast getaway toward the Village of Lipton.

• The highways aren’t the greatest in the world and some other drivers seemed clearly annoyed by my “speed-limit-minus-one” driving policy. I, however, was completely mellowed by blissful solitude and the sight of flatlands to the left, flatlands to the right and a blazing crimson orb sinking slowly toward the horizon. With the smattering of clouds and the big sky backlit in shades pink, yellow, blue, orange, red and mauve, it was a postcard-perfect prairie sunset.

• I went to Lipton to visit my friend Helen who, as a young bride established a home on the range with her husband Charlie. During a rare vacation from their 40+ years of ranching, our paths cross in Mexico and, as kindred spirits are wont to do, Helen and I have now been visiting back and forth for more than 17 years.

• Established in 1904 and named for Sir Thomas Lipton, the tea guy, the founding fathers of Lipton were clearly big dreamers. Main Street is 6 lanes wide, flanked and intersected by streets with names like “Patrick”, “Shamrock”, “Erin” and “Watson”. Although the Irish influence has dissipated and the best dinners – to my delight - are more likely to feature perogies and kielbasa than corned beef and cabbage, the town is still pretty much contained within the original 3-street x 7-street framework. Along the perimeter, the folks in the modern houses on one side of the street look across at open farmland as far as the eye can see.

• Built on the CPR main railway line to provide services and supplies to wheat farmers and cattle ranchers, Lipton’s population maxed at 500-ish. In its heyday, the village featured a peak-roofed, red-brick train station and red-brick bank building with upstairs manager's quarters that were once standard architecture for small towns. Four towering grain elevators signaled the town’s whereabouts from a considerable distance and clustered about the T-intersection of Main and Railway Streets were a farm implement dealership, car dealership, bakery, and 7 churches plus a synagogue; all of which can now only be seen in old photographs. Even the presence of the railway is now evidenced only by the sandy-trailed rise where once lay the train tracks. I’m quite certain I may have further irritated local drivers by coming to a full stop before crossing.

• Although new millennium Liptonites would likely engage in considerable debate about the town’s actual population (so-and-so had a baby, or so-and-so-died, or there’s new folks on Main Street) I would peg it at 300-ish.
  

• Clearly built-to-last and possibly teetering back from the brink of a ghost town destiny, Lipton now attracts people looking to retire or raise their children in a small town. The remaining amenities include the regional elementary/high school, micro-sized library and post office, a two-stall fire station, curling rink and bowling alley, a town hall AND legion hall for somber or social events, co-op store, café, and a tiny hotel with bar and four slot machines where I once won $250. Every night at 9 pm sharp, the town's siren lets out a long slow blast which, once-upon-a-time, meant curfew for anyone under 16 years old.
  

• Notwithstanding the options, the true hub of local activity is “the Dial” – a 19-seater café/movie rental store that hosts the only lottery ticket outlet for many, many miles around. By tradition, Helen and I feasted on grilled cheese sandwiches and Cokes at the Dial and stopped there daily to catch upon the local news and pick up a fresh supply of scratch’n’win Bingo tickets. The Dial is a bit like “Cheers” – the place where everybody knows your name and - after 17 years of visiting, even the townspeople who don’t know my name are quick with a friendly wave and conversation.