Stepping Into the Arena: A Greyshirt’s Reflection On Helping Jasper Heal

I was asked to send a short reflection of my time in Jasper: 

Anxiety. It is one of those things that it is inevitable to feel walking into a situation that you’ve never been in before. You read the news and see the town map: 30% of Jasper has been destroyed. You’re on a plane by yourself, wondering what it means to lose the place you call home as you leave yours. You look out into the dark of the night, driving with a stranger who has done this numerous times before, and exchange stories of your life at home.  

It isn’t until you pull into a church parking lot that you feel it again: anxiety. You walk in, and the church is filled with people from all over Canada. This guy is from New Brunswick, and this girl is from New Zealand; thank goodness they all wear shirts with their names on them. You left home at 0500, and now it’s 2100, so you find an empty cot in a side room and get to sleep, knowing that your day starts at 0600.  

You wake up to your alarm, and the people you share a room tell you, ‘Good morning!’ before continuing their morning routines. The girl in the cot across from you is someone from your metro, Thunder Bay, and you continue with her to the morning meeting. You split up into teams, Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie, and head over to some guy named ‘Marc’ to secure all your gear. You walk out to the truck and throw your supplies in the trailer, not knowing what you’ll be doing as you haven’t been mask fit tested. Don’t worry, they tell you, ‘You’ve stepped into the arena. You have a role waiting.’ 

You spend the first few days helping decontaminate those leaving memories of homes lost as they sift through ash and mud to find homeowners’ objects they thought were lost. Then, you return as a team for showers, food, and more dreams to repeat the same peculiar routine. 

Halfway through the week, the routine changes, and now you’re sent off to get mask fit tested. You and another man who tells stories about his time in the army, his current stories as a substitute teacher, and his newest achievement: becoming a dad. The test goes well, and now you’ve returned to a new role as you know it. You now suit up, put on your boots, Tyvek, and mask, and get into the memories, now turned into ash. The homeowner gives you three things to look for: two rings and a knife. You work for hours and come up empty-handed. It isn’t until later you hear that the knife was from a husband, leaving behind mother and daughter, who had gone too soon.  

Another you sift, and another, and each homeowner has a different wish; however, they still wish you back when Jasper recovers. You get emotional and tired, yet each time, you have your team there to support you back up. It isn’t until you have one terrible day that you don’t realize how much the small conversation between you and your bunkmates means. “What do they call the people from Thunder Bay?” They asked. You sit and wonder before giving them an “I don’t know.” You later develop the nickname “The Thunder Birds.” 

The final sift you do is for an independent living center. Once again, your team finds nothing they’ve asked for. A bunch of plates, a tea set, a little walrus, but nothing close to the urn of a husband. She promised to be with him, together once they passed, so we dug a little harder, not wanting to give up the task. Once again, we get nothing, so we give a baggy of ash from where her husband decided to land. We give her the bag and explain what we have done, yet hugs and tears meet us instead of furrowed brows and grunts. For her, it didn’t matter that we couldn’t find the urn; it was the thought that she could still be with her husband once she had passed.  

The final day is upon us; seven days have elapsed. The final thanks to the Jasper Legion, the hostel, the church, and many others who made this event possible. A signed shirt from each greyshirt, which had done the same tasks as I, was given with a sign to the Legion. The Thunder Birds hung the Team Rubicon flag, and the night ended with tears of goodbyes.  

After another flight home and another journey completed, it wasn’t until now that I realized the feeling had fleeted. The anxiety had turned to joy, sadness, and more, but the Jasper community holds all the meaning. Keep helping each other out, and remember that there is always a place in the arena for you to fill. ‘The Thunder Birds have landed,’ we text back to the group, realizing a family was made with its memories to show. So, thank you, Jasper, for helping me find myself while I helped you find yourself. 

Join our team: https://team-rubicon.ca/volunteer/