My two younger sisters only know about Shannon Park from family conversations because we left Nova Scotia when Wendy was just a few weeks old. We were moving to Maryland (Dad was posted to Washington, DC) and Robin was born while we were there. I don't know if my brother, Russell, actually remembers living in Shannon Park or not as we left there when he was five. Shannon Park is still marked on the map of Halifax Area but it isn't quite as I remember it.
My memories of Shannon Park are very much my memories and may not be accurate but they are how I remember it. It was a wonderful place to live because there were lots of kids and we all lived near each other and went to school together and made memories. Some of which I may not share because my mother may not know about them. We never did anything really bad or wrong but we certainly had fun and no end of playmates.
School was important. It was where you connected with your friends, made plans and of course learned. Playing marbles after school, i don't think we were allowed to play at school, was a favourite pastime. You found a patch of dirt, usually in front of one of the apartment buildings and with the heel of your sensible leather shoes you ground out a cup shaped hole while the other player used the toe of their shoe to draw a perimeter circle in the dirt. Then you took turns shooting a marble from the line using your bent pointer finger which I believe we called an index finger in those ancient days. I think we decided before the game started how many marbles we were playing with and the number depended on how many marbles you had and what you knew about your opponent. The object was to get your marbles in the hole and if you shot and got one in you got to shoot another whether it was yours or one put in play by the other player. The one to sink the last marble was the winner. That may sound a bit lame to today's kids but there were many heated challenges. There was also damage to our shoes and the index finger of your shooting hand became ingrained with dirt.
There were clusters of apartment buildings, some with five apartments and some with seven. There was one apartment on each side of a central staircase except on the bottom floor because the laundry, wringer washers, were on the bottom floor on the right side of the stairs. Each apartment had an assigned wash day once a week. Clothes were hung out on clothes lines that were strung from the kitchen window to a pole or on lines strung between metal poles placed in the ground. My Mum may say I have it all wrong but this was my perspective between the ages of 6 and 10.
I was here thirteen years ago and at that time you could drive into the complex and I stopped in front of the building I remembered. This time I came off the "new" bridge on my way to Eastern Shore and realized that Shannon Park was on my right. I drove down the road beside the school and just as I passed the school I saw the chain link fence that now rings the complex.
I wasn't prepared for my reaction. I was sad and my eyes began to water. I told myself this was silly, that I had known it was no longer eing used but that didn't stop the tears or the empty feeling. So I did the only thing I could think of... I phoned my Mum. I did stop long enough to calculate the time difference to make sure it wasn't too early to call the left coast from the right coast. Mum was suprised to hear about the fence and talking with her was therapeutic as we compared stories of previous visits. I thanked her and promised to take some more pictures. After I finished the call I noticed a Commissionaire's car driving up. I went over to the clearly labelled Commissionaire vehicle and asked politely if I could ask him a few questions about the Park. In my childhood we respected and feared the Commissionaires and I found I still felt that way. He had been in the Army and while he had never lived in Shannon Park he di have the recent history. He told me that this summer a lot of people who used to live in Shannon Park had been back and looking at it. It was comforting to know that I was not the only one wanting to connect with my childhood.
The buildings have been closed for some time now and the reason that nothing has been done so that the land can be used for something else is because the buildings are full of asbestos and the demolition and environmental clean up will be a huge and costly undertaking. He also told me that there are homeless people living in the park and that they are not good people. He was adamant that I was not to go into the park and I ensured him I wouldn't.
I asked about the two church buildings and learned that they were torn down a while back because the wood was rotten. I also learned that the school is still being used and that explained the new looking playground equipment.
After I had taken more photos, too many to share here, I drove out to Eastern Passage which was my original plan for the day. I had told Mum where I was headind and she told me that we used to go there. I said my good-byes to Shannon Park, drove past the refineries and fuel tank dotted hillsides, past Shearwater and ate clams and chips at the boardwalk in Eastern Passage. All things considered, it was a good day.
Pretty accurate memories of it Linda. We lived in 10B and 10G, as we were there for a short time before England, and longer after. One was a five apartment bldg. and the other 7. We had to put our own washers into the laundry room, and there were two or three laundry tubs for our use. And there were times when 2 or 3 of us were washing at the same time. I don't remember exactly, but 2 or more apartments shared, and we might have got 2 wash days a week. Besides the school,& two churches, there was a fire hall, and a small store where kids bought candy etc. They even had a town council at one time, which I think Dad was on, but can't remember in what capacity.
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