Coming W & P: Sarah Stupar
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When I first came back to Cranbrook, I felt like a failure.
After a fifteen-year absence I had returned home to live in my parents’ basement with my tail between my legs and nothing but debt. Three days after I moved back I sat in my friend’s office at the College of the Rockies, weeping about how I’d made all the wrong choices in life (first, trying to become an actor; second and even worse, trying to become a stand-up comedian). She handed me some tissues and said that everything would be alright, assured me that I wasn’t a failure and that I would find my way in Cranbrook. “But Sarah,” she said, “have patience because it’ll take a while for people to accept you.” I didn’t respond but I felt...anger? “I’m FROM here!” I wanted to scream. “I won a citizenship award in grade 12! How can I need to wait to be accepted in my own hometown?” After that meeting, I went to the Cranbrook graveyard, because graveyards are one of the only places where it’s acceptable to cry in public. I expected to see a lot of familiar names, but I didn’t seem to know anyone. I started to understand what my friend meant.
That's me, circa 1992, learning about forest management on a windy day.