Those were the days

ALISON BLACKDUCK

YELLOWKNIFE — Cat-fights, moments of mortifying embarrassment and seemingly endless chores are funny when viewed through the lens of time.

Leah MacDonald, née Lukashyk, and her three friends wander through the abandoned corridors of Akaitcho Hall in Yellowknife.

MacDonald, 29, and her former roommates Andrea Glawson and Laura Lee Poitras lived at Akaitcho from 1987 to 1990. Their other friend, Eleese Scott, née MacLennan, lived at Akaitcho from 1988 to 1990.

McDonald and Glawson are originally from Cambridge Bay, Poitras is from Fort Smith and Scott is originally from Fort Simpson.

They’ve gathered in Yellowknife to reunite with other Akaitcho alumni.

Their high-pitched peals of laughter bounce off the walls as they recall the years they lived together.

It was a time, Poitras says, that was scented with Exclamation perfume and accompanied by the music of Roxette and “that rap group with that song — you know, the one that began, ‘Put the needle on the record.’”

“What a flashback,” MacDonald says as she walks through the foyer of Akaitcho.

In a jibe at some of the less dear aspects of the Akaitcho experience, reunion organizers have posted mock sign-up sheets for chores, as well as a list of students being punished by confinement.

“I hated washing walls,” MacDonald says of the chores every Akaitcho student was assigned while they lived in residence. “Pots and pans – that was the worst — and making toast for breakfast because you had to wake up really early.”

Her friends nod in agreement.

MacDonald stops momentarily and glances at the stairs leading down to the basement.

“Down there, that’s where I used to cut Kevin Lafferty’s hair.”

But MacDonald’s poignant recollections end when she walks past a collage of photographs.

“There I am,” she shouts, pointing at one of the pictures.

“You look so innocent,” her friend Poitras chimes in.

“Yeah, right,” MacDonald scoffs.

Almost instantly the four women drop the pretense of responsible adulthood and revert back to the careless abandon of youth.

“I used to be on the confined list all the time,” MacDonald says.

“Confined?” Glawson asks rhetorically. “I never hear that word being used anymore.”

“Just confinement when I was pregnant,” Poitras jokes.

The women walk to the end of the foyer where a small flight of stairs leads into what used to be the boys’ dormitory.

The term “boys’ dorm” elicits giggles and another flood of memories from the women.

“Remember how we used to talk to the boys under the door?” Glawson says to her friends as they mount the stairs.

“I’ve only been in here once,” she confesses.

At that, Poitras chides MacDonald, “Didn’t you sneak over here once?”

MacDonald replies without missing a beat, “A few times.”

“Once a year, the girls and boys were allowed into each others’ dorm,” Poitras explains.

“The day we were allowed in, we went into somebody’s room and he just showed us his art-work,” MacDonald sighs with the affected disdain adolescent girls often express when talking about boys.

Further down the hallway, a door opens into the girls’ dormitory.

MacDonald and Glawson rush through and find the room they shared during their first year.

“Andrea and I were roommates when we moved here from Cambridge in September ‘87,” MacDonald says. “Then we hated each other.”

“By December,” Glawson interjects.

“You moved out,” MacDonald tells her.

“You were terrible to live with,” Glawson replies.

“I was,” MacDonald admits.

“Then she clung onto me,” Poitras says. “Leah followed me to Fort Smith after we graduated.”

“We had personality differences — we get along when we don’t live together,” Glawson deadpans.

“We had a lot of screaming matches,” MacDonald says.

The two women stop their verbal sparring and return to talking about fonder memories.

“We got drunk on gin with Mike Dunsmore,” Glawson recalls.

“Lemon gin,” MacDonald corrects her before continuing breathlessly: “That’s when I was in love with Mark from the UK.”