Dane Gibson
Northern News Services

NNSL (Apr 26/99) - There are few who have explored the North as Emily Overbo has.

The no-nonsense, 61-year-old mother of three, exudes a strength that developed from experiencing the best of what the Arctic has to offer, and the worst.

She arrived in Yellowknife Aug. 12, 1962, a 25-year-old newlywed who had never been out of Edmonton. Her ex-husband, Edward Overbo, was offered a job as a geology teacher at Sir Franklin high school. He accepted the position without asking if she wanted to go.

"I told him the least he could have done was talk to me about it. I had no idea what Yellowknife was and when I expressed my displeasure, he said I can stay or go, but he was going," Overbo said, adding with a laugh that it may have been the best thing he ever did for her.

When Overbo arrived, the town had a population of 3,500 and two main stores -- Hudson's Bay and Weaver and Devore -- not exactly the city life she was accustomed to. Always an optimist, Overbo strolled the streets surveying the situation.

"I was prepared to be here and raise a family. I wasn't discouraged because I liked the rocks and water," Overbo said.

"I saw a few gardens with flowers and for some reason, I was encouraged by that. I thought with a little work and lots of store-bought top soil, I could make things grow."

Easing into motherhood

At the time, she was pregnant with her first son. Wayne was born in 1963. Overbo, excited about being a mother, remembers leaving for the hospital in good spirits.

She made sure the little apartment she and her husband occupied was perfect. She thought when she returned with her new baby she'd ease her way into motherhood.

"He was born at the height of the Mackenzie River flood and everybody was taking people into their homes. The population of Yellowknife more than doubled," Overbo said.

"I came home with my newborn son and found a woman and five kids in my two-bedroom apartment. The little kids were all wearing muddy gumboots and I had left everything spotless for when I returned.

"I cried and my husband couldn't understand why I was so upset."

In 1966, Overbo had her second child, Jason. Her husband was working on a geological project in the bush so to avoid being alone, she decided to have the baby in Edmonton where her sister still lived.

"A day after I arrived in Edmonton, the old Stanton Hospital burned down. If I had stayed, Jason would have been born in the Elk's Hall," Overbo said.

Her third son, Robert, was born in 1968, which she describes as uneventful, although she "didn't expect him to be a boy."

In 1975, her marriage ended and she found herself a single mom with three children. Still, she chose to stay in Yellowknife.

"Someone told me once that I was a trailblazer because I go after things that are different," Overbo said.

"I got thinking about that and I guess that's why I did well in the North, even after I was alone."

Career move

In 1974, she helped start the first insurance adjusting company in Yellowknife, Brouwer and Company, with Don Cottrell. After a year, she realized balancing a career with being a mom wasn't fair to her children.

"I decided to become a full-time parent. To make ends meet, I did freelance work from home. I worked very hard and it just about burned me out," Overbo said.

She persevered and in her trailblazing way, joined Yellowknife's first National Parole Service as office manager in 1976.

"I was in a new office again as the second employee of a two-person operation," Overbo said.

After four years there, she went to work for the Supreme Court as deputy clerk -- a position she held for eight years.

She attended court in virtually every community in the North. Through her travels, the Northern land and its people touched her, and changed the way she looked at the world.

"The first thing that struck me was the Arctic's vastness. When you fly over it you begin to understand," Overbo said.

"I remember flying in a noisy DC-3 from Yellowknife to Sanikiluaq. We refuelled in Churchill for 20 minutes and kept going. It took 19 hours.

"Many people say once you've seen one Northern community you've seen them all, but I never felt that way. To me, they were all unique and each one was different from the other."

Sometimes, traumatic situations weren't just played out in the court room. While eating lunch in a hotel dining room in a small Arctic community, a shot rang out in the next building. She ran to find out a bright young man, who was to be the court interpreter for the jury proceedings, had killed himself.

While she witnessed and heard many tragic stories, she also found strength in the communities. The more she learned about the Northern people, the more she respected their way of life.

As court clerk, it was her job to keep things running smoothly, which wasn't always easy. Often, those called for jury duty didn't show.

She would issue a bench warrant to the ones who didn't make it and they would be questioned by the judge. The judge would ask if they got the summons to appear. "Yes" was always the answer. The next question was, "Why didn't you come?"

They would reply matter-of-factly, "Seals were in the harbour. I went hunting."

She said she quickly learned what's important to the Northern people -- community, family, and the hunt.

"I'll tell you one thing -- the North is a real equalizer. When you're out in the wilderness, titles and position don't mean anything," Overbo said.

"I realized that time wasn't something that was relevant. Once I travelled in the North, I realized what we were doing wasn't that important. After all, they are the ones that have survived here for thousands of years."

After eight years, the business of holding court began to take its toll. It was time for a change.

"I loved my years with the courts but I left because there wasn't very many happy things happening in the courts. I left because I found I was getting jaded," Overbo said.

"The one thing the North has done for me is it made me an optimist. I know there are a lot of good, honest, decent people out there. But you can't go through what I have and not be a realist at the same time."

During her tenure, Overbo was known by every Supreme Court judge who ever worked in the North. She's seen justice delivered and criminals walk away scot-free. She describes the experience as "humbling."

"I've found in the communities that whatever decision the jury makes is the right one, because they are the ones that have to live with the person who is before the court. They are the ones that have to live with the decision," Overbo said.

Not one to let water gather under her feet, she left the Supreme Court to become the chief territorial firearms officer in 1988. She was also justice of the peace.

After 10 years of service in the firearms office, Overbo found herself out of work. The GNWT refused to implement the new firearms legislation and the federal government contracted the RCMP to take over territorial firearms administration. At that time, Overbo's employment with the GNWT was terminated.

After walking through her past and delving into memories she hadn't visited in awhile, she shakes her head and laughs. "What a ride," she says still chuckling.

Overbo moved from Yellowknife on April 10. She is now the proud owner of a 270-square metre house in central Alberta.

The house is on a hill overlooking a lake and a forest reserve. It's also 80 kilometres from where she was born. She plans to write her memoirs, do some gardening, and research her family tree, but her heart will never be far from Yellowknife.

"I've been here almost 37 years and I've never regretted it. I grew up here ... boy did I grow up here," Overbo said.

"I came here with a husband and I'm leaving behind two sons, a sister, three nieces, four grandnieces and nephews and many, many dear friends.

"I remember reading a Margaret Laurence book that concluded by saying 'As we get older, we return to our roots.' I guess I've come full circle."

Overbo admits she trucked two loads of Yellowknife rock out to her new home. She's constructing a rock garden with it.

"After you live in the North as long as I have, you get missing trees. But now that I've moved, I think I'll miss the rock," Overbo said.

"I've told anyone who wants to come and visit me from Yellowknife that I'll only put them up for the night if they bring a load of Precambrian Shield rock."