All Posts

My Curling Story by Luba Tasevski How it all began: One Saturday morning when I was about 8 or 9 years old, I wake up and made my way to the living room where my older brother was watching tv. I didn’t know what he was watching so I just jumped on the couch next him because I loved spending…

I started into curling in my late teens first by watching and than volunteering with different events. When I was younger I didn’t have many friends in school and was very shy. I started curling of and on in my home community in parts of junior and high school in my home community of O’Leary eventually graduating and being home and always wanted to wtch events. Few years after grauduating moved to Summerside and didn’t curl first year but that first year I was around the club and the club had a couple national events that year and meant some great friends still today friends with. Next year starting curling and at one of the events was asked if I be interested in doing some livescoring for some events and this is where things started getting busy and loved doing it. From provincials to some national events cashspiels I would spend my free time going throughout province helping out even some outside PEI and still do it and loving and it’s brought to different events in the maritime and country with some help to watch. Sovereign meeting some many people I have been more confident and willing to help out wherever. Even though not curling more due to be busy with a job that many have helped me get took me awhile b3cause of some learning issues and being busy scoring and watching. Love the game and will continue to help out and go watch wherever. Thanks. Amanda Bulger Summerside, Prince Edward Island

Our story goes back to 2002.
I started my curling journey in 1998 at Sydenham Community Curling Club in Wallaceburg ON. I felt an immediate sense of community and instantly fell in love with the game. The club is well known for The Crazy Legs bonspiel. It has drawn attention for over 40 years and is one of the most popular bonspiels for men in Southwestern Ontario. It was there that I met my future husband. As fate would have it, he received a last-minute call asking if he wanted to fill in for someone who had to cancel. He had recently moved to London from the East Coast and had no idea where Wallaceburg was, but he agreed to go. Thank you fate. Thank you curling.
We are celebrating 20 years of marriage this summer. Curling took a backseat over the years while we raised our family. Three kids in competitive sports made for less time on the ice for us. While we couldn’t play as often (a bonspiel here and there), we enjoyed attending any and all events in our city of London ON including The Scotties, The Brier, The Continental Cup, and most recently the STOH-Tankard event in our neighboring community of Dorchester. Three years ago, we were finally able to get back to the sport that brought us together, now playing out of Highland Community Curling Club. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. Our competitive personalities were back, ignoring all of the aches and pains that come with age! Curling is known for its sense of community, belonging and camaraderie. A bad game still ends well as teams gather for beverages and conversation. Friendships are made, and if you are lucky, you may just find your person.
I have a shirt that simply says “curling” with a heart and a curling stone decal. It has two meanings for me: The love of the game, and a reminder of this great sport that brought my husband and I together.

New curler in the house.

My parents were avid curlers. There wasn’t much else to do in Baie Comeau on the wintery north shore of the St. Lawrence in the 1960s. Copper bas-relief plaques of curlers delivering rocks decorated our house, evidence of their participation in regional bonspiels. Their occasional weekends away (we children were farmed out to non-curling parents) were a paradox to me. Much excitement preluded their road trips, signaling good times ahead, but their return was often subdued, whether they won or not. As an adult, I realized their quiet re-entry reflected good times socializing after the games rather than their standing in the bonspiels.

As a child, my memories of watching them on the ice were of boredom and the flappity flap of corn brooms while one adult yelled at the other adults. Their strange, heavy-knit sweaters with crossed brooms on the back only appeared on curling days. I didn’t see the game’s attraction and wondered what allure this practice of throwing rocks with handles on what could have been a perfectly good skating rink held.

My history in sports is limited. As a teenager, I was a strong swimmer (including across Lake Memphremagog one summer camp year) and had a brief interest in badminton. In my twenties, I spent a couple of years learning how to downhill ski at Alta, Utah, and much later, tried cross-country skiing in Canmore. Alberta. There, I had a glimpse of my future when a teenage employee at the Nordic Centre excitedly announced to everyone in the ticket purchase line that I now qualified for their senior rate! I didn’t feel the same joy when I slipped my ID back into my pocket. I had just turned fifty and was under the mistaken assumption I still had 15 years to go. While he processed my pass, I glimpsed my future: Thursdays at Shoppers Drug Mart, early bird specials, winter in Arizona or Florida, eating at 5 p.m., and adding aches and pains to the conversational mix.

Fast forward two more decades, and here I am, a novice curler in Ottawa who couldn’t be happier than when I’m on the ice.
My move back to Ontario after years of enjoying the beauty of Alberta reflected my new status as a grandparent. I continued my corporate career and was lucky to work remotely for several years before Covid made it a norm. I dabbled in orienteering, mainly to discover great places to enjoy nature but used my busy career and eventual switch to contract work as an excuse not to do much exercise except walking.
Things changed in 2022 when I became one of the five women in Canada diagnosed with breast cancer every year. Playing the lottery was never my interest, but here I was, a winner.

What the medical community doesn’t tell you outright is that breast cancer affects you for life. Even after successful treatment, the possibility of a recurrence or lingering cells metastasizing elsewhere is real. There is a profound psychological impact that’s almost impossible for anyone not in the same club to understand.

I focused on learning everything I could about this disease, especially as there was no family history. I attended a support group and met other women, two of whom were curlers. The three of us soon branched off and met weekly for a long walk when we could talk about all things cancer (family and friends soon get tired of this topic.) We felt energized and supported by each other. The conversation sometimes turned to curling, and I’d listen but could not picture myself with a bent knee, sliding gracefully down the ice as my parents did so many years ago.

When I mentioned my doubtful ability to slide from the hack, I learned about the magic of stick curling. One of my Bosom Buddies, as we call ourselves, described how it made the game accessible to those of us with doubtful knees or other challenges. Something deep inside me switched on, and with her encouragement, I joined the Learn to Curl program at the RA Curling Centre of Excellence in Ottawa. Concussion safety is a big focus, and I’m now the proud owner of a dull grey helmet in case I ever check out the ice from an unexpectedly prone position. My granddaughter decided it needed some bling, so it’s now decorated with Maximum 100kms and Slippery When Wet stickers from her collection. I feel protected.

I currently play twice weekly in the women’s daytime draw league and occasionally land a decent shot. My teammates and fellow curlers are kind, patient people who have welcomed me without reservation. Most don’t know I’ve had cancer, nor do I know what ailments they might be facing. Curling is like that – accepting people for who they are, in that moment.

Volunteering at the recent U18 Championship at the RA Centre showed me how curling builds community and connections. Players, coaches, and parents from across the country cheered and supported the competitors and were outstanding examples of fair play, good humour, comradery, and respect for each other. The opportunity to give back through volunteering, even in this early stage of my curling career, has cemented my love for this sport.

When we cleared my parents’ effects after their deaths, none of their curling mementos made the cut. I’m not one to rue the day, but secretly, I wish I had even one of those plaques now. I’d rub it on the way out the door for inspiration and good curling.