I've always had a fascination with the stories of settlers - people who left the comfort and stability in the east (or, before that, from Europe and points beyond) to make a new home in the west.
I'm sure it's rooted in too many childhood readings of Little House on the Prairie and repeat visits to Upper Canada Village in Ontario.
Churning butter by hand? Sounds great! Riding around in a horse and wagon? Fantastic! Barn dances and apple pie? Sign me up!
Of course, as I got older, the reality of "old-timey" life became a bit more obvious to me - hardship, disease, struggle.
But it wasn't until my first child was born that I truly re-evaluated my perceptions.
His arrival was fraught with a series of complications; his first few days with even more.
He had a case of jaundice that was bad enough it required a few extra days' stay in the hospital, and light treatment in the "baby baker" - an incubator-type box in which he was exposed to a constant stream of artificial daylight.
As I watched him lying there, miniature eye patches protecting his eyes, I couldn't help but wonder: how many mothers lost their child, or their own lives, as a result of the relatively minor complications we had just lived through quite easily?
I was profoundly grateful for the simple luck of living in the 21st century.
This week's anniversary marking the 150th year since the doors opened at Royal Columbian Hospital has me thinking again of what life was like then, compared to now.
On page 5 of this issue, I take a closer look at some highlights in the history of the hospital.
As I read through the details of its inception and subsequent years, the thought that kept coming back to me was that this building, simple though it was and as limited as it was in its scope of medical expertise, must have inspired a similarly profound gratefulness in the early residents of this city.
The health-care system is far from perfect - a quick glance at any newspaper will reveal the challenges of funding, labour disputes, the pressure of a growing (and aging) population.
Yet behind those "issues" are people who, in their own way, inspire profound gratitude in patients every single day.
Like the nurse who stroked my son's head and hummed gently to him while he had more than a dozen stitches put into his mouth.
And the doctors who have, at last count, fixed a total of three 'slipped elbows' between my two children over the course of four years.
The paramedics who arrived when my daughter was choking.
The doctors who confirmed that the knock to the head was (or, in some cases, was not) a concussion.
In case you haven't picked up on it, my children are what we call "very active" - which is a nice way to say "have no sense of fear and like to jump from tall things, climb trees, and otherwise risk life and limb."
I've got a jar full of hospital bracelets - most of them from RCH - and a particularly profound sense of gratitude.
Though my first child was born elsewhere in the Lower Mainland, my daughter arrived at RCH (I'm not sure how grateful I am for the Nickelback that was playing while she was born, but I will have a soft spot for the rest of my life for the maternity nurses who cared for us so well.)
A quick informal count around the newsroom here reveals that at least four more of our collective group of children were also born at the Sapperton landmark.
Many of us here have visited friends and family at RCH - on happy days like the arrival of a baby or in sad times after an accident or illness.
We have, countless times, interviewed people who have been to the brink of death and then brought back.
We've interviewed auxiliary members, nurses and doctors, and, of course, politicians about everything from overflowing ER wards to complicated heart surgeries.
Make no mistake - the coming years will be a challenge for RCH.
There's been word that a redevelopment is on the way. The number of people that rely on the hospital here in New West and in surrounding areas continues to grow. Retaining and recruiting staff at all levels is a problem in health-care throughout the country.
And yet, I have a feeling I'll be grateful a time or two again in the coming years for what happens behind the walls at RCH. And so will many others.
To the city's earliest residents, who first planted the seed of health care in the Royal City - and those who continued to water it over these many years - thank you.
Indeed, a job well done.
Christina Myers is a reporter with The Record and the Burnaby NOW. Email her at cmyers@royalcityrecord. com.
