Remember how I said I’d never seen a photo of the lean to kitchen? Apparently I just wasn’t paying attention, because there’s a photo of it here in today’s post. The sun porch still looks almost exactly like it does in this photo, and we use it every day.
It wasn’t long before we were issued a “ration book” for each one of us. Transient help would come to work with all the tabs sold out of their books and we would just have to cope it it somehow, but they weren’t very popular. In Feb 1940 I left Sheila and Marshall with my sister and Percy, and I took Aunt Ada and her bachelor brother Roy Wills on a motor trip to visit Aunt Lil in Palermo, California. We thoroughly enjoyed it, especially the wonderful Redwood forest. And visiting the old fort where the Russians had landed in 1872. The fort was standing in good condition because Redwood won’t burn nor decay.
Before I left, I taught Clarence how to bake apple pie. When we got home, the man who helped him batch said they just made steaks out of the whole half beef and had that and apple pie nearly every meal. And his pies were just about the best I’ve ever tasted, much better than mine, but I doubt if he has ever cooked one since. They were certainly glad to quit cooking.
We decided to turn our lean to eating area into a kitchen as it was three steps down from our tiny kitchen and the steps proved very awkward. Mr. Mervin Wallace, the carpenter, came out and he built that kitchen with loving care. I was so proud of it, it was beautiful and quite convenient but could have been larger. It was all white and blue with accents of red here and there. It had a long low window in the west and I made cottage style curtains out of white and blue polka dot material with a wide border of eyelet embroidery.
By now I had a gas Servel refrigerator. Mr Wallace also built me a sun porch for my house plants. From three thirty on in the afternoon I used to just about wear a hole in that window watching for the kids to come riding out of the bush in Nicoll’s field a mile or so west of us.
I would always have a dish of dessert of a bowl of soup waiting for them and would listen to them unload all of the problems of the day, then all was forgotten and the real enjoyment of the day would begging for them. Each one to his or her living, such as curling up with a good book to read or outside to play.
By now we had a Delco in the house – no more coal oil lamps and those frightening Coleman gas lamps. At first we had a gas engine to charge the sixteen-two volt batteries. Then we got a wind charger which worked fine when the wind blew. We were so glad to have just the lights, we never thought of complaining because there were no electric gadgets to be got on the 32 volts.
Has anyone ever had a well behaved Shetland? My sister’s Peanuts was considered to be a good one, but it really was only in comparison to how incredibly naughty and evil my Tango was. Why did we all have Shetland ponies??
Margaret, my last child was born in Oct 1940. We let Sheila name her, she was so thrilled to have a baby sister, so she said “I like Margaret Bateman, let’s call her Margaret”. She was a dear little baby, had long dark hair when she was born and always was very lively. I lay in the hospital listening to the battle of Bristol on the radio and wondered if it was right to bring a child into such a world.
One fall a cattle buyer who bought our steers, gave Marshall a Shetland pony when he was about four years old. I have never liked Shetland ponies, but Marshall was very happy and wanted to be on it all the time. One fine afternoon when I decided to ride across the creek to get the milk cows in, I let Marshall ride his pony and come with me. My horse stopped halfway across the creek to have a drink and I looked back to see how Marshall was doing. Clarence was building a fence nearby. The Shetland had stopped at the edge of a deep pool to have a drink too, and I could see both Marshall and the saddle were slowly sliding over its head. I called to Clarence just about the time Marshall plopped head first into the cold water. The dumb Shetland sat on the bank like a dog sits down and it had the saddle on its head like a hat. Clarence and I both headed to the rescue but things happened too fast for us. Marshall no sooner hit the water then he bounced out again and was on a howling rage. It all looked so comical, Clarence and I just went into helpless laughter which made Marshall furious. He walked home in a huff and we were so weak from laughing at that crazy looking pony we could hardly get the saddle off.
Later that pony ran away with Sheila one day and threw her onto a big rock and broke her elbow. My father had sold his farm and rented an apartment in Calgary. While Sheila was in the hospital with her broken arm – it had to be broken a second time to get it right – my dad visited her every day and read stories to her. He also helped Percy cut crop a few times when help was scarce. He loved the children dearly and always called Margie “Peggie”. The last day he visited us, in Nov 1942, Marshall and Margi clung to his legs and begged him to stay but he had two companions with him and returned to town. That night he died of a heart attack.
The bear stories!! I can’t imagine how scary it would have been to be the girl, and how funny it would have been to be Uncle Clarence. A couple of years ago in the fall we thought we saw something weird dart out of our yard. My girl offered to go over and look in the snow to see what tracks were there. As she had boots and I only had shoes I agreed. She grabbed Bear her dog and I stood on the driveway and watched them go across the yard. She stopped by the crabapple tree beside the cottage for a very long time and just stood there. Finally I yelled at her to keep moving and look at the damn tracks or come inside but I didn’t want to stand there all day. She looked, didn’t see much of anything and came back inside. Bear the dog stayed outside and barked at that crabapple tree for a good 45 minutes. Finally I went outside to tell him to shut up, and in that small moment where I distracted him, a huge cinnamon coloured bear dropped off the cottage roof, down the tree where the girl had been standing and took off out of the yard. There is never a dull moment out here!
Annie decided to take a business course in Calgary and do secretarial work in there. She continued to keep the big house as her country residence and as we were in a very small house, Clarence slept over there but otherwise lived with us.
One day, Percy’s brother George rode upon a fresh kill, the carcass of a yearling. George was used to the ways of the wild and he very carefully concealed a huge bear trap in a natural windfall of logs. He succeeded in trapping him and shooting the monster dead at first shot. He was a seven foot, seven hundred lb male grizzly.
Talking about bears, Percy nearly shot Clarence one thinking he was a bear. I had a girl working for me who had lived all her life on the prairies. She hated trees and got the creeps when she had to walk under one. Of course the boys delighted in spinning tall terrifying yarns to her and this evening she had waked down to visit a girl at Jack Copithorne’s. It was almost dark when she hurried home and Clarence and another boy put fur robes over themselves and hid under some brush about half way down the hill and jumped out behind her. Percy and I were sitting quietly in the kitchen when she hit the back door. If it had been more fragile she would have come right through the door. We were very concerned when we saw her white face and when she finally was able to speak we had our own doubts about it being a bear, but we hadn’t been told about the trick. Percy grabbed his shot gun and went out and shot it off in the air anyway, just to satisfy everyone. I guess those two boys never dusted up the hill so fast in all their life, expecting maybe another shot.
We finally dug a ditch to Annie’s house and got the water in in 1938. Just a cold tap in the kitchen and a slop bucket beside the sink for a year of so. Then we dug a septic tank east of the house and put in bathroom fixtures and hot and cold water. That lightened the work a lot but we were still very very crowded, especially at meal time. Finally the men had time to dismantle an old house in the area and build a lean to over the kitchen door where we put a big table and used it as a dining room, down three steps from the kitchen.
About then we got a battery set radio. It was wonderful to get the world news every day but becoming very disturbing to hear it. Then one day in the fall of 1939 the news that we were all dreading to hear, came over the air. We were at war! It really shook us, more than we ever expected it to. The happy care-free talk at mealtime was changed a lot. The whole outlook of our operation as a ranch changed…
A day in Grandma’s life is exhausting, they sure worked hard. But honestly – ironing diapers!!! I remember mom complaining bitterly about washing out diapers in the toilet, and although I try to be more eco friendly, I have to admit I was pretty happy to just throw diapers in the trash.
We now have the story of how Aunt Gertie joined the community before she joined the family. I loved the story of our great grandfather Richard giving Auntie Sheila sweet treats. When my boy was born, I kept him off sugar for so long and was so careful. Then his first Christmas, when he was about 6 months, my dad took him on his knee – in the dining room here at grandma’s – and very gleefully put a gigantic spoon of Grandma’s Christmas sauce in his mouth. So that was the end of that. What a great way to start out with sugar though – that sauce is mad good.
Shortly before we were married, Percy gave me a fine big black saddle horse named Spades. He was part Arabian and very gentle. I loved to go out riding with the gang when they were working the cattle. Annie rode a very beautiful spirited bay hunter and she certainly was a good rider. Percy’s dad always had a string of coyote hounds following him and occasionally they would go after a poor little rabbit that crossed our path.
In 1929, Jack Copithorne and Dave Lawson combined their teams of horses and pulled Archie Arie’s(?) homestead house down to a spot between Nicoll’s and Jack’s to be used for a school house. All the children of the district were living in this neighbourhood at that time. The fall after we were married, 1932, the teacher Marg Erwin boarded with us and walked to this school. Marg was a city girl and found it very lonely at our place. She was extremely musical and we brought my mother’s piano out for her to play on. We enjoyed many musical evenings after that. Frank, Percy’s brother got married to Georgie McDougall in 1934 and lived on the XC ranch. That year Gertrude Flumerfelt came to teach and boarded with us until our Sheila was born in 1935. While Gertrude was here, my mother’s health deteriorated and she spent considerable time with us too. Sheila was a real pride and joy to everyone. The first baby girl to be born in the district for fifteen years and everyone made a great fuss over her and she was a darling. Percy’s dad used to hold her on his knee and give her little bits of food at mealtime. She sure started eating ice cream at an early age. By now my mother’s health was so poorly my dad rented a house in Cochrane no moved her in near the doctor. He was fortunate to get Mrs. EC Johnson, her dear friend to come and live with her and nurse her that year. She died when Sheila was only six months old.
When I was in Cochrane so much, Sheila came in close contact with my sister’s daughter Aileen, who was, unknown to us, just coming down with the whooping cough. Sheila caught the whooping cough and what a winter we had after that! Frank was in the hospital all winter and poor Georgie was alone with Richard who was only a tiny baby then. Sheila’s health was poor after that until she was two years old when we had to have her tonsils out.
Percy’s father died in April 1936, when Sheila was just a year old. It threw the whole responsibility of the ranch and family on Percy and Frank’s shoulders. Clarence was only fourteen years old. He seemed so young to lose his father after having lost his mother when only two years old. Annie carried on as usual that summer, cooking etc for the haying crew, for which I was very thankful. But it was a short haying season and by then when I took on the job of feeding the men, the poultry and dairy, I was expecting my second child. But I at last got a washing machine of my own and certainly needed it with all the men’s clothes to wash as well as our own. Sometimes there were as many as fifteen shirts to iron each week. The washing machine was run by a gas engine – a very temperamental one. I often gave up trying to get it started then in anger would give it a swift kick and it would start.
I churned once or twice a week and with the butter and eggs bought the groceries. Butter requires a lot of cold, cold water to wash all the buttermilk out of the butter and to make it firm. Then you add salt and work and work it in, then pat it into a mould so that the result weighs exactly one lb. My churn was a big wooden barrel, one that made about thirty lbs at a churning. We carried the water from a well on the other side of Annie’s house. It seemed like a quarter of a mile away. We had a big Windlass built out in the corral and butchered our beef there. Hung it up on the Windlass to clean and skin, about an hour’s work. Then after it hung in a cool place for ten days we would cut it up and put it into a brine and some into jars and cooked. I also canned chicken. I remember one time I starved the roosters etc and the other chickens to be butchered as usual the night before so that they would have empty crops and be easier to handle. Never thinking about the weed seeds in the bottom of the trough. The chickens ate them. I had forty beautifully jelled jars of chicken but when I opened them to use they smelt so strong of stink weed and tasted like it too, I nearly wept when I couldn’t use them.
As I said before, money was scarce and there was no hope of making our tiny kitchen larger. I loved my little kitchen when there were only the three of us, but that winter, trying to crowd four and sometimes six more people around our table and then squeeze between it and the stove was just impossible. I use admit we were a jolly crew and had many hearty laughs and jokes about it all.
That winter was a long one. Marshall was born in March and about that time Percy brought his cows home from Olds. He bought some of their hay they had for sale and when he got it home the cattle wouldn’t eat it. It was slough hay that they had cut on top of the ice and it didn’t even make good bedding. When driving them home from he stockyards in Cochrane, one old cow just played out about four miles south of Cochrane so he had to leave her there as it was getting late. Next morning she was standing at the gate at the home corral.
Fortunately Marshall was a healthy, happy baby because I was too busy to fuss much. I remember very foolishly ironing diapers for Sheila and everything had to be just so, but not so with Marshall. We baked eight or ten loaves of bread every other day – set it to rise overnight. I used those hard Royal yeast cakes. I even made my own soap for a while. There was su much fat after butchering and I had a good soap recipe. Poor Sheila must have been a bit neglected then too because once when she was only two years old, she was playing around the yard while I was churning in the basement. She tried to look through the window and both she and the window crashed to the cement floor. It was a long fall. Fortunately she was not cut by glass but did bite her tongue and lip badly.
I appreciate how much of today’s story involves the intricate description of food. I find when I’m describing places I’ve been or experiences I’ve had, it usually starts with “remember that time we went to Virginia Beach and our hotel was across from Ben and Jerry’s and we ate ice cream for breakfast”. Or “I really miss living in St. Lazare, the goat cheese sandwiches at Anise et Marjolaine were divine”. Basically I’m either eating, planning what to eat, or thinking about what I just ate. Grandma’s cake was one of my top favourite treats and I was delighted to find that the bakery in our grocery store in Quebec sold a very similar one (did I mention how great the food was when we lived in Quebec?)
The path down the hill to Uncle Jack’s (Kumlin’s now) may not be as well worn, but visiting with them still is something that I always enjoy. When I was a kid the path was used regularly as I’d take off on my pony for quiet rides along the creek by their place.
Percy was secretary for the hall for many, many years. Margy, his sister, got married later in the year to Jack C. Buckley of Springbank. I was immediately put on sandwich making committee for the hall dances. We would order twelve or fourteen sandwich loaves unsliced and slice them very thin. Two lbs butter warmed to soft consistency to spread easy. Ham bought then sliced very thin at the butcher shop and about four large tins of salmon mixed with a little homemade salad dressing. The sandwiches were really good but the cakes everyone brought to the dances were just scrumptious. A favourite was one Nan Copithorne used to make – a big plane white cake with white icing covered with toasted almonds. Everyone seemed to be such a good cook what a goal I had to set myself! It wasn’t easy, but before long I had mastered a few good recipes too. It was so nice having Archie McLean taking full charge of the kitchen and making such delicious coffee in the two big copper boilers. He also cleaned the hall and all for only five dollars a night.
Aunt Ada (Mrs Jimmie Nicoll) always wore a million dollar smile and she had the art of meeting everyone at the dances and making them feel especially welcome. It was nice always having a floor manager – announcing each dance etc. They always had one moonlight waltz and when the evening was over they would dance the to the song “Home Sweet Home” and everyone sang it. Usually the ladies wore big ball gowns even though it was the dirty 30s. Our hall was beautiful with dozens of Japanese lanterns and balloons hung from the ceiling. We had a pretty good orchestra too, but Percy played the violin and that meant I had to sit out a lot of dances.
Like Wordsworth’s description of Hiawatha’s friends “Straightway ran the path between them, never grew the grass upon it” <it’s actually Straight between them ran the pathway, Never grew the grass upon it”, but I googled and I’m betting Grandma wrote that from memory>, the path between me and Jack Copithorne’s and Nicoll’s was certainly well worn. We seemed to meet at least once a week for tea, and always walked, as it didn’t seem far. Aunt Ada was an exceptionally fine cook, her lemon jelly rolls and hot biscuits just make my mouth water to think of them. Nan Copithorne was always sewing and redecorating. I remember one time she decided to paint her long dining room in red and pink. We were all quite horrified, just couldn’t imagine anything pleasant about that combination. When she was finished she had us down for tea and were we ever surprised! It was beautiful! We learned that tones and shades made all the different effects. Nan’s homemade bread was superb. For tea in June she would often serve strawberries, rich yellow cream, fresh bread and fresh homemade butter.
But the laughter and gaiety of these gatherings out shone any food you could mention. Everyone had such a crew of young men working for them and everyone home a girl to help too and they were all like one big happy family. They just made their own fun to compensate for the hard work.
Grandma told me the story of Grandpa flying through the freshly wallpapered room once when I was a teenager. I’m so glad the full account is here because while I was sure I’d remember it, I forgot some of the details. I had to google “Shivaree” and it indeed is a word, here’s the definition: a noisy mock serenade performed by a group of people to celebrate a marriage or mock an unpopular person.
There were dry years and poor crops and I worked in Broughts cafe one summer holiday. Then later Mrs Allan asked me if I would help her in the busy summer months and it was like home to me to be with her. I took my grade eleven in south Calgary High School and decided to work steady with Mrs Allan before completing my grade twelve and going to Normal School. Ruth married Edgar Davies in 1927 and I rented a room from them while I worked for Mrs Allan. Then Percy Copithorne asked me to go with him to a dance in Jumping Pound Hall one day and we continued to go steady for over two years. We were married in Nov 1931 and so a whole new chapter of my life was started.
Percy and I married Nov 1931 in Knox United Church in Calgary. Jean Russell was my bridesmaid and Frank Copithorne, Percy’s brother, was his best man. We went to the coast for our honeymoon. Frank and Percy dug the basement for our cottage, then Mr. Frank Fletcher from Cochrane helped Percy build the cottage. We were fortunate to have natural gas in it right from the start. It was quite a change after my busy life in the store. The cottage seemed quiet and empty but I had wonderful neighbours who made up for that. First they shivareed us one evening. There must hav been at least fifty people crowded into our small house and they brought music and lunch and danced until the small hours of the morning. Fortunately we hadn’t finished the floors or the walls. There were heel marks half-way up the wall where they swung the ladies in the square dances. It was all great fun. Someone kicked the middle leg off our new chesterfield but we put it back on and that chesterfield is still in constant use 44 years later.
Then the community had a dance in the hall as they did in those days honouring every bride and groom of the district. They presented us with a lovely silver carving set and cake server.
Well we sure aimed to spruce up that cottage cute too. It was all shingles outside and wall board inside. I really don’t think any newlyweds should ever do their own decorating. We were so dumb and green about the job and choose the hardest wallpaper to match etc and just didn’t have a clue how to do it. Our ceilings are high and we thought it would look smart to have a drop ceiling. Percy brought in the sawhorses and put loose planks on them. We tried to put the paper up to the ceiling, across and down the drop on the other side of the room. What a smozzle. There was always one end of that long slimy wet roll of ceiling paper dropping off just when you had the other end all neatly stuck on. Then when you ran to grab it, the loose planks would upend and away went the paper hanger or the glue or both. It just wasn’t funny. Of course we were dumb enough to start in the living room and do all our practicing there. But when it was done it all looked lovely.
Then Percy decided his job was outside staining the shingles. He made himself a scaffold to stand on and one nice day when I had the front door open and I was in the pantry peeling onions with tears rolling down my cheeks from that job, his scaffold broke and he took a nosedive right in the front door. He brought his pail of brown shingle stain in with him and splashed it all over one wall of the newly papered living room.
I ran to see if he was hurt and was so relieved to se he wasn’t but when he saw my tear stained face he said “Good grief, you don’t need to cry about it.” I assured him I wasn’t crying, I was only peeling onions and he wasn’t’ so pleased about that either. Then we both saw the wall and I think we both felt like really crying.
It’s easy to get lost in the nostalgia of the “olden days” (my kids now refer to the ‘80s as the “olden days” and that just seems wrong, but I digress), but it’s easy to forget how different it was for women back then. Even now in 2021 as a solo parent there are challenges that I face because I am a woman that I would not if there was a man living here. However, there are also certain benefits I receive for the exact same reason. The narrow line I try to walk is accepting the help I truly need while not taking on the role of “helpless woman” (which can be tempting). I am lucky because I have kids who help out, and my extended family (thanks guys) who step in whenever I really need anything. Figuring out how things work in this old house is a constant challenge. Nothing says an adventure like heading into the basement of a house that was put together by old ranchers who knew how everything worked, but who didn’t build things in the same way that the professionals would have . To their credit, this place is coming up on 90 years and it’s still standing so they must have known what they were doing!!! I added the Flapper’s Prayer and the Lawyer’s Advice in grandma’s handwriting, because if I hadn’t seen that she had copied these poems in her own handwriting I never would have believed it.
I sold gold cross(?) garden seeds to the neighbours and got a beautiful violin from the company. The seeds were really good and grew well but I have my doubts about the violin. Anyway I took lessons from Mrs Easton in Cochrane and conned Ruth into playing those terrible scales on the piano so that I could follow in tune. I loved the violin and still do. Alex Beadle took violin lessons from Mrs Easton too and once we had to play a duet at a concert in Cochrane. I shudder yet when I think of the awful squawks I got out of that instrument. But the Chautauqua that used to come to Cochrane were wonderful. They really were an inspiration. Then came the radio. And Oh My! It was wonderful. We got Philip Aries to make a crystal set and we would sit there just enthralled. And dear help anyone who walked across the floor and jiggled the needle off the crystal. I still think it’s magic that a thing delicate little thread of wire touching a piece of crystal rock could connect us to the world. Cochrane had an active minstrel show every winter for many years. We always looked forward to that. They used local talent and were popular in all the neighbouring towns too.
High school was fun but hard work too. We had a young-people’s group called the Rustler’s Club. At that time the Russell hotel had no bar, a lovely dining room and very nice people named the Dickenson’s running it. They allowed our group to meet and dance to their big gramophone on Friday evenings. The dining room was closed to the public and made a grand club-room for us. The teachers joined too. It was very enjoyable, and it gave us a chance to learn to dance. We also had a high school orchestra about that time and it was great fun.
I want the lights that brightly shine, the big strong men, the taste of wine. I long for the fun without the price, I want to be naughty and yet be nice. I want the thrill of a first long kiss, I want the things that other girls miss. I want the arms and the heart of a man, yet be single if I can. So as a lawyer gave me advice on how to be naughty and yet be nice. I want to do as other girls do, tease and cuddle and trill and coo. Blacken my eyes and powder my nose, shorten my skirts and roll my hose. Drive a little and shimmy a lot and park my corsets when the weather gets hot. ride and swim, golf and skate. Take the fence instead of the gate. Break all records, all but one. Be good and true when the game is done. I don’t like pepper, but I do like spice. I want to be naughty and yet be nice.
The advice I give is long and true, for you can’t eat your pie and have it too. If you want the men and want the wine you must pay the price while you eat and dine. The next must be a long kiss if the first one yields a moments bliss. If you want the things the good girls miss you will need be wiser than most girls, sis. So watch your step is my advice if you want to be naughty and yet be nice. Go to it kid with your grease and paint that makes you look like what you ain’t. Shimmy and drink to your heart’s content. Be hugged and squeezed till your ribs are bent. Park your clothes on a hickory limb, but don’t dare go in for a swim. Bath if you will on the dewy(?) green. But you can’t use mud and come out clean. The game you play is men’s long suit. Since Eve first nibbled the forbidden fruit. What ever you get you must pay the price. But you can’t be naughty and yet be nice.
I was always so jealous of the riding to school stories, although now that I’m older and understand how much I don’t like the cold I’m not as jealous.
Riding to school all winter was sometimes quite a challenge. The horse would stand in the cold barn all day and could hardly wait for me to get on at night. By now I had two or three lively horses to ride. Sometimes it seemed we would hardly touch the ground but just sailed out of the barn until we climbed the hill north of the creek. I often drove a cutter to school when the sleighing was good. A kind neighbour gave me a set of sleigh bells and the pony I drove tried her best to run away from those bells but the harder she raced the more music they made. It was exciting. One very, very foggy morning while riding along the little path over the hills to school, I heard what seemed like a whole pack of coyotes howling quite close to me. Out alone in a dense fog makes you feel so all alone in the world. I rode over a knoll and onto a lone coyote sitting on the side-hill howling his heart out. I was really quite close to him and he had his head thrown back and was half way through a shocking howl when he saw me and shot straight up in the air then hit he ground and disappeared in a flash. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen a coyote howl.
One Saturday, George Campiden decided to be generous and let his sister Elise and me go fishing with him. We walked the two miles down to Big Hill Creek and got quite bored standing there quiet, watching George fish. Suddenly he caught one, much to his surprise I think. He yanked it out and it hit Elise across the face and she fell off the bank into the murky edge of the creek. She got all wet and muddy and so did I helping her and we got heck from George for being so noisy and clumsy, so we went home and left him there.
When it was time to clear out Grandma’s room at the Wentworth, I was invited to choose a few things I wanted to remember her by. My items were her desk (the boy uses it every single day and it has been a most treasured item for him for most of his life), her bible, and the memory book created for her 90th birthday party. I carried all of these while we travelled, and when I felt disconnected from who I was, I’d read her bible or look through the memory book to remember. Her memory book is made up of her autobiography and photos put together (I think) by my aunt. I thought I’d take a brief break from the letters and share her story here. As I’ve been reading and sharing her letters I’ve begun to better understand what an incredible woman she was and thought it may be interesting to share her life story in her words.
I remember Grandma telling me of her adventures sledding down the hill in Cochrane with such a look of happiness on her face, until she looked at me and saw the wheels turning in my head. The stories always ended with “but it’s not safe now, you should never do that”. So instead I went tobogganing down the buffalo jumps until I got caught, apparently that also was not acceptable haha. It also didn’t make for a very smooth ride so I was happy not to have to repeat it.
Cochrane September 27th 1908
The Fairies and the Leprechauns were in Cochrane and they clapped their hands in glee
When the Doctor spanked the bottom
Of a baby that was me.
Woe is me.
“Ow”. That was me when Dr. Park spanked my bottom when I was born in our house in Cochrane. What a difference to the soft touch the babies have now when born. No wonder we’re a hardy race, it was survival of the fittest. Then I remember my mother trying to talk me into an afternoon nap a few years later. My father rocking me in his arms in the rocking chair and singing to me to ease the pain of an earache with a bag of warm salt pressed to it. The rocking chair had a coyote skin draped over it, a big hide tanned and lined with red felt with scalloped edges.
These dear old hills of Cochrane provided endless fun and adventure for a child living in the village. Picking flowers in the spring. Building play-houses out of stones just laid on the ground in a pattern etc and galloping around on my stick-horse. Then when the winter snows came there was nowhere could compare with the marvellous speed of a bob-sleigh coming down the hill, then hitting the road and flying down nearly to the front street. The only traffic was horse drawn and they panicked from us, not us from them.
It was awful having only one sister and she was six and a half years older than me. I just couldn’t keep up to her, hard as I’d try, and she tried equally as hard to leave me behind. So I amused myself with whatever was handy and that nearly always was a horse.
Grandma had her new kitchen by now! In all of the old photos I’ve seen of this house, I’ve never seen the lean to kitchen that was there before this big, beautiful kitchen was built. The story I was told was that there was a step down from the main house into the kitchen, and one time mom was walking on her crutches and fell down the stair into the kitchen. That was it, and Grandma insisted there be a proper kitchen built without any steps for mom. And what a kitchen she built! It still is my favourite room in the whole world (and where I sit while I write this).
Here’s an old photo I found in some archives of a house in Manitoba with a lean to kitchen. I’m assuming the old one here was something like this, but again I’m not sure as I’ve never seen photos. And every time I ever asked either Grandma or Mom about the old kitchen my questions were never answered, instead they told me how wonderful the new one is (and it really, really is). Even in this kitchen the amount of cooking Grandma had to do is staggering, I don’t know how she managed in a smaller and more rustic space.
RR3 Innisfail, Alta
February 9, 1956
I was so glad to get your letter and to know that your operation did some good and that you are able to be up and around. You will be anxious to get home again.
We heard you over the radio at Xmas and were so glad to hear you. We did enjoy the programme.
Had a nice long letter from your Mum a while ago and did enjoy it. Would love to drop in on her sometime. She seems to be enjoying the new kitchen. I’m sure it will be lovely.
We are really enjoying our lovely mild weather. Surely hope it doesn’t turn to cold again. It is nice to be looking forward to spring.