Tag Archives: family

happiness

Let’s Laugh Folks: Cochrane Eye Opener

Here are a couple more excerpts from the 1927 copy of the Cochrane Eye Opener. Grandma would have been 19 when this was published. As you can tell, it was some very serious journalism. I’m actually a huge fan of this kind of journalism.

Let’s Laugh Folks

Have you ever tried this dish?

Mrs W. Andison asked her husband to copy the radio recipe one morning. Mr. Andison’s did her best but got two stations at once. One was broadcasting the morning exercises, the other the recipe. This is what he got:Hands on hips, place one cup of flour on shoulders. Raise knees and depressed toes, and wash thoroughly in one half cup of milk. In four counts raise the lower legs and mash two hard boiled eggs in a sieve. Repeat six times. Inhale one half teaspoon of Baking Powder and one cup of flour, breathe naturally and inhaled and sift. Attention: Jump to a squatting position and bend white of egg backwards and forward over head and in four counts make a stiff dough that will stretch at the waist. Lie flat on the flour and roll into a marble the size of a walnut. Hop to a standstill in boiling water but do not boil into a gallop. In ten minutes remove from fire and dry with a towel. Breathe naturally, dress in warm flannels and serve with fish soup.

Here’s another article:

Locals:

We notice Santa has supplied the Cochrane Hardware store with a generous supply of beautiful toys and gifts! For those who have a sweet tooth there are chocolates and _____ candies are now artistically displayed in Allan’s Confectionary and all other signs of Christmas and suitable gifts for the occasion can be seen in the other stores.

We are glad to report that Mrs Turner is progressing favourably, being able to go back to the city on Saturday last.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year Folks!!!!!!!

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Cochrane Eye Opener: The Fire at the Alberta Hotel

I found a couple of copies of something called the “Cochrane Eye Opener”, which seems to be a handwritten news type booklet. I’m not sure how long this Eye Opener operated for, but this one was printed around Christmas time of 1927.

The first story in this edition of the Eye Opener is called “the fire” detailing the fire that destroyed the Alberta Hotel (since we seem to be on a prairie fire theme), and an account of the fire at the Alberta Hotel can be found on this history of Cochrane site.

Answering to the toll of the church bell, many Cochrane citizens gathered to watch a roaring blaze which completely destroyed the historic Alberta Hotel. It was a wonderful sight. Never in the history of the village has such a fire occurred.

In its history, the hotel has had two other fires, however, these were but minor ones, each one being extinguished before it gout of control. But nothing could have checked the final blaze. The three-story structure burned as if it was an immense heap of firewood saturated with coal oil.

The fire started in one of the front rooms of the (second?) floor, soon spread to every corner of the building.

Roaring and cackling, it burst through the floor sending a shower of sparks into the air to be blown fat over the railway track by a gusty north wind. Three or four inches of snow on the ground and roofs prevented these sparks from igniting any other buildings.

The hotel disappeared very quickly. In about two and one half hours the site changes from a modern boarding house and beer parlour to a heap of hot embers.

There are a few stories written here, some of the handwriting has faded, but what’s there is a fun little window into life in Cochrane in 1927. As someone who grew up eating at the Cochrane Cafe, and who was saddened when they finally closed their doors a few years ago, it was kind of fun to see their advertisement in this paper.

The handwritten story about the fire
Some advertisements for paper
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Pigs Living High on the Cow – Percy’s version of the 1936 Fire

It’s funny how the same situation can elicit such different recollections – here’s Grandpa’s version of the story of the fire. I have previously posted Grandma’s version here and another version here, as well as some photos here.

You’ll notice there is no mention of Grandma trying to outrun the fire in her car with her toddler and her baby bump. It is, though, a really good description of how it must have felt for him, and all of them, after the fire when they were trying to figure out how to feed and care for their cattle.

We had serious droughts which created feed shortages but the worst situation I experienced was in the fall of 1936 when a disastrous fire burned all our feed and most of the pastures. That evening when everything was burned and things looked hopeless, Ken Coppock, Sec. Manager of the Western Stock Growers paid me a visit and told me to come and see him as he would help to figure out a way out of this predicament. At this time, there was a lot of straw stack, some three and four years old up in the Olds district. Ken contacted a man up there for me who acquired enough straw to winter what cows I had to get through the winter. The government was shipping cattle at the time free of charge from southern Alberta which was dried out, and so Ken got me on the band wagon as well. There was some losses, a lot of defending on what kind of a farmer was looking after the cattle. There were about five hundred or more head and these had to be placed in small lots around the country at different farms. One place in particular, the cattle did not do well because they were not getting enough water. Roads were blocked for a couple of weeks and I was unable to check this particular herd until several cows died, which were then hauled up to the pigs. Instead of cows living high on the hog, the hogs were living high on the cows.

It was a happy day the following spring when I trailed them home from Cochrane. It took some of them longer than others to make the trip, but they sure knew their way home.

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Love at first sight – a Percy Story

This holiday season I’m watching all the cheesy romantic Christmas movies, but I have to say they’ve got nothing on my Grandparents.

People often discuss their opinions regarding the question: what is a life well lived? I gotta say, reading my Grandpa describe his family life here, this to me seems like the best answer I’ve seen so far to that question. This, this is a life well lived. He accomplished a lot in his career as a rancher, but what he mentions here isn’t that at all. It’s only about his family and what he and my Grandma built there.

I’m shocked it’s taken me this long to find anything mentioned anywhere about Grandma’s teacup readings. She was so good at it, and did make up some pretty great stories on the spot about what she saw in the leaves.

One night on the dance floor in Cochrane, I was dancing with a girl whom I had known for a long time, Edna Brown. Something came over me at that time and as the saying goes I was never the same again. We were married two years later on the 11th of November, 1931. We took a short honeymoon to the coast. I had already built a cottage with a full basement consisting of 2 bedrooms and bath plus a kitchen and living room close by my Dad’s home. Mr Frank Fletcher from Cochrane helped to build it. We raised a family of three- Sheila, Marshall, and Margi, whom we are very proud of and they in turn all have families. They also had to ride to school just like I did which I think made them rather resourceful people as they had to look after their own welfare from the time they left home in the owning until they returned in the evening. No bus driver to do this.

Edna has been a very patient and loving wife and has stood by in several trials such as the time Margi got polio and we were almost beat for two years before there was any sure course to take. Margie was eleven years old at the time and through sheer determination she kept up with her studies and be a mobile person again.

Edna is called Grandma now, and is sure a big wheel in the Grandma world. I consider myself very fortunate to marry such a girl as she contributed so much to my happiness as well as success in my ranching career. We are living alone once more, a little lonely perhaps sometimes, but still have good health and many happy thoughts of bygone days. Our grandchildren do visit us quite often and this certainly does liven things up. Grandma is good at reading teacups and how she thinks of the big whoppers to tell is more than I can say.

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The Police were waiting for me (a Percy story)

I have discovered Grandpa’s written history. In his handwriting, which is some of the most beautiful handwriting (I’ve enclosed a sample at the bottom of this post.) I am presently reading/transcribing his description of how he built the barn that still is used here today, but this little story came right before and I quite enjoyed it.

Imagine driving cattle from Jumping Pound into Calgary and down Macleod Trail these days? Even back then, what a long ride!

Every fall we would ship our steers from Cochrane to wherever their destination was. These were usually three year old. Everything would be nice and quiet until we came to the bridge that crosses the Bow River. There was always trouble as they refused for a long time before deciding to go on the bridge. One year they absolutely refused and swam across below the bridge. The buyer was a tight fisted character and when we corralled them at the stockyards he accused me of watering them before they were weighed.

During the thirties when prices were low we sold to a feeder in Calgary and to save freight charges we trailed the steers to Calgary. Mr. W. Mackie had a feedlot in East Calgary close by the government elevators. He sent a drover Bert Bishop out to meet us on the outskirts of the city and steer us through the city to the feedlot. The cattle were getting more and more excited as we neared the residential districts and I remember Bert Bishop saying that all that needs to happen now is some lady comes out and shake her tablecloth. We crossed them on the bridge at Elbow Park and when turning the corner to approach the bridge there was a new house with newly made lawn and nice rope fence around it. We got the first few head around alright but those following up cut across the corner and what a mess they made of that lawn and fence.

The McLeod Trail was the next hurdle but we eventually got to the feedlot in good time. Upon arriving, Mr Mackie was waiting for us and also a policeman. Mr Mackie said the Police were waiting for me and I said I was not a bit surprised. However, he was just a personal friend. The occupants of the nice lawn etc must have been away at the time because I never did hear from them.

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Letters from “Jack the Soldier” during WWII – a letter from his wife Eileen

Ah food, the universal language of love. Who doesn’t love a good blueberry pie? On the note of non universal languages, and the different ways that English speaking people can name the same thing – I was living in the states for a good 5 years before I figured out that a parking garage was the same thing as a parkade. As a Canadian kid, I’d always assumed the Fisher Price Parking Garage was some sort of mechanic shop where you took your car in to be repaired and filled up with gas. Not that it was just a parkade with a cool elevator. I loved the Parking Garage, but didn’t have one – I hade to go “all the way” to my aunt’s place and play with it along with my cousins in their basement. It was a great toy.

Thursday December 18th, 1944

Dear Edna:-

Hope you don’t mind me being so informal, but I prefer to be “Eileen” to people – it’s more friendly – so hope you feel the same way.

Have just collected some pictures of my handsome hero and thought as you’ve been so good to him, you’d like a copy. It’s a super one of him taken off a studio one he gave me on our first wedding anniversary.

I heard from him yesterday and he wrote from Paris, where he was on a 48 hour pass. Certainly had a good time and must have spent a fortune on presents and souvenirs for Julie and I and my folks. Sure hope they arrive safely after all his trouble buying them.

No doubt by now you have received my first letter – hope so. Jack will be pleased I’ve written you I know as he specially asked me to try to scribble off a letter to you now and again.

How’s that young rascal Marshall? Don’t tell me he isn’t, because he really looks it. What is the eldest girl’s name? I don’t think Jack has told me – if so I”m afraid I’ve forgotten.

I was reading an article in the paper where the Canadians say “spool of thread” where we say “reel of cotton” and one or two other things are tubbing (??) the newly arrived wives of Canadians – hm! Methinks I’ll have quite a game getting myself understood, but I’ll have to start taking easy lessons. Someone tells me the cooking over there is different – oh me! I’ll have to go to school or something. Never mind, Jack’s easy to please and is always willing to help, – so I’ll get by. He loved Blueberry Pie – what are Blueberries? – are they similar to Black Currants? I imagine so, because I made him a Pie with Black Currant filling and he promptly called it Blueberry Pie! I knew then that he’d enjoyed it!

Mother has gone to Birmingham for a few weeks, as my sister is having another baby and it seems she’s likely to have quite a time – her blood-pressure is very high. I’m acting “Head-Cook and Bottle-Washer” whilst she’s gone and with a baby to look after, I’m having quite a time – no time to worry! At least I still get out in the afternoons though for our walk, so I’m not doing so badly and no one has grumbled yet! Time will tell though. Julie is so good though, I have very little trouble her – she really draws a lot of attention to herself when we’re out. If anyone looks at her she gives them a smile and if they speak to her she really goes to town and does her best to tell them all about it. She loves to kick and squeals away, then chuckles. She amuses me as well as herself.

Well, I must close now, as my dad and sister have arrived in and are hungry. So must away and feed them.

So long now, will try and write again soon and maybe send some more pictures. Until then, God Bless you all, and may you have a very happy New Year.

Sincerely

Eileen Martin

Back of photo: When Julie was about 2 1/2 weeks old
Back of photo: Julie at 3 weeks old
Back of photo: Julie at 2 months

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Letters from “Jack the Soldier” during WWII – descriptive Army Vocabulary

This letter sounds a bit more ominous even though for the most part Jack sounds pretty upbeat. It’s hard not to be affected thinking of these men heading off to fight battles where so many people died and were injured. I’m assuming the next letter I read will be when he’s overseas in the war zone.

20th August. Tues (1940)

Dear Percy and Edna

Here is the nuisance again, I have not much to do right now, so thought I would drop you a line. I have just had another inoculation, so am entitled to a twenty four hour without dusty. This is the fourth inoculation and one vaccination I have had so far, so I should be pretty much immune against any disease that may come floating around.

At last I found Bill Harris, and I guess I must have passed by his tent a thousand times and didn’t know he was around, but by having his number which you gave me, I was able to hunt him up in a few minutes. He is just the same old Bill, but he is getting plump, he sure looks fine.

Bill had I had quite a time, talking about everything I certainly enjoyed myself. You know how he talks and since he joined up, he has an added Army vocabulary which sure sounds descriptive. On the whole it was big treat listening to him.

Just now Bill is working in the quartermasters stores so doesn’t have to drill very often which suits William fine. It would be hard to find another job, more agreeable to him, which suggests a lot if you know Bill.

I haven’t as yet been able to hunt up C, Robinson, but Bill tells me he is doing fine and has gained weight enormously, so therefore the army life must suit him fine.

Have you heard that Robert Moody is going to be married? Bill showed me a letter he received from him, and by what he writes, she is one in a million. Perhaps you may see him, and he still is in Currie Barracks.

We have been having gas drill lately, and it sure gives a guy a choking sensation to put on the gas mask, especially the first few minutes. I have been trying to get leave to go to Calgary, but can’t manage to get any more than three days, which should hardly give me time to get up there for any length of time.

Probably you will have thought that I have been a little neglectful in not writing you sooner, but we have heard for the last two weeks that we were moving, and I waited to see if these rumours would materialize, but I think this will be the last letter I will be writing in Shilo, so I’ll write my new address on the last page.

Sorry I haven’t any more snaps to send you, I have some films waiting to be developed, and as soon as we get settled I’ll fix them up and send them to you.

We had a rare treat yesterday, Gracie Fields, the famous English singer, sang for an hour before the thousands of troops, she sure is wonderful, and I’m glad I heard of her before I left camp.

Well Percy and Edna I’ll say so long now as it will likely be a long time before I see you again, but I’ll still keep on dropping a line o matter where I go, so as Gracie sang on Sunday, I’ll say, Wish me Luck as you Say Goodbye.

As Ever, Jack

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Letters from “Jack the Soldier” during WWII – Thanks for the Candy

This is the kind of stuff that makes history so fascinating to me. I have always been much more interested in social history than political history – although these letters are a bit of both, it’s the humanness of the time, the emotions and personal stories that go with the incredible hard times of war that interest me. The human sprit is amazing.

4th August, 1940

Dear Percy and Edna

Thanks for the small box of candy, it sure hit the spot alright. I must say I was too surprised for words when my name was called at mail parade, as I had not been expecting anything and I can barely explain just how pleased I was to hear from you both and I must admit that I never tasted or made better candy. A fact which everybody who tasted it admits. Boy of boy, how some of my pals liked it, and they told me to tell you it sure was good.

Well the old army life is still going strong, although there has been quite a change at the camp. Most of the tents are gone now. Almost a thousand workmen have been busy since we came here erecting new huts and most of the men are sleeping inside now, at least there is a roof over our heads, but windows and doors are lacking just yet, but I suppose by the time this reaches you these will all be fitted in.

It sometimes is hard to write a letter and give all the news that you would like, but we have to be extremely careful what we write, as letters might possibly get into other hands, before reaching their destination, so I’ll try and give you an idea just of what we do, without mentioning any dates, or rumours or what we hear. I have been taking rifle and machine gun practice lately, and I must confess that with a rifle I am not just what I’d like to be, although I suppose with more practice I might possibly become a fair shot. With the machine gun I tested good so far, and do I love to run one of those babies. Hitler better not let me get a lock on him, unless he want so to die sudden like. Drilling hasn’t been very much stressed so far, but more emphasis on rifle and machine gun practice. I suppose the idea is that to be expert in shooting and knowing your machine is much better than to be able to do a left or right turn correctly, and anyway these things are more important.

Troops in the more advanced stages enact field maneuvers, in fact do everything here that would be essential in a hostile country. In every kind of weather that happens to come, they stay out for two or three weeks at a time and act out just as if they were in the front line, all kinds of maneuvers. And talking about the weather, this part of the country can be changed from the driest, dustiest hole to the wettest, coldest, most miserable spot anywhere or anyplace.

I’m afraid if you keep mentioning hot biscuits again you’ll have a deserter on your hands. When I read your letter, I just imagined I was back there again, wolfing hot biscuits by the dozen into me again, and it was only by experiencing every ounce of self control that I didn’t go out and jump the first train west, for that is one thing the army doesn’t positively make hot biscuits. I get hungry just thinking about them.

I haven’t heard of either Bill Harris or Charlie Robinson in camp so far, but I’ll try and find out at Headquarters just where they are, and give you news. As this camp is so large, it is like trying to find a needle in a haystack for any one person unless you know on good authority just where he is.

So you have a little red-head Scotch lassie helping you now. Well I always had a crush on little red-heads especially if they are Scottish so you might give a guy her name, you might possibly coax her to write, letters are always welcome, providing of course if the boyfriend doesn’t object too much.

I went up to see Mel Jones just before I left Calgary and he told me all about Kay getting married to the Watkins salesman. He didn’t seem to think much of it. Kay wrote me a long time ago when I was down at Picture Butte, and told me she would probably be getting married. I hope she gets along ok. How is my old, or should I say young friend Claudia, the school marm? I suppose she will be married by now and living in the house on the hill. Tell her I was inquiring about her if you happen to see her.

Often I stop and think about the times I had out there on the ranch. Is old Dolly or whatever her name is still alive? I remember now it’s ______? And she is a he. It was the only horse that I could stick on and not be scared to death that I would get bucked off from. I laugh to myself now, how I used to think what a cowpoke I was. These days seem so far away now, tho in reality it was not so long ago, but things have changed so fast in the last year that when you start reviewing everything it seems almost impossible that they would happen in such a short space of time.

Well this letter seems to be taking on the proportions of a book, so I had better wait a few days and write you another letter, I don’t know whether I’ll be able to send any snaps of myself this time, as I haven’t had them returned yet from the studio, but I’ll see about them if they come before I mail this letter.

Give my regards to everybody especially Sheila and Marshall. Oh, don’t forget the redhead either. Thanks again for the wonderful candy and to Hell with Hitler.

Sincerely Jack

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Letters from “Jack the Soldier” during WWII

I have no idea how my grandparents knew Jack, but there are several letters here from him. Some are from Camp Shilo in Manitoba where he went for training, and some are from overseas.

One of my favourite university classes was the history of Canada during the World Wars, and so I find this kind of stuff fascinating. I don’t think I’ve ever seen photos of Camp Shilo before, certainly not “real” ones that didn’t come from history books or archives.

Anyway, here’s the first of the War letters. Enjoy!

Sun on July 1940

Dear Percy and Edna

Well I am just raring to go. I left Calgary last Tuesday, and arrived here at Shilo Wednesday about four o’clock. It sure is an impressive sight seeing this camp for the first time, rows upon rows of tents, lined up in mathematical precision, and everything is slick and span, which seems to be part of the soldiers deities.

The first time a person comes here, a tension, or underlying excitement seems to grip one, all the hustle and bustle and stirs of the camp seems to change the atmosphere, and unconsciously one gets adapted to the rules and regulations of the camp.

I am still in the awkward squad, but I hope to be up with some of the other fellows in the next couple of weeks, who have been here a while, and as I like the work, and take an interest in it, I get along a lot better than lots of those, who find drilling just monotonous drilling.

The first time that a bunch of us new recruits got together for drilling was sure an experience. The sergeants in charge forgot to speak English and it is really confusing the first time one yells “A-Hee”(???) that he means stand At Ease. The army has more abbreviations for commands than you can shake a stick at and everyone seems to accent them differently.

One of the finest sights is to watch the Highlanders marching to the skirl of the Pipes, the gay colourful plays, and the sound of marching, everyone moving with automatic precision sure stirs the blood, and makes me proud to belong to this unit. There is a great deal of rivalry existing between different units, sometimes not so friendly at that and new recruits soon get to possess a possessive feeling concerning their unit and think it superior to any other.

I sure was disappointed at not being able to get out to see you before I left, but leave is hard to get unless one has been in the army six months or more but I’ll try and get out there the first chance I have but in the meantime I’ll write and let you know how things are going. I’ll enclose some snaps of the camp from time to time, and I’ll ask you to keep them for me until I get back, as they will be good souvenirs to have.

Many of the boys that I became aquatinted with from around Lethbridge are here, and and as everyone is so friendly I haven’t had tome yet to get lonely.

I haven’t come across Bill Harris since I came here, but perhaps I’ll see him if he still is in camp, it is quite hard to find a certain person among so many thousands unless I know his company or Number.

It seems as though the next page/pages of the letter are missing. Not sure if the army took them, or if over the course of the last 80 years things just vanished. However, there are lots more letters from “Jack the Soldier” as well as several photos. So, I will continue to share what I have and be grateful for that!

Panoramic photos before they were a thing. These photos had directions to overlap them so that the entirety of the camp could be seen.
A little bit more of the camp that didn’t fit into the first set of photos
Jack Martin. Signed up June 29th (1940) at Lethbridge, Alberta. M11915, Calgary Highlanders C-A-S-F
Cameron Highlanders practicing. Shilo Camp. The Goat is their Mascot (July 25, 1940)
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Old Fashioned Love Letters ❤️

My Grandpa has made me realize that I’ve never been properly courted by a suitor, particularly not by someone sending me good old fashioned love letters. We have really lost something with the move to digital methods of communication over that of paper and pen. Not only are the words beautiful, but the penmanship is magnificent. I remember being told that my Grandpa was born left handed, but had it smacked out of him with a ruler when he started school. As a fellow leftie I was grateful the days of ruler rapping on knuckles was a thing of the past and I was able to learn to write with my left hand. His writing though was impressively neat and clear and the ups and downs of the pen quite attractive to look at while reading.

I’m reading these letters, realizing that they are dated 10-11 years before my mom was born, a couple of years before my grandparents were married, while they were getting to know each other. In late 1929 to early 1930, there was a period of a few months where my Grandma accompanied her mother to Ontario to visit their family out there, and it seems this was in the early stages my Grandpa courting my Grandma. Hence the letters.

My Grandpa talks of the moon, of the chinook winds blowing, of the creek, and ties it all to her – to my Grandma – and how he feels about her.

Why don’t we do this anymore? They’re beautiful and moving and I feel so honoured to have a little peek into their private garden where their love was growing.

And while there’s talk of cows, it’s not only cows. It’s about horses (yay) and which one he thinks she would like (like me one of the best ways to get to Grandma’s heart was through horses it seems). It’s about the people they both know and what they’re up to. It’s about any gossip she should know. Mostly though his talk was about how much he missed her and how he was looking forward to her being back home.

They are so romantic and sweet and I feel very blessed to have read them. I know life for both of them was also full of challenges. Both world wars, the depression of the 1930s (while they were newly married and having babies), the ups and downs of ranching, the impact polio had on their family, and just the regular stresses of life. And yet, here in the midst of it are these moments of tenderness.

It’s beautiful ❤️

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