This is a poem written by my great-grandfather mourning the loss of his wife, my great grandmother. I wish I had listened more to the stories Grandma told me about her parents.
Lamentation for My Dear Wife who Died September 29, 1935
I’m assuming this poem was written by one of her schoolmates. I believe this was when she attended the end of high school in Calgary. It was written as a note, so the first part here is the note Penny wrote, with the poem attached at the end.
Edna, care of Barbra
Dear Edna,
Please excuse this paper, but as usual I am in bed writing of course very naughty, but supposed to be good? I am a very poor writer as Barbra knows. I also hope you will forgive me, my being so forward as to write but as you are Barbra’s friend, you will understand. I am not a poet, but I often write lines of junk to Barbra to tease her. I will do my best to make you a poem which will be a very poor best. As you are fond of horses and a good rider, maybe you will understand my craze for race and show horses. Thoroughbreds are my favourite. Well I am slow at hitting things quickly, I hope you hike out to the weasel-head on Saturday. Here is my poor poem.
Where the people gather in crowds to worship God for an hour or two
But all day in the country where’er your eye searches
Your heart humbly praises the Master of the picturesque view
I wish I were back to my kinfolk again
And to the hills and the mountains dear
To help plow the fields and to plant the rich grain
Which feeds all these mouths who at the farmers sneer
(On the back is written: Please return to me because this is the only copy I’ve got and I have promised to send Jean all my attempts at poetry. E.A.B.)
Grandma loved horses at least as much as I love horses, so it brings me a lot of joy when I read her stories about how much she loved riding or being around horses. I had never heard the story of Kitchener before, and I’m not sure what club she was part of for this story/photo – perhaps 4H or something like that. I also have no idea why the person marking this story gave her such a low grade, personally I thought the story was great – who knows what the actual assignment was though.
My Colt
In the first week of my colt’s life, there’s s not much to write about but head and legs. If his body would have been a little bigger, his head wouldn’t have looked so big, for it was a really dainty, innocent looking little head. He had a little yellowish, white nose, with wide nostrils and small mouth. His eyes were large and brown with a good width between them. He seemed to be proud of them because he was always rolling them and showing the whites of them. He had very smooth, sharp pointed ears and their size was in right proportion to his head. With the slightest sound, he would turn an ear to hear it and when the flies bothered him, for he was born the first of July 1923, he would lay both his ears down flat on his head, showing he was angry. As he gets older, his head gets more beautiful. He had a long, long neck this first week and a little fuzzy fringe of mane. His body was long and thin and a gold colour, for he is an English thoroughbred. He had very long, thin legs and a little curly tail that he was always switching.
The mother of my colt is my own and favourite pony. She is very high lifed and frisky or I could ride her to school. However, I can ride her in the fair and she has taken first prize every time she was put in. I kept my pony and colt in a little field all by themselves where the grass was tall and green. Every morning and evening I feed my pony oats or a bran mash and when my colt was old enough, I fed him oats. Every day I put a little halter on my colt and tied him up and cleaned him. In the cool evening I would coax and lead my little colt around until he would follow me anywhere. I soon began to make him trot and lope as well as walk. To do this, I had to take the long buggy whip and touch him just hard enough to make him trot or lope. I never bothered my colt much in the heat of the day when the flies were bad because he was always in a bad temper and sometimes would try to kick or bite me. It was very hard to pick a suitable name for him, but at last I decided to call him Kitchener.
As the fall was drawing near and school opening, I thought it would be alright to put him and his mother out in a field with the other horses where there was two or three straw stacks. I did this and they kept fat and frisky all winter. About the middle of February, I put a halter on my colt and put it in the stable by itself. The first week it was very lonesome for its mother, but it soon forgot her. During the winter it had grown more shapely but it had long, shaggy hair. Morning and night I fed it linseed and oats. Every Saturday I would brush and clean him and lead him out. When he’d first come out he’d buck and jump around me in a circle. After he had raced around me for a while, he would come up to me and I would give him a little salt or brown sugar.
One day after he had taken exercise, I tied him up and put a saddle blanket on him. He took no notice of it, so I put on a little saddle that weighed about five pounds. He drew away from me, and seemed a little nervous of the saddle, but I petted and talked to him and he soon took no notice of it either. Nearly every night when I was going to feed him I would step outside of the stable door and call him. He soon started to answer my call by his ringing whinnies and I could hear him paw the stable floor with his iron like hooves. When I would first go in, he would nibble and bite at my coat sleeve while I fed him. And when i would be getting his oats ready he would toss his head with a conceded little whinny.
On the first of May, my colt was shiny with a satin like coat and was well shaped. He would roll his eyes and always held his neck in a bow and would toss his head and let out a fierce, ringing neigh. He had strong muscular legs and a long body and neck. He was very easily trained. When I would tell him to get over, he would move to the other side of his stall and when I told him to back up, he would back up. All together he seemed a very intelligent little colt and I hope he will someday be a good racehorse.
Teacher note: your story is a good one, but the booklet is not well prepared 4/10
Additional note: took cold Dec 20, 1924. took sick Dec 24, 1924. Died March 8 1925
Poor little Kitchener, poor Grandma.
Here’s a poem that she wrote that I found in a stack of papers that is about this beloved little colt.
Kitchener
You want me to write of my favourite horse
Oh, you don’t understand I know of course.
You don’t know how deep in my heart
Had sunk the love from which I had to part.
I’ve had many playmates and many a chum
But their affections couldn’t equal this dear one.
Grandma sure loved her hometown. She told so many stories , sharing her love for the little village where she was born, that is now a small city pretending to be a town. I am not sure when this poem was written, it was found with articles from the 1920s, but this was typed out, so I’m assuming it was later on that that. However, if Grandma could see now “the hill, now streamlined to follow the mode, as tourists go speeding….” It certainly isn’t anything resembling a cow trail anymore. The mountains and the view though, they’re the same. It’s still a beautiful little area, it’s home.
Who was Flora Zinn? I had no idea until I found this letter, and I still have no clue how she was connected to Frank, but she was a woman I’d like to know more about- actually I’d love to know more about her entire family. I did a quick search, and you can find a copy of her obituary here, and also a little biography about her and her sisters here. Two of the four sisters had masters degrees in the early 1900s. I find that amazing, and so inspirational. Talk about a group of accomplished women!
Milton, Wisconsin
July 9, 1940
Dear Mr. Brown
This is the middle of the third week of my vacation and right well am I enjoying it. There was just enough of being busy and of leisure to satisfy me in the weeks I was in Milwaukee, and last Friday I came here to the home of my sister Ruth and brother in law Leman Stringer to spend a week or ten days. They live in the oak woods and I told you about Orchard Farm as they call it. Leman has planted a young orchard of apple trees which is doing well. He works hard and enjoys it though he never expects to get rich. If he manages to eke out his salary as a college “professor” he will be satisfied. He is now mowing – I hear the sound of the motor of his small hand propelled tractor. He had a very small piece of alfalfa. Otherwise he doesn’t try to raise any crops except an adequate garden. He has a flock of young chickens which they eat or sell before winter. A good deal of the land is covered by oak woods and until this year he has rented a large part of it to a neighbouring farmer for pasturage. This he doesn’t intend to do anymore, and he is interested in reforestation.
We have had delightful weather for the past two or three weeks since a rain up almost three inches in three days. So the country is green and beautiful. Leman says a shower would do good now again. And a little more heat would make the corn grow faster even if it would be a little less comfortable.
The air is sweet with the scent of clover, wild roses, and new mown hay. There are wild gooseberries, raspberries, crabs, cherries, grapes, hickory nuts, lots of varieties of shrubs and wild flowers and even the end of a lake, which though not spring fed and so rather stagnant at present has white and yellow water Lillie’s in bloom on it.
It is a grand place to be in. I have been rather lazy so far – just helping a little with the housework, mending, reading, and taking some jaunts in the woods. I think I should go out and pick some wild gooseberries for my sister to make jam with. One drawback is the numerous mosquitoes.
How are your crops by this time? I can imagine that it must be difficult to sell a farm for cash now. My brother in law has been unable to sell their house in the village for cash, although he would much like to do so in order to settle up his indebtedness on this place.
My sister Zea and Ruth and niece Mary drove to Colorado to the wedding of my nephew and had a fine time. I couldn’t go because my school wasn’t out. Now Zea has gone again to visit friends of hers in Cleveland, Ohio. She drove alone and expects to be gone two or three weeks.
About the war, it seems to do little good to discuss it. It has happened so fast that we don’t know what to expect next. My sister Ruth thinks that the W.S. should enter at once on the side of England. I can’t feel that way about it because I am really a pacifist and feel that we can do more not only for ourselves but for England and democracy by remaining out of the conflict. Many people who might favour active participation feel that the W.S. is not equiped with enough airplanes and war machines to give England adequate aid before her crucial time is past.
Now for some gooseberry picking. Don’t work too hard yourself
Ah the old days of no phone privacy and party lines. I love how there’s no shame in Grandma’s game as she boldly owns listening to the conversation. In fact, I remember Grandma sitting here listening intently to any conversation that was happening over our party lines. And I’m not throwing her under the bus alone, I also sat and tried hard to be interested in the conversations around me, but I was young enough and the conversations were boring enough (to me then, not that they would be now) that I gave up.
Jumping Pound, Alta
Dec 15, 1932
Dear Mamma
I have finished phoning you and heard your ring so listened to you and Ruth Cairns talking. Lucky you didn’t say anything bad about me or I would have butted in.
We were at a loss to know what to get you for Xmas. Everything I suggested Percy would say it wasn’t good enough etc cause you made so many Xmas gifts for us so I sent for this dress at the last and now I’m not very stuck on it. Anyway, maybe there are other things you would rather have or better uses for the money, so I’m sending it over to give you time to send it back if you don’t like it. As long as you get some pleasure out of the gift, whether it’s dress or money why we’ll be happy.
It was good of Cairns to offer to take you to Calgary. Wish I had got this cash over sooner and maybe you could have gone.
Well, I must get busy and write to Ruth and then we can arrange better about Xmas.
Grandma had more game than I’ll ever have. There are love letters going back and forth between Grandma and Grandpa in 1929-1930 when she was visiting family in Ontario and they were in what seems to be early stages of dating.
Now, Grandma clearly tells him in the letter to burn this and he didn’t. I found it in a bunch of Grandma’s things along with letters from her dad. So she didn’t burn it either. And now here it is.
512 Cooper St.
Ottawa, Ont
February 3, 1930
Dear Friend
Your welcome letter arrived here several days ago but I couldn’t find a chance to answer it sooner and I must try and cut this one off short if I possibly can as I owe about a dozen now. My pen just seems to run away with me when I start your letters and you really only deserve short notes like you write, but you see I’m not afraid to write bunk I guess.
So you are having nice weather out there now eh? We are too it’s just ideal carnival weather and the carnival people are certainly making good use of it. I saw the snowshoe races Saturday afternoon and Saturday night 5000 snowshoers from Quebec had a torch-light parade. It was a beautiful sight to see them all in their many coloured costumes. After the parade the chimes in the peace tower of the Parliament buildings played many familiar tunes while gorgeous fireworks of every description were set off on all sides of the Parliament buildings illuminating them beautifully. It was a sight worth seeing and one that I won’t forget in a hurry.
I went down and watched the dog races this morning. They were interesting too. And there was a nice long letter from California waiting for me when I got back. He was asking how you are, and I’m very sorry to say he has had bad luck down there. Some machine or something cut off the ends of two of his fingers on his left hand. It must be painful, I feel awfully sorry for him and I’m going to write him a nice little letter one of these days. I think I can compose a short one that will show my sympathy and friendship and make it clear there is nothing more. I wish he wouldn’t write to me, it’s hard not to answer once in a while and I would rather not as I am just forgetting that there’s such an animal as men while I am down here.
You don’t seem to understand why I like it so well down here. I don’t like the people as well as my friends in Cochrane, it’s just the fun they go in for and the places and scenery that I like and it’s that that makes me want to stay here for a year at least. If you could only come down you’d understand. Just picture a warm night in spring, a big round moon casting its mellow light on a cosy Alberta chev parked in one of these apple orchards when the air is heavy with the perfume of the blossoms. Does it not appeal to you? It does to me, at least the trees and flowers and spring time does and I must admit I’d enjoy it all a little better if I had either you or Jean with me to express my thoughts about everything to and to help me treasure every memory.
I think that if I stay away a year or two it will be a good test for our affection. If you can’t wait a year you can’t care very much, you know when you’re afflicted with the real thing, absence makes the heart grow fonder. We don’t know each other very well yet, we have only each others word to depend on without the test of time.
When I said I didn’t care for anybody else in the real way and that I wouldn’t fall for anyone down here I meant it and I am living up to all I said so you can depend on that. And I’m believing all you said and trusting you are playing your part fair too so there is no deed of any doubt or mistrusting for either of us. But perhaps you were only joking in you last letter when you suggested that my reason for not wanting a job in Calgary was that once a week visit of yours etc.
However be sure and burn this letter won’t you cause I sure wouldn’t want anyone but you to read all this bunk I have written and if you don’t burn it right away, it might fall out of your pocket or something.
I’ll line up to those orders and come home sometime and it may be just next month and it may be a year from next month but it will be sometime and I’m looking forward to the day when I get back, but I’m looking forward to a lot of fun before then too.
You were asking my advice about writing to your friend the nurse. Don’t you think that is a question for you to decide. However, I’ll pass my opinion if you want it. I fail to see why you shouldn’t write to her or take her out to shows etc., just as you used to do. I’d feel hurt if I thought you gave up a good friend just because you think it wouldn’t look nice for you to be chasing around with another girl while I am away. Good, clean, true hearted friends are mighty precious in this world whether you ave plenty or not.
How are all the folks at your house and everyone else that I know? Have you got over your cold yet and have you started to round up your horses yet? And did you ever go out hunting deer again? Have you been to any shows or dances since I left or are the roads still bad. Has there been any births, deaths or marriages since I left? Nobody ever puts any interesting gossip in their letters, at least not enough to satisfy a nosy person like me, so far from home and friends.
Write 2 letters a week or else big long ones won’t you? I write closer together than you do and one of my pages equals 3 of yours. I shouldn’t kick about them though because I’m always glad to get them even if there was only one page.
Harrison let me write the last paragraph in his last letter to his girl, this is what I wrote. “Well, dear little light of my eyes, your twin should and lover must toddle off to his trundle bed to dream the sweetest dreams of you. I remain as ever sober and affectionate with barrels of love and kisses H.S.” I won’t tell you what she answered back. He has been stepping out with a nurse too and his girl is sure sour about it too. We have lot of fun teasing him about it. He’d sure tease me if he knew you chum with a nurse too. They must be professional _____. Well I must sign off now, don’t you think it’s about time I did too!
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.
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 fireSome advertisements for paper
The Sattvic Life 