I’m starting to understand why when we were young, my cousin and I didn’t get into more trouble the time we were camping and accidentally sunk the Suburban into the creek. Not to say we were praised for it, and she may have been in more trouble than I was, but I remember being terrified of how my uncle would respond when we came walking all the way home from the campsite the next morning. He just went and got the tractor and pulled the vehicle out. Then we all agreed to never mention it again – except here I am mentioning it. 38 years later (you can do the math to figure out how old we were at the time) it’s still kinda funny.
On Friday afternoons I used to ride over and teach a short Sunday School class. Central United Church gave us some of their old hymn books and Marge led the singing.
I gave Sheila and Marshall each a nice sleigh for Christmas and strange to say we didn’t have enough snow for the next two years to get sledding.
Clemons Hill School often heard small social gatherings for entertainment. I remember one box social our young people went there and we had a lot of laughs over the almost innocent mix up in the identity of the boxes. The first admirers bid up hard earned money then got the wrong box. Sometimes our young folks would get together and drive in their jalopies to the dances at Bragg Creek. They had to drive through the river to get there and one night one car stalled in midstream. The boys gallantly carried the girls ashore but complained bitterly about the hefty ones. We would hear all about those events the next night at supper time, and that way shared in their entertainment.
One night when they were going to a show in Calgary they had a flat tire and no jack. They tossed a coin to see who would go to a nearby farmhouse to borrow one. The boy who had to go was not in a very pleasant mood to begin with but he came running back with a big dog after him and the whole seat of his pants torn out. The others in the car laughed so hearty it didn’t improve his mood for a week or more. Another time one of the boys who owned an old Model-T Ford coup was driving to a dance in Cochrane one dark night and one of Edge’s black bulls was sleeping on the road. Bill couldn’t see it and hit its rear end just as it was getting up. It put his radiator just about in his lap. Bill had such a humorous way of talking he kept us all in laughter listening to his escapades. He went all through the Blitz and Holland invasions getting into scrapes like that and is still talking about them. There was such a gang working here and at the neighbours all the time, but made much of their own fun.