Introductory Memory from Wayne of the fields in front of the house:
I can close my eyes and visualize just about any part of the farm. Its all still there. Getting a little foggy but still in pretty good shape. So let’s take a look at the front fields…
On the left I see hay which also called timothy. It blows in the wind like waves on the ocean. In the middle on the field there was a rock with a sharp edge on the top of it. Dad had Fielding McLaren dig it out one year. There is a lonely alfalfa plant growing out there, left over from when Dad tried to grow a field of it. Below the timothy is clover mostly red clover Dad called it trefoil. There also some white clover and yellow clover. IF you saw a mustard plant in the hay you ran out and killed it right away. Some where in that field there’s an arrow that I shot from my bow and never found. If you look over to Chester’s farm you might see him binding his wheat, with his grey Ford tractor and McCormick binder. Dad never grew wheat — not sure why.
The timothy and clover were seeded in the field with the oats using the seeder. The big bins on the top held the oats and the little bins lower down held the timothy and clover seed. You harvested the oats the first year and the hay the next year. If it was a really good year you might get to harvest the clover for seed after the hay was taken off.
W. L. Smith
I have a specific memory of this west front field that is very specific and detailed. I’m walking through the west field, my Dad is in front of me. I’m using his black rubber boots as my guide because the timothy has grown high over my head. We’re coming closer to a pungent smell that’s catching in my throat. With my eyes on Dad’s boots, I have to put my hands over my mouth and nose, in a vain attempt to keep the smell of biological decay out of my lungs. We get to the scene of the crime – the dog is already there. Even Buster needs to stand back a few steps. The lamb’s belly has been ripped open and its as busy with bluebottles. “What happened Daddy?” my muffled voice comes through my hands. “Bush wolves,” was all he said. Now all I want to do is get out of there I’m so frightened. That smell became to me the smell of death.
Wayne’s memory continues…
The field on the right looks the same as the one on the left except it has some huge rose bushes all in bloom around the dump (up a slope in the back). There is a hawthorn tree down by the road on the front of this field and a potato patch in the far right corner beside the lane way where we used to drive the cows down to Uncle Emmett’s farm.
A car is driving by on the Trunk Road leaving a big cloud of dust in its wake. Just as it passes our driveway, something yellow and white jumps out of the ditch and chases it down the road (Buster) Dad is dragging a stone boat up and down the driveway behind the Massey Harris tractor trying to take some of the bumps off the driveway. The stone boat is made out of two logs and is a V shape with boards nailed across them. You piled stones on it until it dug in deep enough into the ground. Great fun to ride on but dad wouldn’t let you. If the stone boat dug in too deep, it might fly to pieces, or a chain or rock might fly up.
W. L. Smith
There was also a chokecherry bush at gate (never a gate there in my memory), across the road. The chokecherries were bitter, but we ate them anyway. Also across from the gate was our mail box. I had an interest flash back a few years ago driving down a rural road here in Midland. I remember thinking, “Wow, everyone has mail today!” and then thought, “Where did that come from? Why did I think that?” Still driving I watched the mail boxes go by and realized they were all perpendicular to the road and in Rutherglen, that meant mail. The farmers would NEVER been able to see the little red “flag” that the mailperson now rises on the box, so the WHOLE BOX swiveled. Parallel meant no mail and perpendicular meant mail. That memory gave me such warmth inside.
The crab apple tree at the east side of the house was lovely, the essence of the blossoms filled your senses in the spring and attracted thousands of bumble bees, which Buster chomped and snapped at, occasionally catching one or two. Mom would can the little sour apples with cloves and sugar. They were so delicious. I could pick them out of the jars by their stems and pop them into my mouth. Mom always said that eating the apples off the tree would give us worms. That tree was a favourite climbing tree whose branches came in handy when we wanted to get the apples from the top branches. Wayne or I would climb onto a limb, much to Mom’s chagrin, shake the branch and then pick up the apples. Funny how we didn’t care too much about bruising.
The House
For most of our Rutherglen lives, Wayne and I shared a bedroom. We had bunk beds that could either be left side by side or stacked. Mom would switch them up every once in a while, for variety. When the beds were stacked, I slept on the top and Wayne slept on the bottom. The bottoms of the beds were just springs, so Wayne would use his feet to throw me up and down on the top bunk. Since this was the top floor of a country home, the ceilings were slanted, so there wasn’t a lot of head room above the top bunk. But the fun we’d have! I don’t remember being thrown out of the bed, but I may have been. And I don’t remember hitting the ceiling, but I likely did. I just remember squealing with delight when Wayne would do this. I may have cried for Mom to get Wayne into trouble for doing this, because that’s what I liked to do, even though I loved the attention he gave me. This fun would happen when we were supposed to be sleeping, and we could hear Mom’s footsteps coming up the stair. We’d rush to get ourselves into bed, pretending that we were asleep.
Another thing we would do is play with my dolls and Wayne’s stuffed animals, Buster (stuffed Buster) and his teddy bear, “Beary Weary”. Buster was a medium sized stuff dog, so his legs were big enough and wired strong enough to act as a cave brace to hold up the covers. Wayne would go down deep into the bedding and I would stay half covered, while keeping Buster on his side beside me, forming the mouth of a “cave” where Beary Weary lived. We acted out long dramas that way.
I remember Wayne telling me once about his theory of the bible. He believed that the bible had been written by a culture that had survived the last deluge (or self-destruction) and wrote it in such a way that a new generation of uneducated people could understand it.
Wayne’s Memory:
I would wait for the first Robin to appear since that meant spring had finally arrived. That was because when I asked when spring was coming, I was told that it wasn’t spring until the Robin’s came. Even today Robins are special to me, and I still watch for them. What an important job they had to do. For years I really believed they somehow brought spring with them. With spring came an explosion of exciting things to do.
The noise of the bees in the lilacs and the crab apple trees outside my window would wake me up in the morning. The smell would fill the air in my room. I still love lilacs and crab apple trees. I fact I just planted three crab apple trees to go with my two lilacs. The lilacs I have don’t smell quite right so I’m looking for some old wild ones like I had outside my window.
There were two apple trees. The one closest to my window bloomed every year while the other bloomed every second year. There was a willow tree close to bi annual tree which was most likely why. Under the annual crab apple tree was a large honey suckle bush. If you stood under the apple tree and looked back at the house, you would see my window on the second floor on the right. Directly below were the lilac bushes which formed an arch at 90 degrees to the house.
At ground level was a vent hole with a screen on it that Dad had dug into the cellar to try and stop the old logs from rotting out. To the left at ground level was the fuel oil tank that only worked when it was warm.
Above that was Mom and Dad’s window. The siding on the house was red brick coloured tar paper covering a real log house. The trim around the windows is white painted pine boards. In the winter you had to put storm windows over them. (Wendy: I remember little round holes at the bottoms of the windows with a pivotal piece of wood that slide over the holes.)There are no windows on the ground floor on this side of the house.
The porch sticks out on the far left. Not far from that same corner is the clothesline stand that doubles as Buster’s doghouse. If you look up, you see the kitchen chimney. It’s the one that catches fire and brings all the neighbours running and makes Dad swear. It’s also the one that likely burned the house down in the end. Dad would clean it with a long pole wrapped with old burlap sacks. What a mess! Guess it didn’t work too well either.There are two lightning rods on the top of the house, one on each end of the roof with ground cables running down to steel rods driven into the ground on the left corner of the house and the far-right corner. If you look closely, you can see a ball flying over the roof of the house and someone shouting “ANTY-I-OVER. ROOSTER. ANTY-I-OVER. ROOSTER. ANTY-I-OVER,” while Buster runs back and forth, from the front of the house to the back.
W. L. Smith
Bad thunderstorms were an unlikely treat for me. While they were scarey, they were also occasion for my mother to wake us up and gather us all downstairs to wait out the storm. Wayne and I would kneel on the couch watching out the window for big bolts of lightning while Mom pleaded with us to move away from the window. I believe there were times when we all sat in the car during a storm. This must have been all before we got the lightning rods.
There was another crabapple tree in the back field, along the wooden fence. Its apples were bigger, like a bought apple almost and they weren’t as bitter. I’m not sure whether this is the second apple tree that Wayne is talking about.
Behind the House
There’s a woodshed behind the house, on the east side. It wasn’t as tall as the house, but it was a fairly large barn-shed. Wayne and I would have to pile wood neatly inside the woodshed. Beyond the woodshed was the old outhouse which stood along the fence which divided the back yard from the barnyard. If you walked straight out the back door of the farmhouse, you’d pass the woodshed on the left, the yard on the right, then you reach the gate to the barnyard, with a watering trough on the right, filled by hand-pumping from a well.
The water trough was oval shaped and possibly about 3 feet deep (maybe 4 feet). The edging of the trough was jagged yet smoothed, and the cows would drink from the trough, then scratch their necks on the jagged-smooth edge, while using their tongues to clean their noses. There was a big tree that sheltered the trough and pump so it was always shady there.
To the west of the house was the circular driveway, and in the middle of the circle was the milk shed. To be honest, I never went in there very much. My memories of it are old and broken down. It had a ground, and I do mean dirt, floor. I don’t’ remember any of value ever being in there or stored there.
At the end (or the high point) of the circle was the garage, which was more of a large car port with a back. There was lots of stuff hanging from the walls. Attached to this garage was an opposite smaller garage, facing into the barnyard, and the garage served as part of the barrier that kept the livestock away from the house. On the back side of this smaller garage, was a large gas tank that Dad would use to fill up the tractors and such. I use to open the tank’s cap and sing into the tank. The reverberation was amazing, which also reminds me of the rain barrels that Mom had at some of the corners of house. When they weren’t full, I would stand on something so that I could hang my head inside them and sing. It made the best echo chamber.
To the west of the tank was fence and then a large wide gate, large enough for the tractors and wagons to get through. It was in front of this gate that I remember the Larry the Bull standing with Wayne facing him, only inches away from Larry’s nose. When Mom and I looking out, Wayne’s little hand was reaching out to pet Larry’s nose saying “Nice bully bully.” Larry was not a nice bull and was known for being mean and feisty. Mom was petrified that the bull was out and later I found out that Wayne was petrified too.
Then, to the right, or west, of the wide gate was a smaller gate, like the one beside the drinking trough. Moving along west, there’s a little more fence, then the granary.
I remember Wayne and I being in the granary one day, fishing dead mice out of an oil barrel. There was a stick or something across the top of the open barrel, and we figured mice had tried to walk across the stick and many had slipped in.
Looking from the granary to the right (west), running north to south in the barnyard, were the hay barn and the cowbarn. Hay was stored in the upper floor of the cowbarn, while the cows were housed on the bottom floor.
This is the place where Dad would milk the cows. There were two rows of cow spots (mangers?) with an aisle down the centre to walk and throw hay into the cows to eat. There was also a pig pen in the back and a manure pile just outside of the pig pen.
My memories of Dad milking the cows is the sound of the milk squirting into an empty aluminum pail and the sound of the handle clanking against the pail when Dad would let it drop. The way Dad walked when the pail was full also is in my mind. The balancing stance Dad would have to take, one arm stretched out long to his side, while holding the heavy paid in the other hand. I also see his black rubber boots and cats running alongside of him, meowing for a drop of fresh milk.
Across from the granary was a Sheep Barn. This barn was a 1-story barn, with only a crawl space in the attic. We didn’t play in here very much. It was dark and stuffy. My memory of this barn is the year that Bobby had her kittens. (Read: Bobby, the Cross-eyed Cat)
Another memory I have of the Sheep Barn is the night that there were supposed to be sheep in it, and there wasn’t. Carol was babysitting us one evening and as we were sitting in the living or sleeping in our beds already (can’t remember), Carol remembered that she was supposed to have brought the flock of sheep in from the field behind the Sheep Barn. To leave them out meant that the wolves out go on a killing spree.
I remember being out in the field in my pajamas with Wayne and Carol was holding a flashlight trying desperately to find all the sheep. I was so scared, walking around in that field in the dark and I know that Carol was too.
Beside the Sheep Shed was the Chicken Coup and here are Carol’s memories of the chickens:
We had roosters and they were always trying to bite me. That is what I remember. Then there were the cows and pigs and even the sheep, all trying to bite me. Oh my – how traumatic was my childhood.
Carol Sullivan nee Smith
Flowers
Daisies were the potatoes and carrots in the playhouse pots and were the answer to whether Wesley Rose loved me or not. Buttercups were treats for the rabbits and cows and were the faux butter on the plates for the dollies in the playhouse. Dandelions made a solid semi-circle bouquet in little jars then died too soon. The stems made wonderful necklaces with interlocking rings. The white juice from the stems were so bitter, but the big fat round bumble bees love dandelions. We could catch them in jars, flower and all, and watch them buzz frantically, hitting their little heads against the glass. We’d let them go with a scream as we opened the lids as we dropped the jars and ran.
Devil’s Paintbush made firey bouquets, with their black, orange and red flower.
All these flowers grew wild along the driveway and in the fields.
Stinkin’ Johnnies were those beautiful purplish trilliums that I gathered in loving fistfuls for Mom. She’d proudly display them somewhere in a main room. Funny how I never put any credence in the name. In my mind, their beauty outweighed their smell. I could find these in the bush about a quarter mile southeast of the house
Then there was Mother’s gardens around the house, especially the west side and the south side. She also had a large flower garden in front of the milk shed, in the middle of the circular driveway. Mom’s prize-winning bouquets came from these gardens. In the middle of the garden was a hydro pole and around the pole I would plant Sweet Peas every spring. I hammered nails up the pole, laced string in a zigzag fashion, up and around each nail. I loved the way the vines grew and clung to the string, and then the buds would form, and the flowers grew, so many different colours and the smell so heavenly. I’d cut little bouquets to take to the Bonfield Fair every year. I didn’t know until Dad passed away that Sweet Peas were his favourite flower. I wish I had have known then. I would have loved them more.
Mom’s collections of flowers included Snap Dragons (I’d squeeze their little dragon heads – SNAP SNAP), Holly Hocks (all different colours), Pionies with their huge fat buds, covered with red ants and Mom’s roses, her show pieces for visitors, all with Royal names – Queens and Princesses and Ladies. She’d get so mad when those bugs specific to roses would eat them. She’d pick the bugs off and crush them between fingers – “Take that! And that, you damn beggers!” “Mom! Stop!” I’d plead as she’d show me a handful of smushed bugs. There was also Daliahs, tulips, daffodils and bleeding hearts.
The Lilac tree grew right outside my bedroom window which was on the second floor of the house and was strong enough to hold my weight. I remember Wayne and I once sneaking out the window one evening to catch fireflies in a jar. We brought them back into the bedroom and opened the jar to watch them fly around the dark bedroom. That was so cool. While the lilacs bloomed, Mom had huge bouquets of them in large vases and containers around the house. They smelled so gorgeous.
The Sweat
It’s a hot summer’s day and Dad has come in for lunch from working out in the fields. His skin is glistening with perspiration, and he heads for the kitchen sink to wash up. The soap mixed with the smell of fresh cut hay and his sweat gives off a sweet fresh smell. “You’re all sweaty, Daddy!” He smiles and says, “Yep.”
Also, on hot summer days, Mom would ask us to take water out to Dad and Uncle Emmett working in the field. We have a white and blue large thermos type container, with a wide opening with an equally wide screw on top. Wayne and I would fill it with water and ice and carry it to the field. I remember it was very heavy when it was full and while carrying it, the sides would bang against my legs. Wayne likely carried it most of the way. I could hear the ice cubes knocking against each other inside and the cool condensation on the outside wet my bare legs.
When we got close to the tractor, baler and wagon, Uncle Emmett would shout for Dad to stop so they could have a cold drink. I felt so important and so proud that I was bringing something so valuable to them that they’d stop their work. Uncle Emmett had a big huge smile. He’d pour the icy water into the wide screw top lid, and drink from it. Then with a loud “Ahhhhh! That’s just what I needed” and a smile as big as the sun. Uncle Emmett’s sweat would form rivulets, dribbling down the sides of his face. Both of them were dressed perfectly to get the best farmer’s tan – shorts sleeved cotton shirts, opened in the “V” at the neck.
Hay
During the baling season, there’s was always a smell of freshly cut hay. When I catch that smell now, I remember stooking sheaves – 3 and 4 in a group, like a Teepee. We also stooked the bales sometimes, but not often. The smell of hay was part of the air we breathed during that season. I always thought of the baler as a monster swallowing rows of dry hay without chewing and then pooping it out in big tidy compressed rectangles.
Wayne and I would ride on the wagon, while Uncle Emmett or Dad would be grabbing the bales as they came out of the baler and stacking them on the wagon, starting at the back. We’d begin by sitting on the first bales, and as they were stacked, they made a stairway, getting higher and higher. Wayne would help by putting the top bales in place. We’d end up sitting very very high on the wagon. Mom said she was always afraid we’d fall off.
I remember always regretting wearing anything but long pants, because the bales were prickly on my legs.
When the wagon was up to a safe limit, the tractor would be detached from the baler, and then attached directly to the wagon then carefully pulled to barn. Sometimes the wagon would go over ruts and ditches in the field and I remember swaying big time, back and forth at the top of the bales. I don’t remember ever falling off, nor do I remember the bales ever tumbling off.
Wayne’s Memories:
The thrashing was all about oats.
W. L. Smith
The oats where all about pigs and cows.
The oats where ground into provender with the grinder in the granary.
The provender was used to fatten up pigs and calves.
The timothy was seldom harvested for seed.
If it was, Russell Riddle would come over with his combine and do it.
The same with the clover seed.
Planting oats was a big job.
First you plowed the field.
Then you disked the field.
Then you harrowed the field.
Then you seeded the field.
Then you prayed for good weather.
Then you cut it with the binder.
Then you stooked it.
Then you thrashed it.
Manure
The smell of the cow poop that Dad and Wayne shoveled along the floor behind where the cows stood in the barn. Along the floor and out the back of the barn. Out a door a pile is forming – called The Manure Pile. My Mom used this to fertilize our garden and her flowers.
Wayne’s Memory:
Dad never let me plow because it was too dangerous. If you hit a rock all hell could break loose.
Dad never let me use the seeder because it was too fragile, and it might break it. I got to ride on the back of it though and make sure the seed was running out like it was suppose to.
Dad never let me use the mower because it was too dangerous.
Dad never let me use the binder because it was too fragile.
I was never really sure if he was worried about me or the cost of fixing the broken machinery.
The manure spreader was my kind of machine. The manure spreader was self-protected . If you went too fast, the manure would fly all the way up to the tractor and hit you in the face or the back of the head. I found this out the hard way. Dad let me spread lots of manure. Mudpies.
The best mud to make pies was in a dip in the middle of the barnyard just before a climb up a hill to get to the backfield. This dip accumulated rainwater and other farm excrement and made the best texture for being packed tight into little shaped and moulded tins. And they’d drop out as tidy little cakes and pies.
W. L. Smith
Chimney fires
Mom woke me up in the middle of the night. “Come on. Get up!” she coaxes. “There’s a little fire in the chimney. We have to go outside.” I’m nervous, scared. I can the smell burning. It was different than just wood burning in the stove – it’s different. It’s a dangerous smell. I’m standing outside and it’s dark, but I’m not afraid anymore because I surrounded by familiar faces. It’s like they’ve been here for a long time already. Friends of my parents, neighbours like Melvin Sullivan. There are people up on the roof and they are doing something with the chimney. I’m looking up at the roof and the chimney and seeing the sparks flying up and out.
Foods I Hated
There were a lot. Mom always said I was a fussy eater. I either love it or I hate it. So, the foods I hated were roast lamb, roast pork, liver, dark chicken meat, cooked turnip, squash, parsnips, cooked beet tops, cooked spinach, any game food (deer, duck, goose, moose). Foods I hated then and like now, broccoli, French fries, pizza, mushrooms.
Foods I Loved
What a treat it was to walk in the door and smell Mom’s fresh homemade bread. And it wasn’t just because of the bread, it was because when she made bread, she likely made her Chelsea buns too. Oh man, they were good filled with brown sugar, raisins, nuts, candied fruit. Mom showed me how to knead the dough and made the Chelsea buns. I loved helping her. We made cookies, all kinds, especially at Christmas: on-top-of-the-stove chocolate cookies was usually my job.
I loved Mom’s rice pudding and her macaroni and cheese. Both of these were the best. Kraft Dinner was a treat that we got once in a while. Mom’s pumpkin pie was the best too and her banana and pumpkin bread. Mom’s baked beans were to die for. She baked them the old-fashioned way, hours in the oven, even though I know she had a pressure cooker.
All in all, my mom was a great cook and baker.
I also loved to eat fresh vegetables straight out of the garden. Picking peas, shelling them and popping the peas into my mouth was the best. Yanking carrots out of the ground, a couple of wipes on my pants, yum. And fresh green and yellow beans right from the little bushes, very tasty. I actually got a big kick out of digging for potatoes and picking corn from the stocks.
Another meal that surprised me in deliciousness, was Wayne’s chili. That didn’t come along until after we moved to Timmins, but I have to add it in here, because it was really very good. And other great Timmins discovery was Dad’s meatloaf. Now maybe I’m just thinking Dad made the meatloaf because it could have been that Mom’s took it out of the freezer in the morning and Dad put it in the oven.
Laundry off the line
I have a memory of pulling the clothes through the old washer machine rollers. But it’s not much, because I don’t remember the kitchen without the side-by-side washer and dryer there, just as you came through the door. I also remember helping Mom with the laundry on the line, but possibly only in the later years, as I would have been too short to reach the line. I remember the clothesline stand right outside the porch door. I was a rickety old wooden stand with a step up, and underneath was a big hole that Buster had dug to make a bed. While Buster may have slept there in the summer, he didn’t in the winter. Mom says he slept in the barn somewhere, likely with the cows where it was warm.
Mom always hung the laundry out in the summer making the sheets smell heavenly. I loved sleeping on the freshly laundered bedding. Mom always ironed the sheets. In later years, she only ironed the top part of them so they’d look nice when they were folded down. Of course, this is all prior to perma-press. She always made the beds with the top part of the top sheet folded down. Very neat and tidy beds.
Mount Pleasant Church
Most Sundays, we went to church dressed in our best. Easter was especially good, because I usually had a new dress, hat and purse to show off. Mom was an expert seamstress, so most of my clothes were homemade or hand-me-downs from Sharlene and Wayne. Now there’s a contrast. Sharlene’s were the good clothes; Wayne’s were the play clothes. Sunday was a time to show off the dresses.
The church was smaller than I remember. I went back about 14 years ago for Shannon’s baptism and was very surprised at how small it was. Back when I was little it seemed big. We never sat at the front, and rarely at the back. Always in the middle somewhere. Carol and Donna were in the choir sometimes. Rev. Ferrier ended up running for an NDP political office, as Mom & Dad would always vote NDP when he ran.
Dad sometimes fell asleep during church. When we had to stand to sing, Dad moved his lips, but no sound ever came out. Mom always sang loud and clear, without a care. She loved The Old Rugged Cross.
While Mom is not an overly religion person, she’s a believer in God and Jesus, and on special occasions, like Christmas and Thanksgiving, Mom would say grace. Also when the minister came for dinner. As an aside, this was also when the good china and the silverware would come out. AND the two forks, which I always had to ask which was which, much to my mother’s embarrassment. I’m not sure why she believed the minister thought we ate with the good silverware every day!
Dad was brought up Anglican, his mother being very pious (from what I was told). But when Mom and Dad got married, he started going to her church, which was United. I feel there was an equally important community part of going to church. All of my parent’s friends went to the same church. It was a weekly chance to catch up on the local gossip and news. Dad, I think was a treasurer for a while, and he was always part of taking up the collection.
Mom was a member of the UCW and may have been president. I know she held a lofty position with the Womens’ Institute and the 4H. She taught many Rutherglen girls how to cook and sew.
Dad was a member of the Mattawa Lodge of masons so I’m thinking he had to have had a firm belief in something as the rituals one goes through in the Masons are not for the skeptical.
Going To North Bay
It seems to me that Mom and Dad went to town once weekly, but I think maybe it was only every 2 weeks. Often, they would go when we were at school, but they would always be home by the time we walked in the door. I don’t remember one or both of them EVER not being there when we got home.
It was very exciting to have store bought stuff: Alphabet cereal, Habitant pea soup, Kraft Dinner. And it was even more exciting when we got to go with them to town. We’d always drive Hwy 17 to the bypass, turn left of Fisher Street. We’d either stop in at Aunty Jo’s or drive straight through to the back parking lot of Loblaws. I don’t remember so much going up and down the aisles with Mom, more going to the magazine section and sitting and reading all the books that were there while they shopped. That was fun. I left my Betsy Wetsy there once and that was really sad.
Sometimes Dad would give us money to go to the Mansoo Gardens Restaurant next door. Wayne and I would sit at the counter on the swiveling high stool and order sundaes. I specifically remember marshmallow sundaes. It was fascinating to watch the waiter or waitress make them. And they were soooo good. That’s the same restaurant that Dad would take us for special celebrations, like a school grade passing or something. I loved the Mansoo’s hot chicken sandwiches, with gravy smothering the bread and green peas sprinkled on top.
Wayne and I would also go sometimes to the Joke shop at the corner. Wayne would buy all kinds of stuff there, but I don’t think I ever did.
Another memory I have of going to North Bay is Mom’s tissues from her purse. Standing on the corner of Main Street and something, waiting for the lights to change and her pulling a tissue out of her purse, spitting on it, and wiping my face. Now while this may sound disgusting, I didn’t mind it, because the tissues were always full of Mom’s facial powder, so they smelled beautiful. I loved her purse tissues. These also came out a church a lot.
Holding Mom’s hand while shopping in North Bay is another memory. She’s always bump into people she knew. “Is this the baby?” they’d ask looking down at me. “Yes, this is my baby,” Mom would say. I did not like being called a baby. I remember once Mom’s high heeled shoes sinking into heated asphalt of the North Bay sidewalks. I remember going into Walker’s to visit Aunt Jean. I remember the escalators there. I think it used to be Eaton’s.
We went to North Bay for parades and Uncle Jake was always in them, playing his bagpipes. I think Aunty Jo was in them too as I think I remember the Sons of Scotland having a float.
Going to North Bay, also meant coming home from North Bay. Every so often, Dad would buy us soft ice cream cones. It was with those that I discovered that the bigger the ice cream cone, the more apt I was to throw up on the way home. I was very prone to motion sickness. I think Dad put a chain hanging from the back of the car to try and help.
Memorial Gardens
When the circus came to North Bay, Mom & Dad would take us. It was so exciting to go to Memorial Gardens. I think I remember even getting a cupie doll once. The circus was an opportunity to eat cotton candy and to throw that up on the way home. I think even once I threw up on the way to the circus, which made Wayne really made because we had to go home again as I usually threw up on both of us.
We also went to Memorial Gardens to go to the midways with all the rides. I don’t remember that as much, so perhaps it didn’t happen often.
Cats
We almost always had cats around the farm. First there was Ginger, who was Carol and Donna’s cat. Ginger was a big fat orange tabby cat who let us dress him up in dolly clothes and push him around in the doll carriage. Dad came in one day and told us the cow laid on Ginger and killed him. This wasn’t the truth and I think Ginger was shot by someone and Dad just said that so that we wouldn’t be angry.
After Ginger we had multiple cats. In particular, I remember Dad coming home with 4 cats. Blacky, Smokey, Bobby and Candy. We allocated each cat to one of us kids, but I only remember Blacky being Wayne’s and Smokey’s being Carol’s. I think Candy was Donna’s. But Carol and Donna at that point didn’t have anything to do with the cats, so ownership was in “name” only. Blacky and Candy were male, while Smokey and Bobby were female. I think Smokey’s first litter all died of distemper. Her second litter fared better. Bobby ended up being quite wild, so we never were so able to catch, let alone cuddle with her. When she had her kittens, Wayne and I had to chase her to the sheep barn to find them up in the loft. They were already about 6 weeks old, eyes open and a wild themselves. They were gorgeous. We have pictures of Smokey’s and Bobby’s kittens.
Mom never liked us bringing the cats into the house and they we never fed them cat food. Dad would often give them milk from cow. They’d sit and impatiently meow for Dad to finish his milking and then would follow him, or should I say maul his legs all the way to the cat bowl where he’s fill up the bowl with warm fresh milk. Every once in a while, Dad would entertain us, and himself, by squirting milk right from the cow’s teat to try and hit the cat open eager mouth.
I also remember having fresh raw meat for them sometimes. Could have been chicken organs, or something. We’d take these to the barn and give a piece to each cat, then tap the tops of their heads lightly. Each one had their own tone of growl, so we could make a bit of a musical quartet if we got the tapping in the right order and with the right rhythm.
When we moved from the farm, we left the cats behind and I’m not sure what happened to them. I heard Blacky was shot by Leonard Church.
Buster
Mom and Dad got Buster when Wayne was little, so Buster was always there for me. I loved Buster. He was a faithful loyal companion who was always game for an adventure. Buster went everywhere with us. He was part collie and part husky. His fur had the consistency of a husky and his size and curled up tail was a husky’s. His colouring was collie, but only in that his neck was white and instead of the brown shades that should have cover the rest of his body, the fur was yellowy orange. His eyes were brown. His snout was husky.
Buster was an outside dog. Mom never allowed Buster in the house except during a thunderstorm when Buster would scratch at the screen porch door. One time when we were away from the house during a storm, we came home to find that Buster had nearly scratched the bottom of the screen door right through trying to get into the house. Other than that, the only other time Buster would panic to get into the house was when Wayne got out his BB gun. I guess that’s self-explanatory.
As I said, Buster followed us everywhere: in the morning to the gate to wait for the bus and would run to meet us coming home off the bus; to the bush to go fishing; to the back fields to go ground hog chasing; would following the wagon during baling season; to the fields when we’d take water to the field workers; through the bush when we’d go lyco picking. If Wayne and I were out, you can be sure Buster was with us.
One of the jobs we had to do was to get the burrs our of Buster’s fur. I remember once using the scissors and cutting too deep. He yelped and I felt so bad. When I looked after I saw that I had cut a big slice behind Buster’s ear.
Buster ate table scraps. I don’t think we ever bought him dog food. The cats would try and eat from Buster’s bowl, but it’s the only time Buster was a little aggressive towards the cats.
At night sometimes, Buster would howl back at the bush wolves. That was scary. Sometimes it got so bad that Dad would get out of bed, open their window and shout, “Jesus Christ Buster. Shut up!” That was one of the few occasions when I remember Dad swearing.
The howling of the bush wolves is one thing I do not miss. That sound haunted me and while many kids think of the Boogy Man or snakes under their beds, my horror was wolves under my bed.
The following are other things I could write about and maybe will.
FEAR/EXCITEMENT
The Bull
I was always afraid of the bull. I was told that the bull would run after me and hit me hard with his head. Bull meant danger, like on Lost in Space. “Danger, Will Robinson!” except substitute Wendy where Will Robinson is.
Things in my mouth.
I don’t remember actually swallowing a pin. But I’m told that I did and that is became lodged in my throat. I believe my sister Carol and babysitting at the time. I’ll have to get the story from her, but I was taken to a hospital in North Bay to have it removed.
I do remember swallowing a marble. I was about 5. I had it in my mouth and it slipped down my throat. I remember thinking, “I have to gag this up because after the pin thing, I’ll be in big trouble.” I did gag it up.
One day I found an electrical cord, about 7″ to 8″ long with a plug at the end. It had been cut off leaving wires exposed. Finding this gave me the bright idea to plug it into the wall and put the other end in my mouth. ZAP!! I remember thinking, “Wow – was that ever stupid!”
Wayne’s Toys
Wayne and I always got everything we ever asked Santa for. I don’t know how my parents managed it. While I was always so excited about my own presents, I was even more excited about Wayne’s. Wayne never wanted to play with my toys, but I always wanted to play with his.
I loved his Mechano, Lego, plastic farm animals and barn, plastic dinosaurs, dinky toys, Buster the stuffed dog and Beary Weary the teddy bear. I also love his plastic molding machine that made little gun parts, soldiers and bullets, and I loved his wood burning set. And the day I picked up the wood burner with my fingers and it melted my thumb and finger as it slid out of my grasp, is a day I will never forget.
Tobaggoning with Wayne and Randy Sullivan and them scaring the crap out of me shouting that the wolves were coming.
Going up to bed, down the dark hall, and Wayne hinding in my room growling
Thinking there were wolves under my bed
Carol’s wedding cake
Dad slaughtering the pigs
Mom’s cutting the heads off the chickens
Wayne’s head accident
Wayne’s knee accident
Wayne’s big sliver in the side of the head accident
Wayne’s cigarette burns on his hands – Bull Shit Gang membership
Dad’s foot accident – axe cutting foot in bush through his rubber boot
Baby bird being squished under wagon wheel in barn
Wayne shooting me with BB gun
Sticking the cut end of a plugged in electrical cord in my mouth to see if it hurt
Watching the funeral of JFK on the black & white TV
Watching The Edge of Night on TV
Roy Mawhiney coming to get Dad’s gun to shoot a bear
Buster getting sick and having to be shot
Piano stool falling on my toe
Getting a spanking
Going on a bus trip to Buffalo and being stopped at the border
Dad giving Wayne hell for stealing booze when it was me
Dad trying to stop me from leaving home when I was 16
Nightmares: Boogy man, wolves, eaten by a pig
Under the bed fears
Wayne howling: in the bedroom, at the bathroom door
FUN/EXCITEMENT
Playing snookers with Dad at Aunty Jo’s cottage
Playing spin the bottle at the skating rink during lunch at school
Skating at the rink
Building hay forts
Building snow forts
Chasing cats to find kittens
Hunting for worms, hunting for “the best” fishing pole and going fishing
Making damns along the road with the spring thaw
Running through the fields and getting lost in it, as it timothy (or whatever) was taller than me
Tobogganing
Standing under the spruce trees and just listening to the wind
The Gallsons coming to visit.
Family reunion picnics at Champlain Park
Pot luck suppers: Orange Hall, McNeely’s,
Carol’s wedding – new dress & shoes & getting my hair done
Watching Carol & Roy out the window in Roy’s car
Playing monopoly with Carol & Roy, Carol throwing herself on the couch all mad
Carol & Roy fighting over monopoly
Christmas mornings
Threshing
Threshing meals
Minister coming for supper and using the fancy plates and extra fork
Riding with Dad on the tractor, him letting me stear
Riding on the bails on the wagon
Jumping from the upper loft to the lower loft
Buster being in the house during thunderstorms
Hector’s treats at Christmas, Valentines Day and Easter
Dad helping me with my multiplication
Dad letting me curl his hair with hair pins
Dad making little dollies and cradles with plasticine
Mom playing cards – 2-handed 500
Dad playing cribbage, Jack-Jack-Steal-The-Pack, checkers and chess, cribbage
Mom’s trying to show me how to tie a knot in thread (string round and round the needle, then pull through)
Dad showing me his way of tieing a knot in thread (wet fingers, wrap thread around finger once, then roll thread and pull with thumbnail)
Mom showing me how to knit, embroider, crocket, sew on sewing machine, cut out patterns
Sleeping overnight at Mawhiney’s cottage
Churning the milk into butter in that churning thing
Squeezing the yellow colour through the white butter bags
Baking with Mom – cookies, kneading bread, cakes, pies
My Easybake Oven
My Doll house
My Dolls
The treehouse – amazing!
Picking lyco
Going to the Lucky Dollar to buy candy: PopEye candy cigarettes, black balls, lick-a-maid in the long straws, jaw breakers,
Red Cross day at school – talent day, telling a joke and then Roy Devo telling a “joke” that my joke was made up and everyone laughing.
The last day of school – so exciting: the sports games for prizes, the money prizes for the 1st and 2nd in class – Wayne always winning and me getting 3rd once.
Watching TV – especially Sunday nights with Ed Sullivan and Red Skelton. Dad saying that if he could act stupid like Rodney Dangerfield and make that money he was making, he’d do that too.
Birthday cakes with dolls sticking out of them
Birthday cakes with money in them
Getting Wayne in trouble by telling Mom he had a book hollowed out with tobacco in it
Getting Wayne in trouble by telling Mom Wayne’s hiding place in the heat register, between the floors, for his tobacco.
Easter baskets and gifts
Watching Bugs Bunny with Dad, The Sanfords, All In the Family
Berry picking with buckets and cans with Aunt Edna & Aunty Jo
The push lawn mower, I couldn’t push it.
Getting ready for the Bonfield fair
Singing with Lorna: at school, at Carol’s shower
Avon lady – scared of Buster
Fuller Bush man
Ice cream man – the best tasting icecream ever – rolled paper
Playing 2-handed 500 with Mom
Dad teaching me multiplication tables
Playing games with Dad: chess, checkers, Jack-Jack-Steal the Pack, Pig, Cribbage, plasticine
FASCINATION
Watching a calf being born – the vet pulling out a dead calf
Watching Dad cut off his foot corns (as gross as that sounds)
Watching Dad slice up a pig
Buster grabbing the pig insides (yuk!)
Watching the cow’s tongue go in and out of its nostils
Watching the cow’s scratch their necks on the rough edges of the water trough.
Going through Aunt Liza’s house
Going through Gramma’s desk at Uncle Emmett’s house
Catching grasshoppers and having them spit brown yuk on your hands
Catching frogs and pollywogs and sunfish in the net and put in the pail at Aunt Edna’s
Catching fish at the creek behind Aunt Liza’s house
Catching bumble bees in jars
Basil & Juanita’s house – big, new, modern and had fancy light switches, swivel kitchen chairs
Aunt Liza’s house – the catalogues and viewmaster cards
Uncle emmett’s house
Beatrice & Melvin’s house
Fielding and Clela’s house
Going to Mattawa
Larry the Bull
