Welcome to Page 6 of Mom's Book

Mills "Stuff" Written April 6, 1998

Back on Page one I wrote that I would put in anything I know about the Mills (Scottish) side of our family. Well, here goes:

My father, Thomas W. Mills, born Dec. 26, 1874, had a twin brother, William. They were born of all places, in a railway station, the day after Christmas! He could tell us nothing of the circumstances, since his father died when he was 12, and his mother shortly after, which threw the boys on their own. Dad started his railway career as a "call boy" (A call boy was a kid who was sent to notify engineers, firemen, etc., when they were needed for trains. They were paid pennies and had to RUN, no telephones!) in Glasgow, just after his dad died. I think he came to Canada about 1898, working his way across as a firemen (shoveling coal) on a steamer. His railway career was interrupted for awhile. He worked in a lumber camp near Rat Portage, Ontario, which is now Kenora. His twin apparently worked with him and they did not get along together. Dad told us they quarreled and one night William took off with all Dad’s clothes and other possessions and he never heard from him again.

Other brothers were George, Peter, David and James. One sister, Nell. George stayed in Scotland. Peter came to Canada and lived his life in Kenora. David went to South Africa, married Dorothy, became very wealthy—no children. He died, leaving all his wealth to Dorothy. And that was the end of any hopes we might have had. James died at a very young age. We heard nothing from Nell, who was a milliner in Vancouver the last time Dad heard from her.

When our brother, George, was sent overseas during World War II, he made contact with a cousin, Agnes, a descendant of Uncle George, and he met another cousin, Marion McManus, who was Uncle George’s daughter. This was the only branch of Uncle George’s family that we have met. So I will concentrate on them.

I am not sure what relationship Agnes had to Uncle George. She was dead by the time we got to Scotland, but we had been put in touch with her sister and husband, Jean and Stewart Robertson, whom we visited as soon as we reached Scotland in 1971. They had two daughters, May (Benny) Campbell, and Jean (Tommy) Dunn. We spent several great days with them. Benny was chief steward on the Waverly, the last ocean going paddlewheel steamer in the world, and he took us on a one-day cruise down the Clyde, along with May, their two children, Jeannie (11) and John (9), and mother Jean and Stewart. At that time, the Waverly was still in its heyday, white tablecloths and serviettes, polished silver and good china on the tables, and Benny waited on us as though we were royalty! They had an excellent chef and young John stuffed himself to the gills!! I think he was eating from the time the ship started moving until we came back to port in the evening. Benny later brought me a heavy cream jug and sugar bowl, silver, of course, which he said were discards because they had dents in them. I hope it was legal! Phaedra now has them, along with the book about the Waverly, and several postcards.

We had our rental car, and a map of the area. Bill was the "pilot" and I was the navigator. I noticed, on reading the map, that there was an elevated freeway right out to the port where the Waverly started its trip, but Stewart said we didn’t the map, he would show us the way. Well, it was only a few blocks before I discovered he was following the bus route—about 3 times as far, and twice as long in time. It was late when we returned to port, so I told Stewart we would follow the map home. He was a bit miffed, and I heard him say to Jean—"Look at that. They’ve been here only 3 days and think they know better than we do." Young Johnny begged Bill to go faster—he had never been in a "motor" before and loved the speed—60 mph was legal, but cars were shooting past us as if we were standing still. We stuck to the 60. The turn off was about 6 blocks from London Road, where they lived, and Stewart began to relax. He recognized where he was, and conceded that I was pretty good at maps! In the days that followed, he never questioned my ability again, but after 2 more days of travel, he begged off. He wanted a "long lie"—meaning to sleep until 10 or 11 o’clock. Starting off for a 60 or 70 mile drive in one day was too much for him.

The rest of us went to Loch Lomond for a picnic, to Sterling Castle, and various other places the Scotch people had never seen, and they marveled at how much we could see and do in one day! We visited with Jean and Tommy in Glasgow. They could not travel as both of them were working. Jean and Tommy have two daughters, Irene and Yvonne.

May and Benny’s daughter Jean married, divorced and remarried—no children. Johnny married—one daughter, Ashley, and a surprise last year, a son (forgot his name….9 0r 10 now—Scott) Jean and Tommy’s daughter, Irene, married, has 2 children (don’t know their names). Yvonne—a businesswoman—never married. She is about our Colleen’s age.

As I said before I could not find out exactly what relationship their family was to ours. Letters have been written to "Cousin Agnes", Jean’s sister, and Jean thought that our fathers were cousins. If that was correct, it would mean that their grandfathers were brothers stretching the connection quite a bit, but I was happy to own them as "cousins" whatever the degree, and am still writing to them. We visited each time we were over there. We never did find Marion McManus, who was definitely our first cousin.

The last time I was in Britain was in 1985. I went without Bill, as he could not travel then. He was in Sherbrooke Nursing Home while I was away. The trip was paid for by the Saskatoon Construction Association as one of my retirement gifts. Six of my sisters were on that trip too, and we only stopped in Glasgow long enough to have a meal with the Glasgow group. Not long enough for the others to get really acquainted, but I hope some will keep up the correspondence after I am no longer able to do it—and maybe visit them in the future.

Now I am going to fill the rest of this with anecdotes from here and there just as I think of them—with approximate dates, at least, years if possible. The first is about toys from my childhood when ready-mades were too expensive or too scarce. (I’m a bit tired right now, so please excuse writing mistakes. First one:

Stick and Wheel (Early 1920’s)

Materials needed: A lath, 2 or 3 nails and an old wheel about 9 or 10 inches across. The lath was cut to an appropriate length, about waist high for each child and a cross-piece for the bottom about 10 inches nailed together. It looked like a "T". We had a sloping street, ideal for the race. The wheel was poised at the top of the stick, 2 or 3 kids to a race, the starter yells "GO!", the wheel rolls down the stick and the first to roll it to the finish line without losing the wheel, wins. Lots of practice was fun too.

Linoleum Sliders—Winter (1920"s and 30’s)

These were on the go all the time we lived in Edson. Whenever anyone threw out worn linoleum it was grabbed up by the closest kids and cut to suitable sizes for easy toboggans. The hill by the creek was just right for sliding, with the smooth side down. We broke holes in the ice for water on the hill until it froze solid. (the creek that is). We had thug kids then, just as we have now, and the thugs usually managed to steal our "toboggans" before we had them very long. Nowadays, its expensive skate boards, etc.

Once when brother George was about nine, a bunch of these toughs broke into an empty house at the top of our hill and stole the lino from the kitchen floor. Somehow or another one of them blamed George for the theft and Mom had to go to court with him. He was scared stiff. He hadn’t had anything to do with it, of course. He was cleared within minutes, Mom said when she got home. The kids who blamed him got their stories so mixed up that the judge knew they were lying, and finally got the truth from one of the culprits. As an added note, the linoleum was worn out and useless before the kids stole it, but the judge got them on the "break and enter" part, scolded them for lying and put them under a "curfew"—and Mom said their parents got a good talking to as well, and then he got after Mr. Walsh, the owner, for trying to get new lino for old. Some of the Walshes still live at Edson. One of the daughters, about my age, lives in the same place as sister Kay. They are not friends, Kay says. She is too much like her dad.

Old Model-T Car Tires (same years)

The Model-T Fords had large wheels with skinny tires, about 4 inches thick and maybe 30 inches across. I’m not sure about the measurements. Again that useful hill!! A few tires were found, either worn out treads or nail holes, and kids that were small enough and brave enough would curl up inside them at the start line. Someone gave them a push and down the hill they rolled. Sometimes they reached the bottom without falling out, usually got sick, or dizzy or both. But it seemed to be fun. I never tried it. Some of the bolder girls did, but this was mostly for boys.

Hodags

I don’t know where that name came from. There were two toys that were called by the same name. The first needed only a good strong piece of string and a large button. I think kids are still playing with this one. A large button was threaded onto the string and then wound up tight and pulled outward on the largest (2^nd finger from the thumb), relaxed, and pulled again and again. I made a wonderful hum! It could be used until the string wore out, but don’t let your hair get tangled in it.

The second kind needed a piece of shingle, which was shaved at each end like an airplane propeller, and a fairly long, strong cord fastened through a hole in one end. I can’t remember if it was the thick end or the thin end. If you try it, you will have to experiment! The string was then wound around the hand (with a glove on is better) then whirled around the head. Going good, it made a sound somewhat like the old airplanes. The boys really loved this one, and with a half dozen or so going at the same time it made enough noise that the principal banned them from the school yard during school days. I think the piece of shingle was about 1 ½ inches wide. Can you still find cedar shingles? 

Jacks

Jacks also are still around, but we mostly played with just the ball, which could be bought 3 for 5 cents, and small stones. The stones were all about ½ inch, nice and smooth, and as uniform in shape as we could find. There were plenty of them to be found on the banks of the McLeod River and we always looked for more when we went for our swims. Even the big girls played jacks. The boys did too, when they were sure no one was watching. This was supposed to be strictly a girls game. 12 stones were used.

Dibs and Agates

When I was very young, only boys played marbles. But girls got into it by the time I was nine or ten. Then girls were banned again later, because they beat the boys too many times. Nowadays, we fount out (David and I) that kids don’t even know what Dibs and Agates are. We gave some to 3 kids who lived beside us (Michael, Michelle and Johnny for those of you who know them), and they had never heard of them. They never caught on.

At Edson, the road between our house and the school was very fine powdery dust when it was dry, and thick sticky gumbo clay when wet. We used the wet stuff to make our own dibs. Dibs could be bought for 10 for 1 cent at that time, but they were gooey fun to make. Just roll a right-size ball of that clay until it was as round as could be made, bake them in the oven for a few days, or the sun when it was hot enough, smoothing them occasionally during the drying process, and for only several days work, you could have 2 or 3 hundred dibs. If used before they were perfectly dry—goodbye! A million pieces, more or less. Sometimes we even painted a few. The dibs were always about ½ inch. Agates could be any size, and were glass, anywhere from 3 for 5 cents to the really expensive REAL agate, which we never had. When games were started it was always decided whether it was for "fun" or for "keeps". Sometimes fights developed out of "keeps" because nobody wanted to give up their lost marbles! 

Dolls, Etc. 1998

There are many things that never go out—girls still skip ropes and play with dolls, although you seldom see a little girl pushing a doll carriage now. Its all Barbie, apparently after a girl is 3 or 4. Then they go back to the big dolls when they get to be doll collectors, like me! I guess I have always liked dolls. I did have a few very nice ones when I was small—that I wish I had now—my Eaton Beauty, for example, would be worth anywhere from $1,000.00 to $5,000.00, if in mint condition, that is, in box never played with. I remember a few with china heads, arms and legs and kid-skin jointed bodies and some very cheap mama dolls, 2 of which I now have replicas of in my collection, (refinished) thanks to Colleen who found them in a garage sale for 25 cents each. Evelyn, the doll maker, refurbished them beautifully. I dressed them, and I am very proud of them.

When I was about seven, Mom took me to Edmonton on a shopping trip, and there in Eaton’s window, I saw what I considered the most Beautiful Doll in the World. She was about 28 inches tall, dressed in frilly yellow organdie and lace and I thing the price was $5.95 or $6.95. Too expensive. I yearned for it, but of course never got it.

A few years ago, I was with Evelyn on one of her trips to a doll supply store in White Rock, B.C., and there was my beautiful doll--$249.00. I bought it. It didn’t have the dress but I had yellow organdie in my stock, so I dressed it as nearly as I could remember like the one I saw in Eaton’s long years ago, entered it in the Doll Club’s annual dressing competition and won 2^nd prize for modern dolls, and Best of Show, with the twin babies Evelyn had made and I dressed in christening gown outfits. As you can see I am still hooked on dolls. My basement workshop is crammed with hundreds of meters of laces, ribbons, lovely fabrics and drawers full of patterns, waiting for my recovery from this present attack, and my release from the hospital.

That’s all the toy things I can think of right now, but as one thing sometimes leads to another, just mentioning that trip to Edmonton has reminded me of another—no connection of course—at the time I was maybe ten years old, and had joined an intermediate young people’s group at the Anglican Church. I was also attending the Baptist Sunday School, but that didn’t matter. Well, there was some kind of children’s affair in Edmonton, and our Anglican group was to attend it—without mothers, just teachers. I had won a prize for memorizing the most Bible texts, and it was to be presented in Edmonton by a Bishop or somebody important. There was maybe 20 in our group, boarding the train about 2 a.m. We were told to go to sleep for the 4 hour trip, but everybody was too excited, so we started singing, hymns, of course. I got an answer to something that had puzzled me—one of the hymns started off with—"There is a green hill far away, Without a city wall, Where our Dear Lord was crucified, Who died to save us all." I got up nerve enough to ask a teacher why a green hill would need a city wall anyway. She laughed at bit at my question, then told me that it really meant "outside" the city wall, which did make more sense, and I think that’s how it is now written.

Anyway, we had a little bit of sleep, went to the biggest church I had ever seen, did our little bits in the program, and I got my prize, which was a 9 X 12 portrait, framed, with a glass front, and I had to carry it around for the rest of the day. (That was my first convention, I guess.) Besides the church stuff, we were taken on a little shopping spree. I only had about 25 cents to spend, so I bought the biggest thing I could find in the 15 cent store for Mom. It was a mixing bowl of Medicine Hat clay, probably 10 or 12 inches across the top and HEAVY. I carried it too, and got it home without breaking either picture or bowl! It should have taught me something about holiday shopping, but I don’t think it did.

One more note about the dolls—1923 or so—a celluloid baby doll, from Japan, about as high as the width of this page, could be bought for 5 cents at any time, at the hardware store. They were easily broken too, to I usually spent my nickels on those, and when I was 6 years old, I make my first doll dress for one of those babies. It was blue cotton print, a scrap from something Mom had made and looked like a plain little shift with a slit all the way down the back. The only sewing was the underarm seams. I was SO proud of it, and it led to lots more sewing so that by the time I was nine, I was able to sew real clothes and do nice embroidery too. That’s how it was that I had made the dress that baby Robert was buried in, in January, 1927, when I was 9 ½ years old.

I made pretty dresses for my little sisters, too. When Ethel was about 3 years old (spring 1934) I made a very pretty dress for her from scraps of green voile print left over from dresses I had made for Edith and myself. I cut nearly all the scraps into strips, sewed them together, hemmed them and gathered them into frills which I sewed onto bleached-out sugar bags for the skirt part, and used the two largest pieces to make the sleeveless top. There is a family picture somewhere showing Ethel in the front row, wearing that dress. I was 16 when I made it, and I remember, when I saw that snap years later, thinking I had surely come long way with my sewing in 10 years. Now, some 64 years later, I make lovely doll costumes and sometimes dresses for little girls in the family (Maria, Alex, Emily, Alysia-Marie, etc.).

April 15, 1998 (Titanic…I always thought it was April 12)

Today is the 86^th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. The Hitchings family had a sort of connection with that tragedy, where over 1,500 people lost their lives. It goes like this:

Passage was reserved on the Titanic for half of the family to come to Canada from England. John Thomas Hitchings, sons Herbert and Gilbert, and daughters Edith and Gladys. When they reached the port they were told that the ship was overbooked and there was no room for them. It was a big disappointment. Passage was arranged for them on the next ship—and here is where there is some confusion in the stories. Grandpa Hitchings said they were on the sea when word reached them that the unsinkable Titanic had gone down with nearly all lives lost. However, Jack Paul, Gladys’s son, said he had done a little research and it seemed they could not have been on the water as the next ship to leave the port sailed two weeks later. No matter which is right—our family would not have existed if they had been on the Titanic. Mother Hitchings and the rest of the family, sons Wilson (Bill) and Wilfred and Daughter Grace, were not to come to Canada until 6 months later, and it is highly unlikely that they would have come at all if the rest of the family had been lost on the Titanic. So you see, there would have been no Bill here for me to marry!

As far as the apparent confusion in the stories goes—it is possible they sailed from another port, and so could have been on the water at the time, as Grandpa Hitchings said. If anyone is interested in following up on it, a few letters to the Port (Southampton, I think) might produce info from their old records. Now that I am into things about the Hitchings family, I will put down all I know about them, which really isn’t much. They were not a close family and nearly all the visiting that was done was at my instigation. They seldom, any of them, even came to visit us. I was not given much encouragement. Auntie Grace seemed to enjoy our visits but never returned them. Norm’s family did, because, as you older ones know, he was married to my sister Edith. I will list each, but no birth dates, only year where I know them.

FAMILY TREE – HITCHINGS

John Thomas Hitchings Married Edith Sarah Partridge about 1892 (I think)

Herbert Born about 1894 (He was 18 when he came to Canada)

Gilbert Born about 1896 (He was 16 when he came to Canada)

Edith Born about 1895 (She was around 14 or 15 as above)

Gladys (Married John Paul….Died with flu in 1918 probably about 20 years

Old. Left two children: John Paul, Jr. about 18 months old, and

A baby girl who also died with the flu at about 6 months.)

Grace Born in 1901 ( in England)

Wilson George (Bill) Born 1906, March 13, in England

Wilfred Born 1908 or 1909 in England

Norman Henley Born 1914 (May) In Canada

Herbert Married May, a widow with two little daughters, Esther and Georgina. Their children were: Murray, twins Wilma and Wilda, Elmer, Maisie, Phyllis and Clifton. I think that’s all.

Gilbert married my Aunt Clara (Mom’s sister) and they had seven children, George Born Feb. 1926, Laurena, April 1928, Jean, July 1930, Lawrence Aug 12. 1932, Geraldine, Sept 1934, Doreen, May 1937 and Irvin, January 1939.

There were several (5) marriages between our families as I mentioned. Auntie Clara was the first, with Gilbert, I second—Bill was the lucky man. Edith (my sister) Married Norman, the youngest of the first family. Then George, Gib’s oldest son, married Dorothy, (Kay’s daughter) and Lawrence married our sister, Janet. It would take all the rest of this book to list all the progeny of all these families, and since I don’t have all the information, I can’t even attempt it. Others are working on it.

While on the subject of the Hitchings family, there is a remote connection (Call it distant cousin) with Cleo Laine—the world famed jazz singer. Her mother was a Hitchings, believed to be 1^st cousin of Grandpa Hitchings. She married a Jamaican man, about 71 or 72 years ago—that would be about 1926—and her parents disowned her. You see, it wasn’t done, in those days—an English girl marrying a black man. Cleo was the only child of that marriage, and see what the family lost. She has just been dubbed "Dame Cleo Laine" by the Queen for her work in the (October, 1997) music world. That’s the equivalent of being made a "Sir" for men. Cleo is 70 years old and at this date still going strong (April 19/98). Her husband, John Dankworth is a great musician and I think he deserves the honor (sir, that is) Just as much as Cleo and I hope the Queen will grant it. Princess Margaret is Cleo’s close friend. Anyway, when Cleo first came to Saskatoon, she sent word ahead that she knew or believed, there were some of her Hitchings relations here, and would like to meet them. Well, we found that she had even closer relatives in Punnichy. Arthur Charles Hitchings, Sr., was her mother’s brother. He was dead by then, but her cousin, A.C.Jr., Was still living. I wrote to him to let him know the date she would be in, but he didn’t come. We went to her concert, then we all went out for a late supper, and visited until about 1 am. They are great people, and we have been corresponding and meeting whenever she’s been here. David had the privilege of meeting her in Regina once. I sent a letter to her, as I had planned to be there at her concert, and was too sick to go. I asked David to drop the note off at her hotel, but he waited and gave it to her in person. She gave him a pair of tickets and an autographed program, and he had a nice visit with both, and then bragged to some pals about his cousin Cleo, etc.! He still has the program amongst his stuff. And he enjoyed the concert too. Now, back to where I left off in the Hitchings family marriages.

Edith Hitchings married Jim Thompson and they had a large family. Margaret, Mabel, Mary, Nora, Patricia and George, James and John (not in that order)---9 altogether. The only ones we ever really associated with were Margaret and Mildred, both were good friends, and Mabel sometimes. The others we very seldom met.

John Robert Paul was Gladys’s son, brought up by the Hitchings family after his mother died. His father married again and never even visited his little son, so the father was completely unknown.

Grace married Jack Ewen. They had John, Gordon, Angus, Gladys and Alex. John was killed in World War II, Gordon died with a heart attack at 48, and Alex was a blue baby who died at 11 years. Angus and Gladys are still living. Wilfred and his family are all gone.

Norman and Edith had 6 children—Ivan, Donald, Philip, Melvin, Laverne and Keith. Philip died with cancer at 9 years in 1953. I don’t need to write much about this family as you all know them well, and maybe some of you can puck up the later family history, for future generations.

Wilfred married a girl from New Brunswick, Beulah, and they had two daughters, Marlene and Lorraine. The family broke up. Wilfred and Beulah are both dead and we have lost track of the girls.

The rest of this book has been the chronicle of Wilson George’s family, so I do not need to put anything more in here. More will come as I think of it.

May, 10^th, 1998

So now I am going to jump to the present day, which is Sunday, May 10^th, 1998—Mother’s Day. It is now 4:00 P.M. and what a lovely day it is. I had a phone call telling me not to eat any lunch as Arthur and Gloria would be in at 1:00 P.M. Well, they came and along with Colleen and Neil, and Laurie and Emily. I think Ron was working night shift and so had to sleep. They brought Kentucky fried chicken, with all the trimmings, including a cheesecake for dessert. Colleen brought a beautifully decorated little stone box, which I am going to use for a jewelry box. Arthur and Gloria brought a picture of Gloria to fill the space on the wall opposite Arthur’s retirement photo, and a computer-made card. And 5-year old Emily brought me a lovely bouquet of dandelions and tiny daisies—first flowers of spring!

November 24, 1998

And now after a lovely story like that I am going way back—about 55 years into a near disaster story. It happened on January 25^th, 1943.

It was about halfway through our years on the farm. It started out as a very cold crystal clear day with nothing in particular to do after the cows were milked and everything in the barn was fed and watered. We now had the luxury of a telephone and, about ten o’clock a call came through that was to change our day and nearly our lives. Norman, Bill’s brother, was married to Edith, my sister, who was in St. Paul’s Hospital in Saskatoon, for the birth of their first son, Ivan. In those days, they kept mothers in bed for 10 days after the birth and this day was Edith’s day to go home. The phone call was from Norman asking us to go to the city, about a 7-mile drive, get Edith and Ivan out of the hospital and onto the CPR train to Asquith. For some forgotten reason, he could not make the trip himself. We did not really want to, but we had to—so, we bundled up our 2 little ones, David 2 ½ and Arthur 6 months, built a fire in our cosy covered cutter (a stripped down old car body on sturdy sleight runners) hooked up the horses to go to town. But before we got away, another phone call came from our neighbor, Joe Ganguish, asking if we could bring their daughter and son-in-law home to them. Don’t ask how they knew we were going.

Well, we got Edith and Ivan on to their train about 3 P.M. Then we went to pick up the other couple—who were not ready and in no hurry. They didn’t know what could happen to the weather, and did. It was now snowing and blowing. Well, we finally got under way, and as soon as we were outside the city we were in a real blizzard. The temperature had dropped still more to a very, very cold. No worry, though. We had a good coal fire going and were nice and warm. But the going was rough. Bill couldn’t see the road, and I began to be a bit scared. The horses were having a hard time in the drifts that had built up, and we had to trust to their instincts or whatever to keep us going in the right path.

About one mile from the Ganguish house disaster struck. Plowing past a gig drift, the cutter tipped over. There we all were, tumbled every which way. The fire spilled out, red hot coals started things burning instantly. Bill grabbed stuff from around the heater and somehow got the hot coals out. The other guy was just in the way clawing frantically to get out, trampling on me, and very nearly on the babies—it was "me first" with him, never mind anyone else. Well, somehow, I don’t know now how we did it, we got everybody out into the blizzard, coats and blankets, diapers, everything rescued, including the little dog I forgot to mention (theirs). We continued on the open sleigh runners and left the old car body for good. It was never rescued.

When we got to the Ganguish house, we took stock of the personal damage. The big man was okay—he had even grabbed some of Arthur’s diapers to wrap around his head and neck and some things for his wife. Neither had done anything to help me with my babies. (She had her own "baby" to care for.) No help for Bill with the horses, either. What did he know about horses, he yelped. Can’t you hurry up? Can’t you see we’re freezing? I wanted to kill him or at least bury him in the drift. But we did all get there alive. My legs were frozen from my ankles to above my knees. I didn’t wear trousers in those days, just warm stockings. David had lost one mitten and his poor little hand was badly frozen. Bill had wrapped his overcoat around him and his arm was in the sleeve with no other protection. He could have lost his hand, it was that bad. His fingers still show the effects to this day. Arthur was warm—no damage, but he was HUNGRY! And let us all know it in no uncertain terms!

Mrs. Ganguish took care of David’s hands somehow. I don’t know what she did but it must have been right. The two city slickers had made sure they and their "baby" were warm enough. They had even tried to grab some of the things we had around David and Arthur, but I put up a fight and hung on. They were okay. Nothing frozen there.

Bill was very cold, but he had to take care of the horses so he went off with Mr. Ganguish to put the horses in the barn and give them a rest before we tackled the last mile and a half home. By then it was about 9 o’clock and we had to get home to milk cows, feed everything and the rest of the evening chores.

The blizzard had subsided and it turned into a crystal clear moonlight night. I can’t recall now anything else that happened, except that for once I did not go out to help with the chores. No way would I leave my babies alone after that experience. I got them thoroughly warmed up, fed, and into bed. Poor David. The next day he cried all day with the pain in his hand. His fingers were swollen like little sausages. I called the doctor, but he said there was nothing I could do except give him baby aspirin to ease the pain a bit. When I recall the horrors of that day, I can only add that we were very, very lucky to get out of it as we did. We could have died in that blizzard. We could have been burnt in that cutter. All sorts of things—the horses could have bolted. But they were faithful and they must have been suffering too.

We never saw that couple again. Never wanted to. Mr. and Mrs. Ganguish were okay, but that young man was insufferable. It was some time before we got over the effects of that trip, and I don’t think I went to town again until spring. Such were the hardships of our Saskatchewan winters!

December 7, 1998

Since this is Christmas month I think I will finish off this chronicle with memories of Christmas from my very earliest—a Sunday School performance—I think I was about 4 ½ years old. I had been learning a little song, my mother was my teacher, with no thought other than learning a song. Then when the great day came, we all went to church, me in a pretty new dress, and listened to other kids doing their piece. Then mom took me up to the platform, set me in a little rocking chair and told me to sing. I think I took a little persuading, but I must have done all right because there was a lot of clapping. My song was about a little dolly go to sleep-dreams are waiting, dreams are waiting, sleep wee, my darling! See, I even remember part of it after all those years.

We lived about a block away from the edge of the Great Northern Forest, so Christmas trees were easily gotten. An axe and a few yards into the forest and a beautiful tree was ours—free! It was always put up about 2 days before Christmas, decorated mainly with things of our own making—lots of fun. Strings of popcorn and cranberries, paper chains made from red and green crepe paper and each year a few more bought glass decorations and some clip-on birds. I think one or two of the birds are still around somewhere. We had candles on the tree too, and they were lit once only, on Christmas Eve. We did not have electricity then, so we had to light the candles on Christmas Eve so Santa would know where to find us. I guess it was dangerous, but we never had a fire.

Christmas morning was the same for us as it is for the kids today—a rush to see what Santa brought. There was always a gift from Santa and one from Daddy and Mommy; that is, in the early years. Up to about 1927, when things began to be tough. I was 10 years old, and got my last doll. Baby brother, Jack, dropped his bottle on the porcelain head and cracked it on Christmas day. Mom taped it together, and my injured doll lasted for ages. I learned a lot of my sewing by dressing dolls, for myself and my younger sisters. I taught some of them to sew for their Christmas dolls and a few went on to become excellent at it.

We never had turkey for Christmas dinner, but we always had a very large rooster. A farming couple, the Johnsons, always saved the biggest and fattest rooster for us and Mom made loads of dressing to stuff us all. We had cranberry sauce with it too. I don’t think we ever had cranberry sauce with a roasted chicken at any other time.

After we opened our gifts there was always a hilarious time, putting things together, seeing how they worked and so on. Once, when George was about 9, he got a train set, with an oval track and a wind-up engine. Of course, it was the big attraction. We also had a kitten. George had an idea. He got the train ready to go—set the kitten inside the oval and then let the train go. Well, the kitten shot straight up, about 3 feet into the air and came down with his fur standing straight out and almost sparking. Lots of laughs for everybody but the kitten.

1927 was the last Christmas that George was home. As I wrote somewhere else, he stayed at Gib and Clara’s place after our holiday that year, 1927, and went to school at Douglas Plain until he finished Grade 8. No high school for him. He stayed with Gib and Clara for a year or two, then went to work for another couple, Frank Ffewelling (two f’s—Welsh, I think). He moved with them to the Carrot River District where there was land to be had for $5.00 for a half section. But it was covered with forest that had to be cut before it was any use. Trees were the farmer’s enemy in those days, the same as around Edson. But once cleared and broken it was certainly the best of land. Well, I have gotten away from the Christmas theme, haven’t I?

There are lots of Christmases that I can’t recall what went on, chiefly in my adolescent years, when I was traveling back and forth between Edson and Asquith. I do remember, though, that Christmas at Gib and Clara’s place was nothing like Christmas at home—no Christmas tree, no gifts, no anything that had made Christmas so special in my growing-up years. I remember thinking that if I ever got married and had kids it would be as near like my early Christmases as I could make it. I’m quite sure if my family should decide to write memoirs they would agree that we did succeed.

Though right now, one Christmas stands out as pretty special. I have a feeling that I may have written this earlier in my chronicle, so if I did, please forgive. I don’t want to read the whole thing to job my memory. It was the one time that Bill was out of work, in the early 1950’s. There was no money for Christmas gifts, just buying a turkey was tough, but we did manage that. So Bill went over to a millwork company and came home with a sackfull of odds and ends, which he cut into elaborate blocks, etc. We all played with those blocks all day, building castles, churches, palaces, houses, anything we could think of. Just proving you don’t need a lot of money to have a happy Christmas. Just ingenuity and good nature! That’s all for this book. Hope you enjoy it.

Love Mom, December 8^th, 1998.

Transcribed by Evelyn, January, 1999.

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