2009 Shades of the Past

ShadesShades ofof thethe PastPast Lifescapes Writing Group 2009 Brantford Public Library SShhaaddeess ooff tthhee PPaasstt Lifescapes Writing Group 2009 Brantford Public Library This book was written by members of the Lifescapes group, a seniors’ memoir writing program sponsored by the Brantford Public Library. Editorial team: Joan Faehrmann, Lorie Lee Steiner Photo editing: Joan Faehrmann Cover by Joan Faehrmann Copyright © 2009 by the Authors ISBN 978-0-9810538-1-3 Brantford Public Library Press 173 Colborne Street Brantford, ON N3T 2G8 Table of Contents Introduction..................................................................................................................................... 5 A Child and a Welsh Town in the Second World War..................................................................... 7 Fiona Clarke The Folly of Old St. Nicholas: Sinterklaas Memories................................................................... 11 Mary C. Huurman Anna .............................................................................................................................................. 18 David Kipp Colonel and the Democrat............................................................................................................. 23 Betty Jean Clark My Dad’s Garden.......................................................................................................................... 27 Anne Kittridge Tales of a Young Hobo: A Memoir................................................................................................ 33 Bill Van Gaal No Clocks Ran At Homestead Farms and The Creek.................................................................... 40 Frances Gray Currie Building a New Life....................................................................................................................... 45 Christine Morton The Summer of ‘81 ........................................................................................................................ 49 Theresa Haq A Pioneer’s Journey ...................................................................................................................... 53 Peter Hardwicke Remember When............................................................................................................................ 60 Ally Bryant My Dear Old Friend...................................................................................................................... 65 Martin Porter Scrambled Eggs............................................................................................................................. 69 Karan Stemmler Feathers......................................................................................................................................... 76 Christopher Fowler Mirror Images ............................................................................................................................... 81 Olive Fowler It Was Time.................................................................................................................................... 85 Alan McClelland A Small Hero ................................................................................................................................. 91 Sharon Bolger A Walk in the Park......................................................................................................................... 95 Teresa Howes Oh Canada, My Adopted Land...................................................................................................... 98 Mary Huzul Introduction Lifescapes is a program of the Brantford Public Library created to help seniors begin to write their memoirs. This is the second year we have run the program and the second book of life stories that we have published. The two Lifescapes anthologies are available to be checked out of the library or to view on our Website at: http://brantford.library.on.ca/adults/lifescapes.php Two local authors visited to speak to the Lifescapes group this year. We would like to offer our sincere thanks to Selkirk author, Cheryl MacDonald, for her talk on “Truth in Non-fiction,” and to Brantford author, Lorie Lee Steiner, for her talk on Christmas memories and for her invaluable assistance with editing the stories. Thirteen women and six men, ranging in age from their mid-fifties to ninety, completed the program this year. Some were returning members from last year’s inaugural Lifescapes program, while others had already started writing their memoirs and wanted tips on polishing them up, but most were new to memoir writing. Each brought something special to the group. Their stories of family history, of loss, of travel, of special people and special times exemplify our motto: “Everyone’s story is worth telling.” We hope you will enjoy the second edition of the Lifescapes anthology, Shades of the Past. Joan Faehrmann Adult Services/Readers’ Advisory Librarian Brantford Public Library Brantford, Ontario Shades of the Past A Child and a Welsh Town in the Second World War Fiona Clarke hen I was a child of 5 or 6, my younger brother and I had a very special window. It was on the upstairs landing at the back of our house and about three feet off the floor and set far enough back in the thick wall for us to climb up onto the deep sill. The window was taller than we were, so we could stand there and look out on a totally absorbing world of activity. Down below, there was a stone-flagged yard enclosed behind high walls. Directly beneath us was the back door. From our vantage point, we could watch the comings and goings of everyone who clicked open the latch on the tall green wooden gate in the passage between the house and the garage. Every day, we heard the sound of shiny brown leather boots clip-clopping across the yard, announcing the immaculate-looking milkman, smartly dressed in his grey tweed cloth cap, well pressed overall coat, and polished brown leather knee-high gaiters. There were My younger brother and I loud clinking noises as he put down the day’s supply of milk bottles, with the inches of cream on top, and took away the rinsed out empties from the day before. The milk came from his herd of cows that lived in a field behind his house. He milked the cows and then bottled the milk himself. One cause of big excitement for us was the delivery of coal before winter set in. Several men, full of loud, joking remarks and almost black from head to toe with coal dust, would clump their way across the yard with sack after heavy sack loaded on their backs, and we would listen to the loud roars, as lumps of coal poured from the sacks in through the open door of the coal house. The men wore special leather hats, with wide 7 Shades of the Past flaps that hung down over their broad shoulders, protecting them from the sharp, knobbly edges of the lumps of coal. Beside the coal house was an open area with a glass roof where, winter or summer, rain or shine, the washing was done every Monday—no washing machine, just a large metal boiler filled with cold water and heated by gas flames below. Stains were removed by using a big bar of washing soap and a ridged wash board that stood in a tub of water. The used soapy water bubbled and gurgled down an open channel in the stone until it slurped and swirled into the drain by the back door. Afterwards, lines of bright white washing and familiar little articles of our clothing, held on with wooden pegs, flapped back and forth in the breeze. What was going on in our own yard, however, was nothing compared to the fascinating and ever changing events over the back wall. We lived on a main road out of a small South Wales market town called Bridgend, with the cities of Cardiff and Swansea about twenty miles to the east and west. These cities both suffered severe bomb damage during the war but our little town, where cattle and sheep were herded down past the end of our drive to the weekly market every Tuesday, saw no bomb damage at all. At the bottom of our road, a very old bridge crossed over the River Ogmore, its waters black with coal dust from the mining valleys to the north. To all appearances it was a quiet little town, where nothing much happened except on market day. Then it sprang to life with the farmers in town, and the women from the mining valleys arrived, baskets over their arms, to do their shopping. Even as young children, we knew that there was a war because the wireless news bulletins told us about it, and at any time of day or night, the ominous wail of the siren would warn there were enemy planes flying overhead; we could feel the relief and the tension dissipate when the All Clear siren went off. A suitcase, never to be touched, was kept ready packed on a table in our bedroom in case we suddenly had to run. I had a green wool dress with a pleated skirt in this case; in those days little girls never ever wore trousers. I so wanted to wear this dress because it was the only one I had with pleats but it was never allowed out of the case and I never did wear it. The Second World War started when I was four and soon after the house next door was requisitioned by the army. A sentry box, with a soldier on guard, appeared at the bottom of the drive, which was right next door to our drive. The large house stood in about five acres of landscaped garden, surrounded with shrubberies. The house was used for offices and some officers lived there as well. There was a wide gravel area in front of the house where the soldiers paraded and, significantly

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