1 TABLE OF CONTENTS Page Title Page Title 3 The Scannell Saga 164 Bells and Things 6 Emily Mary Harwood 166 Counting Blessings 14 Continuing the Scannell Saga from 1915 169 A Cherished Friend 19 The Legault Family 173 Operations 28 Memories of My Father 174 Just a Kiss When Ignorance is Bliss 31 Memories of My Mother 176 So Many Plants, So Little Energy 38 Elementary School Days 178 Childhood Hurts 44 High School Days 1933-1937 180 A New York Wedding 47 “Per Ardua Ad Astra” 184 In a Vacuum 51 Marriage and Honeymoon 1943 186 The Biscuit Barrel 53 Sentimental Journey – Trip to Britain in 1960 186 My Thought for the Day 59 Remembering a Soldier 187 Coronation 72 A Plethora of Past Pleasures 188 Tongue in Cheek 91 The Time We Almost Went to Tanzania 189 A Constant Companion 95 Bill’s Retirement 191 My Nagging Knee 101 Houseboat Holiday – 1985 192 My Friend Mary 103 A Letter (to my Daughter) 194 Homes 105 The Generation Gap 199 Spelling Bee 107 When West Meets East – Hong Kong in 1990 199 Time 118 Reflections 200 Thumb Story 120 Luxury of a Bath 202 Making a Decision 122 Crime Never Pays – At Any Age 208 Life Lessons 124 Summer’s End 209 Scare Tactics 126 Old Habits Die Hard 211 I’ve Got My Fighting Gloves On 127 Trip to France in 1996 213 There Was an Old Woman ..... 134 The Challenges of Travelling Companions 215 The Trip to England in 2007 135 Easter Then and Now 218 And We Wonder Why There Are Wars 138 Pinpointing the Problem (or What’s Needling Me?) 219 Simple Love 139 Life Goes On .... 219 Who’s the Boss? 141 Getting the Message 221 On a Roll 143 A Life .... 222 Juggling the Finances 146 A Death .... 223 The Joys (?) of Growing Old 148 Winter 224 Another Day in a Busy Life 150 Books 225 Pride in Work 152 Alice 227 Christmas Memories 155 An Inspiring Story 229 A Collection of Christmas Letters 157 Reflections on my 80th Birthday 1985-2011 159 Our Daily News 263 Closing Thoughts 265 A Collection of Photographs 2 Reflections on a Life by Joan Scannell This is the year 2012. I had written the history of the Scannell family some time ago, and also had many short and long stories that I had written over the past few years, meaning to put them all together in a binder. I mentioned to my daughter-in-law (for the umpteenth time) that SOMEDAY I would get them all organized. Well, I am in my 93rd year. Judy said "Why not now?", and encouraged me to start on the project, helping me to get things organized, and putting the stories on my computer onto a small gadget. This technology confounds me, but I was able to edit the stories and correct any mistakes. If Judy hadn't urged me to keep on working at it, it would not have been completed. So I thank you, Judy. I must also thank daughter Heather, for putting all my old pictures in an album, and standing for hours in Walmart downloading them onto another technical gadget. Whoever reads this book may find it boring, but I wrote the stories mainly because I enjoy writing, so I won't be offended if you toss it away after the first two pages. 3 THE SCANNELL SAGA “What’s in a name?” you may ask. Well, I know that I am upset when someone omits a letter from my name, or adds one on. Scannell has been my name for much longer than my maiden name, so I’m used to it. In the Province of Quebec, it has been mandatory for a number of years that a woman keep her maiden name upon marriage, but the government has gone a step further and demanded that the maiden name be used in any or all circumstances. This has led to some needlessly unhappy experiences. My friend’s mother lived in her own home until she was 90 years old, then had to be put into a seniors’ home. One day, the supervisor of the home called my friend Grace to say that her mother had fallen and broken a hip, and had been rushed to hospital. Grace and her husband drove to the hospital, only to be told that there was no Mrs. Davis there. After checking with the home by phone, and being told that she was in the right hospital, Grace told the nurse that her mother was in her 90s, had broken a hip, etc., whereupon the nurse said, “Oh, we do have someone like that here, but her name is Ericson.” Now Grace’s mother had married at 18 and for more than 72 years had borne the name Davis. I have heard of similar stories to this happening in Quebec, causing much heartache to older people. I will tell the story of my maternal and paternal ancestry as far back as I can go, but first I will begin by writing what I know about the Scannell name, as this is the name carried by my children. We knew that the name originated in Ireland, and were delighted in 1968 when the New York Sunday News published a map listing all the Irish clans. The name Scannell was listed in County Cork as O’Scannell. Many patronymical (fathers’) surnames can be recognized by the termination – son, such as Williamson, Jackson, etc. Some endings used by other nationalities to indicate ‘son’ are: Armenian -ian; Danish and Norwegian –sen; Finnish –nen; Greek –pulos; Spanish –ez; Polish –wiecz. Prefixes denoting ‘son’ are the Welsh ap-; Scots and Irish Mac- or Mc-; and the Normans Fitz-. The Irish O’- denotes grandfather. In a genealogical report which I obtained, it is suggested that the name O’Scannell may be associated with “grandson of Scannal (scandal)” so we may even have a skeleton in the closet. However, as far as my records show, our particular branch of Scannells left Ireland sometime after the Great Famine of Ireland in 1845. Emigration was the chief escape from death by starvation, and two million people had left the island by 1851. Many went to North America, but our ancestor, William Scannell, took his family across the Irish Sea and settled in Wales. A son was born in Cardiff, but the family soon moved south to London, where work was more plentiful. Many Irishmen worked on the canals being built around the Thames River. The family settled in the borough of Camberwell, in Peckham district. One of the famous people born in this borough was Robert Browning. Oliver Goldsmith was a schoolmaster there, and John Ruskin also lived there. The Scannells were hardworking, and lived frugally. Their son, also named William, attended St. Francis School, where the pupils were taught by a religious order of brothers. William left school at an early age and started working in the stables of the local funeral director. He learned to look after the horses, and eventually was given the job of coachman. This involved rising early on the 4 morning of a funeral, making sure that the horses were groomed and hooves polished; a row of brass ornaments was placed along the parting of the horses’ manes, and at the front of the row, long purple plumes (feathers) bobbed back and forth as the horses walked slowly along. As driver of the hearse, William wore a top hat and black suit and gloves, sitting proudly on the seat near the roof of the carriage. His marriage to Ellen Collins took place about 1888. As her name implies, she was probably the daughter of one of their Irish neighbours. William and Ellen had 12 children between the years 1890 and 1909, but only five survived to a good age. Their first son, also named William but always called Bill, was born on May 18, 1890. At that time, the family was living at No. 5, Batchelors Hall, Blue Anchor Lane, in Peckham, Camberwell District. Ellen worked very hard in the early years of her marriage. For a while she took in fancy washing for the people across town, and would send young Bill to deliver the fresh clothes before he went to school. These errands often made him late for school, and he would be given a stroke of the strap as punishment. As he was being taught by the Christian brothers, he felt such resentment at all this that he had a lifelong antagonism against religion. I often heard him say that religion was nothing but a racket. His mother was able eventually to buy a barrow. This is a large flat cart, still seen in market places in England today, on which are displays of fruits and vegetables for sale. Some carts have assorted fresh fish, and others flowers, etc. As the family was growing, they were able to help their mother and, being more prosperous, they moved to Glengall Road, into a larger house. Bill left school at 14, and at 15 he began working at Brooks’ Peckham Brewery on Hill Street. He had only one eye, due to an accident when he was three years old. He had fallen from a sofa, and his head had hit the floor in a way that damaged the eye. Although a glass eye replaced the one lost, he always felt self-conscious about it, and it made him rather shy and gave the impression that he was not very outgoing. One of the people he admired in his small circle was a scrappy little fellow, some years older than himself.