MEMORIES
A little while ago, Jeff posted an Edmonton pic, taken from his apartment window, of three birds’ nests, probably constructed by crows, but subseqently taken over by magpies…..that triggered a few memories of bygone days with me! One of the great joys of farm life when I was young (pre-teens) were the times that brother Jack and I raided the crows nests, (magpies have now taken our place?). We had a very good and effective system worked out, Jack, being the best climber (by far) would shinny up the tree. I would stand below holding his cap firmly in both hands with a view to catching the eggs from the nest as Jack sent them down my way. One at a time, mind you, else they would break on crashing into each other. Depending on my dexterity and his aim, we would carefully collect all the eggs from the nest. Breakages of course were a write-off. These eggs were blown, by us, and if you don’t know what that is, then I’ll explain…..make a small hole in the end of the egg, and a larger hole in the other end, blow into the small hole and the force will blow the egg’s contents out the other hole, and you’re left with a mostly intact eggshell, which we added to our collection of crows eggs. They were the only birds we harassed as they were generally counted as “no-count” avians. They (the parents) didn’t like us much, they kept diving at us, never actually coming in direct contact, but close enough that it would startle us sometimes, especially Jack up the tree with his hand on their property. But we were fearless demons! We kept doing it every summer, we checked every nest on our ½ mile of property, and helped to keep the crows down in the area. Our mother did not care for the smelly collection, so we became quite ingenious at hiding it, her nose was just too efficient and we had to keep changing the hiding places. Great fun….farm kids everywhere did this.
Another memory was triggered by this…..one time we discovered a nest of four young hawks, not quite ready to fly yet, but dangerously protective of their quarters. The nest was on the ground, and those parents were dive bombers. And their offspring had all the right hawk instincts. As soon as Jack and I came on the scene, those young birds reared back on their butts, talons extended, beaks ready to peck us to death. And actually hissing at us….so, one quick look of wonderment was all we allowed ourselves, and with the danger from the skies wheeling overhead, we took off for the hills. Never to return, at least until the nest was abandoned and those babies off on their own.
Speaking of magpies, which we’re not (yet)…..I’d like to make a comment on them. They’re not much liked in the Alberta countryside, they’re very hard on the small bird population, noisy, invasive, about the only thing you can say in their favour is they are quick to clean up carrion. And they stay here all winter instead of becoming real snowbirds and going south to more favorable climes. Our old German shepherd, Smoky, paid no attention to them pulling the hairs out of her tail to line their nests. Sure, she used to snap at them at first, but they were too quick for her, she never laid a tooth on a feather, so to speak. Harass cats? All the time, they gang up and squawk and tease just out of reach, and you know how fast a cat is. My poor Lincoln used to cringe and hide in the undergrowth so the magpies wouldn’t get on his case….mind you, he was essentially an indoor cat and poorly equipped mentally to hazard the dangers of the wild. Under the front steps was his favorite place of refuge. He was not the bravest cat in the world. Many times I would hear a chorus of magpie voices in the yard, and sure enough, there would be a half dozen or more of them harrassing Lincoln, and I’d have to go rescue him from those marauders lest they peck his eyes out. I may be a little prejudiced but the truth is I HATE MAGPIES.
Come back in a few days when I reminisce some more about the good old days on the farm. OK? See you then…..
Wednesday, June 10
Thursday, June 4
Our Courtship Days, by Em.
(Slight preface from Jeff, i've been nagging Mother for this story for MONTHS, now i can rest, but remember, Q+A with Granny is a regular feature on BLOG, ask her anything, She'll likely talk Your ear off...;-)).
It was the custom in those days of summer 1946, for young people to go to Sylvan Lake, a popular weekend getaway place, in groups of two or more, stay at the local hotel and join in the fun of beach entertainment and a huge Saturday night dance in the dance hall. My girl-friend Alice and I decided we’d enjoy going, so we saved up our expense money, boarded a Greyhound and arrived in Sylvan Friday evening, excited to join the throngs of holiday-makers. On Saturday night we went to the dance, which was packed to the teeth. And there, (“Some enchanted evening, across a crowded room”) literally across a sea of unfamiliar faces, I spied the brightest yellow shirt I had ever seen. And the guy inside it looked pretty cute too. The shirt was top grade polyester, the latest thing to hit the fashion scene in post-war Edmonton, such clothes, although the demand was high, were simply not available. Well, somehow, Alice and I got to meet Doug and his friend Bobby, I don’t recall how we actually got to meet these two fellows, who had pulled the same stunt as we had, travelled down to Sylvan Lake from Edmonton for the long weekend. I suspect they scoped us out too, probably attracted by Alice’s beautiful blonde hair, but I truly don’t remember who made the first overtures, the guys or us. Bobby, Doug Naylor’s friend, I thought was a complete goof, so he was no attraction to me….Alice ended up with him for the rest of the weekend, but that petered out as soon as we returned to our homes in the city, she wasn’t much interested in him either. But Doug was another proposition. A big plus for him was the fact that he was pumped by the fact his sister had done his packing for him. I always liked that, family should do things for each other, so that was a plus for him.
At that time, Doug worked at Eaton’s as a stock-boy, so he had access to the newest fashiions, hence the beautiful bright-yellow polyester shirt (30 years later, I remember us talking about that shirt, and him saying, “By the way, where is that shirt…..bet you threw it out, didn’t you??”……well, maybe I did, after 300 trips through the laundry, no doubt).
Well, to continue the story, from that moment on, he attached to me like a post-it note. We saw each other every day, except for the one day a week when I claimed exemption to do the girly things with my room-mates, do my laundry, nails, hair, whatever. We got engaged at Christmas time, and set our wedding date for August 4, 1947. I met and became friends with his family, well, sorta friends…..I liked his dad, he was genuine top-quality English. And his sister was fine too, even though she was five years younger than Doug, she was still a teenager, and not yet fully mature. His mom, my future mother-in-law, was another story. Of course, Doug was quite thoroughly spoiled by his doting mother, maybe that’s what I resented, but truthfully, I never really did like her much. Not that we ever had visible differences, never, I respected her position as my husband’s mother too much to allow that scenario. I guess we were just at opposite ends of the spectrum, and I never got over the feeling that she thought her son had married beneath him…..an unsophisticated FARM girl, who didn’t even know how to polish fine furniture! I don’t really mean to diss Eleanor, she had many good points I’m sure, and she was good to us in lots and lots of ways.
And we made it through 57 years, together, and seven children….not without its ups and downs. Doug worked very hard to support us, despite his lack of education (an indifferent student, he quit school after Grade nine), he did his best, we were never rolling in money, but we had sufficient, and I don’t think we ever had to go hungry. I took care of the finances, Doug never wrote a cheque in his whole life, didn’t have a clue. And after the first hurdles of furnishing our house, I chopped up our credit cards and vowed never again would we go into debt for ANYTHING, except for mortgage and car payments. I learned to sew, Doug learned to use power tools and do simple carpentry, and made many things for the kids and our home, we both learned to make do or do without. I learned to cook well, and that helped us out immeasureably when we began catering as a sideline. It certainly helped us over the rough spots, and taught our children some of the aspects of learning to work for a living….they were our ground crew!
My sanity (sometimes!) was preserved by my church membership, a source of never-ending solace, comfort and knowledge that we are on this earth for a purpose, and we have a loving Father in Heaven who watches over us, I often say it was the smartest thing I ever did in my whole life that I elected to join the LDS church (in September 1952). Sadly, my husband never did accept the gospel, and lived to regret it. In his dying days, he declared “I should’ve joined the church”. Our life together would have been idyllic, I now think sometimes when I get to reminiscing about the past….but then again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking!
It was the custom in those days of summer 1946, for young people to go to Sylvan Lake, a popular weekend getaway place, in groups of two or more, stay at the local hotel and join in the fun of beach entertainment and a huge Saturday night dance in the dance hall. My girl-friend Alice and I decided we’d enjoy going, so we saved up our expense money, boarded a Greyhound and arrived in Sylvan Friday evening, excited to join the throngs of holiday-makers. On Saturday night we went to the dance, which was packed to the teeth. And there, (“Some enchanted evening, across a crowded room”) literally across a sea of unfamiliar faces, I spied the brightest yellow shirt I had ever seen. And the guy inside it looked pretty cute too. The shirt was top grade polyester, the latest thing to hit the fashion scene in post-war Edmonton, such clothes, although the demand was high, were simply not available. Well, somehow, Alice and I got to meet Doug and his friend Bobby, I don’t recall how we actually got to meet these two fellows, who had pulled the same stunt as we had, travelled down to Sylvan Lake from Edmonton for the long weekend. I suspect they scoped us out too, probably attracted by Alice’s beautiful blonde hair, but I truly don’t remember who made the first overtures, the guys or us. Bobby, Doug Naylor’s friend, I thought was a complete goof, so he was no attraction to me….Alice ended up with him for the rest of the weekend, but that petered out as soon as we returned to our homes in the city, she wasn’t much interested in him either. But Doug was another proposition. A big plus for him was the fact that he was pumped by the fact his sister had done his packing for him. I always liked that, family should do things for each other, so that was a plus for him.
At that time, Doug worked at Eaton’s as a stock-boy, so he had access to the newest fashiions, hence the beautiful bright-yellow polyester shirt (30 years later, I remember us talking about that shirt, and him saying, “By the way, where is that shirt…..bet you threw it out, didn’t you??”……well, maybe I did, after 300 trips through the laundry, no doubt).
Well, to continue the story, from that moment on, he attached to me like a post-it note. We saw each other every day, except for the one day a week when I claimed exemption to do the girly things with my room-mates, do my laundry, nails, hair, whatever. We got engaged at Christmas time, and set our wedding date for August 4, 1947. I met and became friends with his family, well, sorta friends…..I liked his dad, he was genuine top-quality English. And his sister was fine too, even though she was five years younger than Doug, she was still a teenager, and not yet fully mature. His mom, my future mother-in-law, was another story. Of course, Doug was quite thoroughly spoiled by his doting mother, maybe that’s what I resented, but truthfully, I never really did like her much. Not that we ever had visible differences, never, I respected her position as my husband’s mother too much to allow that scenario. I guess we were just at opposite ends of the spectrum, and I never got over the feeling that she thought her son had married beneath him…..an unsophisticated FARM girl, who didn’t even know how to polish fine furniture! I don’t really mean to diss Eleanor, she had many good points I’m sure, and she was good to us in lots and lots of ways.
And we made it through 57 years, together, and seven children….not without its ups and downs. Doug worked very hard to support us, despite his lack of education (an indifferent student, he quit school after Grade nine), he did his best, we were never rolling in money, but we had sufficient, and I don’t think we ever had to go hungry. I took care of the finances, Doug never wrote a cheque in his whole life, didn’t have a clue. And after the first hurdles of furnishing our house, I chopped up our credit cards and vowed never again would we go into debt for ANYTHING, except for mortgage and car payments. I learned to sew, Doug learned to use power tools and do simple carpentry, and made many things for the kids and our home, we both learned to make do or do without. I learned to cook well, and that helped us out immeasureably when we began catering as a sideline. It certainly helped us over the rough spots, and taught our children some of the aspects of learning to work for a living….they were our ground crew!
My sanity (sometimes!) was preserved by my church membership, a source of never-ending solace, comfort and knowledge that we are on this earth for a purpose, and we have a loving Father in Heaven who watches over us, I often say it was the smartest thing I ever did in my whole life that I elected to join the LDS church (in September 1952). Sadly, my husband never did accept the gospel, and lived to regret it. In his dying days, he declared “I should’ve joined the church”. Our life together would have been idyllic, I now think sometimes when I get to reminiscing about the past….but then again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking!
Wednesday, June 3
HELLO EM?
I have a question for Q/A/GRANNY.
The story of meeting and marrying my Father?
Like we've not been waiting.
Time waits for no one.
The story of meeting and marrying my Father?
Like we've not been waiting.
Time waits for no one.
Friday, May 29
A sunny afternoon at South Haven.
Inside the gate.
Randy's neighbourhood.
From that spot, the view to the northwest.
Southwest.
The pretty white lilac, one side of the neighbourhood.
The cool red leaved tree i cannot name, other end of the neighbourhood. (I like trees with red leaves). I wonder what the bush framing the neighbourhood looks like in full bloom. Hopefully, i can get out here in summertime.
Wednesday, May 27
just pictures
This is a ten minute walk up the hill, then half a block down Jasper, to convenience store, and back home down the stairs south of Telus building, Alberta College, and MacDougall United Church...that's the one with the full blooming lilacs......
Wednesday, May 20
Weddings (post from Kristy)
I found these pictures today rummaging through some of my stuff in the basement.
I can't believe how big both of the bouquets were. I have never seen a broach for a wedding day before granny, was that popular back then? It was probably nice to have instead of trying to hold a bouquet the whole time while shaking hands. Did you keep your wedding dress granny? I know my mom still has hers in her closet.
I never thought my dad would be the one to wear a bowtie instead of a tie. I can't tell if that's a tiara on my moms head or if its part of the veil.
I can't believe how big both of the bouquets were. I have never seen a broach for a wedding day before granny, was that popular back then? It was probably nice to have instead of trying to hold a bouquet the whole time while shaking hands. Did you keep your wedding dress granny? I know my mom still has hers in her closet.
I never thought my dad would be the one to wear a bowtie instead of a tie. I can't tell if that's a tiara on my moms head or if its part of the veil.
this is the link from Uncle Jeff's comment just incase you don't know how to copy and paste
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/charivari
Monday, May 18
A morning walk in the cold.
I took the bus out to westlawn this morning, to visit some old friends. Now that i've figured out how to include scads of pictures in one post, i'm going craazy on this one. This is my walk about the grounds, in sequential photographs.(Remember, click on the pictures to see them full size).
I usually come into westlawn by the east entrance, because i walk from Jasper Place bus hub, to 163rd st.
Here's my typical view as i wander about, reading stones, towards level b, row 7.
Today though, a few new stones caught my eye, i veered a bit too south, and then felt like i was too near the mausoleum, might have missed the row i came to visit. So i turned around, and the engraving on the back of the "Wacker" stone meant i indeed had gone past row 7.(The two Naylor stones, one black, one grey, are on the other side of the "Wacker" stone, in this picture).
So i backtracked. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD.
A family shot, with the Naylor grandparents to the south.
Dad has a newish neighbour to the north, Elizabeth Burgess arrived on the scene in 2007. Her family had been by recently, she had a few flowers and things, strewn about by the wind. I put them back on her stone. She was young, only 50.
The place is crawling with birds, most especially crows, dozens of them, caw, caw, caw, constantly. Here's three, in a tree.
Though most of the non-evergreens were just starting to leaf up, this one, don't know what it is, was putting on a colourful show.
Today was the first time i walked all the way to the west side of the grounds, and discovered the veterans section, so, on this Victoria Day, here's some heroes of the Queen's Commonwealth.
I usually meander in and around the rows, reading stones, thinking of the lives they represent. One fellow, James Price, still with us, has been without his Wilhelmina for a long time. Poor guy.
And LOOK, a BUNNY!
These types of stones, one out, and 3 in, the ground, are interesting. Judging from the dates, this looks like 3 generations of family.
This inscription caught my attention, a life, of one day. Poor wee thing.
This one was sad, and inspiring at the same time. I would say two parents, Neil and Ria, their 19 year old child, Saskia, with child, and her husband, Zeke, were all taken 26 years ago, today. Likely by some type of accident. Probably by car. Very moving. A bit chilling.
And then i saw LOTS of bunnies. Hopping about. One still in his winter whites.
And, a Mr. and Mrs. Duck, waddling away.
The bunnies and the ducks all seemed to be hanging around this fellow, until i stumbled along and they made scarce.
By this time, i was chilled to the bone, so i decided to head for the south entrance...check out the temp! Brrr.
On my way to the south entrance, i could not NOT take this picture. Look at all those names. Proud defenders.
Just at the gate of the south entrance stands this large granite notice, reminding visitors, these are sacred grounds.
Then i zipped across Stony Plain Road and caught a nice warm bus back home. These trips to westlawn are very evocative for me, so i don't make them often. This was number three. I thought it was a reasonable idea to spend some time with Dad, on his, Deb's, and Dayna's Birthday.
I usually come into westlawn by the east entrance, because i walk from Jasper Place bus hub, to 163rd st.
Here's my typical view as i wander about, reading stones, towards level b, row 7.
Today though, a few new stones caught my eye, i veered a bit too south, and then felt like i was too near the mausoleum, might have missed the row i came to visit. So i turned around, and the engraving on the back of the "Wacker" stone meant i indeed had gone past row 7.(The two Naylor stones, one black, one grey, are on the other side of the "Wacker" stone, in this picture).
So i backtracked. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD.
A family shot, with the Naylor grandparents to the south.
Dad has a newish neighbour to the north, Elizabeth Burgess arrived on the scene in 2007. Her family had been by recently, she had a few flowers and things, strewn about by the wind. I put them back on her stone. She was young, only 50.
The place is crawling with birds, most especially crows, dozens of them, caw, caw, caw, constantly. Here's three, in a tree.
Though most of the non-evergreens were just starting to leaf up, this one, don't know what it is, was putting on a colourful show.
Today was the first time i walked all the way to the west side of the grounds, and discovered the veterans section, so, on this Victoria Day, here's some heroes of the Queen's Commonwealth.
I usually meander in and around the rows, reading stones, thinking of the lives they represent. One fellow, James Price, still with us, has been without his Wilhelmina for a long time. Poor guy.
And LOOK, a BUNNY!
These types of stones, one out, and 3 in, the ground, are interesting. Judging from the dates, this looks like 3 generations of family.
This inscription caught my attention, a life, of one day. Poor wee thing.
This one was sad, and inspiring at the same time. I would say two parents, Neil and Ria, their 19 year old child, Saskia, with child, and her husband, Zeke, were all taken 26 years ago, today. Likely by some type of accident. Probably by car. Very moving. A bit chilling.
And then i saw LOTS of bunnies. Hopping about. One still in his winter whites.
And, a Mr. and Mrs. Duck, waddling away.
The bunnies and the ducks all seemed to be hanging around this fellow, until i stumbled along and they made scarce.
By this time, i was chilled to the bone, so i decided to head for the south entrance...check out the temp! Brrr.
On my way to the south entrance, i could not NOT take this picture. Look at all those names. Proud defenders.
Just at the gate of the south entrance stands this large granite notice, reminding visitors, these are sacred grounds.
Then i zipped across Stony Plain Road and caught a nice warm bus back home. These trips to westlawn are very evocative for me, so i don't make them often. This was number three. I thought it was a reasonable idea to spend some time with Dad, on his, Deb's, and Dayna's Birthday.
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