" Sundays "

The Way It Was - Owen Hiscock

In the days when men worked long and hard, they looked forward to Sunday. It was a day of rest. Everyone attended church services morning and evening. The rest of the day they loitered around, strolled out to the wharf and chatted with neighbours, or simply lay on the couch and napped. For them it was a day of leisure, but we children dreaded Sundays.

It began when we crawled out of bed. Our everyday clothes -overalls, fannel shirts, home-knit socks-were replaced with " good " pants, cotton shirts and store-bought socks. Though we had our breakfast at eight through the week, we had to wait an extra hour on Sundays. Family prayers, which had to be read before we started to eat, were stretched out an extra ten or fifteen minutes. The trouble was, a boy's stomach didn't know Sunday from the rest of the week. To make matters worse, when we did finally get breakfast, it was always rolled oats smothered in molasses.

Breakfast over, it was time to get ready for church. After a final check, to make sure there was no dirt left behind our ears, we were sent upstairs to change our clothes. To attend church it was essential that we wear our best dresses, coats and hats. Anything else would be unacceptable.

We lived on Coward's Island. The Church of England was on Flat Island. To attend service we had to cross the tickle in an open boat. Bad weather was no excuse to stay home or wear anything other than our Sunday clothes. We simply pulled old clothes over our Sunday best.

The clergyman visited every fifth Sunday. Otherwise the school principal conducted morning and evening services, which were identical Sunday after Sunday. The only things that changed were the collect and hymns. Lay-reader were not permitted to compose sermons. They had to read the sermons already prepared by some clergyman or bishop. With only two or three books available, sermons were read over and over, year after year. To make matters worse, the sermons were written decades earlier and their topics were years out of date. Most dealt with urban problems and were completely irrelevant to the local populace. Nevertheless, young and old attended every service and did their devotions each and every Sunday.

The one bright spot on Sunday was the big " cooked " dinner. It was the meal of the week. The contents of the meal depended on the season. In fall, winter and spring there were usually plenty of sea-birds, rabbits and seal meat and, while it lasted, home-grown pork or beef. No one kept cows on Flat Islands, but some families kept a few chickens and hens during the summer. Lucky hunters had a supply of moose meat. In early fall, when other meats were hard to get, a young gull would fill the pot. In summer, when there were no tickle-asses, bawks or young pigeons, we made gravy with boiled meat, or salt meat soaked and baked in the oven.

Sunday dinner also included lots of boiled vegetables. Since the small stores on the islands didn't sell vegetables, we had to depend on our gardens. Everyone kept a garden. There were always lots of fresh vegetables, as soon as they were big enough to eat, and for as long as we could keep them in the cellars. Except in late spring and early summer, Sunday dinner included potatoes, carrot, turnip, parsnip, cabbage and beet. Only turnip and potatoes would keep throughout the year. A peas pudding and a bredd pudding, boiled in bags, and pastry over the meat completed the main course. All in all, Sunday dinner was a feast fit for a king.

After we were stuffed with good food, it was time to get ready for Sunday School. Again, we had to get dressed up in our Sunday clothes, which we had removed before eating dinner. We had to dress the same for Sunday School as we did for church. After a bit of scrubbing to get rid of the gravy smudges, we were ready once again for another session of character moulding. And then, just as we were departing through the door, someone would remember to have us repeat the collect for the day. God be good to the one who didn't know every last word.

Sunday School started with a hymn. This was followed by prayers. Then we separated into classes. While we recited the collect for the day and studied the Catechism and Articles of Religion, the younger children recited a verse of a favorite hymn and learned the commandments. School concluded with more prayers, another hymn and then it was over. The routine never changed.

Having made these sacrifices, we still weren't permitted to do anything enjoyable. It was unthinkable that we should skate, slide, play with boats or even throw a snowball. The only proper and right thing to do was go home and read the bible. We might get away with walking back and fourth across the Log Bridge, which stretched across the tickle. If we were out of sight for any length of time, it was automatically assumed that we were up to no good. We were then subjected to a rigid interrogation.

Occasionally, two or three of us sneaked over to the back of the island. When the tide was out, there were shrimp and span-tickles in pools of sea water left behind on the rocky shoreline. But the venture was chancy. It was difficult in the excitement of catching span-tickles, to stay clean and dry, and there was no forgiveness for getting discreet and stayed in sight of the Long Bridge.

Supper was eaten at five on Sundays. This was a little earlier than usual, to give us time to get ready for evening service. When available, we had pan-fried cod, or salmon. At other times we had potato salad and meat left over from dinner. On special occasions the table would be graced with a tin of corn beef. Occasionally, we had the luxury of a tin of pineapple for dessert. As we were without cows, only canned milk was available, so we began to drink tea to a very early age.

Supper dishes were stacked in a pan and left to wash on Monday. With the table cleared and the dishes stacked away, everyone got ready for another church service. Getting ready was no different; neither was the service. Happy were we when the last service for the day was over, and we heard the last Amen.

After the evening service we couldn't do much. It was still Sunday. We were expected to do no more than walk back and fourth along the road, or stand around in sight. Friends or relatives would sometimes drop into one another's house for a chat or a visit. They were to be seen, but not heard.

No wonder we dreaded Sundays.