" Homemade Bread And Three In A Bed"  I guess we were poor. Yet as a young child I didn't realize it. I think most kids don't, do they? It's as you get older that you see the differences between your family and others...the things they have and your family doesn't. There were eight of us living in three small rooms.Mom, Dad, Jean, Herb, Me, Maureen, Sheila and David.Another sister, Anne Marie died when she was around two from gastro enteritis which was called "Summer Complaint" back then. My older sister Jean died in 1994 from a staph infection and my younger sister Maureen died in 1974 from leukemia when she was thirty-three. We had a kitchen and two bedrooms, a bathroom with no tub nor hot water. Mom and dad slept in the downstairs bedroom while three of us girls, Jean, Maureen and myself slept in a double bed upstairs. The next to youngest slept in the bed with mom and dad while the baby slept in a crib next to their bed. Brother Herb slept in the kitchen on a pull-out cot.We were a "close" family. My Grandmother Brown lived downstairs with her daughter Lily and there was a lovely, big dining room but we weren't allowed to use it. Grandmother said it would be okay but my mother was afraid we would break something. We did go in there several years later when we purchased our first television set...Sylvania TV with "Halo Light! We were all very careful to stay away from the knick-knacks that were everywhere.We were good kids though and didn't cause too much trouble and always did what we were told..almost always! The electrical work throughout the house was hazardous. Two appliances couldn't be plugged in at the same time. If they were, sparks would come out of the wires and sometimes small fires would start on the ceiling but were quickly extinguished. To this day I tell my family that we all should be dead long ago. If we hadn't burned to death we should have froze to death because during the winter months, the room me and two of my sisters slept in was likened to a giant icicle. I can see my sister's partials encased in a tumbler of water that had frozen solid.We all seemed to have a sense of humor because I remember how we all laughed at those teeth until we had a pain in our gut. That wonderful sense of humor stayed with us and has seen us through many bad times as well as good. Before I bore you any further talking about the bedroom, might I say that I slept in the middle and only my face was cold until morning when we had to get up and dressed. Oh! The cold! My older brother eventually slept on a pull-out cot in the livingroom or on the kitchen couch. I remember sleeping there as well and there were many mornings when I woke up to see a covering of snow on my blankets or else a wet or damp blanket from the rain coming through the useless window behind my head. At the top of the stairs that led to our bedroom was a pot belly stove. When it was cold, there would be a fire set and once it got going, the funnel turned a bright red and one could actually see the tiny sparks dancing along the funnel. We warmed ourselves by it before we jumped into the bed. Another reason why we all should have been maimed, scorched or simply burned to death.The bedroom canvas was cold but the hooked mat beside the bed lent warmth to our cold feet. I wondered sometimes why some things in the house weren't repaired or added on etc. and upon asking my father, he responded by saying that he didn't bother because we wouldn't be there next year. Poor dad! I know he wanted more for his family and I know he did the best he could. He wanted us in a place of our own without a mother-in-law interfering and knowing every move we made but it wasn't to be and even though he planned not to be there "this time next year", it was over fifty years before he and mom moved into a senior's complex. He had seven years of virtual ease there until he passed away in 1984 and mom followed ten years later. My father was a hard-working man. He worked at Bowring Bros. on Water street as a truck driver.He helped mom take care of us and never balked at changing a diaper or walking the floor with us when we were teething or ill. He was a good man unlike some of the men today who do very little to help care for their children. He was what was called, "A family man." One winter he built a sleigh which had a swan on either side and a pull-handle. He would take Maureen and me for rides to see our relatives at Christmas time.The others had their turns as well, of course. He loved to fish and we all had our turn fishing with him or picking blue berries or partridge berries when they were in season.Visions Of Blueberry Jam He and I played horseshoes in the back yard and there were times when I beat him. He took us to baseball games at St. Pat's Field and he bowled. He was a fine man. Mom was seventeen when she married dad who was twenty-three and they had us close together. Mom worked very hard. She had none of the conveniences that most people take for granted such as hot and cold running water, a refrigerator,nice furniture,time for herself although some evenings Dad would care for us while mom and a friend went to the movies. She was very beautiful with dark hair and eyes to match.She was a hard working mother and dad loved her above all else. She passed away in 1994, nine months after we lost our older sister Jean who passed away in January of the same year. She was sixty at the time. Mom was eighty. There was no sink in our kitchen so we had no hot or cold water on hand.The one sink was in grandmother's kitchen, high on the wall so that when we took our galvanized bucket there to get water for our needs, it was quite the feat to lift the heavy bucket up over the sink but we did it several times a day and more often on the days when mom washed clothes. On those days, pans were filled with water and set on the stove to heat up.  Washing clothes for eight of us took some time and it was wonderful when the day was a fine one and we could hang it outside. If not, the clothes were hung on lines in the kitchen. I recall using the wash board and tub and many times I drew blood when my knuckles hit the board. We eventually acquired a wringer washer and that was so much better.The agitator agitated to the sound of mom's voice saying, "Watch your fingers in the wringer!" There was no electric iron in the house at that time. We used the ones that were heated on the stove and then spit on to see how the sizzle went. We knew if it was too hot or just right by that sizzle. We would spray the shirts with water and roll them up so that they would be nice and supple for the iron. Ironing on a hot summer day really drove the sweat out of you because the stove had to be hot to heat up the irons and keep them hot. It was so much better when we got an electric iron except that it caused more sparks to fly. Our house was the only one on the avenue that used coal as our main heating source.So twice a month Lester's old horse and cart along with the driver found its way to our door where it would dump the coal onto the sidewalk. My older brother and sister and I would shovel the coal into a bucket and carry it inside where it was dumped into a hatch in the kitchen. Oh! The time I threw down a bucketful and didn't realize that my brother was down there...I still have the scar to show for that. Mom was always so afraid that the smaller ones would fall down into the hatch that she put them into her room and kept an eye on them. While shovelling, I would beg God to not let any of my school friends pass by because I knew I would die of embarrassment on the spot. The coal made an unsightly mess, especially in the winter when the ebony hit the ivory. Dad was the first one to rise each morning.He made enough noise to wake the dead and we always knew that when dad was awake, we all were. He would remove yesterday's ashes and cinders and putting newspaper into the stove accompanied by several splits, a match would be lit and pretty soon the kitchen was warm and cosy. Mom cooked porriage or cream of wheat and toasted bread for those of us who were going to school. We all had a cup of tea to wash the food down. No bacon and eggs or a slab of ham in those days. What we did eat was much more nourishing and helped keep our innards warm. Yet, bacon and eggs sure sounded good!!Ummm. We quickly got ourselves ready for school...navy blue bloomers,(a white pair of drawers to wear inside them...(something about the dye in the bloomers)an inside shirt with straps...another flannel vest over that and then the uniform. The uniforn was navy blue and hung down to well below our knees. It had white plastic collars and cuffs that we cleaned regularly with bleach. We tried to ignore the patches on the elbows and the darned lisle stockings. Oh those stockings! A piece of white or black elastic held them up and many times the elastic was too tight and if I look closely enough at my thighs today I swear I can still see the grooves that the elastic left in my legs. What a relief in the summer to get home and pull on ankle socks. Oh, the feeling of freedom! Rarely were there new school books except for workbooks so I did manage to get a whiff of that "new book" smell. Books were passed down from sibling to sibling or bought second hand. They were kinda' ragged but what we needed was there and we were none the worse for it. The four girls in the family went to St. Patrick's Convent school on Deanery Avenue. It was built like a salt box with three floors. Besides the classrooms,K to grade 11, there was a music room, principle's office, commercial class as well as an auditorium which was annexed to an adjoining building which housed several classrooms. It was in one of those class rooms that I was taught by Sister Immaculata Women In Black I can remember my first day at school. I was six at the time and the teacher was Miss Margaret Murphy. Miss Murphy taught at the school for many years and was very kind. I will always remember that. I can see the large chart that told the story of Dick and Jane. "See Dick" "See Jane".And of course Spot the dog.I was hungry to learn all I could, especially reading. Miss Murphy was the only teacher who wasn't a nun and that was too bad. I shouldn't paint all the nuns with the same brush as the one I painted Sister Immaculata. Several of them were very nice: Sr. Camilla for example who taught me in grade three and Sister Geneieve who taught me in grade 5 but then there was Mother John who had to be 90 at the time but as strong as an ox! She was a cruel piece of work, giving me 24 slaps with a leather strap one day because I laughed in the classroom.I was only nine years old, for God's sake. But what the hell! I survived the Catholic School System and lived to talk about it. I'm not sure how far away the school was from where I lived on Hamilton Avenue but we walked there and back four times a day in all winds and weather.If there had been a snowfall overnight we still bundled up and trudged through the snow only to find many times that the school was closed. There were no radio announcements in those days. But we were much happier on the way back home, talking about the sliding we would do and the forts we would build. Youthful energy flowed through us.  Winters seemed to be more harsh back then...more snow and a lot colder. The snow seemed so high that we might have been able to touch the tops of the poles. We all didn't have slides so some of used cardboard, pieces of old canvas, the tops of garbage cans.. We didn't care. We would get on anything that would give us the thrill of flying down Leslie Street at breakneck speed, narrowly missing the hydrant at the bottom of the street and sometimes not missing it. Oh what fun we had. We would slide belly buster, two or even three at a time, stacked on top of each other like pancakes. But alas, there's usually a fly in every ointment and ours was an elderly lady who lived on the street who had forgotten what it was like to be a child; a crotchety soul who took great pleasure in spreading her stove ashes onto the sidewalk. We would grouch about it for a while and then with our real slides and makeshift ones, we'd head for Thompson's Meadow or Victoria Park and continue in our quest to break any body part that cooperated with our daredevil antics. What fun we had! We dragged the day out for as long as we could; until we could no longer feel our fingers or toes. Our cheeks were rosy but numb and several layers of snow was encrusted on our jackets.Drool and snot was also encrusted on the jackets. Some of the younger ones would cry all the way home, saying they were cold and hungry but the cries changed to smiles when mom met us at the door with warm towels and cloths which we wrapped around our fingers and toes. She helped us pull off our snow-caked boots and mittens, said a few comforting words and went back to the stove to finish making supper. The kitchen stove gave out a great heat and as we made plans for the following day, the oldest would get us a slice of bread and butter with a sprinkle of sugar on it as a treat. There was lots to do during the summer months as well. A permanent hop scotch was etched into the concrete or the soil before we got concrete.There were quite a few motts just waiting for us to play alleys or marbles.We prized some of those especially the larger ones and the peewees. To lose one in a game was a great incentive to make the game more interesting because we wanted to win it back so badly. Skipping rope was fun and we sang rhymes to go along with the pounding of our feet on the ground. French skipping was fun as well 'tho a bit more difficult. Crushed pop cans on the soles of our shoes made a great noise. We played "store" and I think my favorite game was "jacks". The Nfld. Nail and Foundry on Hamilton Ave. was on our school route and the men who worked there were very nice so when we would ask for the jacks they readily gave them to us.I'm still not sure what was made to give the jacks their shape but whatever, we sure played many games with them. Some days we would go swimmimg at Victoria Park It seems to me that the summers back then were hotter than they are these days. Many nights when it was just too hot for the neighborhood kids to sleep in our bedrooms we played outside, while our mothers sat on their respective doorsteps and chatted. Even the baby at the time rested in the carriage, enjoying the sweet breezes. We ran around like gypsies, filled with energy and good health and so glad to be alive.So the long summer, filled with fun and friendships, passed. With six active children playing and running and jumping whenever they got the chance, was it any wonder that the soles of our shoes didn't last long? It was time for dad to head for Neyle Soper's Hardware store on Water Street to purchase leather to make new soles and heels for those of us whose shoes were plugged with cardboard. Dad would assemble his tools around him...there was the iron last. The last had the shapes of an adult's and childs sole sizes. a heel shape, sprigs, which were small headless nails, his sharp knife to cut the leather and his hammer. The shoes to be resoled were laid onto the leather and dad would make an outline with a pencil. Then he would cut around the outline and, with several sprigs between his lips, he would hammer in the sprigs. I would look at him and the sprigs and wonder what would happen if all of a sudden he should happen to sneeze or cough; hoping I would never get to witness this. When the soles were in place on the shoes he was repairing that evening he would get the shoe polish and apply it to the soles to take the raw leather edge off and to cover up the fact that our shoes had been resoled. But although he tried, God love him, one could easily see the new leather. But who cared? Love was hammered into those shoes. Our meals, although sparse were filling and had very few surprises. Back then we didn't eat meat on Friday so that was fish day;.Friday's Fish and dad made a pot of stewing meat soup with plenty of barley on Saturdays while mom made soup every other week from butcher bones. One of us would have to go to MacLeods butcher shop and ask for twenty cents worth of soup bones for the dog. Of course we had no dog and even if we had, he wouldn't get the bones until they had been picked clean,and added to a pot of salted water and barley which eventually turned into a delicious pot of soup bone soup. If it was my turn to go for the soup bones I'd be embarrassed but what the hell. I quickly forgot once I started drinking the delicious soup mom made from them. Jigg's dinner another day with hash and deep-browned beans the next.Fish cakes, meat cakes which were made from tinned corned beef or potted meat and were delicious when fried with plenty of margarine. Rice pudding, baked beans, macaroni and cheese, maybe a pot roast for Sunday dinner with a cold plate for supper. The cold plate usually consisted of Kam or Klik luncheon meat or a bit of boiled ham, potato salad, maybe a tomato or green peas, with jelly or fruit cocktail for dessert. Most Easter Sundays we had ham and eggs for breakfast and of course the long-awaited turkey for Christmas dinner.A Newfie Christmas We all had the usual childhood diseases and lumps and bumps. Measles called for a darkened room...no sunlight allowed in lest the eyes be damaged. No scratching the chicken pox lest you be left with pitted skin and the mumps called for a cloth to be brought under the chin and tied or pinned on top of the head. This helped raised the mumps and relieve some of the hurting and tension. Vick's vapor rub was applied to the chest to help make us breathe a bit easier and to help congestion when we had the flu or a cold. Cough syrup, mainly Syrup Of Squills was purchased at Don Hogan's drugstore on New Gower Street. The one who went there to purchase it took along an empty medicine bottle and it would be filled for 50 cents or maybe a quarter if that was all we had at the time. Bread and water poultices were used for whitlows, boils and abcesses...something to do with "drawing power". A dose of Castoria started things moving again if you were constipated and every spring we all had to drink a cup of Senna Leaves Tea.. I cannot dwell on this particular medicinal item as I will throw up all over this keyboard which will take me even longer to finish this.Let me just state that it was a "purging" in more ways than one.My sister Maureen loved it and like "Oliver", asked for more! My older sister Jean had rheumatic fever and was in hospital for a while while David and Sheila both had their mastoid removed. My older brother Herb spent several months in the sanatorium where he was treated for tuberculosis.I think he also had his tonsils removed. We had such fun on Valentine's Day. Mom would give us the money to buy a book of valentines and we would cut them out and write "From Guess Who" on them. Then there was the mad dash to the homes of the ones they were intended for; a loud knock on the doors and then almost breaking our necks as we tried to hide before someone saw us. I think we might have given them out in school although anything representing romance or love was surely not tolerated by the Sisters. We didn't buy Halloween costumes.I doubt if they were even sold at that time. Instead, we would cut masks from pieces of cardboard, attach elastic at the back and off we would go tricking or treating. Sometimes we would hold a liquor bottle cork over the fire until it turned black and then rub it on our faces or borrow our mom's lipstick and paint our faces. Apples were given freely and no one ever had to be afraid to bite into one. There were no razor blades or anything else to spoil our fun. There was lots of candy and some home baked goodies to place in our stash as well. Our kitchen was very small. With the eight of us there at the same time there wasn't room to fart. What made it more claustrophobic was the number of calendars on the walls. Every square inch had one; there were scenic ones, sacred ones, some with cute animals and even cuter babies. Newfoundland scenes. They were free back then, given by shop keepers to help promote their business. One particular space was set aside for a picture of the Sacred Heart which was there for as long as I can remember. Blue bottle houseflies seemed to be more numerous and a lot bigger when I was growing up in those hot summers. The smell of fish frying in the pan was a great attraction to them and the open window was an invitation. Dad would buy fly paper; very sticky streamers that hung from the ceiling. They sure did the job they were made for and all summer we ate to the accompaniment of loudly buzzing flies trying to extract themselves from the streamers. It made for great background music while we ate our meals. Back then most people only worked for a half day on Wednesdays. I'm not sure why. We received mail twice a day and stamps cost two cents and one cent for Christmas cards if the envelopes were left unsealed. We children would wait expectantly for the mail man to come to our house at Christmas and would love to see all the cards come through the mail slot and and we would try to grab them before they fell onto the floor. What fun we had looking through them. When someone in the neighborhood died they were waked in the front room of their home. All the neighbors in the vicinity would lower their blinds and they remained that way until the dearly departed was buried.On the day of the burial the casket was placed on the back of a wagon driven by a man dressed in black and seated on a high seat. A well-groomed black horse with black plumes attached to the sides of the head reins pulled the wagon. The men would walk behind the hearse and I think the women rode in cars. Men on the route would stop and doff their caps and the women and children would stop and say a prayer. I'm sure there is much more I can write about and I will as soon as more memories come to the fore. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy my web page and that you will come back from time to time. I hope my children, family and extended family enjoy reading about what it was like back when! |