Category:

Ontario Bound

8/7/2013

This week's 1911 Courtship letter has been delayed until Aug 11th. I didn't have time to create it before leaving for my trip and once I hit that Ontario border, I couldn't get any 3G service to text or message on my iPhone never mind trying to read email messages and work on my website.

Although I had planned on visiting my mom in Thunder Bay this summer, my plans didn't come to fruition until I learned that Auntie Taimi Discala - who regularly comments on this blog - was coming over from France. I hadn't seen her in a dozen years or more and this time she was bringing my cousin, Edward, whom I've never met as he was born in England.

I hoped to see my Dad this trip, but with all that driving and my arthritis acting up, the Sault Ste. Marie area seemed a long way to go - another 8-10 hrs drive east of Thunder Bay along Lake Superior's North Shore.

My schedule fell into place when my sister, Bonnie, became available having taken time off work and could accompany me. Together, we traveled from Saskatchewan, through Manitoba, and into Ontario. We stopped in Thunder Bay awhile to see our mom, then continued east to WaWa to have lunch with our dad and his wife, Judy. It was the best solution to the distance with each of us traveling halfway. We sat with them for 3-4 hrs talking of our families and looking at photos. Judy had made a collage with info on the Muir side of the family and it was the first time I'd seen pics of Dad's sisters. That was a treasure, as was this photo...

Annie B Gibson Muir, Bill Muir, Crystal Anne Draper, Anita Mae Muir Draper, 1982, Geraldton, Ontario.

I'm not sure how funny Dad's pants were, but I loved the pants I was wearing, patches and all. I treasure the image above because it is one of the 2 times I met Gramma Muir.

And here's the photo I took last week using the delayed timer function on my camera which was mounted on my tripod. Yes, that meant once I pushed the button, I had 10 seconds to scurry around the tripod and get in my place before the camera clicked. :)

Bill Muir flanked by daughters Bonnie on the left, and Anita on the right, with wife, Judy in front. Taken on Aug 2013 in Wawa, Ontario.

So even though I didn't make it all the way to the Lake Simcoe area of York County where Ethel Isabell Nelson lived, I saw many relatives, discussed the family tree, and added lots of pics to the family album.

And speaking of Ethel, it's time I got back to this week's letter.

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Christmases of my Past

12/23/2012

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I've been using this blog to post the 1911 Courtship letters of Noah Draper and Ethel Nelson, but since I don't have any Christmas photos of them, I thought I'd take this Christmas week to show you photos of my own Christmas past.

Last December as I gathered the old photos for my Christmas post, Big Christmas Trees From Logging Country at my group blog, Inkwell Inspirations, I came to a realization I should have figured out long ago... my love of photography comes from my mother. You may laugh at my surprise, but truly I've always thought my mother and I came from different planets.

Although I was born in a hospital in a Northern Ontario gold mining town, we lived at a logging camp out in the bush near Stevens, Ontario. I still have an old flour sack laundry bag with Camp #5 stencilled in black in across the top. I don't remember much about living there except that we lived near a cliff with a lake full of floating logs below the camp. And I remember the Christmases when Mom set out bowls of nuts and candy, and we put glass pine cones and metal icicles on the tree.

Christmas Morning at Camp #5, ca 1960. Anita 3, sister Bonnie, 4, both holding Lulu dolls.

Christmas morning, 1960. I was three years old, my sister, Bonnie was 4, and our brother was only a couple months old. That was the year Bonnie and I both received Lulu dolls for Christmas. As you'll see, we received other things, too, but the Lulu dolls will go down in history as my favourite doll of all time. The only problem was that my Lulu doll looked exactly like Bonnie's Lulu doll. So a few months later when Bonnie couldn't find hers, she took mine. Of course, I hung on to mine like a bear cub's momma and there we were, each pulling an arm of the soft vinyl rubber-like doll. After a few minutes, the arm Bonnie was holding ripped off! I was in shock! Bonnie wasn't because she dropped the arm and flounced off saying she just remembered where she'd left hers. My poor little Lulu doll. Mom sewed her arm back on, and I loved her, but she was never the same again.

Dec 26, 1960 (Boxing Day) at Camp #5. Anita 3, Bonnie, 4, playing with Christmas gifts.

Mom spent a lot of time dolling us up as you can see by my pretty ringlets in this photo taken on Boxing Day of 1960. That Christmas was special as Dad was making good money. Along with my Lulu doll, I received a nurse's kit and tea set.

Christmas 1961 at Camp #5. Anita 4, Johnny 1, Bonnie, 5.

Johnny joined us for the Christmas of 1964 photo and although Mom snapped this after Christmas, I have no recollection of our presents. I do know that we were still in Camp #5, because Bonnie and I sang Silent Night in Finn in front of the whole community at the Camp Christmas Concert. And yes, I do remember the experience. It's probably what gave me the stage fright that lasted well into adulthood.

Christmas 1963 in Geraldton, Ontario.

We moved to the gold mining town of my birth in Geraldton when I was five, but we lived on a hill on the edge of town. Trying times of turmoil fell upon Bonnie and I as we were involved in a custody battle and shuffled between our biological parents and forced to live with step-parents who felt threatened by our existence. I don't have photos of those years. Truthfully, they feel like pages from someone else's book and I'd rather not look at them.

Christmas 1967 in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Johnny 7, Anita 10, Bonnie 11.

The Christmas of 1967 found us living once again with our mother and step-father in the city of Thunder Bay, at the head of Lake Superior. Here we are on the stairs with the stockings Mom made for each of us when we were small. The little plastic mesh stocking was for our brother, Peter, who was 2 that year but I guess Mom hadn't had time to make him one yet. She crafted ours out of felt and lined it with plastic. That way, the candies wouldn't stick to the felt and it would be an easy clean up if our Christmas oranges got squished and leaked. Our stockings were used for food only and if you look close, you can see a box of Pink Elephant popcorn poking out.

Christmas 1967 in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Johnny 7, Anita 10, Bonnie 11.

Those were hard times as our step-father was gone for months at a time while working road construction. I don't remember any of the gifts I received that year although I know those snow shovels were for Bonnie and I so that we could help Mom while Dad was gone. I don't know if it was the lack of money, or the move to the city, but our tree sure looked sparser than it had when we lived in the logging camp.

Christmas 1968 in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Johnny 8, Anita 11, Bonnie 12.

Another year passed and 1968 we're all a year older (12, 11, 8 now) and we're still holding the same stockings and yes - it looks like we have more Pink Elephant popcorn. We were allowed to empty our stockings as soon as we awoke, but Mom's always been an early riser and took this photo that Christmas morning. Considering the smile on my face and the position of my box of Pink Elephant popcorn, I may have emptied part of my stocking before she got us to pose.

Christmas 1968 in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Bonnie 12, Johnny 8, Anita 11.

Here we are several hours later, holding our gifts and looking presentable. I received several musical instruments over the years as if Mom had hopes of getting me interested, but they weren't the real ones and I spent more time reading and writing than singing and playing. Once again, three-year-old Peter is missing from this photo, but he had a good excuse that year...he was sick in the hospital and didn't come home until several days later.

Christmas 1968 in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Peter 3.

Mom and Dad tried to make it up to him with a shiny red pedal car. Do you think it worked?

Christmas 1969 at the farm, Thunder Bay, ON. Anita 12, Johnny 9, Bonnie 13, Peter 4.

We moved again in 1969 - this time to a farm 7 miles outside of Thunder Bay. And with the tree being so lush, it looks like we may have cut it on our own property. Now 12 yrs old, the gift I'm holding is a plush pajama doll. I don't think they even make pajama dolls anymore, but all day long she sat on my bed, all puffed out with my jammies inside. Then at night, I'd open the zipper, take my jammies out, and spend the night cuddling her. And she safely held my secrets along with my jammies.

Now do you see what I mean about Mom taking pictures? I never knew how many rolls of film she went through until I visited her last summer and took photos of her pictures so I could preserve them digitally. All I can say is thank you, Mom, for allowing me to see my past.

I also have my mom to thank for my stocking. Do you remember the stocking with my name on it from the above photos? Well, I still have it. Not only do I still have mine, but I made a green one for Nelson when we got married, and followed the tradition with the kids.

Homemade Felt Stockings. Anita's stocking made by Mary Safroniuk (nee Hendrickson) ca 1958-59

We gave Crystal her stocking when she moved out after graduation, and I believe she lost it along the way. Jessie moved out 2 yrs ago, but is leaving hers at home until she has her own home and family. I'd like to note that the plastic in Jessie's stocking is nice and thick - it's from the bag her Huggies diapers came in. Instead of candy, nuts and Japanese oranges though, we use our stockings for gifts and chocolate. Being flat however, limited these stockings to small gifts only.

A couple years ago, when my stocking turned 50, we decided to retire all the homemade ones. Now, they hang on one side of our hall as reminders of Christmases past...

Modern stockings hanging at Draper's Acres, Montmartre, Saskatchewan, ca 2012.

...while on the other side hang our bigger, modern stockings with all kinds of room for goodies.

Thank you for taking this old Christmas journey with me whether you read the text or only looked at the photos.

Now look at your own photo of a past Christmas. What do you remember about it? The gifts? The location? The people? Do you remember how you felt as you waited for the 'click' of the camera?

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Cat, Dog or Pony? & Winner's Choice Giveaway

5/13/2012

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Cat, Dog or Pony?

What's your history with pets?

This early 50's photo of Uncle Paul, my mom's brother, gave me the idea for a post on pets - those animals we've loved and shared our homes with.

Although I don't know the names of Uncle Paul's cat and dog, they look similar to ones I've shared companionship with in the photos below of my childhood.

This photo reminds me of the dog Mamma and Pappa had during my visits with them. They called him Koira (with a rolled 'r'). I thought it was a beautiful name until Mamma said Koira is really the word 'dog' in the Finn language.

Another photo of Paul when he was even younger, is the one below where he's standing with Valentine, a milk calf, who was only a couple days old.

Young Paul with Valentine who was a couple days old when this was taken.

Back in the late '60s we lived in Port Arthur, Ontario (now Thunder Bay) at the head of Lake Superior. The summer before I turned 12 we moved to a farm 7 miles out and that's where the following photos were taken.

When we lived in town, Dad had bought us mini-bike, but we weren't allowed to drive it. Within a few weeks of moving to the farm, he'd traded the mini-bike to the neighbours for a pony.

Anita Mae, 12 yrs old

Flicka was a Shetland pony and because Dad brought her home the day before my 12th birthday, I always - secretly - considered her my horse. It was just as well because none of the other kids wanted to ride or take care of her. It was possible they didn't want to put up with her antics.

When I look at the above photo now, I see that I was kind of big for her, but at the time she seemed the perfect size. Except for her width. Shetlands are known for their wide bellies, which is why many people buy the narrower Welsh ponies for their kids. Sheltlands are also known for their...ah... not-so-nice dispostion. This proved true when Flicka put up such a fuss whenever I tried to give her the bit and then saddle her. I can't tell you how many times she nearly stepped on my toes while I was trying to tighten up the cinch. And that was another thing - I never could get the cinch tight enough because she extended her belly and then seemed to suck it in later when I was bouncing around on her back. Flicka never ran, she trotted everywhere and I'm sure I looked like a sack of potatoes up there. She almost lost me and the saddle a few times. But what I really didn't like was when she turned her head to snap at my knees without warning.

All things considered though, I had a horse and wasn't about to complain about it.

Buttons in front with Peter 4, Bonnie 14, and Anita Mae 12,

The cat in this photo is Buttons. I remember someone handing Buttons to me on one of our moving trips to the farm. I was told to put a towel over her head so that she couldn't see where we were taking her or she'd try to make her way back home.

Buttons was a short-haired domestic with a nice disposition. Although I'm not a cat person, I didn't mind when Buttons jumped on my lap and cuddled while I read my books in my playhouse. There was no glass and Buttons would go through the window and sleep on the chair when I wasn't around. One time, I smelled skunk as I neared my playhouse. Buttons was lying on the chair, all perfumed up in the worst way. Of course my chair took on the odor. We tried bathing Buttons, but in the end decided to keep our skin and let her clean herself. It tooks weeks before I could go inside and read.

In the next photo, the outbuilding behind Johnny was my playhouse. Originally a grainary, it might have been used for a playhouse by the family who lived there before us. About 5'x5', it contained an over-stuffed chair and small bookcase although I can't remember if they were there when we moved in or if my parents moved them there from the house.

Suzie with 9 yr old Johnny in 1969, Thunder Bay, Ontario

Dad brought Suzie home just after we moved to the farm. She was our guard dog and protector and was only let loose during the night. I didn't spend much time with her because I didn't like dog smell. And whenever I petted Suzie on the way to my playhouse, Buttons acted like I betrayed her.

Yet I felt safe knowing Suzie was protecting us. Especially after I saw a timber wolf out strolling near the barn one Saturday during the winter. A thick layer of snow already covered the ground and more was softly falling. I looked out the kitchen window and saw the grayish movement on the white landscape. That day was so still, it was eerie. The wolf padded across the snow toward the barn and then behind it. I don't know why Suzie didn't raise the alarm. Within seconds, the wolf appeared on the other side of the barn and kept going toward the west. That's my only wolf sighting to date and I'm fine with not seeing another one that close. I may have been in the safety of the house, but I knew danger when I saw it.

What about you? What pets did you have in your childhood? And if you didn't have one, what would you have liked to have?

Related Author Memories posts with Pets or Playhouses:
Penny Zeller - The Dream House (playhouse)
Christa Allan - Camellia Manor: Back to the 1840s (1890 photo of girl and cat)
Valerie Hansen -Writin' and Ropin' (pony)
Jennifer AlLee - A Girl's Best Friend (chihuahua saves the day)

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GIVEAWAY - Winner's Choice!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, May 20th
to be entered in a draw for a book from my giveaway pile.
If you're the winner, I'll email you the list and you can pick.

The pile contains an assortment of books including inspirationals, mainstream,
autobiographies, self-help, devotionals and children's books, all new.

And yesterday I added the latest Dean Koontz novel, What the Night Knows, to the pile.
Winner beware!
I haven't read Dean Koontz, but I understand his books are NOT of the inspirational genre, nor are they for the faint of heart.

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And how did I end up with a Dean Koontz novel? That's a story in itself...
If you read Regency, you probably know the works of NYT best selling author, Mary Balogh. Mary and I often travel to meetings of the Saskatchewan Romance Writers (SRW) together. This past Saturday when I stopped to pick her up, she thunked a small suitcase into the back of my van and told me she was running away from home. She was joking.

It turned out this generous author was bringing copies of her new hardcover novel,
The Proposal, as well as a paperback copy of Dean Koontz' latest novel,
What the Night Knows, to give each member in attendance.
(Lesson: if you don't attend the meeting, you might miss something great!)

I took a photo of Mary signing her own book, and
another one with Mary holding her book with the cover facing us.
I sent to the later one to Mary, and it now appears on her Facebook page
as well as the official explanation of why she's promoting DK.
(Hint - she received his in error)

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Ontario Bound

Christmases of my Past

Cat, Dog or Pony? & Winner's Choice Giveaway

Cat, Dog or Pony?

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