Remember Whensday: Happy Birthday Aunt Ruth

Ruth (me) and Aunt Ruth circa 1958

I had the same first initial, given name and maiden name as my father's youngest sister for over 20 years and people would sometimes be confused when I appeared instead of Aunt Ruth. She was (and is) as outgoing and vivacious as I was shy and retiring. A child prodigy, she was in piano competitions long before her feet touched the pedals. She has perfect pitch and Dad told us she first played "God Save the Queen" on the piano by ear at the age of three. She spent many valiant years teaching me the piano for which I am grateful as I enjoy playing to this day. But it is far more enjoyable to hear her music and she still performs on a regular basis. Aunt Ruth has a wonderful sense of humour and a faith which has seen her through the hills and valleys of life.

I featured pictures from her sister's wedding when I said Happy Birthday to Aunt Lois back in March. I found this slide which shows the colours of the dresses better than in the outdoor pictures. Aunt Ruth is in the green dress in this picture which was also taken in 1958. She played the organ or piano at countless weddings including Mom and Dad's when she was 13 and at mine 22 years later.

Today is her birthday and she is just as youthful as ever. You will be sure to see her hanging out with the kids at a family gathering. She loves Nascar and drives her own car like she is in a race for money. She figures our city is about 50 minutes from Toronto while the rest of us know it is a good 75 minute drive away. (She has many police stories to share and is also gifted at getting out of tickets now and then). No one at the party below drove a four-wheeler as well as Aunt Ruth!


Aunt Ruth is well loved, makes friends easily and keeps the friends she has made over the years. She is a wonderful mother, grandmother, sister, aunt and friend. I wish her many, many more happy, healthy years ahead.

Remember Whensday: South African Game Reserves

Sandland Brother and neighbour David Kennard at Hluhluwe Park

Blogger Gaelyn of Geogypsy is visiting South Africa this month and I have followed her posts with interest. She did a 30 km hike of the Drakensburgs, visited Kruger National Park, learned to drive on the left side of the road, and is continuing her adventures for another week. I am pretty sure I have been to Kruger as well, but I only remember going to Hluhluwe National Park in Zululand. (pronounced Shou-shloo-ee) We stayed in thatched-roofed cottages and during the day viewed wildlife from the safety of our car. I remember how cold it was at night and that Grandma, (who visited us for six months in 1960), would put a hot water bottle in the bed to warm it for us.

Dad taking a picture of rhinos

Besides the pictures he took, Dad also took home movies and my memories of the game parks are more from seeing the action from his 8 mm projector as we were growing up. He has given each of us a DVD conversion of these films but I don't know how to upload them in a digital file. One memorable clip was taken as he approached a cranky White Rhinoceros at the side of the road. These large animals can move quickly and Dad had to run back to safety of the car with his movie camera still running. As children we always knew the story had a good ending, but we liked to see the blur of ground as he ran away from the charging rhino.

Dad on an Ostrich

I wasn't along on the trip when Dad rode an ostrich, but the action is also captured in the old movies. He was about 28 years old when the pictures in this post were taken.

The term 'Big Five' refers to five of Africa's greatest wild animals;- the lion, leopard, elephant, buffalo and rhinoceros. I don't remember seeing a leopard but have seen the others. I think I was most impressed with giraffes and antelope though.

The big five were widely hunted in the past and are now vulnerable due to poaching and loss of habitat. If I were to return to South Africa for a visit, I would be more impressed with the animals on the game reserves. Isn't it odd that I remember the long car trip to get there, the cottages, beds and tea rooms the most?

Happy Birthday to The Becka

Becka and Pa in 1987

There is a large cluster of late February to mid-March birthdays in my husband's immediate and extended family. When the cousins were young, we used to have a joint party with their grandparents, aunts and uncles. The Becka, our youngest daughter, was one year old in these pictures. She was excited to see her grandparents' little poodle who was sitting on Pa's lap. Becka doesn't remember Pa as he passed away later the same year.

Becka and Mimi

And here is Becka on her grandmother Mimi's lap at the same party. Mimi watched Becka grow to a teenager before she also left us.

Today marks another birthday for The Becka. Her cousins are grown and we no longer have a group March birthday party. Perhaps we should...

Happy Birthday Becka!

(and Josh, Cindy, Trish, Tommy, T.J., and Pat...and that is just one side of the family!)

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Remember Whensday: Green and Warm

(click to enlarge)

Winter has been long enough but it is not going away any time soon. Before our children were born, I visited my family in Mexico every March or April and looked forward to the trip during the cold months in Canada. There is no warm destination in my immediate future so my pictures from our fall vacation in the sunny south west of the continent will have to suffice. I have hundreds of pictures and haven't taken the time to post many here. My daughter took this picture of me walking down Lombard Street, the crookedest street in San Francisco. I would go back to this city in a moment!

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Food Glorious Food!

Ruth, Sandra and Nathan 1958

Food, glorious food!
What wouldn't we give for
That extra bit more --
That's all that we live for
Why should we be fated to
Do nothing but brood
On food,
Magical food,
Wonderful food,
Marvellous food,
Fabulous food...
(from Oliver!)

We had a vinyl recording of the Broadway musical Oliver! which we listened to repeatedly as children. I still remember the words to the song Food Glorious Food which was sung by the orphans as they were served a meal of tasteless gruel. Food is such a big part of our lives. Whether we have little or plenty, much time is spent in storing, preparing and eating it. The first picture was taken in Grandma's back yard where we enjoyed many outdoor meals over the years. My brother, cousin and I were at an age where parents tend to coax children to eat. Like many children in our post war generation, we were encouraged to clean our plates and were rewarded with dessert after we finished our first course. Our parents and grandparents had memories of war time rationing and shortages. Our food was always homemade and few processed foods were used.

Noddy's Milk Bar, Durban South Africa circa 1960-61

My earliest childhood memories are in Durban, South Africa. Mom would shop at the market and bring home large amounts of fresh fruit and vegetables. On market day she would spend hours cleaning and storing her purchases. She was a fan of nutritionist Adele Davis and always served healthy meals. I remember her taking brewer's yeast in fresh orange juice each morning. Thankfully, she did not make us drink it. Grandma visited us for several months and I remember going out with her to the gardens of a hotel for tea. I imagine she had something to do with us visiting Noddy's Milk Bar and while I don't remember eating there, they likely had a British style tea menu. (I was a great fan of Enid Blyton and her Noddy books).

Picnic time with our cousins May 1963

After we returned to Canada, Grandma's picnics were still very popular. We drank orange crush as a special treat and it was the only soda pop we ever had except for the medicinal use of ginger ale for an upset stomach. About this time my dad started giving us an allowance of 5 cents a week. I spent much of it on penny candy at the nearby corner store and for the first time had tooth cavities. We never ate out, but convenience foods such as cake mixes, puddings and TV dinners were becoming more popular. Mom continued to serve healthy foods and did a lot of canning and preparation of food for the freezer in order to stretch the food budget. We drank powdered skim milk, ate cooked cereals and generally had fruit and muffins for dessert.

As a teenager I was introduced to restaurant and fast foods when I went out with friends and would eat at places like Mother's Pizza, KFC, A&W drive-ins, Harveys and Dairy Queen. At home we experimented with home made yogurt and recipes like cabbage rolls and lasagna which Mom learned at an international cooking class in Toronto. Cuisine in the late 60s and early 70s was not very adventurous. Processed foods were more popular but most homes had a stay at home mother who cooked meals from scratch. The average person was not overweight and while dieting was popular enough, the media was not obsessed with nutrition and weight loss strategies.

More food posts to follow....

Remember Whensday

Remember Whensday: In the Clouds

Philip and The Becka in the clouds at the top of the Ceboruco Volcano

I last visited Mexico in 2006 and started blogging the next month. One of my first posts was about our climb toward the crater of the Ceboruco Volcano near Tepic, Nayarit. My brother Philip has a knack for selecting a very isolated beach or mountain for exploration. We spent several hours here and did not see anyone else on the trail.

We are still hearing daily reports about the earthquake in Haiti and this has made me think of places I have been where the earth's crust is unstable. I was in Mexico City four years before the magnitude 8.1 earthquake which hit in September 1985 and caused great devastation. We stayed in a high rise apartment for two nights with friends of my parents and I wonder if that building survived the quake.

The Ceboruco Volcano last erupted between 1870 and 1875 and the volcanic rock fields are still visible. We climbed past steam vents which were hot enough that campers could cook food in them. When we neared the crater, the clouds descended on the mountain top obscuring the way and making it difficult to reach the goal. We had to turn back which was fine with me.

I am following my brother past a steam vent

Finding yourself lost in the clouds on a mountain top is alarming. We had to trust my brother's knowledge of the path as we descended the trail again. I was not afraid that the mountain would erupt but the raw power potential beneath the ground was very evident. The shrouded path is a metaphor of times in our lives when the way is not clear. Sometimes it seems that things will crumble beneath our feet. We need a guide, or can be that guide for someone else in a difficult situation.

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Remember Whensday: El Día de los Reyes

The Three Kings, Guadalajara, Mexico 1990

We took our children to visit family in Mexico at the end of 1989. It was their first trip outside Canada (and my husband's first visit to Mexico) and we stayed into the first week of January. El Día de los Reyes, The Day of the Kings, or Epiphany is celebrated on January 6th. It marks the visit of the Magi and their presentation of gifts to the young child Jesus. In Latin America it is a day for gift giving and the eating of a special cake. Rosca de Reyes or Three Kings Cake is a crown shaped sweet bread which reminds me of German stollen. A small porcelein figurine of the Christ Child is baked in the bread and the person who finds it in their piece must host the next family gathering.

Nacimiento (Nativity) Gualadajara, Mexico 1990

Large nativity scenes were set up in various places in the city of Guadalajara where we were staying with my parents. I have a similar looking nacimiento which fits on the top of my piano.

Grandad and granddaughters in a Mexican village

Our daughters were introduced to third world living conditions on this trip and they adapted well to the travelling and sights we saw. Along with the modern city of Guadalajara, we visited villages and homes where my parents and brothers ministered to the people. I do remember how cold it was at higher altitudes and wished I had brought warmer clothing and a tea pot with me, especially at night.

Pacific Ocean, Mexico (I cannot remember the name of the town)

We visited the Pacific Ocean and finally found warmth at sea level. Hundreds of Brown Pelicans circled the beach when the fishermen came to shore in their small boats and sorted the fish caught in their nets.

Twenty years has passed by quickly. I can hardly believe these pictures were taken than long ago! Mexico has changed too and many in the younger generations are in tune with North American culture and its consumerism. I think it would be more unlikely to come across a burro carrying a large load of sugar cane. But today is still a special day, the end of the Christmas season and a day of celebration.

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Remember Whensday: As time goes by...

The town of Aurora, Ontario celebrated its 100th birthday in July 1963. It had a population of 5,000 when we lived there and the community held a party to commemorate the anniversary. Mom made a dress for me, an outfit for my brother and created a covered wagon for us to pull in the parade. We won 3rd prize for our entry. (I must mention that my mother had four children including a three month old baby who had been very ill and required surgery) One hundred years might as well have been a thousand years in my young mind. But in about three years, another half century will have passed and Aurora will be 150 years old.

Time goes by...

On Christmas Eve morning I stood at the bedside of a patient who had just passed away. We did not want her to be alone when the family arrived to see her body before it was taken to the morgue. The day after Christmas, a special friend of my parents died at a good old age. She had been in attendance at my birth in South Africa when my mom was far from her mother in Canada. Both of these passings were timely and mark another kind of anniversary for their friends and loved ones.

Time goes by...

Three days ago the Olympic Torch Relay came to our community. The 106 day torch journey will cross all provinces and territories in Canada ending in Vancouver at the 2010 Winter Olympics on February 12, 2010. Thousands of people crowded the streets to watch this historic event on a Sunday night.

A grandfather took a photo of his family which included a couple of youngsters who were asking about the meaning of the torch. They will not understand the significance of the night until they are older but the picture will help them remember. The light of the torch appeared in the distance and the crowd moved into the street to view the approach of the runner. To some the torch represented only the upcoming games but to others it was symbolic of life itself. The light would soon be passed to another runner who would carry it on ahead toward its final destination.

Time goes by... faster every year it seems

A new year is approaching which will mark a beginning for some and a passing of the torch for others. For most, it will be another stretch of road in the journey through time.

May your new year be filled with joy,
peace and blessing in all circumstances.

HAppY NEw YEar!!

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The Becka posted a video of the Olympic Torch Relay on her blog.

Remember Whensday: Ice Skating

This is probably the only picture I have of myself wearing ice skates. The year was 1963 and my dad and Sandland brother were with me outside our home in Aurora, Ontario. Dad is wearing a sweater knitted by Marie, a lady who lived with my grandmother for many years. I don't recall where we skated or if we had a backyard rink that year. I know we were not at an indoor arena.

I never was a good skater, in fact you could call me a terrible ice skater. Much as I love the outdoors and walking, sports were never my forte. The only way I could stop on skates was by running into boards or a snowbank. And I was even worse on roller skates! My husband is a very good skater and still plays hockey three times a week. When our girls were small, I took them skating at a local rink every week and managed to stay on my feet while pushing a stroller in front of me. I was looking at my old battered skates a while ago and knew it was time to get rid of them for good as I do not see myself venturing out on ice for fun again.

Sandland Brother is with our next oldest brother in the picture below at a farm where we attended many winter parties. These two brothers played more football than hockey in their youth and were very athletic. We took a few swimming lessons, but did not participate in organized sports outside of school. These days children have more opportunities to take classes to improve their skills in a variety of sports.

We have several outdoor rinks in the city where we now live and I enjoy watching youngsters as they learn to balance on their blades. Do you ice skate or roller skate??

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Looking for Joy

joy [dʒɔɪ]n

1. a deep feeling or condition of happiness or contentment

I have been trying to capture images of joy over the past week or so and the task has been more difficult than expected. I have attended three Christmas parties, a Christmas festival, a children's program at church as well as work, home and the usual stops in my week.

Today we are receiving our first winter storm of the season with packing snow and sleet, rain and wind. There are no school cancellations but most children will look out at the white world this morning with delight. Many adults will not as they prepare to commute to work and pull out their snow shovels again.

The first picture was taken in 1963 and my brothers and I are having a good laugh. Perhaps my father was making a silly face or maybe we were giddy because we were allowed to sit on the hood of the car. Children know how to find joy in small things.


Street performers are found in many big cities. In this block of San Francisco we saw a man tap dancing for hours for a donation. Another young musician leaned against a post as he skillfully played a mournful tune on his flute. There were no smiles on their faces. But this quartet attracted attention with their upbeat melody and hand clapping happiness. Their infectious joy brought a smile to more than one person.


Would I find joy in the hospital? There is a palliative care ward here, but no maternity ward. Many patients are waiting for a nursing home bed. Staff and volunteers are hosting Christmas parties on each floor this month complete with turkey, ham and all the trimmings. Families are invited to the meal and musicians from the community provide live entertainment.

I watched one man walk to the dining room on his new prosthetic leg, a big smile on his face. A couple got up and danced to a lively tune. She has premature advanced dementia and her attentive husband's tenderness brought tears to my eyes.

One of my crankiest patients came to the party with two of her daughters. She had a rare smile on her face and wanted to have a picture taken with her family. She looked surprisingly happy and huggable and was so pleased with the shot that she asked for extra copies.

Yes, I did find glimpses of joy, but they were too often hidden by the bustle, busyness and stress of everyday life. It would have been easier to write about the unhappiness I found...

For Remember Whensday I ask, " Where have you found joy?"

The search continues...

Remember Whensday: Christmas Memories

Getting our Christmas Tree at the farm

Christmas is a special time of year for children. Family traditions are so important and become the things we remember most over the years. I cannot remember one gift I received in 1962 or 1964 but recall that we always had a paper advent calendar on a window with little doors we opened in turn.

We went to my uncle's farm to select a Christmas tree and decorated it with the same ornaments each year.

Mom baked sugar cookies, shortbreads, marshmallow rolls and Christmas cake and we were allowed two treats a day from a special tray. Grandad always sent us an ornate gingerbread house early in December which we smashed and ate after the New Year.

Christmas Eve was spent at Grandma's house and we each had to perform a song or recite a poem for the extended family. We didn't have a fireplace and Santa left our stockings at the end of our beds.

Dad always read the Christmas story from the Bible before we opened our gifts Christmas morning. We received a toy, a book and a piece of clothing every year. Mom let us make table ornaments for the dinner table and party favours for our guests on Christmas Day.

Decorating candy trees at Grandma's house with our cousins

Our own children have identified their favourite Christmas activities and I am in trouble if I try to alter something which is particularly meaningful to them.

We had a Christmas dinner for patients and their families at the hospital today. Most of them have been with us for months and will not go home this holiday season or ever. A volunteer was playing Silent Night on the piano and I noticed one of my patients was crying. I went to her to see what was wrong.

She held my hand and simply said, "That is a Portugese carol."

The music transported her back to her childhood in Portugal where she had sung that tune with family at a special time of year. I did not correct her and tell her it was written by a German musician. It was a memory from her homeland, the words remembered in her native language, a link to happier times and people she loved.

What are your favourite Christmas traditions?

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My mother wrote an essay called "What Christmas Means to Me" when she was a teenager. I copied it in two posts in December 2006. Here are the links to her Christmas memories.
What Christmas Means to Me- Part 1
What Christmas Means to Me- Part 2

Remember Whensday: Fears and Phobias

Going through my father's slides, I came across images of events which are forever seared in my mind, memories which became the origin of phobias I have struggled to overcome. From the pictures you can see that we generally went barefoot at home. We played outdoors here daily and I had my first little vegetable garden at this house. I remember only two poisonous snake encounters at home, the first being a black mamba that slithered between my mother's feet when she was raking the grass and the other being this puff adder which was found at the side of the house. From the look on my face it is obvious that I am not impressed with this snake.


Sandland brother did not seemed inclined to touch the puff adder but when we returned to Canada, he was a great collector of garter snakes and would bring them home from the ravine near our house. My snake phobia continued to grow to the point where I could not even look at or touch a picture of a snake. Seeing the smallest, most harmless snake would make my knees go weak.

I clearly remember my father pretending to charm the dead puff adder. The neighbour attached a string to the snake's mouth and moved it in a puppet like manner. Snakes have their place in the ecosystem, but deadly snakes in urban neighbourhoods were sure to be killed or removed to the snake park. My parents called the snake park to remove the mamba from the hedge beside the house.


The snake park was a place of horror in my mind yet we would go there on the weekend sometimes and view the pit where a writhing mass of serpents were thrown together. The facility had a very practical purpose too. Venom was milked from the snake's fangs in order to make anti-venom serum. I remember the snake kit we had at home in case we were accidentally bitten. The snake handlers would come out and put on a bit of a show for tourists.


I did not want to pass my irrational fear of snakes onto our daughters and made myself watch television documentaries about them, hiding my distaste for the subject. The Becka had a plastic snake which I loathed, but she was allowed to keep it. I have come across harmless snakes frequently on trails and my heart still pounds when I see one. But the panic I once felt has lessened and while I don't expect I would be able to touch a snake, I have desensitized my fear to some degree.

My other childhood phobia was waterfalls and again I would feel sick if I saw even a picture of one. Dad had his home movies put on DVD and there is a picture of me as a toddler wearing a harness, standing at the unprotected edge of Victoria Falls. Perhaps the seed of fear was planted then and with other experiences it grew much bigger. I don't care for heights, which I think is likely normal, but I can now stand at the brink of Niagara Falls beside the protective fence without feeling like I am going over.

Fear is a protective instinct. Phobias are irrational. Looking and these pictures and remembering helps me understand them.

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Remember Whensday: "The Chair" and other Memories

I have no recollection of this Christmas when I was three, almost four, but the picture evokes many memories of my childhood. This is Grandma's living room, a room in which I spent many, many happy hours.

In this picture Mom is playing the piano, something she still enjoys doing to this day. She was a kindergarten teacher and was required to have a Grade 8 piano certificate in order to teach at this level. She had a rhythm band for children, a collection of wooden sticks, blocks, tambourines and bells which we used to accompany her music. I am holding one of the tambourines and my cousin on the left is undoubtedly using another instrument.

My great-grandmother "Bobby" is sitting in a chintz covered wing-backed chair in the left of the picture. That chair was my favourite and I would sit in it, my head wedged in the left wing with both legs dangling over the right armrest. The chair was next to Grandma's built-in bookshelves by the fireplace and I spent hours reading books from her personal library. The chair reminds me of authors such as Thornton Burgess, Emily Carr, Pauline Johnson, Willa Cather, Nellie McClung, and Louis Hémon. When Grandma died in 1990, I took many of her books and the wing-backed chair. It was covered in a gold fabric by then and it has been in my living room for almost twenty years.

Yesterday an Irish upholsterer with a thick brogue carried "the chair" out the door to his shop where he will re-cover it in the selected green tweed material.

"It is a good chair," he said after checking the joints and supports, "but the cushion springs will have to be replaced."

Yes, it is a good chair and I am not surprised that the seat cushion needs to be replaced. Perhaps I will find a chintzy slip cover sometime and re-read Grandma's collection of Canadian authors pretending that I am ten or twelve or sixteen years old again. Or perhaps I will just continue making new memories on this special old chair.

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Remember Whensday: Birthday Celebrations

From birth to age eighteen, a girl needs good parents.
From eighteen to thirty-five, she needs good looks.
From thirty-five to fifty-five, she needs a good personality.
From fifty-five on, she needs good cash.
Sophie Tucker

There is nothing more special to a child than a birthday. Most three year olds are able to hold up the appropriate number of fingers which indicate their age. Birthday parties, whether with friends or family, are an important part of growing up. Eventually we wish we could stop counting the years and then we begin marking the milestone birthdays of old age.

Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.
Chili Davis

Celebrating anyone's birthday is fun when favourite foods and cake are served. Because we lived far from our relatives, my first brother and I had more pictures taken of our birthdays than were taken of our younger brothers.

An old woman loved is winter with flowers
German Proverb

But we were all present for the 90th birthday celebration of our great grandmother, Granny Hackett and undoubtedly helped her blow out all those candles and eat that big cake. She died four years later at a good old age, loved by her family.

In childhood, we yearn to be grown-ups.
In old age, we yearn to be kids.
It just seems that all would be wonderful if we didn't have to
celebrate our birthdays in chronological order.
Robert Brault

My husband is the young boy in this picture at the birthday party of someone in his extended family. The table is shared by young and old together as it should be. Life is worth celebrating and birthdays should be counted as a blessing and the best of our memories.

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Photo 1: My 6th birthday. I am in a white dress in the centre of the photo, South Africa 1961
Photo 2: My 5th birthday and my brother's 4th birthday, South Africa 1960
Photo 3: Granny's 90th, Canada 1970 with my four brothers and young cousin. I am sitting in the far right and my grandmother is standing with Granny (her mother)
Photo 4: Undated photo, likely about 1960, Canada
Click on photos to enlarge

Remember Whensday: By the Water

St. Lawrence River near Gananoque, Ontario 1959

I have no memory of this day in 1959 when my father took the picture of my brother and I at the Thousand Islands in Ontario, Canada just before we returned to South Africa. We were at a picnic with other members of our extended family and wore matching outfits undoubtedly sewn by our mother.

Childhood memories may be foggy but impressions, pleasures and fears are often grounded in these early experiences. To this day, I love being on the shore of a body of water, be it a river, lake or ocean. I am not as fond of being in a ship far away from land and have never been interested in taking a cruise vacation.

Here we are about a year later having another picnic at a man-made lake in South Africa. Nagle Dam is in the Valley of the Thousand Hills not far from Durban. We were not allowed to play in the water here for fear of contracting bilharzia from fresh water snails found in the area. That is something I do remember well.

Toronto, Ontario 2008

Time has passed and this brother now lives thousands of miles away. He came to Canada for a visit last summer and we walked along the shore of Lake Ontario in Toronto before I took him back to the airport. The Becka took this picture, unknown to us, and I posted it last year. Isn't it funny how I always stand on his right when we look out at the water? Two of my sister-in-laws pointed out the similarities I failed to notice in these pictures.

We have lived apart far longer than we lived at home together, but forty-nine years later, some things remain unchanged.

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Remember Whensday: Apple Season

Dad and Philip picking apples- 1966

My mother's parents purchased land about five miles from their small home town and planted many trees in the sandy soil. My grandfather grew up in the Thornbury, Ontario area which is still well known for its apple orchards. He planted a large apple orchard at the farm with a good variety of heritage apples. I knew the difference between Snows, Wealthys, Macintosh, Tolman Sweets, Cortlands and Spy apples when I was still a child. Granddad died well before I was born and my uncle managed the farm for many years. Each fall we spent weekends picking apples for Uncle Bill and were paid by the bushel for our labours. Afterward, we collected "grounders" which we took home free of charge. I loved those fall weekends when the air was fresh, the trees were turning colour, and the milkweed pods were dry and silky.

Mom, Nathan and I admiring the fall colours- 1962

The farm was large and we had time to explore the lower pasture, the pines and the pond on the other side of the large barn. There were swings and a one room cabin with a screened in porch where we could eat our lunch. Our water was pumped from a well which had an green wooden handle and the facilities consisted of a single seater out house.

Philip and Mom at the cider press- 1968

There was an old cider press near the water pump where we could make some freshly squeezed apple juice. It would become fermented very quickly as it was not pasteurized. Apples remain my favourite fruit and I look forward to tasting my first crisp fall apple each year. Mom always had a very large bowl of applesauce on the counter and we ate it for dessert most nights. Sometimes we had it with fresh gingerbread and often with fresh muffins.

Stephen (on right corner) and Mark (middle with red shirt and glasses) on farm wagon- 1968

I bought some new apples at the market last weekend and they should be coming to their peak by the end of the month. And I will make applesauce and apple crisp and all kinds of other apple recipes. But nothing beats a fresh apple just picked from the tree, juicy, sweet and delicious!

(My cousins still run the farm and here is a link to their website)

Remember Whensday

Remember Whensday: School Days

In my school uniform beside my brother

This week was back to school for some children in Ontario and it is the first time I remember school starting before Labour Day. Because Labour Day is late this month and there are a required number of school days each year, some school boards decided to open their classrooms on September 1st. Other schools will not start until next Tuesday.

I began school in South Africa in a formal British educational system. Mom taught me to read as a preschooler and I was allowed to start my education at a younger age than average. I remember throwing up my breakfast before leaving each morning and my early school experiences were not pleasant. I had a very strict teacher who used a ruler on our hands if we made a mistake. I was punished in Class One for saying that 1+0=0. If I remember correctly, that teacher became ill and my own mother, who was a trained teacher, became the substitute for a while. School was no longer a frightening place.

I am on the right with school friends

We moved to another part of Durban and went to a different school which I enjoyed and therefore did well in my classes. We wore uniforms and carried satchels which likely contained little more than our lunches. School started very early in the morning and ended in the early afternoon before the hottest time of the day. I studied Africaans, learned to sew by hand and practiced very neat script writing by my third year in school. I had an excellent start in school because of the high standards and discipline in this educational system and was far ahead of my classmates when we returned to Canada.

My new South African Flag May 31, 1961

On May 31, 1961 South Africa left the British Commonwealth and became a republic. We all received South Africa's new flag at school and I have it to this day in a scrapbook Mom made for me. Africa has changed so much since this time as the continent decolonized, breaking ties with the European nations who had controlled governments and policies for many years. I remember some of the riots and the turmoil after 1961 in this country which was strictly segregated by race...

...and I will soon tell a story about friends who were affected greatly by changes in Africa which started in the 1960s when I was still a young school girl.

Remember Whensday
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