Extended Family

Extended Family

I received an email from my first cousin's daughter as did some others.  I don't know what degree of relationship she and I have...second cousin or what, but here is what she asked:

"Hello ladies! I am writing a somewhat autiobiography of my family, and I was wondering if any of you ladies have any stories that you could share about my grandma Dot. I have lots of stories about my grandpa but not many of my grandma. I'd love to hear any stories that you may have that I could add to my paper! If you do you can message them to me on here or email them.... anything that you have would be greatly appreciated!! Thanks!! :)"

I thought for awhile, but it didn't take too long to write back.  After all, it's how a person made you feel that impacted your life and I guess that's made up in the details of the interactions you had with them.

"Hi Erin,
Aunt Dot...she was great! She had this great laugh and was always making some wisecrack joke or comment. She was a smoker...but so were most people in those days. She was an LPN or CNA, not sure which, but she worked at Melfort Union Hospital for years. She told me she stayed at the Nurses' Residence when she couldn't get back to the farm at Meskanaw in bad weather. That place is torn down now I believe. By the time I had to enter the Melfort Hospital to give birth to my first baby, a son, there she was. She clucked over me like a mother hen. She and dad and my mom had figured this all out ahead of time, because I was blissfully ignorant about what was to come. She stayed with me my whole seven hours of labor and rubbed my back with every contraction. They asked me if she could come into the case room for the actual delivery and I said yes please!! (That was October 4, 1976 and a real winter storm was happening outside. The next day (since we owned the flower shop) my ex-husband, took her a dozen red roses and she was thrilled. By the time my daughter was born, Aunt Dot had retired and I sure missed her. Another story about your grandma Dot was when my mom and dad had the funeral home. I can't remember who had died, but it was somebody we all knew. He was in the show room in his casket. She asked if she could go downstairs by herself and pay her respects. She came back up after awhile...really, really flustered. She said while she was standing beside the casket, head bowed, suddenly she felt this sensation of feathers ruffling across her face. She believed totally in ghosts and was convinced that whatever happened was because of the person in the casket. I still remember her talking about that. She was also superstitious as anything. Still during the days of the flower shop, she absolutely trained us not to take red and white floral arrangements to the hospital, or else we were asking for three deaths. Another thing, talk about independent women! I believe she, Aunt Grace and Aunt Laura were WACs in WWII. I think they worked in some factory out East for awhile during the war. Also, she learned to drive a car when very few women did. She drove right up to the end of her life, when she and Uncle Mac had gone on a trip the day she died and she was the driver, even though she didn't feel good. She raised four kids and worked full-time, so that's a huge accomplishment doesn't matter which era we're talking about. She was a diabetic and took those early insulins and pills that were not nearly as good as they are now. She developed a bit of a shake at times in later years because of these meds. She looked after her diabetes as rigorously as she could because as she would say, she had to if she wanted to keep living. She was a role model for me, that's for sure. She was someone who didn't beat around the bush. She would call a spade a spade, but didn't try to hurt people's feelings. She was a good person, no doubt. She was always very hospitable if you dropped by for a visit and was always glad to see us and me. At one point, she had some kind of  hemorrhage that affected her vision, and that slowed her down, but she didn't spend her time feeling sorry for herself. She was always a going concern. She loved and fussed and worried about all her own children and grandchildren. She used to drop by the funeral home for coffee and to visit with mom and dad and of course all us kids. She would talk about how their life was when they were kids on the farm. She would tease dad by telling tales about him....like that he did mean things to his sisters. Of course, we thought the sun rose and set on dad, so we would look at him and he would never admit to anything. Everyone always loved Aunt Dot because she was just so easy to get along with. We miss her!"

Her response:

"Thank you so much Jean!! So many details that I can add! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!! :) It's great to hear so many things about her that I never knew about! :)"
 \
And me again,

"You are most welcome, it was my pleasure! Good luck, not only with the paper, but on getting to know who your grandma was! Thanks for asking."

.......................................

Aunt Dot was actually a twin to Aunt Grace.  The two of them looked totally different from my perspective and if you didn't know, you might not ever have guessed.  Aunt Grace married, lived in Meskanaw and gave birth to eight children.  I remember visiting them when I was a kid and having their family visit ours.  On one visit, it had been raining, so we all had to wear rubber boots.  We played out in their yard which seemed to have old gnarly trees and great forts.  I remember another time when she had a new baby, I think it was Olive.  I, for some reason was standing over top of the crib at the head end so the baby had to look back over her head at me as she lay on her back.  Aunt Grace told me to move to the side because that was not good for the baby to strain to look back like that.  I have always remembered her advice.  I only saw Aunt Grace sporadically after they moved to Salmon Arm, B.C.  One time was a wedding in Alberta and for some reason I was riding in a car with her and Uncle Stan.  She had her arm around me the whole way and was smiling and talking to me like I was the most precious thing on earth.  She was just like that, so full of love and kindness for people.

These twin girls had two other sisters, Aunt Nell and Aunt Laura.  I saw both of them quite a bit, since they both lived in Melfort, albeit Aunt Nell for a shorter time.  She too moved to B.C. where her two sons lived.  Aunt Laura spent many hours visiting and caring for her Mom, my Grandma, who lived in the local nursing home.

Brothers of the twins were Uncle Neil, Uncle Ed, Uncle Bob, and my dad, Glen.  As you can imagine, these families also had a great impact on my life.  I have many cousins and other stories to tell about all these people, but that is for another time.  :-)

Melting Pot

Melting Pot...

All of a sudden, the readership of my little blog has jumped to over the 10,000 mark!   How amazing!  This week it's South American countries I see listed in my "audience".  Last week was the Ukraine. Why these fits and spurts happen is beyond me, but that's okay, they make me happy.  (Especially if they actually read them and not just skip onto the next one!)  This month on my blogger statistics page it shows Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Paraguay, Portugal and Columbia.  (Isn't this a wonderful tool?)  Can't say I've ever know anyone in those places...today or in the past.   This week is Sao Paulo, Sonora, Rio de Janeiro, New York and Moscow...all places that show up on the Live Feed at the bottom of  my blog.  The Live Feed lists who's been there looking (only their country) and I guess it's what they call 'in real time'.  Alot of these places are HOT countries and I think I might understand how it happens that they get to reading a northerner's blog. I guess it's a chance for them to experience cold winters and places with seasons vicariously through someone like me...a blogger who tells a story.  If you're from somewhere hot and you blog too, then maybe I can share your balmy temperatures  when it's minus forty for days on end here.  If you can live life through the eyes of someone else, I guess that's the next best thing.

Tonight, I ventured outside after supper.  It's only -20, but there's a wind, so probably closer to -30 with the wind chill.  I put on big boots, ski pants, toque, infinity scarf, really thick gloves, and a long jacket.  Sound like a pain?  Well, it is, and probably one of the reasons I hardly do it this time of year.  I had to shovel my sidewalk and  driveway earlier today, so got a taste for 'dressing up' so to speak.  The real treat is the fresh air...it gets in your blood and then you want more.  Just because of all these awesome places showing up in my blog, I decided to talk about some of the cultures I've been exposed to in my life.  People are people and I've known and  grown up with a whole variety being a Canadian. It's always good to reminisce about the fun times, and the differences and similarities between their families and mine. Living in Saskatchewan, there really were a large number of different cultures such as Ukrainians and Poles from Poland, Swedish and Norwegian, Scottish, Irish, English, East Indian, Pakistani, French, to start with.   Make no mistake, two nationalities might seem almost the same, but they are not and are quick to point it out.  All of these were mingling with the people already here, the Cree, Dene and others. In past decades, we have been joined by many from countries not seen here much before.  I have friends who are Iranian, Chilean, Guatamalan, East Indian and know Canadians living in Thailand and other countries.  Many live in warmer climates, like Mexico, even if only for half the year.

By the time my generation came along ( being born in the mid 1950's), many immigrant  families had lived here in Canada for several hundred years.   At least two generations of all of us "immigrants" had come before, or so it seemed.  People nowadays are much more open about telling their true-to-life stories publicly than ever before.  Little did we know, but many fled their homeland because of tyranny, political strife, famine and/or poverty.

From what I can tell, most immigrants are nothing if not preservers of their traditions and culture.  In fact, the towns and surrounding communities get immersed in each other's ways, so not only their way, but ours, and their food, and ours.....and especially, did I say their food?  So much so, many once unknown dishes to one culture have become staples to the others.  I'm talking about dishes like perogies, borscht, and cabbage rolls for instance,  borrowed from the Ukrainians.  I can't speak for other provinces, but I expect the situation is similiar elsewhere in Canada. 

About forty years ago, I knew a Ukrainian baba (grandmas)  who would sell her homemade perogies for ridiculously cheap prices....like $2.00 for ten dozen.  They were the good ones, the little ones...not those big fat ones with thick dough that some machine cranked out.  This was dough rolled out to a sliver on a countertop by a lady, as strong as an ox.  She had lovingly formed, filled and frozen the tasty potato and cheese morsels side by side on a tea towel covered cookie sheet then placed in the freezer.  Once frozen, they were put into a clear plastic bag that was tied with a twist tie.  All you had to do was pick them up and pay, then take them home to enjoy.  So easy to prepare, simply drop into a boiling pot of water and wait for them to rise to the top.  Drain, cover with melted butter and onions and add a dollop of sour cream.  Presto!  You had a feast fit for a king! Those same perogies today still aren't very expensive and are not too hard to get your hands on for special events like family gatherings, Easter, or Christmas.  

Nowadays, it doesn't much matter where you go you will find someone who has some sort of different heritage than your own around here.  Kokums (Cree grandmas) know how to make your mouth water with their bannock.  These are similar to a biscuit and really tasty.  I have had bannock several times, and once again, it is delicious and a relatively low cost cultural food.

In my family and many, many others, we made teeny, little dill pickles from the cucumbers in our gardens. We always had dozens of sealers full to add to any meal for most of the winter.  It's only been the last few years that you could actually purchase them in a store.  Beet pickles were another favorite that I noticed have shown up on store shelves within the last decade or so.

There are regularly planned galas to celebrate culture in many cities.  In Saskatoon, every August there is a huge event held in multiple locations around the city to showcase the different cultures living here. They have feasts at each pavilion, dancing, singing, bands playing music, and of course food and drinking (and not just coffee and water :-).  The events include displays of  handiwork, arts, and crafts and every manner of dress that can show off a culture. Every time I go, I try to visit the pavilions of my own heritage - Norwegian, Scottish, and Irish.  Plus, I like to attend others such as the Philippino, German, American, East Indian, Greek, and Jamaican....to name a few.  The idea is to purchase a passport booklet and get it stamped at every place you stop to visit.  There is always fun, cultural items to purchase and people absolutely flock to this annual event. It includes most everyone in the entire city and rural areas and many volunteers work extra hard to make it such a huge success.  I went to the home page and found that 2014 will be their 35th year in Saskatoon.  Check them out at www.saskatoonfolkfest.com.

I learned quite alot making my way around to the different pavilions over the years.  The first year I ever went was with my Mom and Dad and we went to the Norwegian pavilion.  It was in the Marion Graham high school and there were signs all over with the word "OOFTA".  (Forgive me if I've told you this story before!)  Now my grandpa is Norwegian and he would always say HOOFTA as an expression.  As little kids, we took to using it too....just out of habit and being copy cats, of course.  You know, monkey see, monkey do.  I still find myself saying it!  Little did I know that it really was an expression used widely by Norwegians.  At that pavilion, we ate blotkake (a type of cake) and crumkake (a type of pastry)....both so melt-in-your-mouth as to die for.  We had always had tastes of lefse (a type of soft-dough flat bread) growing up, but never cut up into these teeny little rolls buttered with brown sugar and cinnamon....(Actually, at home, we had generally eaten half the lathered bread at one sitting!)

I'll give you some of the highlights, but as you can imagine, there is always plenty more going on than this little blurb can tell..  At the Irish pavilion there was much drinking, dancing, singing and merriment.  No fights...  At the Scottish, a pipe and drum band was performing and they were serving hummus.  At the Ukrainian, there was scrumptious food that without a word of a lie, 300 people were lined up to get.  Traditional Ukrainian dancers lined the stage.  At the German pavilion, there was sausage and music, at the Greek we got skewers of souvlaki, and they were oh so tasty!. The Philippinos had the most beautiful handiwork for sale, and I remember buying this massive lacy, crocheted pineapple-patterned table cloth... for next to nothing.  I think I was over the top by the time I ate at the Jamaican pavilion because I started to get an upset stomach.  Maybe I'm just not used to so much variety, let alone have a spicy palate.  The American pavilion had popcorn and a Blues singer strumming away.  Other years I have attended  a variety, but overall, they are all a genuine feast for the senses.  You go there with great expectations, run into all kinds of people you know or not, and leave with a full tummy and toes just a'tapping.

Democracy with freedom of speech and religion is a wonderful right that we hold dear in this part of the world.  Many of us have days when we tend take these freedoms for granted, but for many others their new reality is far too precious to ever forget.