He sits at the table asleep again, his hands under his head as he dozes. Ern's breathing is uneasy, the emphysema making it difficult to sleep lying down. He always has his naps at the table after meals and in the evening.
It is the early 1960s and this man, Ern Smith, my husband's grandfather, has a Fix It Shop in the basement of his home on West Avenue in Corner Brook, Newfoundland. There he sharpens skates, makes keys, works on locks. He charges little, sometimes working all day on a lock and making only fifty cents.
On this late Sunday night, as Ern dozes, the youngest daughter, Marie, is awake and her mother, Bessie, is already in bed. There is a knock at the door and when Marie answers, two Royal Canadian Mounted Police officers are on the step. She is startled as they say, "May we speak to Mr. Smith, please."
As she wakes her father, Marie thinks that some family member has been seriously hurt. Ern, half asleep says, "Wat do dey want? Tell 'em ta come in."
Marie is anxious when she goes back to the door to relay the message but the officers refuse to enter.
At the door, Ern has a discussion with the officers which Marie cannot hear. When he comes from the door, he takes his cap and pipe which go everywhere with him, and heads out of the house without saying a word. Marie watches as her father takes the officers around to the basement door and into the shop.
After ten minutes the two officers leave and her father returns to the kitchen. He looks at Marie and says, "Don't ever repeat dis, but those two fools handcuffed themselves together and broke the key in the lock."
As he walks back to the table, Ern looks at Marie and says, "An' don't tell yer mudder. She'll have it on jam crocks."
Thank you to Jeff Smith for the picture of the sign, (which I edited), and Aunt Marie Smith for the recollection.
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