Island idyll

Love of the eastern Canadian islands, Newfoundland and Prince Edward Island, where I have lived my life fills my spirit. The elements, the weather and the tides, feature strongly in that life. So too do the elements of land and sea, waves, beaches and cliffs. I am drawn to the sea, from a land rich in minerals and forests as in Newfoundland, and fields of rich red soil as in Prince Edward Island.

There is a freedom on these islands which we sometimes take for granted. I wouldn’t hesitate to take a walk alone at any time, or speak to a stranger. There is a sense that “strangers” are people like ourselves, friends we haven’t met yet.

It is peaceful here too, people commonly talk about the weather as the biggest news of the day.  While social issues including drugs are an issue as they are in many places today, many of us go about our lives unaffected by them. We enjoy nature, physical activity and each other. 

Many people on these islands don’t have family nearby, as young people, for generations, had to leave their island homes to acquire employment. Those of us fortunate enough to have family here, especially grandchildren, are fortunate beyond measure.

As we walk the trails and beaches these days, I leave modern devices, except the camera, behind. I appreciate what is here and keep a visual record of it. The sounds of a river or stream, the birds, the waves breaking on the shore all give me great joy. The vistas before me revive me in spite of the news of a modern world, out there, beyond these islands. 

When the modern world does intrude, as it did with the pandemic,  we hunkered down and looked after ourselves and each other as best we could. As a result, we fared well compared to other areas. 

Our population is increasing now, as immigration has opened our borders to people from around the world. In addition, people are moving to the island from across the country as workers are needed in every industry. We welcome everyone who comes to live here, like our ancestors from around the world came centuries ago. And like us, moving from one province to another, we hope everyone enjoys life on this gentle island as much as we do.

Island life is for me!

Give me an island in the blue sea.

The wind and the waves, let them carry me,

Where the rhythm of life mirrors the tide.

There I will settle, just let me bide…

Give me an island in the blue sea 

Where beaches and cliffs punctuate scenery.

With sand by the plenty and driftwood galore

I’ll put down my roots and enjoy what’s in store.

Give me an island in the blue sea

Where the voices of gulls soaring high speak to me.

Where eagles keep watch over water and sky 

And fly above all as they soar going by.

Give me an island in the blue sea 

With Marram on dunes and the wind blowing free.

The trails and the beaches, they speak to me

And life is as simple as living can be.

Amen

Family

No matter how long it's been since we've seen each other, the days my brother, Frank and I shared with our parents, make time slip away. The shared experiences make wonderful memories and conversation neither of us can have with anyone else in the world. 

 

My brother looks like Dad and I resemble Mom, so Sam and Mary live on in the appearances of their two children. Our gestures are reminiscent of our parents as well, as our spouses can attest. Still, in the above picture, my father's eyes stare back at me and my blond-haired, blue-eyed brother with the fair complexion, looks like the Irish O'Briens of my mother's family.

Remember when...is a big part of any conversation. The days of our youth are the good old days which we can laugh about now. Stories abound as memories flood back, one triggering another. Between us, we can generate the details of events and circumstances, as we finish each other's sentences.

Where are they now? Childhood friends and classmates have children and grandchildren so there is catching-up to do. Stories of school events, teachers, sports, music lessons, Sunday dinners, and church are all shared memories.

Because of our age at this stage in our lives, conversation always comes around to who has died. We are at the stage when the older generation is almost gone and our generation is beginning to disappear. Questions center around the person's age and cause of death.

Favourite conversations revolve around our parents, those two people who shaped our lives and helped make us who we are today.

 

However, the words and phrases used by our parents and grandparents are part of our vocabulary today as well. Nan's pronouncements about life, Dad's assessment of world affairs, and Mom's spiritual wisdom and vernacular are all part of the family history, memories and traditions. The hard work of our grandfathers is not forgotten either. Those two men did a great job supporting their families in difficult times. Today, laughter accompanies quiet moments of remembrance.

Meanwhile, my daughter, Claire, gave birth to our grandson, Owen, this past week while my brother and sister-in-law, Michele, were visiting. 

 

Owen joins Sylvie and Caitlin as the fourth generation from our parents, another little one to teach about his mother's ancestors and Newfoundland heritage. My brother and I look forward to sharing the memories of our side of the family with him.

What's it like when you get together with your siblings?

The polar bear alarm

Pictures out of Newfoundland this time of year remind me of a conversation I had with an elderly gentleman on the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland about fifteen years ago. He was an interesting man, salt of the earth, friendly and eager to talk to anyone who stopped near his home. I think of him every time I see pictures of polar bears in Newfoundland.

 

Photo by Ocean View Photography, Newfoundland                    Wesleyville

It woke the neighbourhood. Somewhere nearby a car sent its repetitive horn blasts into the quiet of the night, alarming everyone for several streets around. A rash of break-ins in the area recently meant more people installed alarm systems in their homes and cars. Periodically we woke in the early morning hours when a wireless alarm sounded.

There was a time when an alarm was less high tech. I learned of such a system when my mother, mother-in-law and I visited L'Anse aux Meadows on the tip of the Northern Peninsula in Newfoundland. It was the summer tourist season; we visited the former Viking settlement, drove around the area, stopping where the road led to a small turn-about near the ocean. We were at the far northern tip of our beautiful island, in a place where it looked like a nor'easter could sweep away the little house and shed not twenty feet from the water. You could see the coast of Labrador in the distance.

As we walked around, a friendly, elderly gentleman came out of the house and approached us. He asked, " 'Ow ar ya taday?" 

"We're fine. How are you?" 

"Alright. Can't complain too much, ya knows. Nobody wants ta hear it anyways," he said.

"It must get really bad here in the winter, when that wind blows onshore. Have you ever had any damage?" I asked.

"Yees, moy dear. Me an' da Mrs. 'ad ta leave a few toimes when da seas were warshin' o're da 'ouse. 'Ad ta use da boat one toime cos everyting were awarsh. Got da goat out o' da shed just afore 'e warshed away," he added.

"Oh my. I'm glad you got out and saved the goat too. I hope that doesn't happen very often," I said.

"Few toimes o're da years. 'Ad ta sove da goat, Mrs. Cudna 'ford anudder one," he said.

"Do you use the goat for milk?" I asked.

"Yees, Mrs. Not only dat. She's a good 'larm too, moy dear. Lits us know wen a polar bear is 'round. Kicks up some racket she do when deres a bear comes ashore in da spring. Wen 'e gits dat toime o' year and da goat is goin' nuts, we knows wats 'bout. She'll woke us from a deep sleep, moy dear. Goats ar' great fer warnin' 'bout da bears, Mrs," he said.

                                                               ________________

Would a goat be a good alarm for thieves, I wonder? And the milk would be a bonus!

Note: Polar bears are not usually residents of Newfoundland. In the spring, they float south on the ice flows from Labrador and swim to the island. 

One room school

This little school house stands against the elements in Lower Bedeque, Prince Edward Island. On this cold winter day, with the wind attempting to freeze our brains, it is hard to imagine the time when this school opened in 1886. 

 

We think about the children walking to school from the area farms, or horse and cart pulling up to drop off neighbourhood children. The little one room school opened its doors to all ages as was common at the time. 

Lucy Maud Montgomery, an island author, taught in this school in 1897 for six months. She left to care for her grandmother after her grandfather died. Lucy Maud never taught again.

However, it was an interesting time in her life. Lucy Maud was engaged when she moved to Lower Bedeque. During her time there, she met a man described as "the love of her life." Herman Leard was one of two sons of the family where she boarded, near the school. Nothing came of the relationship; Lucy Maud left and Herman died the next year.

As my husband and I observed the little school this day, we talked of the school where he taught in 1975-76. His post was in Grand Bruit, Newfoundland, an isolated community on the island's south coast, only accessible by coastal boat. 

 

 Grand Bruit, Newfoundland.              School, center back.                           Photo by Don Bradshaw

He taught everything from Kindergarten to Grade 8 to nine children in the community. The children left home to do high school further along the coast, in a community connected by road to the rest of the island. Today Grand Bruit is abandoned and the people resettled elsewhere in Newfoundland.

We were engaged during that year as he worked in his sole charge school. The next year he was offered a job in the school where I worked and we were married. The rest is our family history.

On this cold winter day, a little school in Prince Edward Island stirred up warm memories of young love which has matured and grown with time. 

Happy Valentine's Day to you and your special one!

Island perspective

Born and raised in and around St. John's, Newfoundland, I've seen the fog moving in from the Grand Banks over the coastline. That fog can be so thick, it's as if it obscures everything but the tip of your nose.

When I first saw the recent time lapse video of the smog advancing over Beijing, it reminded me of the fog of home. However, that wall of white wasn't as benign as fog. This smog is deadly in its effect on the millions of people in that city. It is easy to take our clean air for granted.

Time lapse video

One day recently as I drove to the store in Summerside, Prince Edward Island, the sun was out and the sky was clear. From the car it looked like a lovely winter day, but the appearance belied the reality. The temperature was -16 C and the high wind made it feel like -27 C, (3,-17 F). At ground level, the wind gusts blew the snow around causing drifting in open areas.  The walk from the car to the store became a run.

On the way out of the store, I stood with two other seniors, a husband and wife, as the sliding doors opened to the wind. We were blown back by the gust coming into the lobby. The man said, "That's a fresh breeze." I laughed at his reframe of the bitterly cold wind.  

But, you know, it was.

Wonderland

"Is that wonderland jam, Nanny?" my three year old granddaughter asks as she waits for the partridgeberry jam for her crackers. Wonderland is what Caitlin calls Newfoundland.

 

"Yes it is," I say as I spread the jam for her and smile. Caitlin doesn't have any memories of Wonderland although she has been there. She was two months old when her mother took her to Corner Brook to see her sick great grandfather. Somehow, in Caitlin's mind, Newfoundland is Wonderland.

 

I know what she means. While I love my current island home, my soul belongs to Wonderland too and this time of year, as Christmas draws near, my thoughts always turn to home.

The people, the rugged landscape, the way of life, are part of my being. It is a place where weather is a conversation piece, where wind predominates and fog, rain and snow are common. You don't visit for the great weather. However, that weather is one of the features which binds the people together, as they fight the elements and struggle in that rugged environment. 

Humour is a way of life too. The people see the lighter side of life and can easily share a joke to ease a burden. We are deeply rooted in our island home. It is said you will know all the Newfoundlanders in heaven. They are the ones who want to go home. 

We are also a friendly, hospitable people as evidenced by the events of September 11, 2001. The people of Gander and other central Newfoundland communities, opened their hearts and homes to passengers of over 30 giant aircraft, forced to land while in route to their destinations in the United States on that fateful day. They landed in Gander, almost doubling the size of the town in one day.

The story of their reception in Gander is now on its way to Broadway as the musical Come from Away. It played in Gander and is on stage now in Toronto, opening in New York in March. It has received rave reviews. 

In the face of some of the worst which humankind can do to one another, there was an example of hope during those tragic days. 

"Yes, Caitlin. There is a wonderland."

The story of the musical when it played in Gander is here.

Remembrance 2016

A few months ago, my husband's uncle, Richard Mercer, died. Dick was a Canadian Army veteran. 

 

In 1950, at the age of twenty, he left his home in Corner Brook, Newfoundland and joined the Canadian military.

 

Two years later, he was fighting in the Korean War, for a time dug into the side of a mountain during the year he was there. This young man made the military his career and served in a variety of locations, including Cyprus, as a peacekeeper.

 

That soldier remembered and every year, he participated in the ceremonies of Remembrance on November 11th. While many of us pause to recall the sacrifice of so many, he had specific memories of some who paid the supreme sacrifice. Besides the ultimate cost to some, this man knew the cost of survival as well and what military personnel continue to sacrifice for this country.

 

                                       Uncle Dick and great grand niece Sylvie

Richard (Dick) Mercer, though you are gone, we remember you and are thankful for your service to Canada.

We will remember them.

Hallowe'en

Children love Hallowe'en but many of us take that love with us through adulthood. Costume stores abound today, not like years ago when we put costumes together from the clothes of family or friends.

 

Today you can find a costume for every character imaginable. 

 

Our granddaughters want to be Bat Girl and Skye from Paw Patrol this year. Bat Girl I can imagine but not Skye. We shall see them later today.

 

The farms nearby decorate for Thanksgiving and Hallowe'en. 

 

These pictures are from a local orchard, a farm and pumpkin patch. 

 

They show some of the colour and images we like.

 

When I was young, Hallowe'en nights were cold. As the sun set, my brother and I went door to door in our neighbourhood in Mount Pearl, Newfoundland. It felt magical, especially when the moon came from behind the clouds to help light the way across the lawns and driveways.

 

Enjoy the fun of the children today through the lens of your own fond memories. And as our daughter said when she was a small child, "Happy Hallow-treating!" 

 

The harbour

During our picnic on the beach at Northport, Prince Edward Island, we could see the boats and the wharf in the distance. We looked forward to exploring the area before we headed home.

 

The wharf at Northport in Cascumpec Bay, was quiet by mid afternoon with one pleasure craft headed into the bay.

 

Fishers pursue a variety of species out of this port, including, lobsters, mussels, snow crab, scallops, cod, herring, mackerel and more. Their vessels were tied up by late afternoon.

 

The lighthouse in the distance, 

 

built in 1899, is privately owned today, 

 

taken out of service and replaced by the range light on the opposite side of the harbour.

 

As I walked along  by the port, I thought of my grandfather, who fished out of Petty Harbour, Newfoundland, commonly known as The Harbour, when I was young. He was up at four a.m. during the fishing season, had breakfast and was out on the water at daylight. When he arrived home, I was getting up and he prepared our breakfast. I loved those times with Granda. He was the age I am now when we shared those special moments.

While he didn't do other meal preparation, that was Nan's domain, Granda cooked a great breakfast. He made toast over the wood stove, taking up a damper of the stove and placing a rack over the opening to the flames. Nan's homemade bread was cut thick and slathered with fresh butter, none of that margarine stuff. Jam and molasses were the condiments, or toast with bacon and eggs.

Granda often watered salt fish overnight. He'd wrap it in wet newspaper and place it down on the coals in the stove. When steam rose from the stove, the fish was done. I didn't like the idea of the fish in newsprint and never ate that meal but Granda always made something for me.

He often hummed as he worked and I set the table. "It's ready now, Maimie Bow," Granda would say as he took up breakfast. Maimie Bow was his nickname for my mother, his only daughter and I inherited it. Granda was the only person ever to call me by that name. On this day, a lifetime away in another harbour, I miss him.