Gil Jennex's Home Page

When writing about my early years, it is hard to know where to begin, because all the memories of incidents and impressions occur randomly in the present. As they come rushing from the past they play hopscotch with time, therefore these memories have an uncertain time sequence. As a whole they are what made me. Individually they are bits and pieces of a past life, which I will try to isolate and clarify, to re-live again, but in so doing I find still others come to the surface of consciousness.

There were no other kids about, except when visitors came to our home, to my grandparents' or to my great uncles'. We only knew a daily life isolated from other kids. It was a short run to my grandparents' house. My mother must have found it lonely at night when my father was away working - living down there in the woods with only us kids for company.

My father did what work he could get during the depression, but there was not much work and the pay was poor. The main source of income was work in the lumber woods cutting pulpwood; it was seasonal. He was paid a dollar a day and found. He would have to go cap in hand to get all of his money, as it would appear that the man controlling this work paid grudgingly. Work in the lumber woods took my father away for weeks at a time.

There was also road work, of shorter duration and irregular, but then my father could get home at night. Another seasonal source of income was cutting, hauling and piling pulpwood or pit props, from our own land. It was bought by the same man who hired for the lumber woods, so the needed dollars came in slowly. For the latter years of the 1930's, my father cut and bundled Christmas trees from our land. I can still remember the smell of the tar or pitch of the twine supplied for the binding. He also cut on our land 'pitprops', which were smaller round than pulpwood; they were used to prop up mine tunnels.

At one time my father had the idea of selling products door to door, using his old car to get about. I think he sold soap, shaving products and the like of a popular brand. But he was hopeless. He was not a salesman. Instead he gossipped. Our mother and we kids would wait in the car while he went in to sell; he would be in the houses for what seemed like ages. My mother would have a go at him to be quicker, but it was the same at the next house. I can't imagine what he was like when on his own. I can't remember how long he tried selling. Maybe only one or two trips.

A dollar-a-day wage is not much, even during the depression of the 1930's, but we lived on a farm. We ate chiefly off the land. I never remember going hungry. If you have to live out a depression, head for a small farm. What money there was had to be spent on the necessities of life which could not be made or grown on the farm. We had to buy such things as sugar, flour, salt, yeast for breadmaking, baking soda, and kerosene for the lamps. These items came from the local stores, and although you could get some credit, the money had to appear eventually. Other items were bought if money was available. We had no luxuries.

Some clothing was bought, but only what could not be made. Clothes went down the line between Garth and I. Our mother made some of our clothing such as shirts from flour bags. Dying gave some colour and covered the lettering. I should imagine, but can't remember, that many kids went to school wearing flour-bag clothes. Much of our clothing was made from adult clothes, some of which were donated by relatives. Our mother was good with a needle and thread. And she had a much used Singer sewing machine - a table model, hand operated. My grandmother also had a Singer; it was a foot pedalled model.

We had to buy winter boots (called lumberman's rubbers), long johns (underwear), and caps with ear lugs. Also bought, were the heavy padded jackets and trousers for winter. But mittens, socks, sweaters, and scarves were all knitted; some of the yarn had to be bought, although I can remember my mother unravelling one thing to get the yarn to knit another. We kids would be put to work rolling this used yarn into balls or holding the skeins of new yarn while the adults rolled it into balls.

Between last frost and first frost, from spring to fall, we kids went bare footed, including to school. It saved money. I can remember my mother working around the house and barn in her bare feet. Sneakers were worn before last frost in spring and after first frost in the fall, that is after and before the snows of winter.

When I look back, I realize that my family and my grandparents ate well. There were three meals a day, two with desserts, and a midnight snack before going to bed. When there were guests the table was full.

My grandparents only got the old age pension, which was at best at the subsistance level. But again, they lived on a farm. This meant we grew all our own vegetables; picked and preserved wild berries; bought fish quite cheaply from the local fishermen; kept hens, a cow and a pig; shot at least one deer a year; and snared rabbits in winter.

Therefore, the major tasks for adults and us kids were related to survival chores which were seasonal. The garden had to be planted in spring, hoed, weeded and watered during the summer and harvested in the fall. In late summer, the hay had to be mowed, dried, and stored in the barn. During the summer, berries had to be picked and bottled. A young pig was bought in spring, fed and tended all summer, and killed in the fall. A deer would be shot in the fall. The only way of keeping meat was to bottle, salt or pickle it. Fish was dried, pickled or salted. All winter the cow was tended in the barn which meant getting rid of the manure, supplying her with hay and milking; in spring and summer she wandered the countryside which meant she had to be rounded up at night. Firewood had to be cut, hauled to the dooryard, sawed into stove-sized blocks, split with an axe into halves or quarters and stacked for winter.

The plenty of summer with skill and knowledge of generations, ensured adequate food stored for winter. We kids were expected to take part in these seasonal and daily chores. Having a growing family meant mouths to feed, but it also meant hands to assist with or take over some of the daily tasks. Children were expected to do chores, which as they grew older, expanded in quantity and in the skill required. A child can't milk till his hands are strong enough and he can keep the cow still. Stacking and carrying the split firewood comes before sawing and splitting it with an axe. We kids had plenty of time to play, but the chores had to be done first, summer and winter.

It was part of our way of life. When we were very young, and with my father away, our mother, herself, would have had to do all our later daily chores, as well as looking after young kids, cooking, cleaning house, washing, etc. As we grew, we were eased into what would become our expected tasks.

The bulk of the firewood was cut back in the woods, by my father and grandfather, then hauled by ox sled to the wood or dooryards near the houses. It was still in long lengths. There it had to be sawed into stove-sized lengths and then split with an axe, if it were too big around. Slender lengths were just broken with the axe into the proper length. There had to be a time gap between cutting and use to allow the wood to dry. So the wood was stacked in rows or just in a large pile, to allow it to dry out. Sometime the wood had started to rot, as the tree was dead when cut, therefore it did not require as much drying time. Each stove had a wood box nearby, which had to be kept full, a task even quite small kids could perform. Probably as a game at first; being a daily chore came later, but not much later. Our wood was stored outdoors, so the snow had to be knocked off before it was brought into the house. The heat from the hot stove, melted the frost, before the wood was popped into the stove. Some homes had sheds for storing firewood, but not ours.

I can remember my grandfather carrying lengths of firewood on his back. Any fallen or dying tree in the woods near the house could be carried in this way. Firewood was of a size, or type which would not make pulpwood, because pulpwood meant money. Trees cut for pulp which had a rotten centre, would become firewood. Generally, firewood would be cut and hauled in winter; sawed, split and stacked to allow to dry over summer;then to be burned over the next winter.

Firewood or pulpwood cut in winter, sometimes had the centre riddled with ant holes where large black ants were hibernating. We kids thought it was fun to put the wood near a fire and see the ants begin to move about, thinking the warmth of the spring sun had arrived. The poor ants were in for a surprise.

Every wood yard or door yard had a sawhorse, to hold the tree trunk as it was sawed. We kids learned to saw early, but splitting the wood with an axe on the chopping block could be more tricky because of the axe's weight and the danger of it bouncing off the wood. My mother used to saw and split wood if needed, when my father was away and before we kids were old enough.

Another chore for us kids at an early age was keeping the water bucket full. This bucket sat in the kitchen with a mug for dipping out the water to drink or for other uses. The well was about 200 feet away, and buckets of water had to be carried daily. The tank in the stove had to be kept full as well. There was a bucket in the well on a rope. You dropped this bucket only a short distance into the water, pulled it up full, and filled up the house bucket. In winter the ice had to broken with an axe to get at the water. It was hard work, cold and primitive, but it was part of our way of life - the only life we knew.
Our well was shallow, so getting water was quite easy; just lift the lid of the wooden structure over the well and drop the bucket. The lid was to prevent animals and leaves and what have you, from falling into the well. Being shallow, about three or four feet, you could see the bottom. Our well was more or less just a deep spot in a brook, which flowed in and out and never went dry. My grandfather's well, quite near the house, was much deeper and rock lined. It was dark down there; the water was shallow. In a dry spell this well went dry. Then my grandfather went about 100 yards to a stream. But in really dry spells, this brook also went dry, and he had to go about a quarter of a mile up across the road to another brook in the woods.I remember many times making this trip with him or on my own when I got older. There was a beaten path to this spot, as it was used also by his brother, Jim.Toward the end of August was when a dry spell could occur.

Not all homes had a boat, but most did. The fishermen had a combination sail and inboard motor boat, with open deck and a hold for the fish. They used these boats to visit up and down the harbour as well as for fishing. For what ever reason, I remember a pleasant smell of my childhood - the smell of gas of the inboard motor of the fishing boat. As the boats went up and down the harbour, this smell would float across the water, especially on a calm day.

Others,like my father, had a row boat; a spar and sail could be put up if the wind was right. I learned to row a boat at an early age. My father would row across the harbour to West Jeddore to go to the store, to Head Jeddore to visit relatives, to pick berries, etc. Usually the whole family went. Our uncle, Harland Mills, our aunt and three cousins from Myers Point would come to visit for the day, rowing both ways. Such long row boat trips were the exception, not the rule.

I remember once when Garth and I were taken in the boat to the West Jeddore store, where my father acquired a large empty tea chest. The only room for us on the way home was in the chest. We could just peek over the top. Another time, my father rowed us all the way up the harbour and passed under the old Navypool Bridge, into one of the long tidal rivers entering the harbour. We saw seals from the boat on the way up the harbour. We had gone all that distance to pick huckleberries. The boat was not used to travel down to East Jeddore or up to Oyster Pond, as it was easier to walk. Or later use my father's old car.

Even if you had no boat yourself, a wharf was handy for visitors. As my father had half a wharf, my grandfather's wharf had gone completely, as had my uncle's in Oyster Pond, the fishermen towed a small row boat when they came visiting. The larger boat would be anchored, and the visitors came ashore in the row boat, leaving it pulled up on the slip. Thus our life was tied to harbour travel, but only partially, not as in the past. This relationship with the water was fast disappearing for all except the fishermen. The boat in our lives was not a necessity.

We never had a horse; others in Jeddore had horses which they used for ploughing, hauling loads like hay and wood, but never for horseback riding, as far as I can remember. The mail was delivered by horse and buggy, or in winter, by sleigh. Daily there would be a mail delivery, a drop off and a pick up. The mail route ran between Oyster Pond and Lower East Jeddore. We had an ox which was used in winter to pull a sleigh loaded with pulpwood or firewood. The ox was attached to a wagon or sleigh by shafts and a yoke. There was a double yoke in our garage, so in times past two oxen must have been owned and used, with a shaft between.

I always remember the pedlars coming to the house in summer. They were dark skinned men, thin and on the small side; to a child definately different in appearence. I think they were Armenians. They carried a hugh pack on their backs and a wooden box across their chests; these were attached to each other and supported with straps across the shoulders.

I suppose one balanced the other, but it was still an enormous load. The pack was wrapped in a large leather or oil cloth blanket-sized wrap with the four ends tied securely in some clever way. The back pack was usually full of clothing, and the box with combs, hairpins, needles, thread and the like. The pedlars would come in the house, unroll the pack and open the box, which had stacked trays - a time for us kids to stare and our mother to buy a few things if she had money. They would call in once or twice a summer. I remember at least two different men making the rounds. They must have travelled continuously during the summer months. The pedlars would ask for a drink of water, but never for food. To us kids where they came from and where they went was a mystery.

In the 1930's a store in Head Jeddore ran a regular grocery van down the East Jeddore Road. I can't remember how often, maybe once or twice a month. The firm was called Young Bros. The van carried a range of groceries and other sundries that would be found in a country store. The back opened up, the the driver climbed aboard to serve customers from a narrow passage between shelves. My mother probably bought such things as tea, flour, baking power, molasses, etc. Credit would be extended. The van never came down our lane, we had to go out to the road. It would be expected and the toot of the horn would get us to the road quickly. If my mother did not want anything, we kids ran out to tell the driver.

Another source of groceries was a hike to the store, usually East Jeddore. I can remember my grandfather returning with a flour bag over his shoulder full of purchases. When my father had his old car working, we made trips to the store in it. For us kids the store was an exciting place with things such as food, clothing, tools, etc, shelved from floor to ceiling, even hanging from the ceiling. The store in Oyster Pond owned by Garth Hoskings was by far the larger.

The last regular source of goods, was via the Simpsons and Eatons mail-order catalogues.

These two large catalogues would arrive each year with pictures of children and adults in all their finery, of toys and of all household and farm items. There was page after page. We kids never seemed to tire looking at the pictures. Orders and money used to go out via the postman; eventually the goods would arrive, sometimes the wrong size, so back they would go. Christmas presents arrived this way, so our mother would have to pretend the parcel was for our grandmother. Most of the households in Jeddore would use the mail order catalogues. It was part of our way of life, a vital part.

Nothing was wasted. The mail-order catalogues ended up in the toilets as toilet paper. No matter who you visited, there would be last year's catalogues waiting to be used by the half or quarter page, one after the other. Newspapers also came to this end, although newspapers were preferred for lighting fires in the stoves. A few pieces of paper, the ever present kindling wood and the fire was away. Beside the stoves were kept long slivers of dry wood which were poked into the stove, as a source of light for the pipe, cigar, cigarette or the lamp. Matches were available, but they cost money, so were used sparingly, mainly outdoors where a light was not readily available.
Most men smoked; if cigarettes, they rolled their own. My father smoked cigarettes, but my grandfather smoked a pipe. They considered cigars a treat and usually got them as gifts. Chewing tobacco was a common habit as well, although not by my father or grandfather. I remember one house we used to visit, where the old gentleman had a spitoon beside his chair. Most men chewed outdoors.

Our source of light was the kerosene lamp; for outdoors, there was the kerosene lantern. Lamps had to be filled, wicks trimmed, shades cleaned, but we kids were kept away from these chores till we were much older. There was a lamp for each room, but a lit one would often be carried from room to room, if no one else needed it. Lamps would be lit from the stove or from each other, using the slivers of wood. Moths and other insects getting inside the lamp shade would always get a comment from us kids. If you had to go to the barn, toilet or dairy at night, the lantern lit the way; as it did if you went visiting. I do not remember using candles for light, although I do remember candles in my childhood. Just the plain white ones.

Our mother believed in her children being clean. We kids had to wash our hands before eating, and after going to the toilet. We had to wash behind our ears, especially. We all used a face cloth (sharing the same one), except my father, who just scooped water from the wash basin unto his face. We all used the same towel. We got a bath once a week, summer and winter. In winter the tub would be near the Quebec Heater in the living room. Getting a bath meant getting into a washtub and being scrubbed, one at a time and in the same water. It would be warm water from the tank on the side of the stove. We had our own tooth brushes, but shared tooth paste. Our father sometimes used to use the soot from inside the stove to brush his teeth, which would amuse us kids.

There were certain hygienic dos and don'ts which were we were expected to follow at all times. Such as not putting your hands in your mouth, and not putting a knife in your mouth. There were face cloths, dish cloths and floor cloths, all of which had their specific uses which were not to be confused. My mother made comments to us upon returning home after a visit, if she had seen the dish cloth being used to wipe the floor. We had to wash our hands before meals, after going to the toilet, and after playing with the cat. We were told to blow our noses and not snuffle; and to sneeze into our handkerchief.

We kids were always catching the regular infectious diseases, which seemed to pass through the whole community via the school, such as measles, whooping cough, mumps, and jaundice; and of course the regular colds. For our mother, it must have been a burden, because we would all be sick at once or one after the other. I would hate the colds, because it would mean a flannel mustard poultice around our chests at night. With the fever, it would be hot and irritating. I can remember my mother coming to my bed several times a night to see if the poultice was on and if the covers were up. The only medicine was cough syrup. One good thing about being sick was we always got eggnogs; a treat only when sick. We got daily or weekly spoonfuls of codliver oil; they were hateful, but there was no refusing. This, despite the fact that fish was very much a part of our regular diet. Our parents and grandparents got the colds of course, but the other diseases they had had already had; except my father, I remember him getting jaundice when we did.

We did have habits which would be frowned upon, such as we all used the same face cloth and towels. A dipper sat in the water bucket from which we and visitors all drank. There was a slop bucket on the floor near the wash stand into which all left over water was dumped - from the dipper, from the hand basin, and from the dish basin. This bucket sat till it was full, and then thrown in the yard, or if a dry spell, poured on some of the garden plants. If at night we kids had to pee, it was into the slop bucket, which in the morning would then be emptied in the toilet. We also had chamber pots for night use.
Our parents and grandparents, and neighbours, did pay attention to sanitation, as part of their way of life. The toilet was always a distance from the house, and any drainage was down hill from the well and the house. The barn with its manure pile was also always below the well. The cows teats were wiped before milking and the milk strained before use. The water bucket was kept clean and the the water replaced regularly, usually due to continuous use. Any water left in the bucket before taken to be filled, would be tipped into the stove water tank. If neighbours were not as clean as they should be, we kids would hear our elders comments upon it.

My uncle, Alan Mills, had a hand pump connected to the well, so water did not have to be carried and kept in buckets. He also had a kitchen sink, down which went all waste water. This was an improvement over our way of doing things. He lived in my mother's family home, so I guess in our home she must have missed these comforts.

Going to the barn with my parents and grandparents to watch them milk is one of my earliest memories. This was a twice daily chore that had to be done; the morning milking was usually done before we kids got up. That is, until we grew old enough to do it. During the summer months in the evening, we would have to go looking for the cow and drive her home. There were only fences around the fields and gardens. After the morning milking session, the cow would be let loose to wander at will up or down the road, or back into the woods. Every household did the same. Usually toward evening the cows would start home, but at times they would gather together and stay put. We would meet kids from other farms looking for their cows, and word would be passed along where they were. All cows had bells, which had different rings, so that helped to locate them. After haying the cows were kept in the fenced fields, where they grazed till the snow came; then they stayed in the barn. A new calf each year increased milk production and could be sold or killed for meat later on.

As we grew big enough, the churning became one of our weekly tasks. We could play after we had churned. I can't remember how long we had to move the plunger up and down, but to us kids it seemed like ages, with cries to our mother "Isn't it ready yet?". Into the churn had gone left over milk, which soured; after churning it became butter and buttermilk; from buttermilk my mother got curd or cottage cheese. We grew up expecting milk to sour and to have cream on top. Buttermilk has always been one of my favourite foods. I can't remember how my mother got curd from buttermilk, but it was delicious especially with a little bit of corn syrup or molasses on top.

Ours was a very simple life with little modern technology, except cars. From the late 1920's, my father had various old cars, but marriage and children put a stop to this, till the mid 1930's. He did repairs himself, and seemed to like taking engines apart and putting them back together again. One of my fond memories of my father is his working for hours on an old car, hands and arms full of grease. One model in the late 1930's was a Whippit. There was no telephone or radio in my parents' or grandparents' houses, nor Jim's. My uncle, Alan Mills, had a handcranked wall phone, so I was familiar with its use. I first heard a radio when my grandfather took me to Howe Jennex's, about two miles away, to hear King George VI's coronation speech. I remember the strange voice from the box, but not the words. We were brought up strong royalists.

My mother and grandmother had flowers growing around the house purely as a decoration. Some were annuals grown from seeds purchased at the store, or collected from the plants in the fall; others grew year after year with little care except manure and watering in drought times. Some plants were banked with straw to give them some protection from the winter's cold. The dahlia tubers had to be dug up each fall, and stored in the cellar over winter to be replanted in spring. My favourite was the lilacs; two large bushes grew in my grandmother's yard; they produced a mass of flowers each year. My mother had household flowers in pots, the most common one was the geranium. These also were stored in the cellar during the winter.

There were plenty of wild flowers in the fields and woods and my grandfather would make us aware of their beauty and nature. My favourite was the mayflower, first in spring and wonderful to smell. Next,I liked the lady's slipper and the irises. My grandfather showed us how to make pigs from the iris' green pod by sticking them with matches for legs. The daisies and buttercups covered the fields and bordered the road as did the dandelions. We ate the leaves of the dandelion like spinach. The wild rose grew in the rocky areas bordering the fields. As children we were made aware of the natural beauty around us, and not allowed to just take it for granted. This mainly came more from my grandfather, because of the time he spent with us outdoors, but was supported by the other three adults. We were encouraged to bring flowers home and put them in water. My mother would take us on trips into the woods to find the first mayflowers.

On one occasion, my father and mother had gone to see a movie. Where I do not know, but it would have had to be at the public hall either in Oyster Pond or Head Jedddore. I can still remember their hearty laughter the next day and for days afterward, as they recalled the scenes. I would like to know the title.It was their first movie, but silent or sound, I do not know. Probably silent.

In every community, there was at least one timber mill for turning logs into boards and shingles. These sawmills were run by water with wheels, cogs and belts. The workings was a place of wonder to us kids. The smell of newly sawn timber was everywhere; and there were piles of sawdust about. The men would take their own logs to have them cut for a charge; they usually assisted the owner.

About two miles from us toward Lower East Jeddore was a blacksmith with bellows, fires, redhot iron, and hammering. I remember the blacksmith with the horse hoof up between his legs, while he nailed the shoe on. I can't remember why my father or grandfather went to the blacksmith, probably some piece of metal needed to be repaired or replaced. Maybe they just dropped in to gossip as they walked by. We kids were taken there from time to time. I remember it as a cosy place, maybe because of the warmth in winter or the glow of the fire.

On our land the power was man power, ox power and occasionally visiting horse power. We kids always had toy water wheels, wind wheels and weather vanes, so we understood a little about how wind and water could do work. In the past someone in Jeddore must have had a windmill, because I remember the wreck of one. It would have been used to either pump water from a deep well or maybe to grind grain into flour, before it was more economical to buy flour at the store.

We had no river on our land, so there was no question of water power and our well was at surface level, so we had no water wheel or windmill.
Our harbour was sheltered from the fierce storms and high seas of the Atlantic Ocean. Just in from the mouth of the harbour, there was a sharp bend with a narrow gap of about a mile, which led into the very large harbour proper. Thus the Atlantic gales were prevented from rushing straight up the harbour, as was the Atlantic swell. The harbour could be choppy and with high winds could be a danger to small boats, but this was nothing compared to the outer harbour and the ocean.

We were aware of the Atlantic's fury however, because we reaped the results of shipwrecks out in the ocean. I remember two occasions when drifting cargo from two wrecks came to our shore. One was of lumber, cut and ready for use; the residents up and down the harbour searched the shore for lumber. The other cargo was one of apples. Unfortunately, it was winter and they were frozen. We brought them home and our mother did something with them, probably apple sauce or baked apples. I remember we did not like eating them when they thawed.

Planes were seen and heard occasionally, but at a great distance. On three occasions, they were close enough to give us a thrill. Once a sea plane was forced to land on the harbour. From our hill, known as Rum Point, which commanded a panorama of the whole harbour, we had an excellent view of the plane's landing just off shore from us, and then taxing down the harbour to the Government Wharf in Lower East Jeddore for repairs or what have you. Maybe it was lost, as there was a light snow storm just before. Then the excitement of its roaring engines, and its rush up the harbour to take off abreast of us. I do not know the type, but it sat in the water as a Catalina, rather than up on skis. Of course we chattered about it for days.

The second event must have occurred in the late 1930's; we heard this tremendous roar, and rushing outside, just had time to glimpse a fighter plane fly low over the trees. Within seconds it was gone, but leaving a memory.

The last happening, involved a German dirigible, the Hindenburg, I think, which crashed upon landing in New York in 1937. It flew quite low, and seemed to us very large. It was probably coming in from the Atlantic, and was passing on its way south to the United States. We ran about getting views from various spots. My last recollections was it flying far out over the harbour toward Head Jeddore and seeing something fall into the harbour. As a kid I wished I could get what the dirigible had dropped. Little knowing that it was probably garbage which they would try to drop over water. Such were my experiences with things of the air in Jeddore in the 1930's. Not much, but to us kids, isolated as we were, great events in our lives. Such happenings, made us aware of a life other than ours.
The one room school at lower East Jeddore was about five miles away; two miles of this was through woods with no houses, so it was decided that I would not go to school till Garth reached school age, so we could go together. So I started school just after my seventh birthday, and Garth was nearing his fifth. This meant that we only had two months schooling that year as vacation time was July and August. I was naturally shy and reserved, so I found it hard to adjust to school; our isolated upbringing and life did not help. I remember our first teacher, Miss Gertie Grant, who had also taught my mother, and have only a few impressions of these first few months. We later had a Miss Wright, and then for a few years Mrs Ralph Jennex.

I do not think that I ever really liked school in Jeddore, because of my shy retiring nature, I was picked on a lot. Because I could not spell, I remember with dread the endless oral spelling tests, whereby we pupils had to line up and spell words in turn, if correctly, then to top of class, but with me ever at the end of the line. It was a public display of my inadequacy.

We kids behaved at school, because our parents had the policy: a strapping at school, meant a beating at home. A strapping was delivered on the hands with a two inch wide strap. I think the straps were cut from conveyor belts. I remember my first strapping; some smart ass older pupil told me to spit on my hands to make them wet, as it would not hurt as much. Of course, ever naive, I did and of course it hurt more.
Our mother made us do our homework, and helped us with problems. She saw to it that we did all our homework daily, which I enjoyed doing. So workwise, I did fine in school and for that generally liked going. I guess school in Jeddore had pluses and minuses in my memories.

We missed few school days; when we did it was due to illness or extreme weather, not the distance. We used to hurry to school, but meandered home playing with other kids, exploring here and there. There was always a cookie or apple on arrival home, so the thought of that would hurry us up. Also, the last part was through woods with only one empty house, and that was supposed to be haunted.

I do not know, if as a child, I really understood death. I remember once going to the funeral of a child. I had heard stories of how he had slowly died, probably from TB, I do not remember. His brother was crying at the grave side, and I thought it was the one who had died. It was confusing.

An old man had died in lower East Jeddore, and on the way home from school my brother and I went into the church to look at the body which was in an open coffin. We were obviously not scared of death. I remember this man had died of cancer of the throat, which had eatern a hole, or so we kids had picked up from adult conversation - and we had gone in to see the hole. Anyway, we did not. Just then some man came into the church, saw us, and sent us flying. I often wonder what we would have done if no one had come into the church to interrupt us.

Our parents and grandparents, as all adults, talked among themselves. Sometimes, they would warn us not to repeat what we heard, other times, I suppose silence was understood. As deer shooting out of season was illegal, stories of such killing was not to be talked about willy-nilly. Ralph Jennex had shot a deer and had given my grandparents some, which was much appreciated. We kids went off to school and told someone or everyone, and it got back to Ralph. Anyway, did we ever get a tongue lashing from my grandparents, who had to apologise to Ralph, a good friend. We had learned our lesson.

Another good friend of my grandparents was Fred Baker, who was terribly fat. The largest person, male or female, of my childhood. He used to come to my grandparents home to play cards. He was well liked by all. Anyway, kids would refer to him as 'Big Fat Fred'. On our way to school one day, Garth and I saw him in the distance and shouted 'Big Fat Fred' and ran. Not far from the school there was what seemed to us a very steep hill. On the way home, I looked up the hill, and there standing on the top was Fred Baker waiting for us.

It was the only way home. Boy did we ever get told off. He also told our grandparents, who were not too happy. It is strange the events which make lasting impressions on children,and thus stay in memory. Also, maybe why these two happenings remain in memory was because they made our grandparents angry, which was a rare occurance.

Our father was fit and strong; he had to be, because we kids certainly gave him exercise. When we went anywhere to visit, my brother and I sat in the cart and he pulled. The same in winter on a hand sleigh. Down hills we coasted on our own. But the real fun was when our father placed a pole at the back of the cart and ran, pushing us along on the flat parts of the road. We were endlessly asking him to do this, taking turns to steer. There were spills; the road was a dirt gravel one, and the cart handle would fly out of our hands when the wheels hit a larger rock or loose gravel; over we went, and tears, but off we would go again. We did a lot of travelling on my father's shoulders, holding onto his forehead. The youngest would ride this way and the older, me, would run along holding on his hand. Later Maureen would be on his shoulders and Garth and I running beside him.

We always had a swing and a tilt, and getting an adult to push us was a treat; soon we learned to propel ourselves higher and higher on the swing. A favourite pastime of my brother and I was to climb trees. As on the swing, he was braver or more agile, and could go higher than I. Where there was a thicket of tall spruce and fir, we would try to go from tree to tree. There were falls, but none serious; but as mentioned previously, Garth did fall from a rope off the hay mow in our barn and broke his collar bone, but we did not know it at the time.

One thing that both Garth and I liked to do was to walk the fences. Some fences were made of barbed wire and wooden posts; but others had wooden palings. Near our barn was a fair length of rather sturdy fence, so we walked the railing or pole nailed to the palings, from post to post. Some were slender and would sway, but that was the challenge. I seem to remember that we carried a stick to assist in balance. The fall to the ground, landing on our feet, never seemed to hurt us.

We used to go fishing, taken by our parents when very young, but soon we went on our own. Fishing meant throwing the line off the rocks with a hook baited with worms, clams, or perriwinkles. We never caught much; when we did it was exciting, but never something to eat. Usually we got sculpins, which were ugly, all mouth and bone, with sharp spines which we were told held poison. We also caught perch, tommycod, and small flatfish. It was fun and we were always full of expectation. When we were taken to fish from the row boat, that was different; when fishing in deep water you could catch larger edible fish.

My grandfather took us trout fishing in the rivers or streams back in the woods, not on our property, but someone else's. We kids tried with a line tied to a pole, but I do not remember ever catching a trout. My grandfather used one of the well made fishing poles which were in our garage; he used to catch small, but tasty trout. Once while casting he caught my brother in the cheek, just below the eye. There was some screeching till he could be kept still so that my grandfather could work the hook out. My grandfather was very kind hearted and such an incident would upset him more than my brother.

There always seemed to be time for my parents and grandparents to spend with us. Our mother used to read to us. There used to be comics in one of my grandfather's papers from England, and in the local paper. She also read stories from the few old children's readers she had. There used to be Sunday school leaflets. I remember all the usual children's classic stories, so by one means and another they were read or told to us.

My grandfather made us water wheels, windmills, and boats, some with sails. There was always at least one windmill or weather vane on a pole or on one of the buildings. He made us wooden whistles, pea shooters, slingshots and bows and arrows. As our grandfather did not have to go away to work or work hard every day as my father, he had more time to spend with us kids.

On wet and cold days we had coloring books, cutout books, standup books, cardboard models of boats, etc. These latter were quite elaborate and came in cereal packages. The parts were pushed out, folded, and assembled. I remember a battleship with guns, which turned. There were cards which when opened, sprang outward with different layers of scenery. There were other toys. I remember the tops; there were two types, one you pumped a handle up and down, and around the top went making a humming noise. Some of them were quite large. The other smaller type had a spring mechanism that had to be wound up, when the top was released, it went off with a great humming noise. Both types were very colorful.

One year our Aunt, Florence Titus, in Dartmouth, arranged for us to get a charity box of toys. Toy-wise that was the grandest Christmas ever. I remember a metal train engine and passenger car, one was red and the other green. They were quite large, because we could sit on them and push ourselves along. They must have been very sturdy, because they did not get broken as most toys, but were around for years.

In my grandparent's house was the attic full of generations of accumulated things in boxes and trunks, which were always a wonder to us kids. We were allowed to play up there for hours.

In winter we coasted. Garth and I had sleighs; there was plenty of ice and snow. We did a lot of sliding on the ice. As a child I never saw skis, and the only skates were homemade wooden ones. They consisted of a shoe-shaped wooden base, which was lashed to the foot; into this base was embeded the blade which was made from a file or some such piece of metal. My father used them on the back lakes, but only as a novelty. We had a number of pairs in the garage, who made them I do not know. I feel that they were something with a more useful purpose from the past; maybe used to travel up and down the frozen harbour, before road travel became so common.

In the garage were decoys; some made by my grandfather, others going back a generation or more. They were quite natural looking ducks, which would be strung out in the water within a short distance of a hide or blind made from stones or branches. Stone ones would be permanent structures, and could be used by any one. We kids were not taken on such trips for obvious reasons, but we did play with the decoys.

There was a stone blind on the point of our property, which jutted out into the harbour as a long sloping hill, which was called Rum Point. For Christmas one year we got a large space gun which made quite a noise. Once we saw someone using the blind, so we crept out on the hill, half way down, and started to 'shoot' with our gun. It was a wonder that the duck shooters did not shoot us. They did complain to our mother.

As well as decoys there were piles of lobster pots and eel traps in our garage. Most people would keep them in the fish or boat sheds which were constructed on or near the wharves, but our sheds had both gone by the mid 1930's. So the decoys, pots and traps were left over from the past, when they would have been stored in the sheds. I can't remember either my father or grandfather using the lobster pots, because the lobsters were found outside the harbour, and we were not equipped for such fishing. The eel traps and decoys were used from time to time, but did not play a major role in our lives.

Nor did the large metal traps for minks and weasels. These were usally set near the hen houses to protect the chickens. We had mink or weasel pelt stretching boards, and I remember a number of these animal being caught,their furs cured & stretched. I can't remember how often or the price secured for the pelts.

We lived in a world where deer, rabbits, and porcupines were a common sight, as were gulls, terns, crows, and partridge. Of the smaller birds, there were sparrows, robins, and chickadees. There were also the kingfishers, fish hawks, shags and loons. The kingfisher and fish hawk, falling straight into the water, then rising with a fish in their claws or beak was always a delight to see. The call of the loon across the water was like a fog horn, an elusive and mysterious sound often coming out of the fog from across the water. The chicken hawks and eagles were not welcome because they took the hens. We were told the tale that eagles could also take little children; I think the story was in one of the turn-of-the-century school readers.

There were other creatures with which we kids amused ourselves, unfortunately at their expense. Ponds always had frogs and tadpoles, which we called pollywogs. We threw rocks at the frogs, or caught them by hand. Tadpoles went into bottles. Below my grandparents' house was a small cove with a brook running into it. Under the rocks were baby eels and in the pools, minnows; they went into bottles. We were told to let them go, and some eventually might get back into the water before they died, but not many. We would spend hours wading in ponds and lifting rocks.

But we kids were not cruel on purpose, and if our parents thought we were, we were scolded. I remember two escapades of kids in Lower East Jeddore which caused condemnation from my parents and grandparents. One involved plucking a neighbour's chickens and then letting them go. The other was throwing out into the water fish guts attached to a hook and line; the bait would be swallowed by a gull; the result was like flying a kite.
We kids were always getting stung by hornets, wasps and bees. We often did not see the hornet or wasp nest till too late. The stings always brought tears. Rubbing soil on the area was supposed to help. We were warned not to pick up or touch the purple jelly fish as they were poisonous. The white or clear ones we used to throw as snow balls; but I never liked the odour they left on my hands. We never touched toads as we were told they caused warts. I never picked up a snake, but Garth showed no fear, and handled them. As we had no dangerous snakes in Nova Scotia, it is hard to explain my fear.

Open war was declared against field mice, because in winter they came into the cellar and dairy and ate the stored vegetables, flour, cornmeal, etc. When haying their nests would be found and the young destroyed by us or the adults. I was always facinated by the passages the mice would make among the lower stems and roots of the grass. Spring traps for mice and rats were set about the house, barn, cellar and dairy. Rat poision was distributed here and there. Our stored food were their main target, thus they were a threat to our well being.

There were squirrels and chipmunks in the trees. With our sling shots we would try our luck; most of the time we missed. I think the fun was in the chase. Under the eves of the barns and up in the rafters, swallows built their nest, but we were not allowed to disturb them. If we found a birds nest in the bushes, in the grass or in a tree, we were told not to disturb the eggs or young; but we often were nosey and took regular looks, much to the distress of the mother bird. Our adults were obeyed, because I cannot remember us harming purposely any birds' nests, as a result, new nests would be pointed out to us by the adults.

I suppose we were sort of wild in that when our chores were done, we were free to go where we liked in the woods, over the fields, or along the shore. We had to be back for meals, and our mother's call could be heard quite a distance. We had to get permission if we were going out of calling distance, as to our grandparents' house. Freedom to roam was not freedom to do as we liked. We had discipline and were told in no uncertain terms what we could and could not do.

I remember once, when the grocery van came, for what ever reason, maybe it was to keep an eye on our baby sister, our mother told Garth and I to stay near the house and not to come out the lane to the road, while she went out to the van. My brother and I disobeyed and went up the lane to the road. After she finished buying her groceries, my mother got a switch and gave it to to me all the way back to the house. Rightly, I suppose, as I was the oldest. I can still remember that beating. I can just imagined how I yelled. My mother rarely used her old straight razor strap; she preferred switches which were plentiful.
Although disciplined when necessary, a shout usually got the necessary results.

Doing daily chores was an expected part of our way of life; each adult worked long and hard, even my old grandparents, so the easier chores fell to us kids as soon as we were large enough or skilled enough. Discipline was not a part of this, rather a general adult expectation and acceptance by us kids - a part of our way of live. Luckily for us, it was work and a lot of play.

Our family were royalists, I suppose like most people in Jeddore. The newspapers would have special liftout photos, and supplements for royal occasions. Photos of the King and Queen, and later of the Princesses would be on our walls; they would be from calendars or newspapers. My gandparents had a large framed painting of Queen Victoria on their living room wall. We had coloring books and picture books of Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret Rose. We were practically growing up with them. The first radio broadcast I heard was the coronation speech of King George VI.

When the King and Queen came to Halifax in 1938, my grandparents went and took me. I was on my grandfather's shoulders when the royal car drove past on Citadel Hill. I remember the crowds and the cars, but can't remember seeing royalty, probably because I was not sure what to look for. Later that day the King and Queen made an appearence on a red dias on the slopes of Citadel Hill; we were far down in the crowd looking up toward the dias. In the evening we were again on Citadel Hill, this time to watch the passenger ship with the royal party pulling away from the pier and sailing out of the harbour; the horns of the other ships were blowing, and all the ships were decorated with flags.

We stayed with my grandmother's brother, Marshall Mitchell. His son, a cousin, drove us back to Jeddore, and I can remember urging him on to drive faster, especially when passing other cars; my grandmother was nervous and kept trying to get me to keep quiet.
However,not all persons in Jeddore were royalists. While her parents were in Halifax to see the King and Queen, a young girl of 10 or 12 years old, was burned to death when she tried to light a fire with kerosene or petrol. Some man, I cannot remember who, said for all to hear, that it was the fault of the King and Queen, and served the parents right for going off to see them. It is amazing what remains in memory.

As the houses in Jeddore were wooden, from time to time, one would be rolled on logs down to the water, and floated on more logs to a new location. One such two storey house was in Lower East Jeddore. For what ever reason one late afternoon, I was down there when the house caught fire. It seems that the wife was washing or cleaning her husband's dirty clothing with petrol, when the whole house was engulfed in flames. She only had time to grab her baby and run out. I had a full view of the fire, and can remember with what enthusiasm I told my mother.

We have unusual ideas when children, partly due to an incomplete understanding of what adults are on about. My grandfather told me that when I had a dollar in change, he would give me a dollar bill. He meant in exchange for the coins. Anyday, the day arrived and to my surprise and outrage, I did get the bill but was then expected to give up the change in turn. That certainly did lead to a lot of wailing on my part. In the end I got the bill and also kept the change. In the 1930's a dollar was worth something. My father worked in the lumber woods for a dollar a day. My poor kind grandparents were out a dollar.
There were flats far out in the harbour opposite our property; they were mainly of mud and at low tide extended quite a distance above and below water,but were completely hidden at high tide. One day a yacht ran aground and could not get off till the next high tide. Two men rowed ashore and left their rowboat tied up on our slip. Garth and I were there to greet them; we answered their questions and chattered away as they walked up from the shore, passing our house and out to the road. Before they left they gave each of us fifty cents, which we showed to my mother and grandparents with great pride.

We always had a cat, but never a dog. Maybe because a dog had to be fed more and thus would have cost money, or maybe because my mother or father never liked dogs. Probably my mother, because when I was very young my grandparents had a very large, old dog. When it died, it was not replaced. It could have been my father's. But cats we did have. I remember one was hanged when a ladder fell and jammed it against a rock; we found it the next morning. We were always taking the cat to bed with us, which was not permitted. One morning, we got up and left the cat behind. When my mother went to make the bed, there was a batch of kittens in the process of arriving. She was not amused. She had to wash the bed sheets. When ever we touched the cat, we had to wash our hands before we could touch any food.

Washing clothes was a major operation in those days. It had to be done inside in winter, but could be done outside in summer in good weather.A large wooden washtub had to be filled with hot water from the tank on the stove. To this was added homemade soft soap or shavings cut from a cake of washing soap. In went the clothes to soak. Next the clothes would be rubbed up and down the washboard with vigor. This water would be emptied out, and more water added for rinsing. All the wringing out was done by hand. The clothes were pegged to an outside clothes line,running from the house to a tree or pole; there was a forked pole in the middle to raise the line after all the clothes were in place.

I remember the clothes in winter frozen solid on the line. We all wore woolen longjohns or underwear, which were quite impressive when frozen solid. It must have been very uncomfortable when my mother hung up the washing in near or below freezing temperatures. There were always two small lines near the two stoves, so that the clothing could finish drying inside. If the clothes dried well outside, into a large clothes basket they went, to be ironed later, usually in the evening. Ironing was done with metal irons which were heated on top of the stoves. A wooden handle clipped into the top of the iron. I think my mother had the same day each week for washing and ironing, as she did for churning, baking bread, etc.

Childhood memories loom large even when they were nothing in reality, but at the time to a child they seemed shattering. One morning, my brother and I woke to find the house empty, my mother was gone. To us, the empty house, no mother, must have seemed like being abandoned. We were howling and trying to get dressed to make our way to our grandparents' house. When of course, our mother walked in - she had been up to the barn (the old one above the house) milking the cow. She wondered what the noise was all about.
Another time while she was up to the barn, our uncle, Albert Mills, was trying to sleep in, but Garth and I would creep up to the foot of his bed, grab the end of the blanket and take off. After this was done a few times, he was ready to kill. He complained to our mother. I can't remember if we got a beating or not.

When we had guests in the evening, we kids had to go to bed at our regular time, guest or no guest. One evening, I woke up later; a slanting light was coming through the door from the living room which was lit by the kerosene lamp. So the light in the bedroom was very dim. On the foot of my bed was a black animal looking at me with shiny black eyes. I was so terrified, that I could not cry out. I remember staring at it for some time before I could make enough noise to attract my mother's attention. It was only a fox head and skin which women in the 1930's threw around their necks or over their shoulders, but for me it had been a time of terror.

My parents and grandparents were religious in that they believed. It was my grandfather who usually took me to church, the Baptist Church in Lower East Jeddore. My father was away a lot and my mother would have the younger children to look after. My grandmother could not walk the distance, about five miles one way. I do remember times when she did go, so we must have gotten a drive. My grandfather always took peppermints because he said it helped his singing voice. We kids always got some. My grandparents always had bags of peppermints and chocolate buds in their home. I guess mainly for us kids.

My grandparents played cards a lot; it was a social event. One or two couples would come to visit for the evening to play cards for three or four hours. It was a game called Auction. They played as partners. A score was kept. A shorter version was called Auction 45. At the end of the evening a snack was served; usually pie or cake with tea. During the evening all the latest news and gossip would be exchanged. Guests went home usually around midnight.

There was never any alcohol in either my parents' or grandparents' houses. And there was no gambling, which would have been against all my parents and grandparents stood for. Some people looked upon cards as being sinful, because of an association with gambling. To us it was just another game like checkers, but since, they did not play cards on Sunday, more significance must have been attached to card playing than other games. My mother and father did not play cards, chiefly, I think, because they did not like to. I learned these card games early. My grandfather taught me cribbage at an early age as he wanted someone to play with. It was a good game for two persons.

My mother had a very puritan outlook on life, if that is the right word. I remember once we visited an isolated farm house where the young mother had three children under five or six - certainly not of school age. They were naked running around the yard and in and out of the house. Well, my mother had to tell everyone she met and to state how awful it was. Looking back, I can't remember ever seeing other naked little kids, so I guess it was just not done in Jeddore. We kids never went naked indoors, even if there were no strangers about.

I have memories of a few persons who made an impression due to some characteristic that carries them down the years. There was the elderly lady whom my mother would meet on the road in Oyster Pond, who carried a folding stool. When she stopped to talk, she opened it up and sat down. We kids were intrigued. Another lady who used to visit my grandparents was blind. I remember her writing letters using a ruler as one of the touch guides. A man from my mothers youth, Clad Cooper, used to visit regularly; he spoke in a loud unusual voice, which I could recognize a long way off. Clarence Baker, my grandmother's brother-in-law, had only one arm, and I was always facinated with his ability to do things,such as driving a car and playing cards.

All the women hooked mats. Old clothing would be saved, cut into strips and hooked into mats. Each household had a wooden frame to hold and stretch the burlag bag, which formed the base of the mat. Into this was hooked the rag strips to some design which was drawn on the burlap. The mats were very colorful and the designs could be quite elaborate. Most floors had mats scattered about, mainly to give comfort from the cold, and the were decorative at the same time.

There were no spring mattresses. Our matresses were stuffed with straw or feathers; the pillows with feathers. The women also made quilts with squares of colored cloth, saved for this purpose. They also were quite colorful and very clever in their designs. This production of mats and quilts were not to illustrate a woman's artistic skills or as a pastime for idle moments, but to produce the necessities of life. If at the same time the activity gave a woman a creative outlet, this was an added extra. There were not many idle moments in a farm wife and mother's day.

We kids could not wait till Christmas and Easter time, and would always pester our parents and grandparents as to how many days till Santa Claus or the Easter rabbit would be coming. We always had a tree which we kids helped decorate on Christmas eve. Going out with my father to find and cut the tree, always a fir or spruce, was an adventure in itself. My mother had glass decorations which were brought out from careful storage each season to be hung on the tree, along with icicles, colored rope and a sparkling string; a glass angel went on top. Tissue paper and cotton wool covered the bucket of soil the tree stood in. My mother would have us make ropes of colored tissue paper links held together with glue made from flour; these would be hung across the room. We each hung up our stockings to be filled by Santa Claus.

On Christmas eve, we went to bed with great anticipation and were usually out of bed at dawn, which in winter in Nova Scotia, was about seven o'clock. We rushed out to see all the presents under the tree. Each would be wrapped with our names on it. Off came the paper, then on to the next. The stockings would have candy and small items such as pocket knives and mouth organs. Our presents were usually toys, although a few items of clothing were included. My parents felt that for kids, Christmas presents were chiefly toys and candies, not clothing; we kids agreed. Our parents seemed to get great enjoyment out of watching us open our gifts.

A full breakfast followed with bacon and eggs, so eating too many candies before was discouraged. Christmas dinner was served at noon, with a turkey or goose, stuffing, and vegetables, followed by Christmas pudding with sauce. The pudding and the Christmas cakes had been made weeks before and allowed to mature. The evening meal, which we called supper, would be cold cuts and vegestables, followed by Christmas cake, which we usually did not eat at noon, because we were too full.

Easter was not as elaborate. We kids would put our hats in a corner to be filled by the Easter bunny. The hats were the heavy ones with ear lugs, worn in winter. In the morning they would be filled with chocolate eggs and bunnies, as well as a small toy or two; we usually got clothing as well. For breakfast we ate the boiled colored eggs we had helped our mother dye the night before. Dinner was usually a roast with all the trimmings.
In our garage, or in either of the two barns, there were wheelbarrows, plows, a harrow, a wagon, a sleigh, shafts, yokes and harness for oxen. There were also horse harnesses with collars and bridles, suggesting previously the family had owned a horse. The yokes were hand carved.

I did not necessarily use, but saw used regularly, various tools relating to carpentry, farming and lumbering. So much so, that these items have become part of my childhood and their sight brings back memories. My father and grandfather were carpenters, by skill, if not by trade. If something could be made of wood, they would do it, such as building a house or barn, making furniture, or model boats for us kids. The garage was more a carpenter's workshop with the smell of shavings and sawdust. Here were braces, bits, wrenches, planes, hammers and saws of all sizes and types, files, trowels, screwdrivers, measuring tapes and rules, squares, pliers,wrecking bars, chisels, plumb lines and levels. All were hand tools, some such as the planes were wooden, maybe homemade except for the blades, as were some of the saws.

My grandfather sharpened saws - hand saws, crosscut saws, bucksaws - so his use of the sharpening tools as files, set and vice, was a familiar sight; he worked with his glasses half way down his nose.

In the barns or the garage were the garden tools such as hoes, rakes, shovels and forks; the haying tools such as the forks, scythes and hay rakes; and lastly, the lumbering tools such as the axes, bucksaws and crosscut saws, and pevies or cant hooks. There were tools used for clearing land, building fences, and the like, such as the stone hammers, pickaxes, mattocks, crowbars, and mauls. There was at least one large anvil. There were different sawhorses for sawing firewood and for carpentry; there were different vices for wood and for metal. Near the metal vice, would be metal shavings, and we kids would be delighted by the sparkles caused by the shavings as they were dropped through a flame.
I learned to use some of these tools at an early age. With the hammer, hatchets and handsaws, it was just playing about. Something to keep us occupied when we spent time in the garage while our father or grandfather was working. But for other tools it was mastering them to carry out the chores. The hay fork was needed to get hay for the cow from the mow and the shovel for the daily shovelling the manure. The hay rake and fork were used yearly to help with the haying. Firewood needed to be sawn with the bucksaw on a sawhorse; then split with an axe on the chopping block. There was a lot of trial and error here. Early my grandfather had taught me how to properly cut down small trees with an axe.
I had to help my father and grandfather with the crosscut saw, mainly by providing weight on the other end. The garden hoe, rake and shovel were expected to be used properly as soon as we were big enough. In winter paths through the snow had to be shovelled to the barn, dairy, toilet and well.

The garage had a large grindstone which had to be turned by hand while an axe, hatchet, chisel, hunting knife, carving knive or scythe was sharpened. We kids while quite small were expected to turn the handle. I can still remember turning the handle and watching the water come and go as the blade ground against the stone. My father or grandfather would feel the edge of the metal from time to time to check progress, but even if my arms were tired it was on with the turning, till all was done to satisfaction. For sharpening the scythe in the field, there was a long round core of stone. A common sound while haying, was the sound of the scythe being sharpened. I remember some of these stones worn quite thin, due to years of use. There were also wetstones, small black stones, used to fine sharpen knives, chisels and the like.

When saw blades broke, and files wore out, they had to be purchased. But when the handles of axes, picks and hoes broke, they were replaced by local labour.I remember my grandfather making replacement handles. I cannot rememeber if the handles for shovels, rakes and forks were made or purchased. Certainly, the local store carried a supply. It would always come down to the money being available at the time.

Many of the tools had been in the family for generations, well cared for and endurable. I remember some of the handsaws worn quite narrow because of decades of sharpening the teeth. There were so many tools in our garage because my father and grandfather shared them. The garage had been built to be used by father and son. Many of the tools my grandfather had gotten from his father, and probably from Peter Mitchell, who had originally owned our land. When my father moved into his own home, there was probably already within the family enough tools for both households.

We visited the fishing families in Lower East Jeddore from time to time. My Uncle Alan had married Rose, Earl Power's daughter, and it is his boat, wharf and fish shed I remember most vividly. It was a busy place, especially if the boat had just arrived back with the day's catch. When the fish were being cleaned, a swarm of screeching sea gulls darted in and out feeding on the guts which were thrown off the wharf. The harbour bottom below the wharf had scattered skeletons of codfish discarded after filleting. The sheds had barrels of fish, buoys, ropes and nets. For us kids,it was a exciting place, but we had to keep out of the way. We did not realize that years before our properties also had wharves, fish sheds, and boats with the same noises and colour.

A source of excitement for us kids was when the road gangs would be working near our home. There would be the pounding of stone hammers on the metal drills which were used to make a holes in the stones to hold the sticks of dynamite. One man held the metal rod and the other hit it with the hammer. After each hit, the drill would be turned slightly. When the hole was deep enough, in went the dynamite, and all would be covered with boughs. Men would go up and down the road stopping traffic and warning any nearby houses. We kids would be herded well away. We all would wait for the boom. Unfortunately, we were never allowed close enough to see the event, but the smoke, dust, and scattered boughs were evidence of it. As was of course the shattered rock, pieces of which could travel some distance; it proved the power of dynamite to us kids.

The modern world was catching up to Jeddore, because in the late 1930's, electricity had arrived. The topic of conversation was how much money a land owner would get if they had to put a pole on his property or clear a strip of woods for the line right of way. We got no money, neither did my grandparents, as the poles and line near us ran along the road right of way. I remember the gangs working along the road, and the smoke from the burning spruce and fir boughs, the smell of which I have always found pleasing. Our three households could not afford electricity, so its coming made no difference to our lives.