morse@finderschoice.com
Dates: Sept. 1956 to Feb. or Mar. 1959
Grades 10, 11 and most of 12.
416-269-9979
Toronto, Ontario
We started grade 10 in the old schools. We had a man teacher for a while, and a woman who taught French. Forget their names, but the man was pretty old, and said he had been a classmate of E. J. Pratt.
I was new to Saskatchewan and was a year younger than the rest. Besides the age difference, girls mature earlier than boys. They called me "queer". I didn't know what that meant and wouldn't have minded if I did, it was all in good fun. Later they called me "brainy" and then when I got glasses "owly". One day very early in the school year the Alsask girls came with news that the Sibbald grain elevator had burned down. Don't know why that sticks in my memory, maybe it was the first day of school. Mostly the girls talked about dances. The boys didn't talk much.
Sometime in that winter we moved to the new school, we set up in the lab. The desktops were black and acid resistant. They had taps and sinks and electrical outlets. Cupboards full of chemicals at the back. Lots of fun.
Around that time Mr. Penman from Scotland became our teacher. He taught us a lot of English literature. Mrs. English taught us for a while and Mr. Allin taught us algebra, geometry, trig, chemistry and physics. Were these two ever our homeroom teachers? In grade 12 Miss Baines taught us Shakespeare etc. in a room at the northwest corner of the school. Mr. Kovach was the custodian. They were good times.
In shop we had motor mechanics and woodwork from Mr. Shroeder (sp?) and drafting from Mr. Eunich (sp?). We made end tables out of pine and I made a desk out of mahogany plywood, both still in my family. The shop had 3 car motors and we took apart transmissions and carburetors. Mr. Shroeder also drove the school bus to Flaxcombe.
Students in my class included Diane Sonmore, Barbara Eberman, Joan Langille, Fern Mayers, Faye Rennie, Dorothy Hill, Beverly Sauers, Phil Stevenson, Art Eveson, Mickey Decker, Vernon Plato, Jack Robertson, Pat Sullivan, Frank Kaminski, Murray Keats. That makes 16. Must have been some more. Who were they?
I wasn't much good at sports, except football, where I could go in the line. There was a job for everybody. Phil Ellis, Grade 1, played center and snapped the ball to the quarterback between his legs.
In Flaxcombe we used to ski down the hill behind Bramley's farm. We also played a lot of football after school in Flaxcombe. Phil Stevenson loved sports and he got us all going and showed us how. Phil was very energetic in setting up the skating and curling rinks.
We lived in Flaxcombe less than 3 years. My Dad had the grocery store, bought one from Phil and Joan Stevenson's mum (Alice) and another from James Appleby's grandfather (Mr. Hoveland). The rest of my childhood was on a farm at Irma, Alberta, except for the first 3 years in Ontario where I was born.
What a great place and time for a teenager. I worked in the store and got to know everybody. I was Santa Claus once in the village and it was a disaster because all the little kids knew me. In the summers I worked for farmers, mostly Ron Clark. Ron taught junior high school at Westcliffe around 1958-9.
In the interest of keeping me occupied, for public relations, and just plain kindness, my dad made me go to Grandma Brown's house every Saturday for her grocery order. She wanted a small piece of meat, "Nice" cookies, and a half-loaf of Haw's bread from Kindersley. My house got the other half. Pa and Ma Wenmouth lived next door and kept their eye on her.
Also in Flaxcombe we (boys) got together in Appleby's and Elliot's houses to play monopoly and careers. There were Lawrence Elliot, James Appleby, Murray Keats, Jimmy Wilson. The same gang and some others used to go on hikes in the winter to the "springs" where we would get a fire going and cook our dinner. Once we organized an overnight camp at an old farmstead with trees for firewood. Somebody poured some water in a frying pan full of boiling bacon fat and jumped back in time to let the flames pass by his head. Glad we learned that lesson outside.
I was the editor of the Breeze. Bev Sauers drew pictures for the covers. Once she drew a one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater. Barb Eberman also contributed. Phil Stevenson was the sports writer. Darlene Apps contributed for grade 9. There was a letters-to-the editor page, and since no one ever wrote letters I learned the trick of writing them myself and signed them "Breezy". Mrs. Allin typed the manuscript onto the duplicator sheets (what were they called?). We sold the paper for 10 cents.
One of these "Breezy" letters backfired. It was unpleasant in tone as I was complaining about the farmers complaining. One of the farmers, Boyd Saddler, knew me very well (as he came into the store) and guessed that Breezy was me. He wrote (and had published) a letter in the Kindersley Clarion, similarly unpleasant in tone, complaining about me complaining about the farmers complaining. It was a long time ago but I seem to recall that his letter also complained about lack of supervision of the school paper by the schoolteachers. I was dismayed at the escalation to the big town press and kinda sorry I had written the original letter.
Does anyone remember the band we had? Jack Callson loaned me a tenor saxophone, and later I got an alto sax. Frank Kaminski brought his accordion, Noreen Grayson played the piano, and Roy Helfrich played the guitar and sang. There was another girl played the guitar, but I forget her name. She was nice. Somebody tell me who it was. We played "In The Mood", "Don't be Cruel", "You Are my Sunshine" etc. We weren't bad, considering we only practiced at school, couldn't get together because of distance. Also we had no training. The teachers were nice enough to let us make noise. We played in the gym at noon and recess, and the girls danced (jived).
Dancing, that was the best time. We had square dances and regular dances in Flaxcombe. I never missed and if I did I could hear the music because we lived right across the street. Ike Clark was one of the musicians. Marian, Janice and Heather Clark are my second cousins. Shirley Rowe was there, Fay and Grant Rennie, Louise Murphy, etc. etc. Grandmothers, little kids, and babies that went to sleep.
Jean Elliot lived across the street from us and once she had us teenagers in for a dance party. Around 1956-7 a dance teacher gave some lessons in Marengo. Also in Marengo, around 1958-9, there was a square dance contest. Richard Sautner and 7 others made up a set to represent Flaxcombe, with me as the caller (would rather have danced!).
On my birth certificate, my dad's trade is given as "Salesman", and his business as "Watkins Agent". Did they exist in Saskatchewan? He sold small things that they needed on the farm, medicine for animals and people, spices, kitchen utensils, anything to save the housewife a trip to town. Like any salesman, he got to know his clients: which one had too many baby pigs and not enough milk, and which one had too much milk and not enough pigs to drink it. He had the pigs sold before he bought them. He was well liked.
That was Ontario. In Saskatchewan we have the co-op. Certain pillars of the community wouldn't buy at our store, but drove to Kindersley instead to the co-op. But, like any salesman, my dad liked everybody, and these co-op guys would come in the store, hang out with my dad, and were his best friends. So, when he was ready to sell the store and go back to the farm, guess who bought it.
We never sold milk in the store. We had a cooler for meat, cheese etc. and a deep freeze. Why no milk? Because the café across the street had been selling milk for many years, since before the general store had a cooler. Milk was an important part of his business and the café was an important part of Flaxcombe. Salesmen do not work alone.
Arthur Miller doesn't like salesmen. In "Death of a Salesman" he portrays Willy Loman as a nothing sort of character, just selling, not doing anything useful, but relying on bluff, "riding on a smile and a shoeshine". He claimed to have lots of friends, but in fact they weren't really good friends, and no one came to his funeral. Millar doesn't tell us what's wrong with connecting someone who wants to buy with someone who wants to sell, and making them both happy, and then leaving. He doesn't tell us what's wrong with a smile or a shoeshine. I am like Willy Loman. I make friends quickly in any language, and then I'm gone. In our home we take in ESL (English as a second language) students from abroad. I do a lot of cooking and a lot of talking.
The cattle herders in Mahajunga (Madagascar) wear a little pair of shorts and a piece of cloth. Early in the morning it's cold, and they wear the cloth around their shoulders and upper body, as they warm up it becomes a skirt and finally a hat. They all carry spears, but have no shoes. These guys might be dangerous so the Government assigned us six soldiers with kalachnikovs. One day, ventured off by myself, I heard a rustling noise in the bush, and looked up to see man, dog and cow. I took off my hat. He took the cloth off his head and put it over the tip of the spear. I had a scintillation counter, which looked like a gun, so I took my handkerchief out of my pocket and put it over the scintillation counter. I said hello, he said hello. I said thank you, he said thank you. I said good-bye, he said good-bye. We turned and parted. Always wear a hat, carry a handkerchief, and learn a few words of the language.
One look at the stewardess on Air Madagascar and I knew I was going to enjoy my stay. One look at the desk clerk at Hotel de France removed any doubt. She wore a wedding ring, but "maybe she has a sister". Later, looking for someone to help me learn French, I met three girls who wanted to learn English, and immediately fell in love with the one in the middle. We now have two daughters and the desk clerk is my sister-in-law.
One of the first things I did when I arrived to live in Flaxcombe, in early July 1956, was to join Boy Scouts and go on a bottle drive. James Appleby, Murray Keats, Wayne Ward, Ronnie Ward, and it seems to me there was another (Jimmy Wilson?), making a total of six. Gordon Appleby, James' father, was the scoutmaster. Harry Mytruck, the station agent, was assistant leader at some point. James and family had recently moved in from Ontario, where they had had some scouting experience. Gordon borrowed a truck and we found all the local, single guys who hadn't taken the empties back for years.
We cleaned out granaries full of empties, and used the money to go on a camping trip north of Battleford to a lake called Cochin (sp?). That was a great experience, and next summer (1957) we went south, and camped on the bluffs of the South Saskatchewan. Crossing the river on a cable ferry, I wished, wished, wished that the cable would break so we could drift downstream and have a real adventure. By this time we had added several more, including Jimmy Wilson (?), Glen Ritchie (?). We were camped close to the Kindersley troop and James organized a raid. At night we crept up and threw sticks at their tents.
Next summer we went south to Cypress Hills. Leaders were my Dad, Art Lynn, Howard Clark, and maybe some others. The troop had grown some more and eventually included Fred Coventry, Richard Clark and a few others. And, of course, all the original gang -- no one ever quit!
We learned to swim in Kindersley. Larry White was there, Brian Enger and Kenny Murphy, plus a bunch of others. No girls. Alan Wood was a special friend of mine, but I think he spent the summers in Calgary, and maybe went back there for high school.
On Halloween, 1958, I borrowed the Flaxcombe school key from Mrs. Millward -- told her I needed to get some boy scout stuff (sorry Mrs. Millward, that wasn't very nice). Then, with the help of a friend or two (forget who), we rearranged furniture, books etc. Finally we took the doorknob off the inside, thinking that when the teacher (Mr. Gurla?) pulled the door knob the shaft would come too, and he would just reinsert it and turn normally. I was watching from the school bus when he arrived. As planned, doorknob and shaft came off in his hand. But, he just turned and left the schoolyard. He went and got Howard Clark who straightened things out and I spent a very uncomfortable day at Westcliffe wondering what was going to happen.
When school started in September 1957(?), some of the girls organized an "initiation". They conned me into leading a snake dance downtown and through the store.
You can't appreciate spring until you have experienced winter, and you haven't experienced winter unless you've been in Saskatchewan. Taking off my long underwear is one of my best memories, the feel of denim against skin makes you want to run and run. And that's what I did all day at Johnny Sautner's. Of course you don't run when you pick rocks, but it was spring in Saskatchewan. Johnny and his wife laughed at me and told me to stop running, I'd never last. Next morning when I woke up I couldn't move my arms or legs. Mum called them and said I wouldn't be coming to work. We had a lot of good laughs together later.
In the spring of 1959, I was working for my neighbour at Irma, cultivating summerfallow. He had five kids, all under 7 and at tea time two of them brought me a sealer of tea and some cake etc. The problem was that a third child, 2 years old, had left the house at the same time. The mother thought she had gone with the bigger kids and when they returned without her -- panic. I didn't know anything was wrong until I returned at quitting time. The yard was full of cars, like an auction sale. The child had just been found.
She had crossed the highway, walked 2 miles down an unused side road into a wild area of pasture along a prairie trail. The side road got maybe one car a day, the trail less. Why George drove there that day I never found out, but he found the little girl and brought her back. Makes me think of David Millgaard, and all the others like him, who just happened to be in town on the wrong day.
Give your kids lots of tools and things to work with. My brother and I had a Mecanno set and all our father's tools. He bought a box of toothpicks for 7 cents and built a bridge. Later he built bridges over the North Saskatchewan at Edmonton.
I baby-sat once for Richard, Gary and Randy Clark, and once for Dale Lynn. Art and Mary had gone to a dance and taken Marilyn along. I was a little embarrassed because she was younger than me. She went dancing with the grown-ups and I stayed to play with Dale's toys. They didn't pay me, that would have been a terrible insult. I got these jobs because the store was the first place the parents came to complain that they couldn't find a baby-sitter.
I studied languages, then geology, then nuclides and isotopes, radioactive and otherwise. They analysed the moon rocks in the lab at Columbia after I left. Science can be lonely, but once in a while you find someone who understands what you're doing. I tramped around southern Saskatchewan (oil), northern Saskatchewan (uranium), the rest of Canada, and several other countries. Finally two years in Mexico with my family.
The best time to visit is in October. People have time to visit and it's not yet winter. In October 1994, I drove west with my son Jason (b1972). We arrived in Flaxcombe about coffee time and what a visit we had! There were Jack Clark, Lloyd Hiltz, Murray Cowie, Glen Ritchie's younger brother, Billy Hopkins' younger brother, and Mr. McCollough, who owned the coffee shop. Cowie and Hopkins remembered my dad and me very well, and I had pounded a few nails in Jack's barn and gone to school with Lloyd. Later we dropped in on Frank Kaminski in Kindersley.
On another trip I met Steve Wildman's son who was running a grain elevator in Marengo and told him I used to serve his great grandfather and great grandmother in the store. Also, in Marengo once I met Pat Sullivan's younger brother, and in Saskatoon I met Mr. Allin's son (Tom?). In 1990 I dropped in on Dorothy Hill in the bank in Alsask. In May 1961 I dropped in on Phil and Joan Stevenson.
In October 1999, after my mother's funeral in Irma, I drove with my son, Peter (b1971) to Kindersley where we visited for the last time with Betty and Kendal Clark. The coffee shop in Flaxcombe was closed, but we stopped in Alsask and the people told us that Donna (Baines) Thomson would soon be in for coffee. We were exhausted. We should have waited, but we didn't. Some day I'll go back again.
I left Westcliffe in early 1959. Somebody (who?) organized an event for me, and I got up on stage and they presented me with a silver tiepin and cufflinks with a head of wheat for a motif. Thanks, thanks thanks, thanks everyone for those wonderful times.
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