2 Tough Enough To Survive Tough Times

Let’s get back to Fred as my mom’s father was called.  He could say nothing good about Canada as he had moved up from the states with his family into Canada during the height of the “Great Depression,” and now was moving back just before it ended, so as far as he was concerned Canada was the original black hole, and he could not get back to the US fast enough. I can still hear my dad and grandfather going at it on the state of world politics and why anyone would live in such a black hole as Canada when the US welcomed all. This of course was the cause of much despair for my mother.

I did not hold that against Grandpa Wimer, because I think he liked me as he always had me go out on the job and help him with the carrying of bricks and stuff, whenever we visited.  He was a hard working bricklayer and a stonemason by trade, getting up by at least 5 am each morning.  I think he just liked having me around because it sure wasn’t what I accomplished at the work-site.  I was way down on the list of grand children chronologically speaking that is but we always seemed to get along.

My mother had eleven other siblings, nine born before her, two having died of common childhood illnesses before she was even born, and as a grand finale her mother topped it of with twins.  With this many kids running around a boarding house and trying to make ends meet any way she could, Fran, to everyone but us grand kids who referred to her as Grandma Wimer, never really knew my mother or any of her kids very well.  Because of this my mother formed a close bond with some of her older sisters who actually did the raising of the younger ones. 

My mom’s next oldest sister Florence was her closest friend. She was also the favorite of all our aunts hands down. She always gave us presents every Christmas and never missed a birthday, and we always got a special gift every time she came to visit.  My most favorite jack knife came from her when I was 9 or 10.  I lost it working on my first car, a ’51 Ford Convertible, that I talked an acquaintance into selling to me for $145, as our honeymoon car, when I was 23. I think I laid it on bumper or something.  How I missed that knife. 

How I missed my Aunt. It was a sad day when she died of breast cancer at 45.  I missed her, I guess probably more than any of my aunts.  I know what you are thinking, no more presents.  Not true, I guess in all honesty as a kid it had something to do with how I felt about her. But she was neat!  I remember when her hair first started turning gray and she would pull each one out that she found.  She kept them until the ball got quite large.  I think she gave it to one of us kids.  She also liked to catch perch off the wharf with us kids, which was only a large log out in front of the houses, where the boats tied up.  I can still remember her holding our catch on a rope through their gills.  She taught nursing at the Portland Adventist Hospital and was given a Citizen of the Week Award which Teri my oldest daughter who is a nurse still has.

During the “hungry 30’s,” as they were known, it took any means possible to just get by and the boarding house that Grandma Wimer ran was necessary just to survive.  Of the many characters that came to board at their home the scariest was that of a man who had a number of the family sit around the dinning room table with their hands on the table. With everyone following his commands the table 

My favourite aunt, Aunt Florence,
with my sister Dawna

1 The Very Beginning

The beginning for me was in Alberta probably during the month of Nov 1937 shortly after my mother was expected to return to the US with her family.  That was the very beginning; I was born seven and a half months later in BC in a small town in the Fraser Valley called Chilliwack. 

In order to prevent herself from being carted off to the States with her family my mother and dad eloped. They had an accomplice, my father’s mother, so get married they did, as they were madly in love.  I assume madly for why would anyone elope if that were not so.

I surmise that Cliff, my Dad’s father didn’t have a hand in it, as he was a mild sort of a milk-toast kind of man who always was in the background and never said much.  I was never sure what he did for a living although I was always told that he had done truck farming, but I never saw him ever doing it or at least it was before my time.  Grandma was the one who supported the family by teaching grade school.  I suppose Grandpa was an all right kind of guy, but I never did connect very well with him even after staying with my grandparents through grades one and two. And especially after Grandpa accused me of something that I never did, I can’t even remember what it was but I knew I hadn’t done it and he didn’t believe me and there was a ruckus but I never got spanked for it. 

I lived with my grandparents my first year of school, until Christmas.  I came home at Christmas because I was home sick my mom said.  I never remembered being home sick but I guess I can’t blame my mom for using that as a good reason for getting me back home, ten months is a long time to be without your little boy.  And to put things in prospective I was the favorite.  My sister Dawna always made sure I knew that was so.

The next year when I was eight I again spent a year with my grandparents this time with my sister Dawna.  I will never forget the day when my sister lost her front teeth.  It happed this way.  Our job was to do the dishes after supper every evening.  As kids we would goof off, Dawna being the lippy one had just lipped off our Aunty Olive once to often.  Aunty Olive who was only sixteen at the time had just told Dawna to quit goofing off and get on with the dishes. Dawna of course lipped her off with “You can’t make me.” Aunty Olive then proceeded to back up her words and also take care of my sister’s sassy mouth by giving Dawna a good slap on the head.  Dawna ducked to avoid the slap, striking her teeth on the edge of the kitchen counter.  What a snapping sound, what a lot of bawling and what a ruckus ensued, it was incredible.  I sure felt sorry for my Aunt.  Maybe a little sorry for my sister as she was the one who lost her front teeth, she deserved the slap, but not the missing teeth.  Dawna wears a bridge to this day.

Even though my Grandmother was tough on me I always liked her.  During my grade two year I remember getting the strap three times for talking.  My dad said he got strapped just about every day when he was a kid, just so he wouldn’t be thought of as being a favorite.  I don’t think he had any resentment to grandma because he always talked about it with a sense of pride.  It wouldn’t do anybody any good especially the teacher’s son to be thought of as teacher’s pet or a momma’s boy.  So the tradition was carried on although I did not feel quite the same way about it as my dad did.