The Ramblings of a "Gypo"Logger's Son: 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