Irene Kenny's Childhood Memories of the Peace River
Editor's Note: Keith Millard
A very large part of the Peace River Pioneers story/book is devoted to Irene's Story, a retrospective on her entire life. That is of greatest interest to her own descendants and at this time is not planned to be published here.
However, more than a dozen pages are devoted to her childhood memories of the Homestead and of Faust, and they are shown here.
An Index is shown below, and click here to return to the primary Peace River Pioneers webpage:
Peace River Pioneers
Index to Irene's Childhood Memories:
a) Growing up at Rio Grande
b) Kisses to God
c) Sister Marion and I
d) School Days
e) Christmas on the Farm
f) I Inherit Grandma Kenny's Piano
g) God Will Take Care of You
h) Memories of Childhood
i) Childhood Adventures
j) Berry Time
k) A Near Drowning
l) Bedbugs
m) Our Christian Heritage
n) School at Elmworth
o) A Narrow Escape
p) We Leave the Farm
q) Life at Faust
A very large part of the Peace River Pioneers story/book is devoted to Irene's Story, a retrospective on her entire life. That is of greatest interest to her own descendants and at this time is not planned to be published here.
However, more than a dozen pages are devoted to her childhood memories of the Homestead and of Faust, and they are shown here.
An Index is shown below, and click here to return to the primary Peace River Pioneers webpage:
Peace River Pioneers
Index to Irene's Childhood Memories:
a) Growing up at Rio Grande
b) Kisses to God
c) Sister Marion and I
d) School Days
e) Christmas on the Farm
f) I Inherit Grandma Kenny's Piano
g) God Will Take Care of You
h) Memories of Childhood
i) Childhood Adventures
j) Berry Time
k) A Near Drowning
l) Bedbugs
m) Our Christian Heritage
n) School at Elmworth
o) A Narrow Escape
p) We Leave the Farm
q) Life at Faust
a) GROWING UP AT RIO GRANDE
Thus it was by providence that the family stayed together on the farm. A little sister was added in 1923, Marion Isobel.
The farm grew, and along with it the work increased. Avery and Alice were milking thirteen cows, planting and harvesting hundreds of acres of wheat and oats. It wasn't easy to get help, and mother often helped in the field while Robert looked after the children. The only time she had hired help in the house was when the threshers were expected. At that time, as many as twelve men would sit down to eat at the long homemade able. Dad bought a threshing machine, knowing that the men of the community would all work together, and thus all the threshing in the area got done. He also bought a John Deere tractor, and besides his own work, did custom plowing for neighbours.
The farm grew, and along with it the work increased. Avery and Alice were milking thirteen cows, planting and harvesting hundreds of acres of wheat and oats. It wasn't easy to get help, and mother often helped in the field while Robert looked after the children. The only time she had hired help in the house was when the threshers were expected. At that time, as many as twelve men would sit down to eat at the long homemade able. Dad bought a threshing machine, knowing that the men of the community would all work together, and thus all the threshing in the area got done. He also bought a John Deere tractor, and besides his own work, did custom plowing for neighbours.
b) KISSES TO GOD
The first thing I can remember was a snowy winter day. The sun was shining and sparking on the snow where it was shoveled high on each side of the path leading to the chicken house, the barn and the outhouse. I was walking through this winter wonderland, and full of wonder and praise, I began throwing kisses to God. This experience was to stay in my memory all my life.
c) SISTER MARION AND I
Marion and I shared a bedroom that consisted of a bed and some nails on the wall to hang up our clothes. There was a bedroom box to hold other things, such as underwear etc. We had a straw tick for a mattress, made out of flour sacks. When the straw was fresh, the mattress was very bouncy, and one had to struggle to keep from rolling off the bed. After it got beat down through the year, and you could feel the springs, then it was time for a refill.
Above our bed was a shelf on which mother kept odd things. One day I was investigating a brown container with a shiny lid, and discovered some neat little red candies that I decided I might as well sample. The coating was sweet, but after the red got worn off, it was quite bitter. I spat it out and took another couple, and sucked on them down to the bitter stuff. In a while I was in deep distress with a stomach ache and diarrhea, and went crying to mother. On inquiry she found out what I had been into. They were laxative pills. I didn't get punished for that, I suppose mom thought I had suffered enough for my misbehaviour.
Above our bed was a shelf on which mother kept odd things. One day I was investigating a brown container with a shiny lid, and discovered some neat little red candies that I decided I might as well sample. The coating was sweet, but after the red got worn off, it was quite bitter. I spat it out and took another couple, and sucked on them down to the bitter stuff. In a while I was in deep distress with a stomach ache and diarrhea, and went crying to mother. On inquiry she found out what I had been into. They were laxative pills. I didn't get punished for that, I suppose mom thought I had suffered enough for my misbehaviour.
d) SCHOOL DAYS
We rode to school on horseback, often meeting up with the neighbour children on the way. The school was a log building the farmers had built. There was a barn on the grounds for the horses we rode. For most of us the distance was too great to walk, except in the spring when the horses might be needed for work on the fields. I don't remember ever walking the three and a half miles to school, but probably my brothers did.
The winters were bitterly cold. The lunch in the lard or syrup pail buckets would be frozen solid. The ink well in the old fashioned desk would not be thawed out until noon. The stove in the school was the old fashioned barrel type heater. The caretaker would come early to get the fire burning.
The drinking water was carried from the nearest home, at least an eighth of a mile away. For a period, my friend Betty and I carried the water. We took turns carrying the pail as we walked along the path through the woods towards the school. The teacher paid us fifty cents a month for our work. Betty and I decided we would go to the grocery store to buy a package of coloured pencils. The cost was fifty cents. We planned to split the pencils between us. However, the candy took our fancy once we got there, and then we didn't have enough money to buy the pencils. I felt regret that I had messed up my first shopping spree. The look on mother's face also distressed me.
The water pail sat on a shelf at the back of the school and we all drank from the community dipper. One day we discovered white round maggots in the water pail. On investigation, it was found that someone had thrown a dead rabbit on the roof of the school. The results were falling down inside to the water pail which sat directly underneath.
I loved to come home to find something good cooking on the big wood-burning range. Often the smell of home made bread baking in the oven would meet us at the door. Home was a happy place. There was little complaining, everyone had their chores to do. Marion and I did the supper dishes, and the boys carried in the wood. We had a big wood box that meant a lot of trips every day to the giant woodpile in the yard.
There were games to play and books to read. On one of mother's trips from Toronto, she brought back a set of Books of Knowledge, which were great reading. One book was especially well worn. In it was written the story of Red Riding Hood, complete with coloured pictures. There were balls, and skipping ropes and always the horses to ride across the fields. In the summer there was the ever present river in which to swim. In winter there were grand times skating or sleigh riding down the steep hill behind the house.
The winters were bitterly cold. The lunch in the lard or syrup pail buckets would be frozen solid. The ink well in the old fashioned desk would not be thawed out until noon. The stove in the school was the old fashioned barrel type heater. The caretaker would come early to get the fire burning.
The drinking water was carried from the nearest home, at least an eighth of a mile away. For a period, my friend Betty and I carried the water. We took turns carrying the pail as we walked along the path through the woods towards the school. The teacher paid us fifty cents a month for our work. Betty and I decided we would go to the grocery store to buy a package of coloured pencils. The cost was fifty cents. We planned to split the pencils between us. However, the candy took our fancy once we got there, and then we didn't have enough money to buy the pencils. I felt regret that I had messed up my first shopping spree. The look on mother's face also distressed me.
The water pail sat on a shelf at the back of the school and we all drank from the community dipper. One day we discovered white round maggots in the water pail. On investigation, it was found that someone had thrown a dead rabbit on the roof of the school. The results were falling down inside to the water pail which sat directly underneath.
I loved to come home to find something good cooking on the big wood-burning range. Often the smell of home made bread baking in the oven would meet us at the door. Home was a happy place. There was little complaining, everyone had their chores to do. Marion and I did the supper dishes, and the boys carried in the wood. We had a big wood box that meant a lot of trips every day to the giant woodpile in the yard.
There were games to play and books to read. On one of mother's trips from Toronto, she brought back a set of Books of Knowledge, which were great reading. One book was especially well worn. In it was written the story of Red Riding Hood, complete with coloured pictures. There were balls, and skipping ropes and always the horses to ride across the fields. In the summer there was the ever present river in which to swim. In winter there were grand times skating or sleigh riding down the steep hill behind the house.
e) CHRISTMAS ON THE FARM
Christmas was a lot of fun. If there was any money to spend, it would be after plenty of deliberation while poring over the pages of the Eatons catalog. One year each child was given a dollar to spend on others for Christmas. Imagine that I could buy an egg beater for mother and a nice big rayon handkerchief for dad, and still have money left over.
Mail arrived by team twice a week from Beaverlodge. We picked it up at MacDonald's General Store. We could always count on a parcel from grandma at Christmas. There was great excitement when the one who rode into the yard from picking up the mail announced loudly from the gate, "Parcel from grandma!"
It was always big and heavy and difficult to handle on horseback. Mother would put it away, much to our disappointment. They unpacked it after we went to bed. The upstairs floor had wide cracks because the lumber had shrunk after the floor was laid. We got down on our knees and put our eye to the crack to see what was going on downstairs.
We didn't see a great deal, but it was fun trying. Then mother would call, "You children! Get into bed!" The boys and dad would get a huge Christmas tree from the bush. It stood in the corner at the bottom of the stairs. There were some glittery ropes that appeared on the scene after Grandma's parcel had come, and we had also some other decorations which we collected over the years. There were birds to clip onto the branches, bells, and sequined balls. Since we had never seen electric lights, they were not missed. We thought the tree looked wonderful.
One Christmas I found a doll with a china face under the tree. It had my name on it. When I turned it over, there was great excitement when it said: "Mama"! There had been a very surprised postmaster when the parcel said "Mama" as he handed it through the wicket.
Mail arrived by team twice a week from Beaverlodge. We picked it up at MacDonald's General Store. We could always count on a parcel from grandma at Christmas. There was great excitement when the one who rode into the yard from picking up the mail announced loudly from the gate, "Parcel from grandma!"
It was always big and heavy and difficult to handle on horseback. Mother would put it away, much to our disappointment. They unpacked it after we went to bed. The upstairs floor had wide cracks because the lumber had shrunk after the floor was laid. We got down on our knees and put our eye to the crack to see what was going on downstairs.
We didn't see a great deal, but it was fun trying. Then mother would call, "You children! Get into bed!" The boys and dad would get a huge Christmas tree from the bush. It stood in the corner at the bottom of the stairs. There were some glittery ropes that appeared on the scene after Grandma's parcel had come, and we had also some other decorations which we collected over the years. There were birds to clip onto the branches, bells, and sequined balls. Since we had never seen electric lights, they were not missed. We thought the tree looked wonderful.
One Christmas I found a doll with a china face under the tree. It had my name on it. When I turned it over, there was great excitement when it said: "Mama"! There had been a very surprised postmaster when the parcel said "Mama" as he handed it through the wicket.
f) I INHERIT GRANDMA KENNY'S PIANO
Then came the year we heard that dad's mother had passed away. She had willed her piano to me because I was her name sake!
When it arrived at the train station, dad had to round up some people to help him load it onto the wagon. As they set it down in the wagon box a little too roughly, it gave out a sound which scared the horses, which made them take off with no driver. Every time the wagon hit a bump, the piano would sound out in distress, which frightened the horses even more. Finally, some brave soul stopped them. When mother sat down to try the piano once it arrived at home, it was a disaster, completely out of tune.
The piano sat in the corner of the big log house for several months. One day a stranger rode into the yard. What joy to find he was a piano tuner. He set to work, and we had a lot of fun that night as mother played and we all stood around and sang.
Every Christmas, the piano was loaded onto a sleigh, and taken to the schoolhouse. Mother drove to the school several times to teach us the carols for the coming Christmas concert. It would be the big event of the year, with all the parents attending.
Dad liked to tie the brass bells onto the harness at Christmas time. There were four bells, each the size of a tennis ball, fastened to a leather strip. We paid the big price of six dollars for the set. Mother said that Dan, the old strawberry roan on whose harness dad usually tied the bells, would make a special effort to move his body vigorously in order to make the bells ring.
When the big night arrived, the people swarmed in for the show, stamping their feet to knock off the snow, and blowing their hands to warm them up. Someone lifted the lid of the piano and set an article on top of the hammers. As the program began, mother sat down to play the opening chords of 'Oh Canada', and out came an awful sound. Mother quickly lifted the lid, and to everyone's amusement, pulled out a violin.
We began with singing of carols, then there was a little play, called "A Fairy goes A-Marketing". I was the fairy with a sparkling wand and wings pinned to my dress. There were recitals, some duets, and the caroling. One year, my sister Marion and I were dressed in pink and mauve taffeta dresses mother had sewn for us on the old treadle machine. We sang a duet together: 'Away In A Manger'.
I didn't realize for a few years that it was dad who dressed up as Santa Claus for the handing out of the candy bags. Mother had made his suit out of dyed flour sacks. l found out by accident who Santa was. Mother's cushion fell from Santa's tummy onto the platform, there was no other cushion like it in the whole world. Mother had patched beautiful velvet pieces together for the top and feather stitched around them. As l looked closely, I knew those hands simply had to be dad's.
In the meantime, for years dad played Santa at home. He would climb onto the roof of the built-on kitchen, and looking in our bedroom window. He rang the sleigh bells and shouted: "Ho, Ho, Ho". It nearly scared the wits out of us.
When it arrived at the train station, dad had to round up some people to help him load it onto the wagon. As they set it down in the wagon box a little too roughly, it gave out a sound which scared the horses, which made them take off with no driver. Every time the wagon hit a bump, the piano would sound out in distress, which frightened the horses even more. Finally, some brave soul stopped them. When mother sat down to try the piano once it arrived at home, it was a disaster, completely out of tune.
The piano sat in the corner of the big log house for several months. One day a stranger rode into the yard. What joy to find he was a piano tuner. He set to work, and we had a lot of fun that night as mother played and we all stood around and sang.
Every Christmas, the piano was loaded onto a sleigh, and taken to the schoolhouse. Mother drove to the school several times to teach us the carols for the coming Christmas concert. It would be the big event of the year, with all the parents attending.
Dad liked to tie the brass bells onto the harness at Christmas time. There were four bells, each the size of a tennis ball, fastened to a leather strip. We paid the big price of six dollars for the set. Mother said that Dan, the old strawberry roan on whose harness dad usually tied the bells, would make a special effort to move his body vigorously in order to make the bells ring.
When the big night arrived, the people swarmed in for the show, stamping their feet to knock off the snow, and blowing their hands to warm them up. Someone lifted the lid of the piano and set an article on top of the hammers. As the program began, mother sat down to play the opening chords of 'Oh Canada', and out came an awful sound. Mother quickly lifted the lid, and to everyone's amusement, pulled out a violin.
We began with singing of carols, then there was a little play, called "A Fairy goes A-Marketing". I was the fairy with a sparkling wand and wings pinned to my dress. There were recitals, some duets, and the caroling. One year, my sister Marion and I were dressed in pink and mauve taffeta dresses mother had sewn for us on the old treadle machine. We sang a duet together: 'Away In A Manger'.
I didn't realize for a few years that it was dad who dressed up as Santa Claus for the handing out of the candy bags. Mother had made his suit out of dyed flour sacks. l found out by accident who Santa was. Mother's cushion fell from Santa's tummy onto the platform, there was no other cushion like it in the whole world. Mother had patched beautiful velvet pieces together for the top and feather stitched around them. As l looked closely, I knew those hands simply had to be dad's.
In the meantime, for years dad played Santa at home. He would climb onto the roof of the built-on kitchen, and looking in our bedroom window. He rang the sleigh bells and shouted: "Ho, Ho, Ho". It nearly scared the wits out of us.
g) GOD WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU
On a sunny day in spring, I rode into the yard after school, and slid down from the school pony. Slipping off the bridle, I turned the horse loose to graze. Happy to be free of her load, she galloped and kicked her heels in the air as she headed for the river to get a drink.
I swung my lunch pail as I headed for the outhouse which was built into the side of the cut bank that sheltered the log farm house. As I opened the home made door, the sound of fluttering wings caused me to look up. There, on the ledge under the overhang, was a Robin's nest. In it were three hungry mouths, opened wide, waiting to be fed. Being excited, I stood on the toilet seat to get a better look at them. How wonderful they were! How secure that nest built with scraps of wood, hay, sticks, and river mud! With what downy feathers the mother had lined the nest! How squeaky those voices as they cried out for food!
In swooped the mother, with a grub in her beak. After dropping it into the open mouth of one of the babies, off she went for more. Quickly, I decided to get in on the act. Scrambling down from my vantage point, I ran across the yard to a little knoll where I knew the wild strawberries could be found. Gathering a handful, I came back, and put them carefully on the ledge beside the nest. Then reluctantly I headed for the house, knowing the chores would be waiting for me. When I came back later, all the strawberries were gone.
It was a something I would not forget. In later years I rem em be red how God, who cares for the little birds, would also care for me.
I swung my lunch pail as I headed for the outhouse which was built into the side of the cut bank that sheltered the log farm house. As I opened the home made door, the sound of fluttering wings caused me to look up. There, on the ledge under the overhang, was a Robin's nest. In it were three hungry mouths, opened wide, waiting to be fed. Being excited, I stood on the toilet seat to get a better look at them. How wonderful they were! How secure that nest built with scraps of wood, hay, sticks, and river mud! With what downy feathers the mother had lined the nest! How squeaky those voices as they cried out for food!
In swooped the mother, with a grub in her beak. After dropping it into the open mouth of one of the babies, off she went for more. Quickly, I decided to get in on the act. Scrambling down from my vantage point, I ran across the yard to a little knoll where I knew the wild strawberries could be found. Gathering a handful, I came back, and put them carefully on the ledge beside the nest. Then reluctantly I headed for the house, knowing the chores would be waiting for me. When I came back later, all the strawberries were gone.
It was a something I would not forget. In later years I rem em be red how God, who cares for the little birds, would also care for me.
h) MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD
My sister Marion, two years younger than I, was a little bit on the chubby side, but cute. I, on the other hand was called 'Slats' by the boys, because I was so skinny. One day Marion was stretched out on the bench beside the table. She remarked: "Look you guys, I'll soon be as long as the bench." Eddy, who always had some quick remark, said, "Yeah, and as wide as the table."
Marion and I had the job of doing the dishes when mother was helping dad in the field. I discovered l could hide the pots and pans under the old fashioned stove which had nice long legs on it. I don't know why I thought mom would never miss them. It was almost a disaster for me when she found out. I feel quite ashamed when I remember that one. Poor mom! What a brat she had.
A year or so ago I was told by Pete Silvernook, a man who used to work for us in the spring and fall, of an incident which I don't remember. He was sharpening an axe for dad, and up comes Irene with a handful of dust and threw it in his hair. He told me to stop or he would spank me. I immediately grabbed some more dust and threw it at him again. At that, he gave me a spanking, and trembled in his boots thinking he would lose his job because I threatened to tell mother. Nothing happened, and no one mentioned it to him, so I guess I had second thoughts about tattling on him. I don't think I would not have received much sympathy if the truth was told.
Marion and I had the job of doing the dishes when mother was helping dad in the field. I discovered l could hide the pots and pans under the old fashioned stove which had nice long legs on it. I don't know why I thought mom would never miss them. It was almost a disaster for me when she found out. I feel quite ashamed when I remember that one. Poor mom! What a brat she had.
A year or so ago I was told by Pete Silvernook, a man who used to work for us in the spring and fall, of an incident which I don't remember. He was sharpening an axe for dad, and up comes Irene with a handful of dust and threw it in his hair. He told me to stop or he would spank me. I immediately grabbed some more dust and threw it at him again. At that, he gave me a spanking, and trembled in his boots thinking he would lose his job because I threatened to tell mother. Nothing happened, and no one mentioned it to him, so I guess I had second thoughts about tattling on him. I don't think I would not have received much sympathy if the truth was told.
i) CHILDHOOD ADVENTURES
Spring at Rio Grande was a special time of the year. As children we had great fun with snow ball fights and the excitement of seeing the ice break up on the little mountain stream flowing through our farm. The river was so shallow in the summer that in places we could wade across and not get water up to our knees. However at breakup, it turned angry and turbulent, bringing with it huge pieces of ice and uprooted trees. We could hear its roar from the house five hundred yards away. Sometimes this started happening during the night. In the morning we would rush down to the river bank to look at it before we went to school.
One Saturday Arthur suggested I might like to go with him to look at his snares. These were special devices with which one could catch rabbits. It was a piece of copper wire made into a loop, When the rabbit got his foot in the loop, it would tighten up and he was caught in the noose.
That was a red letter day, because it wasn't often the boys wanted a little sister tagging along. I climbed up behind him on a sorrel school pony named Nonna, and we set off up the steep path leading to the top of the hill. Arthur had set the snares in the middle of the rabbit run in the snow among some small clumps of brush. We used the rabbits for fox feed. Dad had traded a horse to the Indians for some foxes they had dug out of the hills. He had built a fox pen for them, and they helped our income when wheat prices were five cents a bushel. He would get practically nothing for a load of grain.
We collected our catch, and were on our way home along a narrow icy path on the side of the river bank. Quite unexpectedly, the horse lost her footing, and Arthur was sure she was going to fall. "Jump", Art shouted. I jumped, and landed above the horse on the slope. Arthur slid off the other side, which was down hill. The mare fell in his direction, and began to roll downhill straight for him. He had ended up in a snowdrift and couldn't move fast enough to get out of her way. If she had rolled one more time, she would have gone right over him. As providence would have it, she stopped rolling just in time. I recall the struggle the horse had getting up on her feet, and climbing the bank to get back on the path again.
Arthur and I had a pact not to tell anyone about the incident I guess we were afraid of what our parents would say, but that's not the only secret we had together. Another escapade I recall was also in the spring. I was alone at the house when I heard yelling from the river. It was coming from the area where the river made a bend, and I ran down in that direction. It was at the time when the ice flows were stopped, and water could be seen in places between them. In a boat that belonged to his big brother, Arthur had gone across n the water area to lift his snares on the other side of the river. Coming back, he was about half way across, when the ice moved and trapped the boat. If the whole blockage had begun to move, he would be gone with it. "Get a horse!" he shouted at me.
l ran as fast as I could to the barn. The only horse in the barn was a young filly named Dolly. She was nervous, but she had a halter with quite a long rope. I ran on foot with her down to the river. I had never ridden her before, and I didn't trust her. Now, to find out what Arthur wanted with a horse was the next question. "Throw me the rope" he called. I pulled Dolly to the water's edge, but the rope wasn't long enough to reach his grasp. Besides that, every time I threw the rope, the horse would jump back. She didn't like the scene one bit.
"Wade out in the river and she will come after you!" I couldn't believe my ears! He wanted me to wade out in that ice cold water! Reluctantly, I took off my socks and shoes and started out in that freezing water, trying to drag that skittish pony behind me. She would get to the waters edge, but would not come any further, and Arthur still couldn't reach the rope. At that time, the ice parted just enough for Art to get the boat loose and row to shore.
Arthur remembers this story a little different. He says when I threw the rope that he could reach it, and that got him loose from the ice. I prefer my own version because I recall that ice cold water on my feet.
One Saturday Arthur suggested I might like to go with him to look at his snares. These were special devices with which one could catch rabbits. It was a piece of copper wire made into a loop, When the rabbit got his foot in the loop, it would tighten up and he was caught in the noose.
That was a red letter day, because it wasn't often the boys wanted a little sister tagging along. I climbed up behind him on a sorrel school pony named Nonna, and we set off up the steep path leading to the top of the hill. Arthur had set the snares in the middle of the rabbit run in the snow among some small clumps of brush. We used the rabbits for fox feed. Dad had traded a horse to the Indians for some foxes they had dug out of the hills. He had built a fox pen for them, and they helped our income when wheat prices were five cents a bushel. He would get practically nothing for a load of grain.
We collected our catch, and were on our way home along a narrow icy path on the side of the river bank. Quite unexpectedly, the horse lost her footing, and Arthur was sure she was going to fall. "Jump", Art shouted. I jumped, and landed above the horse on the slope. Arthur slid off the other side, which was down hill. The mare fell in his direction, and began to roll downhill straight for him. He had ended up in a snowdrift and couldn't move fast enough to get out of her way. If she had rolled one more time, she would have gone right over him. As providence would have it, she stopped rolling just in time. I recall the struggle the horse had getting up on her feet, and climbing the bank to get back on the path again.
Arthur and I had a pact not to tell anyone about the incident I guess we were afraid of what our parents would say, but that's not the only secret we had together. Another escapade I recall was also in the spring. I was alone at the house when I heard yelling from the river. It was coming from the area where the river made a bend, and I ran down in that direction. It was at the time when the ice flows were stopped, and water could be seen in places between them. In a boat that belonged to his big brother, Arthur had gone across n the water area to lift his snares on the other side of the river. Coming back, he was about half way across, when the ice moved and trapped the boat. If the whole blockage had begun to move, he would be gone with it. "Get a horse!" he shouted at me.
l ran as fast as I could to the barn. The only horse in the barn was a young filly named Dolly. She was nervous, but she had a halter with quite a long rope. I ran on foot with her down to the river. I had never ridden her before, and I didn't trust her. Now, to find out what Arthur wanted with a horse was the next question. "Throw me the rope" he called. I pulled Dolly to the water's edge, but the rope wasn't long enough to reach his grasp. Besides that, every time I threw the rope, the horse would jump back. She didn't like the scene one bit.
"Wade out in the river and she will come after you!" I couldn't believe my ears! He wanted me to wade out in that ice cold water! Reluctantly, I took off my socks and shoes and started out in that freezing water, trying to drag that skittish pony behind me. She would get to the waters edge, but would not come any further, and Arthur still couldn't reach the rope. At that time, the ice parted just enough for Art to get the boat loose and row to shore.
Arthur remembers this story a little different. He says when I threw the rope that he could reach it, and that got him loose from the ice. I prefer my own version because I recall that ice cold water on my feet.
j) BERRY TIME
We spent a lot of time during the summer helping mother pick wild berries. The early summer brought the strawberries, which grew in open spots in the pasture. They were small, but full of flavour. We often took the buggy to pick blueberries at the Wapiti river, and stayed overnight.
Mother drove the team, and some of us kids went along to pick. We had a tent, and built a fire to cook the meals. We gathered wood so we could enjoy a campfire after night fell.
Blueberries grow well on a ridge or where there has been a burn. We would pick like mad, but mother always had her pail full first. She would often say,"Don't pick right under my nose. Go find your own spot!" She would be singing as she picked and I loved that.
When we came home, with pails full of berries, mother had a good trick for cleaning them. She would spread a blanket on the open ground, and pour the berries slowly onto the it. The Rocky Mountain breeze that always seemed to be there would blow the leaves and sticks away, leaving very little picking over to be done. It didn't work so well if the berries were wet. Then she would get out the big copper wash boiler, fill the jars with berries, pour boiling syrup over them, and boil them for ten or fifteen minutes. We loved to eat those blueberries in the winter when the snow was flying.
I recall riding my horse to Saskatoon Mountain to pick Saskatoon berries. These purple berries grow on bushes about six feet high, and are juicy, but a bit woody in the centre. On the way home one of the farmers happened to be out at the road. He had a great time teasing me about my blue mouth and teeth. Oh well, a gal has to eat sometimes too.
Wild raspberries also grew well in a bluff of trees on one of our quarters of land. The grass was tall, and there were thistles and nettles growing along with the raspberries, but we would come home with a three pound lard pail full of berries.
Mother drove the team, and some of us kids went along to pick. We had a tent, and built a fire to cook the meals. We gathered wood so we could enjoy a campfire after night fell.
Blueberries grow well on a ridge or where there has been a burn. We would pick like mad, but mother always had her pail full first. She would often say,"Don't pick right under my nose. Go find your own spot!" She would be singing as she picked and I loved that.
When we came home, with pails full of berries, mother had a good trick for cleaning them. She would spread a blanket on the open ground, and pour the berries slowly onto the it. The Rocky Mountain breeze that always seemed to be there would blow the leaves and sticks away, leaving very little picking over to be done. It didn't work so well if the berries were wet. Then she would get out the big copper wash boiler, fill the jars with berries, pour boiling syrup over them, and boil them for ten or fifteen minutes. We loved to eat those blueberries in the winter when the snow was flying.
I recall riding my horse to Saskatoon Mountain to pick Saskatoon berries. These purple berries grow on bushes about six feet high, and are juicy, but a bit woody in the centre. On the way home one of the farmers happened to be out at the road. He had a great time teasing me about my blue mouth and teeth. Oh well, a gal has to eat sometimes too.
Wild raspberries also grew well in a bluff of trees on one of our quarters of land. The grass was tall, and there were thistles and nettles growing along with the raspberries, but we would come home with a three pound lard pail full of berries.
k) A NEAR DROWNING
One summer day the neighbours came to visit, and we girls decided to go swimming at the bend. Mother was watching us from the bank, but she didn't ever go swimming. It had been raining, and the river was flowing much swifter and deeper than usual that day.
I was about ten years of age, not very big, but I wasn't afraid of the water. There were rapids that led down to the bend in the river. Somehow as we were fooling around in the water, I lost my footing and started to be carried downstream. I tried, but I couldn't get back on my feet. I gasped for air and as the water dragged me under, I came up only to be drawn down again. There was a teenage girl, Bernice Brewer, swimming with us who ran and grabbed me as I was going down for the third time. I did a lot of hysterical crying after that, but mother took a firm hand and demanded that I stop.
I was about ten years of age, not very big, but I wasn't afraid of the water. There were rapids that led down to the bend in the river. Somehow as we were fooling around in the water, I lost my footing and started to be carried downstream. I tried, but I couldn't get back on my feet. I gasped for air and as the water dragged me under, I came up only to be drawn down again. There was a teenage girl, Bernice Brewer, swimming with us who ran and grabbed me as I was going down for the third time. I did a lot of hysterical crying after that, but mother took a firm hand and demanded that I stop.
l) BEDBUGS
Mother had a lot of hard work to do, but in spite of that she kept a neat and tidy house. The log walls were calsomined, and the top of the stove gleamed from a waxed cloth she rubbed over it while the top was hot. The clothes were washed in a hand washer. When Marion and I were older, our Saturday job was washing the board floor on our knees.
Because we owned a thresh machine, we had threshers stay sometimes for a week if it was raining. Those who came from nearby went home, but the ones who had a long way to go home put up a tent for sleeping. They had to be fed, and mother had a neighbour girl come to work during that time. The only place for her to sleep was with Marion and I. I came to mother one morning and showed her welts on my arms and body. I also related that I was dreaming about bugs crawling all over me. When we came over the hill from school that afternoon, there was a big bonfire in the yard, and our wooden bed was going up in flames. Mother discovered the hired girl had brought bedbugs with her.
It was years before we had any peace about it, because bedbugs in a log house are next to impossible to get rid of. Mother kept going over the beds as if with a fine tooth comb. The next spring we were out in a tent and they fumigated. That helped for a while, but the bugs were still there.
Finally, mother got barrels of water from the river, and everything was washed and left outside. A bonfire was lit under a barrel, and boiling water and lye was used with a dish mop to go over every crack in the house. The books were all cooked in the oven - not one area escaped her vengeance. She finally was the victor, but spent the rest of her life making sure we never got bedbugs again.
Because we owned a thresh machine, we had threshers stay sometimes for a week if it was raining. Those who came from nearby went home, but the ones who had a long way to go home put up a tent for sleeping. They had to be fed, and mother had a neighbour girl come to work during that time. The only place for her to sleep was with Marion and I. I came to mother one morning and showed her welts on my arms and body. I also related that I was dreaming about bugs crawling all over me. When we came over the hill from school that afternoon, there was a big bonfire in the yard, and our wooden bed was going up in flames. Mother discovered the hired girl had brought bedbugs with her.
It was years before we had any peace about it, because bedbugs in a log house are next to impossible to get rid of. Mother kept going over the beds as if with a fine tooth comb. The next spring we were out in a tent and they fumigated. That helped for a while, but the bugs were still there.
Finally, mother got barrels of water from the river, and everything was washed and left outside. A bonfire was lit under a barrel, and boiling water and lye was used with a dish mop to go over every crack in the house. The books were all cooked in the oven - not one area escaped her vengeance. She finally was the victor, but spent the rest of her life making sure we never got bedbugs again.
m) OUR CHRISTIAN HERITAGE
During those growing up years, we rode horseback about two and a half miles on Saturday to our neighbours, Hubert Black's, place for Sunday School. Sometimes the large living room was packed with kids. At Christmas, Mrs. Black would have gifts all wrapped and waiting for us, which had been sent for us from her home church in Fergus, Ont. God has his people everywhere who bless others.
At the end of the year we had a test for those who learned their Bible verses. One year my friend Ruth and I both won a prize. Mine was a picture of a mother holding out her arms to her little baby, who was taking his first steps. We could choose the picture we wanted, and I chose that one because my little brother Carman was just learning to take his first steps. I related to that.
During summer holidays, a large white van drove into our yard, which contained two ladies, Miss Hazel, and Miss Sale. On the side of the van was written: 'St. Alban's Sunday School Van.' It was sponsored by an Anglican Church in St. Albans, England. These ladies wanted to conduct Vacation Sunday School in our region, and they were welcomed with open arms. In order to drive the van on a very narrow footpath to the bend in the river, the boys helped cut down brush, and cleared the path wider wherever it was needed. There, the ladies set up a small tent, and went to work. They washed their clothes in the river, and cooked their meals on a bonfire. Preparation was made for the coming meetings.
Many of my friends arrived. We heard the stories of Jesus and memorized scripture, for which I won a prize of a New Testament with a red cover. It had passages in red of the words that Jesus had said, and I resolved I was going to memorize all of them. I'm afraid I didn't get very far with it.
Those ladies traveled all over the North country, with many adventures. The driver, a younger lady, was also the mechanic who worked on the van and kept it greased and in good shape. The other lady was older. I spied her praying when I was snooping around the tent one afternoon. I recall the Sunday School Van came for at least two years before we left the farm, with different ladies the second year.
It was after this time that I became confirmed in the little church. Mother made me a white dress, and the Bishop of Athabaska, Bishop Sovereign, officiated. Sixty years later, 1 was to visit that little church at the museum outside Beaverlodge, Alberta, and found a picture of that confirmation on top of the organ. It was yellow with age and water streaked from possibly a leaking roof in the passing years.
At the end of the year we had a test for those who learned their Bible verses. One year my friend Ruth and I both won a prize. Mine was a picture of a mother holding out her arms to her little baby, who was taking his first steps. We could choose the picture we wanted, and I chose that one because my little brother Carman was just learning to take his first steps. I related to that.
During summer holidays, a large white van drove into our yard, which contained two ladies, Miss Hazel, and Miss Sale. On the side of the van was written: 'St. Alban's Sunday School Van.' It was sponsored by an Anglican Church in St. Albans, England. These ladies wanted to conduct Vacation Sunday School in our region, and they were welcomed with open arms. In order to drive the van on a very narrow footpath to the bend in the river, the boys helped cut down brush, and cleared the path wider wherever it was needed. There, the ladies set up a small tent, and went to work. They washed their clothes in the river, and cooked their meals on a bonfire. Preparation was made for the coming meetings.
Many of my friends arrived. We heard the stories of Jesus and memorized scripture, for which I won a prize of a New Testament with a red cover. It had passages in red of the words that Jesus had said, and I resolved I was going to memorize all of them. I'm afraid I didn't get very far with it.
Those ladies traveled all over the North country, with many adventures. The driver, a younger lady, was also the mechanic who worked on the van and kept it greased and in good shape. The other lady was older. I spied her praying when I was snooping around the tent one afternoon. I recall the Sunday School Van came for at least two years before we left the farm, with different ladies the second year.
It was after this time that I became confirmed in the little church. Mother made me a white dress, and the Bishop of Athabaska, Bishop Sovereign, officiated. Sixty years later, 1 was to visit that little church at the museum outside Beaverlodge, Alberta, and found a picture of that confirmation on top of the organ. It was yellow with age and water streaked from possibly a leaking roof in the passing years.
n) SCHOOL AT ELMWORTH
The year I turned thirteen, l passed into Grade nine, and was required to go to another country school, at Elmworth. It was the same distance as the Rio Grande School, but I was to cross the river, and ride alone. We were taught by a very young teacher by the name of Alan McQuarrie.
It was a cold winter, as usual with lots of snow. Mother decided to crochet a piece of underwear for me. I found it quite cozy until I brushed against the blackboard, and there was some very telltale marks on the seat of my dark slacks. Then one of my friends started laughing at me for wearing knitted underwear. I never wore them again - I'd rather freeze!
o) A NARROW ESCAPE
When the spring break up came, I rode home one evening and found water running over the snow and ice on the river bed. It looked quite scary, so I sat on my horse and yelled for dad. Of course, he couldn't hear me for it was too far away, and because of the noise of the river.
Finally, I decided to cross over, even though my horse didn't want to go. I had to make her get into the water. As we went, I could feel it was very slippery underfoot for her. I kept talking to her, saying,"It's alright, girl, you're doing great, just keep on going, that's a good girl". I had to hold my legs up as far as I could, because the water was far over her belly. I was riding bareback, (we only owned one saddle, and that was mothers.). I was holding my homework sack as high as I could so it wouldn't get wet.
We were about three quarters of the way across, when the horse fell into the water hole dad had cut in the thick ice for the stock to get a drink. The cattle and horses would get down on their knees and reach down to the water below. There was no way to know the hole was there with all the water flowing over it. She was floundering in the large hole trying to get out. I jumped off into the water, which was up to my waist. Fortunately, I continued holding onto the bridle. Was that water ever cold, and the ice slippery underfoot. I pulled on the bridle as hard as I could. "Come on girl, you can make it!"
With a lunge she got her front feet out of the hole onto the ice and climbed out. I waded to shore still hanging onto the reins, and made it to the safety of home. I can't remember whether I rode or walked to the house, but I sure was the centre of attention that evening. All I wanted to do was put my feet in tle oven for a while.
Mother and dad were never very demonstrative with their affection, although we all knew we were loved. I was on the landing going down the stairs from our bedroom one morning, and there was my dad going down at the same time. For some reason, he took my hand and gave me a hug. I don't remember that anything was said, but it made me feel that I was 'his girl', and that he would always be there for me when I needed him.
Finally, I decided to cross over, even though my horse didn't want to go. I had to make her get into the water. As we went, I could feel it was very slippery underfoot for her. I kept talking to her, saying,"It's alright, girl, you're doing great, just keep on going, that's a good girl". I had to hold my legs up as far as I could, because the water was far over her belly. I was riding bareback, (we only owned one saddle, and that was mothers.). I was holding my homework sack as high as I could so it wouldn't get wet.
We were about three quarters of the way across, when the horse fell into the water hole dad had cut in the thick ice for the stock to get a drink. The cattle and horses would get down on their knees and reach down to the water below. There was no way to know the hole was there with all the water flowing over it. She was floundering in the large hole trying to get out. I jumped off into the water, which was up to my waist. Fortunately, I continued holding onto the bridle. Was that water ever cold, and the ice slippery underfoot. I pulled on the bridle as hard as I could. "Come on girl, you can make it!"
With a lunge she got her front feet out of the hole onto the ice and climbed out. I waded to shore still hanging onto the reins, and made it to the safety of home. I can't remember whether I rode or walked to the house, but I sure was the centre of attention that evening. All I wanted to do was put my feet in tle oven for a while.
Mother and dad were never very demonstrative with their affection, although we all knew we were loved. I was on the landing going down the stairs from our bedroom one morning, and there was my dad going down at the same time. For some reason, he took my hand and gave me a hug. I don't remember that anything was said, but it made me feel that I was 'his girl', and that he would always be there for me when I needed him.
p) WE LEAVE THE FARM
In July, 1935, we moved from the farm to the small town of Faust, on Lesser Slave Lake, two hundred miles closer to Edmonton. We had two boxcars on the train, with our personal belongings, some cows and horses, and machinery. Dad was going full time into the fur industry, and had bought a house and small acreage one mile out of town. He had spent time there, building mink pens and getting ready for the family.
The year before at Rio Grande, farmers all around us had been hailed out in the middle of the summer, but our place was spared. The money from the crop that was saved enabled the family to make the move.
Eddy, who was seventeen, and dad, rode on the train with the animals in order to feed and water them. They had given all the money they had to mother for the trip with the children, counting on only spending a day or so on the train. However, when the train arrived at the round house in Maclennan, it stayed there for two or three days. No food, no money! Dad walked to the Chinese Restaurant nearby, and offered the manager all the milk from the cows if he would give them their meals in exchange. That sounded good, so a deal was struck. Dad was no fancier of rice. He had eaten so much of it on the homestead, but I'm sure he was thankful, if I know my dad.
In the meantime, we had acquired a half ton truck, which had a flat deck on the back. It was a fine summer day when we all loaded on. Robert was driving. The truck had no cab on the front, so we were all in the open. Mother was in front holding George, who was nine months old. Marion, Arthur, and I sat on the deck at the back with our black and white collie. There was belongings piled up around us. It was two hundred miles, and we had to stay overnight along the road. We laid down on the ground, and soon had to move for we were sleeping on an ant hill.
Robert was up early and heard the sound of a cow bell nearby. Taking a bottle, he went to ask the farmer for milk for the baby. We had two flat tires along the way, and were broke. Mother had to use the few cents in the baby's piggy bank to buy a new inner tube at High Prairie, about thirty miles from our destination.
The year before at Rio Grande, farmers all around us had been hailed out in the middle of the summer, but our place was spared. The money from the crop that was saved enabled the family to make the move.
Eddy, who was seventeen, and dad, rode on the train with the animals in order to feed and water them. They had given all the money they had to mother for the trip with the children, counting on only spending a day or so on the train. However, when the train arrived at the round house in Maclennan, it stayed there for two or three days. No food, no money! Dad walked to the Chinese Restaurant nearby, and offered the manager all the milk from the cows if he would give them their meals in exchange. That sounded good, so a deal was struck. Dad was no fancier of rice. He had eaten so much of it on the homestead, but I'm sure he was thankful, if I know my dad.
In the meantime, we had acquired a half ton truck, which had a flat deck on the back. It was a fine summer day when we all loaded on. Robert was driving. The truck had no cab on the front, so we were all in the open. Mother was in front holding George, who was nine months old. Marion, Arthur, and I sat on the deck at the back with our black and white collie. There was belongings piled up around us. It was two hundred miles, and we had to stay overnight along the road. We laid down on the ground, and soon had to move for we were sleeping on an ant hill.
Robert was up early and heard the sound of a cow bell nearby. Taking a bottle, he went to ask the farmer for milk for the baby. We had two flat tires along the way, and were broke. Mother had to use the few cents in the baby's piggy bank to buy a new inner tube at High Prairie, about thirty miles from our destination.
q) LIFE AT FAUST
The house on our property had been a cookhouse for a logging camp which was located there years before. It also had been a store, and a post office. But now, it was home. There were two bedrooms, and a front room (which had been the store). Dad built on a bedroom, and we made the front room into another bedroom. There was a very long room which had been the dining room for the logging camp. This was the centre of all activity.
We ate there, around the old farm table, with long benches at each side and a chair at each end. At the far end of the room was a barrel heater, in the laid down position. We could put a piece of cord wood into it and still shut the door. Dad and the boys cut wood from the two or so acres of land that had a growth of poplar trees.
Grandma came from Toronto to visit us a year or so after we moved to Faust. She found out quickly that there were mushrooms growing wild along the road leading to the lake. Soon she was out there picking mushrooms for a lovely mushroom soup she made. Grandma was from Yorkshire, England. She and mother made the most delicious Yorkshire Pudding you ever tasted. They used the big iron frying pan in which to bake it. The secret was to have the fat in the pan smoking hot when you poured in the batter. It was sure to puff up around the sides, and cook to perfection in a good hot oven.
For excitement, we played games such as Rummoli, and Crokinole. We listened to the Hockey games on the radio, always rooting for Toronto. On Fridays there was the Lux theatre, which was an hour long enactment of good quality stories. We made new friends, and sometimes the old friends from the Peace came to see us on their way through to Edmonton. We had one horse for riding, and we swam in the lake, which was about half a mile from our house.
Marion and l joined the girls softball team. I was not too bad at pitching, but Marion was the one who starred as short stop and could run like a deer around the bases. There were only nine girls in the town, so all of us were able to play.
One day I blossomed forth wearing orange lipstick which was almost too much for dad. He told me to go wash my face, and stated that I was going to be the black sheep of the family.
Mother found out about a blueberry patch across the lake. We packed up and went to pick, crossing the lake on the scow that towed the logs across for the mill. It took several hours to go the two or three miles across, but that didn't matter, we had all summer. We took a tent and stayed two or three days.
I took my grade eleven in High Prairie, living with the Anglican minister, Mr. West, and his wife and little baby. I worked for my room and board washing diapers on the scrubbing board after school, baby sitting, etc. It was there my teacher told me I might as well forget about school, and take a Commercial Course or something else because I was very poor in mathematics.
The next year I attended Alberta College, in Edmonton, taking a Commercial Course. There l met Mary Haight, from Slave Lake, who became my pal. We rented a bedsitting room together for a while, then went to board with the Martin's, friends of mother's from Beaverlodge. Mrs. Martin had been Marion MacNaught. Her family had welcomed mother into the Peace River area when she arrived that cold winter night in January, fresh from Toronto.
The war was on, and a couple of girls from the country didn't lack for fun, excitement and boy friends.
We ate there, around the old farm table, with long benches at each side and a chair at each end. At the far end of the room was a barrel heater, in the laid down position. We could put a piece of cord wood into it and still shut the door. Dad and the boys cut wood from the two or so acres of land that had a growth of poplar trees.
Grandma came from Toronto to visit us a year or so after we moved to Faust. She found out quickly that there were mushrooms growing wild along the road leading to the lake. Soon she was out there picking mushrooms for a lovely mushroom soup she made. Grandma was from Yorkshire, England. She and mother made the most delicious Yorkshire Pudding you ever tasted. They used the big iron frying pan in which to bake it. The secret was to have the fat in the pan smoking hot when you poured in the batter. It was sure to puff up around the sides, and cook to perfection in a good hot oven.
For excitement, we played games such as Rummoli, and Crokinole. We listened to the Hockey games on the radio, always rooting for Toronto. On Fridays there was the Lux theatre, which was an hour long enactment of good quality stories. We made new friends, and sometimes the old friends from the Peace came to see us on their way through to Edmonton. We had one horse for riding, and we swam in the lake, which was about half a mile from our house.
Marion and l joined the girls softball team. I was not too bad at pitching, but Marion was the one who starred as short stop and could run like a deer around the bases. There were only nine girls in the town, so all of us were able to play.
One day I blossomed forth wearing orange lipstick which was almost too much for dad. He told me to go wash my face, and stated that I was going to be the black sheep of the family.
Mother found out about a blueberry patch across the lake. We packed up and went to pick, crossing the lake on the scow that towed the logs across for the mill. It took several hours to go the two or three miles across, but that didn't matter, we had all summer. We took a tent and stayed two or three days.
I took my grade eleven in High Prairie, living with the Anglican minister, Mr. West, and his wife and little baby. I worked for my room and board washing diapers on the scrubbing board after school, baby sitting, etc. It was there my teacher told me I might as well forget about school, and take a Commercial Course or something else because I was very poor in mathematics.
The next year I attended Alberta College, in Edmonton, taking a Commercial Course. There l met Mary Haight, from Slave Lake, who became my pal. We rented a bedsitting room together for a while, then went to board with the Martin's, friends of mother's from Beaverlodge. Mrs. Martin had been Marion MacNaught. Her family had welcomed mother into the Peace River area when she arrived that cold winter night in January, fresh from Toronto.
The war was on, and a couple of girls from the country didn't lack for fun, excitement and boy friends.
Footnote:
At Irene's funeral in 2014, her sister-in-law Alice Kenny delivered this eulogy, mostly relating to Irene's childhood.
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Thus ends the childhood stories related by Irene Kenny in her book Irene's Story. To return to the primary Peace River Pioneers webpage click on: Peace River Pioneers