Memories of 1947

In my last post I talked about our honeymoon - this prompted some memories of our wedding of November 10, 1947.  Had we postponed it but ten days our marriage would have coincided with the royal nuptials of Elizabeth and Philip.

The royal wedding gown was very elegant compared to my knee-length pale blue dress.  But by the time the social editor of the paper finished describing my gown, I hardly recognized it "a hyacinth blue crepe frock, styled in the new long length, with draped front, cap sleeves, and braided cutwork design in the same material as the bodice was chosen by the dark-haired bride".

Something I will never forget is that I cried throughout our wedding ceremony.  I am a very emotional person and when I stepped over the threshold of tiny St. Aidan's church and realized the surge of organ music was for MY wedding, and the solemn words of the familiar ceremony applied to ME, it was just too much. My eyes filled with tears of happiness and emotion.

Another fond memory of our wedding is that the toast to the bride was given by my husband's 85 year old grandmother, who, never having travelled in her life, had flown to Canada for a visit which coincided with our wedding day.  Tiny, rose-cheeked, white-haired Mary Stofer represented the type of grandmother one reads about in novels. Her small energetic hands had tended her twelve children.  She was sweet and cuddly; she was lavender and lace.

My husband, Ken, recalls that when he was in England during World War II and had not yet met me, he predicted to his grandmother that she would come to Canada in 1947 - and she did!

After our wedding ceremony and reception, Ken and I boarded the midnight boat to Vancouver. We had often dreamed of taking that romantic voyage.  In fact on many of our late night walks while courting, we leaned on the causeway wall and watched the twinkling lights of that Princess boat as it departed from beyond the old Bapco Paint Factory (now the Laurel Point Inn).  Each time we heard the deep blast of the ship's whistle, we promised ourselves that someday we would be on board.

After docking in Vancouver, we boarded the Trailways bus for Los Angeles.  

We did lots of fun things:

But one of our more exciting evenings while honeymooning in Hollywood was attending a sumptuous meal at Earl Carrol's Theatre-Restaurant.  The floor show was fabulous. Neither of us had ever seen anything to equal the lavish costumes and elaborate production numbers. 

Earl Carrol's famous slogan was "Through these portals pass the most beautiful girls in the world", which proved to be very true.  It was the policy of the dancing girls to choose some poor unsuspecting male to perform with them on stage.  My bashful Ken was chosen.  He looked most ill at ease with two scantily-clad girls and had to pose for a picture between their feathers and sequins.  

When they learned he was on his honeymoon, I was coaxed to join him on stage. (My daughter Terry says 'and so yet another beautiful girl passed through the Earl Carrol portals'). 

A Knotty Connection

Ken and I were married in November 1947 in little St. Aidan's church on Cedar Hill X Road in Victoria, BC.  The reception was held in the CCF Hall just across the street.  (Neither of these buildings exists any more).

Our honeymoon destination was Hollywood, California, which sounded very romantic when described by the social editor in the newspaper:  "Los Angeles is the honeymoon destination of the young couple".  No mention of the Trailways bus and the 36 hour trip involved.  We didn't have a car, we didn't have much money, so we opted for the cheapest method of transportation.

It was exciting to be in the heart of the movie kingdom.  We took in all the sights and shows. We were on the radio show "Meet the Mrs." as the couple who had been married the least amount of time: 2 days, 16 1/2 hours.  The oldest couple on the show were celebrating their 65th wedding anniversary which Ken and I found hard to believe at the time, although now Ken and I have been married 66 years.

Anyway, what I wanted to tell you was that we took a side trip to Knotts Berry Farm, which is a Barkerville type of Theme Park of 160 acres with great entertainment, offering a fabulous chicken dinner, topped off with one of their famous berry pies.

Here we posed seated next to the equally famous Western stone figures.

Little did we imagine then that 30 years later our son Mark and daughter-in-law Carol would, on their honeymoon, sit on the same seat and pose with the same figures.  And I have the pictures to prove it!

Innocents Abroad

Nellie and Edna were related to us by marriage. We met these delightful British sisters when they were in their eighties.  They had always lived together and travelled all over the world as companions.

Edna was sturdy, dependable, kind and thoughtful.

She drove their little car and Nellie, who did not drive, and tended to be a little snippy, read the maps and gave directions, sometimes accompanied by acidic comments, whereupon Edna would gently respond "Now Nellie, that is not necessary."

Off they would toodle on a road trip, having first PUSHED the car to an appropriate spot (they felt the car should never be allowed to idle) where they then loaded a picnic basket and supplies.  Edna was a very cautious driver and often extended her hand out the window with a somewhat regal wave, encouraging impatient drivers to pass them.  It was a hilarious experience to be a passenger on one of their journeys.

These two indomitable old girls travelled together to many countries. In China Nellie had to be lifted onto the Great Wall, but she was determined she was going to have that wondrous experience.  We often told them they would have made a great comedy series "Nellie and Edna go to Russia" etc.

We stayed with them on one of our many trips to Britain. They were so kind and thoughtful.  One day we as we strolled along the seafront chatting, they asked us various questions about our lives.  Did Ken and I give each other gifts? No, I said, but I often made Ken a rice pudding on his birthday as that was his favorite dessert. Shortly after that, Edna said she would just slip home and put the roast in the oven. When we returned to their little cottage (appropriately named 'The Haven') we discovered Edna had made Ken a rice pudding!

Another time when they stayed with us in Victoria (having just completed a tour of the Rockies) I tapped on their bedroom door and then opened it.  What greeted me was a miniature clothesline strung between two chairs on which hung two pairs of large bloomers.  I immediately offered to hang them out in the sunshine.  "Oh no!" they chorused, "Kenneth might see them!"  I laughed and hung them in the sun anyway.  At the end of the day, Ken, always full of fun, brought the offending bloomers inside and with a broad smile handed one pair to Nellie and the other to Edna.  "Oh, Kenneth!" they tittered, and ran off to the sanctity of their bedroom.

Another day when Ken was walking around our garden with them, admiring the flowers, the conversation somehow strayed into dangerous territory during a discussion about pollination.  Little Nellie admitted that she still did not know what 'went on' in the bedroom...In this present day and age, when you are actually in the BED in a movie and language is so foul, it is certainly a delightful memory to have known two such sweet, innocent ladies.

Nellie and Edna always seemed suspended in time.  I don't think they coloured their hair, yet they never seemed to look their age, unsullied by everyday pressures, their childlike innocence shone through their lives. And now they have both taken their last and greatest journey.

That French Woman

When our son Mark was five years old and slated to attend kindergarten in the fall, a free dental examination was offered at the school.

Being a dutiful mother, I took his little hand in mine and we walked the few blocks together to the school, where we stood in line with all the other mothers and children. 

Somewhere, somehow, Mark had been warned by his little friends about dentists and all the horrors associated with them.

I must have turned my back for a moment and he took that opportunity to escape.  Of course I immediately panicked, but I figured he must have headed for the hills of home.  

That determined little guy reached home before me.  In those days, there was little traffic on Shelbourne Street and no bad guys lurking to snatch up little boys, but it still gave me an awful scare to have him missing for even a few minutes.

When he actually started attending kindergarten, he travelled to school and back every day with a little friend and neighbour, named Anne Marie.  She was a tiny French girl, as delicate as fine boned china. 

The two friends held hands and made their way to class together.

One unforgettable day, they did not arrive home at the proper time.  Anne Marie's mother phoned me and between the two of us, we built up a real panic.  To our great relief, however, the two buddies finally arrived home, faces flushed with the excitement of all they had seen.

A big new shopping center was being built at the corner of Shelbourne and Cedar Hill and the two little friends had been engrossed in watching the huge bulldozers and heavy duty equipment at work there. They completely lost track of time.

Fifty-five years later, in a Christmas letter to me, Anne Marie states:

"I have been reading your blogs and absolutely love them!  I've been waiting for the one where Mark goes off to school with 'that French girl from down the street' and having to hold her hand as they cross Shelbourne Street.  Good memories.  It was a long way to go to Doncaster School on our five year old legs.'

That letter from Anne Marie has prompted this post.   So important and rewarding to keep in touch with people from our past - I love it!