A DAY TO REMEMBER

The day began with our smoke detector beeping intermittently.  Neither Ken nor I dare to climb on stools or ladders at our age, and our daughter Terry could not reach the detector even when she did stand on a stool! A neighbour (and friend) of Terry's did her best, but even though she could reach the alarm, it still presented too much of a challenge - not your average alarm, apparently. Our car repairman (who offers a mobile service and comes to the house with his van) also took a turn to solve the problem but he too gave up as he did not want to damage the alarm.

Ken always says that if you want a problem solved, go to the top! So, in desperation I called the Saanich Fire Department, stating immediately that there was no emergency.  I pulled the seniors' card, telling them that Ken is 94 and I am 90 - we needed help!

It worked, and in no time at all a fire truck arrived at the foot of the driveway and three stalwart firemen who were 'on call' strode up to the door, ready to help a couple of old folks. One of them gave a mighty twist to the smoke alarm and off came the cover.  

They changed the battery and were kind enough to pose for a photo.

Later that day while Terry and I were shopping, we had another fun encounter.  I was in search of a General Mills Company cereal.  A chap was restocking the shelves.  With my irrepressible sense of humour I asked "Are you General Mills?" Joining in the fun, he replied "No, I'm Corporal Punishment".

Meanwhile our little corgi, Miller, was enjoying a spa treatment - a very nice lady brings a mobile grooming van to our house and Miller is thoroughly combed, bathed and has his fluffy bits dealt with.  He comes out looking like a show dog.

But the day was not over yet - Terry had a surprise visit from a confused-looking young Chocolate Lab who tried to enter her patio door.  Luckily the dog wore a collar and tag with phone numbers.  We had to coax 'Grace' with many treats before she allowed Terry to attach a leash.

  

She was eventually returned to her owner and Terry was able to join us for lunch, scrabble and our regular Thursday 'family day'.

As we were finishing our second scrabble game, our car repairman knocked at the door to say he was finished.  We offered him a glass of wine which he gratefully accepted, and we ended up having a very enjoyable conversation with him.

It was a nice way to wind up a very busy but rewarding day.

THE CORNER STORE

Corner of Fairfield Road and Vancouver

In 1984, I wrote an article about corner stores.  Ken patiently drove around Victoria with me and took amazing photographs of the shops that were still operating as convenience stores at that time.  I hope you enjoy this look into Victoria's past:

Remember the corner store?  They were everywhere!  I mean the REAL corner store, with the ever-present cat curled up in the sunny window and the bell that sounded an inviting jingle announcing your entry.

Corner of Lillian and Fairfield

There are very few of these little gems remaining in Victoria, but I found some.  It is like stepping into the past as you turn the handle on an old wooden door and set foot onto the well worn floor.

Corner of Stanley Avenue & Begbie

The stores I discovered were, on the whole, small and cosy, but the smallest and no doubt the oldest, was at the corner of Government and Michigan Streets - it is literally a cracker box!

Corner of Government & Michigan

This little store was built in 1915 for Pete Metro.  This Greek gentleman arrived in Victoria in 1893.  He was the proprietor of the Maryland Cafe at 1225 Government Street.  The house that stands behind the Corner Confectionary was built in 1905.  The story goes that Mr. Metro felt sorry for a fellow who was unable to obtain work, so he employed him to build the store.  After its completion, the Metro family rented it out.

One of those tenants was a lady who sat in complete repose in the tiny balcony at the back of the store.  From this lofty vantage point she kept an eagle eye on all the customers. She just told people to help themselves and leave their money on the counter!

Merle Fraser operated the store for 21 years.  When she first opened for business, she could only afford to buy three of everything.  Someone would say 'I've just taken your last bottle of ketchup'.  Merle would chuckle and say 'Good, now I can buy three more'.

Most of Merle's business was on the charge system, as many of her customers were on welfare.  Once, when she attempted to collect a bad debt, an irate woman hit her on the head with a cane!  Often people moved houses without notice and she had the frustrating job of tracking them down to pay their bill.  She remembers a cheque that bounced - she managed to trace the chap to an out-of-town motel and then waited until he rolled out of a beer parlour to nab him.

The next time you have occasion to visit the nearest convenience store and push open the heavy glass door, to be greeted by a tangle of teenagers draped over a video machine, take a deep breath and remember - it wasn't always like this!

Corner of Finlayson & Highview

POOSESSION IS 9/10 OF THE LAW

I have another little story to relate regarding one of our twin grand-daughters, Heather, when she was tiny.  Heather was the smaller of the twins and was always determined to keep up with her sister.

One day, when all four grandparents were present, she accomplished a great feat.  Lindsay, her twin, had already dealt with the challenges of toilet training and was quite adept at the procedure.

Heather raced into the living room shouting 'Come! Come!' and began pulling us into the bathroom.  We all followed after her, but, alas, Miss Lindsay entered the bathroom first. With a professional flourish, she retrieved the potty, emptied the contents into the toilet and then, with a final theatrical display, flushed her sister's prize away!

Full of frustration and anger, Heather shouted 'Mine! Mine!' and burst into tears.

We adults hid our laughter and consoled our precious grand-daughter.

Now that Heather has a little one of her own, I am sure she will not mind me sharing this delightful tale with you!

TWIN TALES

Ken and I were extremely excited when we learned our daughter-in-law, Carol, was pregnant again and that this time it was to be twins!  Heather and Lindsay were born May 16, 1984.

It was sure fun watching them grow and witnessing how they bonded.  They had a special 'twin' language which sounded like 'gibberish' to us but they understood each other - one would often crawl or trot off only to return with some item the other had apparently ordered.  They didn't need any playmates, though they did have their 'big' sister, Colleen, who was only two but already in charge!

We tried to give Mark and Carol a break every so often.  Ken and I had the twins for a visit, or Colleen, separately, so that each child felt 'special'.

We took Heather to swings in a nearby park.  

Another time she rode around on a little pink bicycle we bought for her to enjoy.  We cycled together to the grounds of UVIC to feed the ducks.  

Another fun time was when Heather decorated herself in some of my old bracelets and necklaces.  We played catch in our pretty garden, which she loved to help water.  

And I know she really enjoyed helping to make banana splits for dessert.

Our visits with Lindsay were just as special.  She, too, loved playing on the swings at the park.  She had lots of fun (!) raking up oak leaves from our many trees, 

helping to pick apples from our transparent apple tree and then 'helping' me to make applesauce.  

The petting zoo at Beacon Hill Park was a favorite destination.

Once when the girls were older, we had both twins for a visit. I recall Heather (she was the reader) reading aloud to Lindsay as the pair of them sat in front of a cosy fire, Lindsay contentedly knitting or crochetting. The girls never did much 'hanging around' after school, they usually headed for home to do their homework together just enjoying each other's company.

Where has the time gone? We've seen both girls graduate from University and become competent, conscientious school teachers.  They've each married wonderful young men and become loving, caring mothers.  Heather and Adam will soon be parents to a baby brother for Oliver.

Lindsay and Mike adopted sweet baby James Mark and then to their delight found they were pregnant with adorable Juliette, born this past February.

Ken and I have had such a rewarding and full life.  We are blessed to have such wonderful memories and pictures to treasure.

SO YOU WANT TO BE GRANDPARENTS

For many years Ken and I anticipated joining the ranks of that grand army of grandparents.  Finally, with the birth of our first grandchild, Colleen, we were mobilised! We found, however, that there was a bit of basic training to undergo first.

For instance, the whole idea of disposable diapers was foreign to us. When I think of the hours I spent standing at my old wringer washer, I'm glad we didn't grow old together. Ken and I also had to get used to using those little wet clean-up cloths that pop out of a convenient dispenser - a neat idea.  We soon adjusted to the plastic nursing bottles with those ghastly looking deflated liners.

Our first encounter with a jolly jumper was a great experience.  What a marvelous invention. The baby can have great fun, at the same time exercising his or her leg muscles, and, better still, be within sight.  Our own offspring were popped into a playpen and spent their time gazing at the world through bars.

Not many babies these days seem to have buggies or prams, but, instead, are carried about snuggled up to their parents' bodies in 'snugglies'.  This contributes to a special bonding between parent and child which is important.

Most of the mothers in the 1950s fed baby and then out he went to the porch in his buggy for the prescribed four hours until the next feeding.  The fresh air was healthy and certainly conducive to sleep.  We mothers spent a good deal of time checking up on our precious bundles to see if they were still sleeping or to ensure that some large neighborhood cat had not decided to make itself comfortable and warm by sneaking into the confines of the pram.  These days one would certainly hesitate to leave a baby unattended in case a kidnapper was about.

Remember how some people trustingly left their baby and buggy outside a store while they shopped?  Today such a foolish act would be unthinkable.

In December 1986, when our first granddaughter was two years old, we volunteered to babysit for her for two weeks.

Our life suddenly changed.  Being retired, Ken and I had settled into a casual routine as far as meals were concerned, Breakfast was consumed at the kitchen nook with chit-chat about events, plans for the day, etc.  Lunch we shared with the cast of our favorite soap opera at the time, "All My Children". Dinner was usually washed down with the evening news, while comfortably seated in front of the television.  When the dishes were done, we either read or watched t.v. (preferably PBS) unless we were entertaining friends or out for the evening.

All this nonsense came to an abrupt halt.  One does not subject one's innocent grandchild to such depravity.  a good example must be set. Meals must be properly consumed at a table and interspersed with 'pleases' and 'thank-yous'. And a certain little person had to be convinced that grandma's homemade soup tasted good and must be eaten before any dessert would appear.

Like most two year olds, Colleen was just beginning to assert herself.  Having heard the word 'no' many times (!) she decided she would try it for herself.

We did our best to convince her that 'yes' was a much nicer word.  We did not wish to undermine the efforts of her mommy and daddy and therefore did our best not to spoil her but found it quite a challenge to keep on top of each new situation as it arose.

I had forgotten what it was like to have one's concentration broken by a little voice calling out "I have to go tinkle".  Flour had to be quickly rinsed off hands before we sped to the bathroom.

We had to come to terms with the complicated fastenings on the car safety seat, but after several trips to various friends to show off our little guest, we actually became quite adept.

We even had the precious gift of witnessing her first visit to Santa Claus.  She was all primed and looking forward to meeting the whiskered gentleman, when much to our chagrin, the little fellow in front of her became very apprehensive and began to cry.  This scene made her wonder if this Santa Claus business was all it was cracked up to be.  Upon being reassured, she did agree to visit him, but only at a safe distance.  None of this sitting on the knee stuff!

Bath time was stretched to the limit with fun and games in the tub.  Then, naked, our little charge would run with freedom and delight down the hall to the living room where Ken and I made a great fuss of drying her down in front of a cosy fire.  With her damp hair and cherubic silhouette she brought to life one of Paul Peel's famous paintings.

Then the challenge of the evening - bedtime - was upon us. We had forgtten just how much time we used to devote to this portion of the day, but it soon came back to us in full force.  Dolls and stuffed animals had to be rounded up and placed either side of her pillow, not forgetting that most important of items - the security blanket!

Next was story time, swiftly followed by pleading for yet another story.

Jst as we figured we had everything under control and could sneak off and watch the last half of a National Geographic special, our little angel thought of yet another delaying tactic.  A request for a drink of water was usually followed by the popular 'blow out the light' ceremony. It was difficult to understand how one little person could delay the inevitable, while by now, Ken and I were so looking forward to it!

We had a delightful and rewarding two weeks with this compact little bundle of energy.  We enjoyed walks to the swings in the play park, hide and seek in the house, make believe picnics, and decorated Christmas cookies. 

But most of all we enjoyed hugs and kisses when she crawled into our bed in the mornings.

We typed out a complete diary of her stay with us which we placed in a photo album together with pictures recording all her activities while she was with us.  Something we hope she will treasure in the future.

The day Colleen left she put her arms around her grand-dad and said "Don't be sad Grampa"  Little did she know we had mixed feelings!  The house would seem very empty without our little princess, but it would be good to get back into our comfortable rut.  As busy a time as that was, however, it was a walk in the park compared to the time we babysat the twins - but that deserves a post all of its own!

HARRISON STREET BLUES - PART TWO

Here is the second part of my Harrison Street memories:

Many a day I waved to a college student cycling from Craigdarroch Castle (then our college) to Vic High for chemistry classes.

It was about this time that the tragic death of John Penketh occurred.  He died as a result of a head injury during a rugby game between Victoria College and Oak Bay High School.  He was a fine athlete and at the time of his death had been accepted by the RCAF for air crew and was to have left for training at the close of college term.  

We all had our heroes at that time and some of the better known ones were the Chapmans, the Pedens, the Bakers, the Ovcharicks, the McKeachies, Busher Jackson, Austin Cullen, Arnold Ferguson, Duff McCaghey, Art McKim and of course, Hank Rowe. Hank returned from Dieppe as Victoria's hero with a Military Medal and was presented with the city's Ceremonial Medallion.

I remember stopping off at the Fernwood Meat Market on the way home from school to pick up some sausages or hamburger (minced beef we called it then) for my mother for the evening meal...the trips I made for my mom to the corner store (still there) on Begbie street, the old Chinaman and his vegetable truck which went door to door and with whom my mom ran up such a bill that in the end neither of them knew what was owing!  She ended up paying him a dollar every time he arrived!  I also remember the baker and his horse-drawn wagon and the fun we had giving the horse a treat. And I remember the ice-man and his delivery truck.  He sawed huge blocks of ice into small sections at the back of the truck, grasped the big blocks he'd cut off with a large set of tongs, slung it over his back and made his way to the appropriate house.  In his absence, we quickly scraped up the left over bits of ice and popped them into our mouths, alternating the icy chunk from side to side until we could stand it no longer.

I remember my girfriend Pat, who lived next door, being called for by her young Romeo, who tooted the car's horn which played the popular 'You Are My Sunshine', to announce his arrival. Once Pat's mother gave us both a big treat - a banana split at the Topper restaurant, then located on Yates Street near the Standard Furniture Company.  It was my first banana split and I was very excited.

Every year Pat's mom planted out forget-me-nots and wall flowers in her front garden.  At the time it seemed such a huge display, but now I realize it was a small area.  I loved to garden and still do.  I spent hours pulling weeds and setting out plants and then mother would come out and admire my handiwork.

I remember how we used to play jacks or hopscotch until it was time for supper and then you'd hear all the moms calling out their kids' names': "Beh.....tee" and a few minutes later the same call, as the first had been ignored but now the call was much firmer "BETTY!" then a pause and finally the answering all "Coming".  You don't seem to hear that much any more.  Maybe the kids these days all have digital watches and don't need to be reminded it is time to come home.

I recall an embarrassing moment when I breathlessly waited for the red-haired paper boy at the end of each day.  The observant and cheeky man across the street sang out "Oh Mama, the paper boy for me" (the popular song at the tme was "Oh Mama, the butcher boy for me".

Many was the time my girlfriend, Margaret, and I chattered away on the phone deciding what we were going to where, then we'd meet somewhere between her place and mine on Fernwood Road.  We boarded the streetcar in front of the old Emmanuel Baptist Church (now the Belfry).  The streetcar trundled us into town where we window shopped, took in a movie or just had a coke with friends.

Often we went to the 'cheer-up' evening concerts held in the old bandstand at Beacon Hill Park.  I can still hear the strains of 'When The Lights Come On Again All Over The World' drifting over the park.  There were hundreds of people gathered there, you usually recognized most of them and certainly knew a great many.  In those days you always seemed to be saying hello to someone on the street - now they are all strangers. 

Often we were trailed home by lonely sailors, eager but harmless.  On a few occasions we attended Robert House, which was a type of Stage Door Canteen for the boys in uniform.

One of my fondest memories is meeting my husband for the first time in a line-up at the old Dominion Theatre on Yates Street.  He had just returned from military service in Burma and was accompanied by a boyfriend of mine, who introduced Ken and I.  The rest is history. Many hours Ken and I spent on the porch of my home on Harrison Street and in front of that romantic fireplace!

My father paid $25/month rent for our home which had a full basement, four bedrooms and was on a quiet street close to schools and town.

Recently I saw a rezoning notice in the paper stating the house was to be torn down and an apartment building erected in its place. This sparked my desire to see 1426 Harrison Street once more.  

I should not have returned.  Gone was the bannister leading up to my bedroom, replaced by a blank wall. An entrance had been knocked through from the porch to a separate suite upstairs, where my treasured bedroom had been. The whole house had been turned into small units - the pantry was now a bathroom.  The surrounding homes were obviously slated for demolition as they were sadly neglected. No more manicured lawns, no signs of loving care.  I returned home rather despondent.

A few months later my husband and I drove by, just to see if the house was still standing.  A pile of rubble greeted us. 

My house is gone forever, but my memories of it linger on.

HARRISON STREET BLUES - PART ONE

(This is the first article I ever wrote - several decades ago. It deals with some of the memories of my teen-age years. When it appeared in the paper, I received numerous phone calls from various people saying how much they had enjoyed my story and was I going to write more? That encouraged me to continue writing.  The article is rather lengthy by blog standards, so I'll split it into sections, for the pleasure of today's readers! Hope you enjoy it...)

For the last year or so, I have had this yearning to return to the house on Harrison Street, Victoria BC, where I lived as a teen-ager 45 years ago.

I could picture in my mind the cosy entrance hall and heavily varnished curving stairs with fancy carved bannister leading up to my bedroom.  I remember the flowered wallpaper my father and I painstakingly pasted and applied to my bedroom walls and the odd-shaped walk-in closets.

Then there was the enormous bathroom which nowadays would be a decorator's delight, but to us was just a bathroom.  Off the entrance hall the small front room contained a tiled fireplace which fired many a romantic evening.

I think the room I remember best was the dining room which was spacious yet warm with its dark varnished wainscotting and accompanying plate rack encircling the room. This room with its potbellied stove, complete with mica window revealing flickering flames, holds many memories. I think back to the card games and homework at the big table and the lesson in hair cutting from my dad.  I still cut his hair and he is now 94.

There was a swinging door to the pantry which contained all the household supplies and boasted a sink.  Another swinging door led from the pantry into the big kitchen.  I can still see my mother standing at the old wood stove, stirring scrambled eggs, while to one side the kettle steamed comfortingly and continuously.  

In those days, moms were moms. Not too many that I came in contact with were as much concerned with perms, hair coloring or weight watching as they were with where the next meal was coming from.

Memories flood back.  The Saturday and Sunday mornings I slept in and awoke to the steady comforting whirr of the now old-fashioned pushmower as a neighbor lovingly tended his lawn. 

As a result of the Depression years, my older brother Les taught himself to make candy and peddled it door to door.  I recall one time when Les had just put some lovely creamy fudge on the back porch to cool.  My other brother Ken decided to 'test' it and burned the tip of his nose in the process.

Once, my dad set a trap for a neighborhood boy who had taken to 'borrowing' dad's bicycle in order to complete his paper route. Twice dad's bike had disappeared and then been returned by the stealthy intruder.  Dad strung a line, complete with tin cans, across the entrance to our garage. Very early in the morning there was a great clatter and dad sprang from his bed.  The would-be borrower fled and we were never bothered by him again.

Dad was greatly relieved, as his bike was his mode of transportation to and from work where he was employed by McLennan, McFeely and Prior (commonly known as Mc&Mc's), a popular hardware store located at that time on Government Street, opposite the present Century Inn.  He was in the parts department in the basement and was so well known and knowledgeable that he was affectionately referred to as 'Pop'.

Also employed at this firm was a young boy by the name of Robin Justice.  Fellow employees and all Victorians were shocked to hear of the brutal murder of Robin's sister, Molly, who was head seamstress at the Government Street General Warehouse store.  Molly was only 15 years of age and was killed by knife wounds on her way home from work one night.  Her boy was found on the Canadian National right-of-way near Vernon Avenue in Saanich.  Her murderer was never identified.

I remember that while attending Central Junior high school I was instructed to write an essay on a 'character'.  I chose old Bill Nye who was well known by all Victorians.  He had a dirty, stringy beard and his pants were held up with the aid of a piece of rope.  He used to wander the downtown streets and often shopped at the old Safeway store, or Chinese vegetable store, which were both located on Fort Street opposite the present location of the Dutch Bakery.

I recall working away on this essay while sitting at our big dining room table in my favorite room with the fire crackling in the old heater.  I must have run into difficulties as I asked my mother for some help which she willingly provided.  I proudly presented my completed essay to my adored English Teacher, Rudyard Kipling (yes, this was really his name).  It didn't take him long to spot my mother's British influence in my masterpiece.  I had innocently inserted the phrase 'green grocer' in describing the Chinese vegetable store Bill Nye entered on Fort Street.

The principal of Central Junior at that time was Miss Olive Heritage who was ahead of her time, being the only female principal in the school district.  She was an imposing figure, tall, good-looking and always elegantly dressed.  She was an excellent principal and well-liked.

I recall walking along Fernwood Road, wearing my sloppy-Joe sweater, saddle shoes and bobby socks.  

The Big One

Hi, I'm back.  I hope you missed me, but with all the Christmas Season activities, I doubt it!

Well, 2014 was the big year for me - I turned 90 in December. 

I hosted a little luncheon at our house for my scrabble group.  All the Christmas decorations were up, I had soft carols playing in the background and a fire glowing. We all enjoyed sharing memories of Christmas past and the pleasure of being together.

Our son Mark and his wife Carol drove down from Prince George for my birthday.  As we were setting out the Chinese food they brought for dinner, the phone rang - it was one of my grand-daughters, Lindsay, phoning from Prince George to wish me Happy Birthday.  

Then the doorbell rang, interrupting our phone call, so I said a hurried 'good-bye'.  I opened the door to find Lindsay along with her new baby boy, James Mark, both draped in flashing Christmas lights! She had been hiding in Mark's truck and had actually been calling me from her cell phone as she came to the front door.  What a wonderful surprise!  I was thrilled to meet my newest great grand-child for the first time - he is adorable!

Another happy event to celebrate my birthday was a night out for dinner and musical theatre at the Oak Bay Beach Hotel.  We enjoyed a delicious dinner and we found the entertainment to be just excellent.

Then on the 29th of December, Lindsay's twin, Heather, along with her husband Adam and their little boy, Oliver, came for lunch and a visit.  We hadn't seen Oliver since he was a few months old. Now at 16 months, he is walking very well.  He is a handsome sturdy boy and was so well-behaved!

Finally, to top off my birthday month, we had a visit from our nephew Dennis, from Port Alberni.  He arrived with a beautifully decorated box full of gifts as well as dinner.  Later in the evening he insisted on giving me a demonstration of crepe-making.  He even brought his own crepe mixture and pan.  While he masterfully flipped crepes, we chatted and caught up on each other's news.  Dennis is a very caring chap and it was wonderful to see him again.

All in all, I had a super 90th birthday.  I am very blessed.