I was born in Stafford, Kansas in 1966, the 4th of 6 children.  Mom and Dad had 3 boys and 3 girls.  People often asked Dad how they managed to get an even number and he'd say he had ordered us out of a catalog.  I guess they had a no-return policy.

Anyhoo.....

 

When my youngest sister (Adala) was 6 months old, we moved to Canada.  Mind you, as far as I know, they had never been there and didn't know a single person there.  There was a church that needed a preacher, so off we went.  I learned years later they had wanted to be missionaries to Africa but had too many children for a single congregation to support, so Canada it was.

 

We lived in Brandon, Manitoba, for 3 years and this is where I started Kindergarten. We spent a lot of time farther north at a place named Reedy Creek. Reedy Creek is on Lake Ebb & Flow which is a takeoff of Lake Manitoba.  It is close to Dauphin and not far from a Metis reservation.

 

We drove up there every other week to have services with the families there and spent several weeks there during the summers, camping out around a campfire.

We are still close to many of the people from that area and still refer to them as Auntie Louse and Uncle Irvin (instead of Mr & Mrs).  They really are more like family than mere neighbors.

 

After about 3 years, Mom and Dad decided to move to this community as opposed to driving back and forth. Most of the people in the community are Metis, a French/Indian mix and a beautiful people! We spent 3 months that summer living in tents while we built a log house...... all 8 of us, mind you, with the youngest just 3 years old! My parents were pioneers for sure! They had their tent, the boys had a tent and us girls had a tent. There was a tarp set up in the center of the clearing with the electric pole where the refrigerator was plugged, but Mom did all the cooking over a campfire, even when it rained.  We had an outhouse down the trail and got our water from an artesian well that ran 3.5 Canadian gallons per minute.

 

Have you noticed something wrong with this picture? We were white, living in tents, while our Indian neighbors all had houses!

 

Dad preached right there in the open clearing, right there in front of God and everybody...including the dogs and sometimes a few horses tied nearby.

 

The Viet Nam war was going on at the time and there was a lot of talk of "guerilla warfare."  I guess Mom and Dad listened to the news quite a bit because one day Adala came running down the trail from the outhouse and announced that a "gorilla" was chasing her.  Dad (I think it was) asked her what it looked like, and she answered she didn't know: It was behind her!

 

 

 

 

 

We all had a hand in the building of the house (40 x 80 if I'm not mistaken).  Some of us peeled logs (by hand, no power tools to peel with) and some picked up the piles of bark and moved them to a stack so we could burn them later.  Dad built some pretty neat window trim using nothing but a chainsaw, of all things!

 

The house had 3 bedrooms down one side and the rest was one main, open living area. We heated it with one woodstove that was around 3 feet long, 1 1/2 feet wide and flat on top. The outhouse was still down the trail and we still used the artesian well for water. It had no indoor plumbing. 

 

Over the years, we had a few dogs and cats and a raccoon named Rocky, and 2 of the meanest geese you've ever seen.  For the first year or so, the well was simply an open pipe sticking up out of the ground about 2 feet or so, and was about 4 inches in diameter if I remember correctly.   The water was always really, really cold even in the middle of the summer.   It would actually make your hand hurt if you put it down inside.  

 

Anyway, Alexander, the Gander (the Goose was named Sasha) would see us coming with out water pails and would run to the well and stick his fool head down it.  We'd have to just stand there and wait on him to get tired of his game so we could get water. He'd keep it down there so long I always figured he'd either drown or freeze!  He'd come up for air, and before we had time to react, down he'd go again.  We always ended up having to just kick him out of the way and keeping him beat back with a stick so we could get water.  Once we had our water and left he'd just waddle away.  I guess it wasn't any fun without us. 

 

It was great living there.  I miss being able to just walk out into the woods and get wild raspberries!

 

 

Michael (my youngest brother) was around 5 or 6 at the time.  He had this huge old horse named Klinker or Clinker that he would ride around on, no saddle, no reins, just Michael and a naked horse.. lol.  Clinker had one bad eye (gone completely?) and was so gentle. I remember him as being a Clydesdale, but that may just be because Michael was so little and Clinker looked so big.

 

Clinker would show up at the house (all the cattle and horses in the area were free ranged) and Michael would find a stump and climb on. They would just wander around where ever Clinker wanted to go.

 

Clinker was very sociable and very big.  I remember him looking in the window while we all sat at the table and ate supper.  One time, the door was left open and Clinker decided he would just walk right in. He made it about halfway before Mom saw him. I think she had trouble getting him to back out.

 

The woods there weren't like the woods here. There, once you step off the trail you are completely hidden. Dad used to hide when he saw Mom take off down the trail. He'd wait till she came back, then reach out and snarl and grab her. I think he did this on several occasions.  If I recall correctly, she broke him of that  the time she smacked him (simple reflex reaction).

 

One day Adala needed to pee but didn't want to go all the way to the outhouse. She squatted down just off the side of the trail. Not having plumbing in the house, we washed dishes in a dishpan and threw the water out into the woods when we were finished (about 10 feet off the back of the house). Well, LaDonna finished with dishes and took the water and slung...not knowing Adala was anywhere around. You can figure out what happened, I'm pretty sure.

One day when we were still living in tents, some of us kids built a teepee in the woods and used Dad's hatchett to chop some branches. It had been left out there so he went in search of it. The dogs followed him out but soon got bored and left him out there. Eventually, Dad either found it or gave up since it was starting to get dark. 

 

The dogs heard him coming back in but didn't realize it was him. They started raising a ruckus so he decided to have some fun with them.  He started snorting and shaking bushes (there were a lot of bears in the area).  The dogs all went wild! Something was out there and they were not going to let it into the clearing, whatever 'it' was!

 

A white german shepherd named "Pike" really thought he was THE Alpha Dog and the toughest of the lot. Well, Pike was really raising cane, ready to tear tit limb to limb (but he sure wasn't going in after whatever was out there).  Mom was sitting over by the campfire reading a book and heard all the commotion.  Knowing Dad like she does, she figured out pretty quick what was going on. 

 

One by one, the dogs either figured out it was Dad or got bored and wandered back to the fire. All except Pike.  There he was...still giving it all he had.  About this time he must have figured out no one else was barking! He looked over one shoulder, then the other and saw he was ALONE! The hairs stood up on the back of his neck and he literally took off running backwards  right through the campfire, butt first. So much for big, brave Dominant Alpha Dog!

Every summer we would drive down to Oklahoma to visit Grandma and Grandpa and all of our aunts, uncles and cousins.  All of us would pile in the back of the suburban and sleep or read on the trip.  Mom kept a long switch on the front dashboard to settle arguments. I'm sure she never had to use it, being the angel babies that we were.

 

After 3 years of living in Reedy Creek, we packed up and moved back home, back to the States, to the same house we had lived in before we moved North.  The house sure had shrunk over the years and soon one of my Grandma's moved in with us, too!  It was pretty dull being in town after living in the wild woods of Canada...  lol

 

I did manage to make it back to Canada once while Auntie Louise was still living. She and Uncle Irvin drove us up to the house...it was still standing, barely, but was in pretty bad shape since no one had lived in it for over 20 years.  I'm sure it's completely gone, now.

 

Just seeing the house..... and the places I remembered .... brought tears to my eyes.  I had such good times there.  It was almost as if this place had stepped out of my dreams, it had been so long since I had been there.

 

Magical - truelly magical!  Thank you so much for sharing your childhood with me........  More, please?   Joy x

Thank you thank you thank you!

While we lived in Brandon, we would travel to Reedy Creek and spend a couple of weeks camping.  Being of indian heritage, these people were very superstitious!

 

One evening, we sat around the campfire listening to story after story of all the creatures that roam the dark, everything from wolverines and bear attacks to the "true" story of the "Manipogo."    http://www.unknownexplorers.com/manipogo.php

This just happened to be the night a huge storm blew into the area.  Dad figured he'd better go down to the lake and check that the canoe was firmly tied (about 1/4 mile to the east).  It sure didn't take him long to get down there and back!

  

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Many times when we camped, my oldest sister and her friend would sleep in a pup tent, while my brothers and the neighbor boys would sleep in a much bigger tent. They were always picking on each other, of course. 

 

Once in the middle of the night, the girls had to get up and go pee.  When they came back, their tent was completely collapsed.  I'm sure they thought it terribly funny that the boys thought they'd got them good, but hadn't since the girls weren't in the tent.  They just tied it back up and went back to sleep.

 

It was even funnier in the morning when they got up and saw the tent.  There were hoofprints all over it!  Apparently, the cows had run through the camp, directly over the top of their tent.  It's a good thing they weren't in it!

 

(Remember, the cattle are free ranged).

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Uncle Irvin was a commercial ice fisherman.  No, he didn't sit out there with a pole....  lol.  He'd ride out on a snowmobile, pulling a sled with all the equipment and nets (the nets were actually strung under the ice across the lake).  He used an ice spud* to check the ice thickness and punch out a hole (I'm not sure if he used an ice auger or not).   One end of this rod was, of course, sharpened on one end.  The sled had a solid hitch on it and was attached to the back of the snowmowbile. 

 

My oldest brother, Neal, went fishing with Uncle Irvin and Dad one day.  He was riding on the back of the sled that held all the gear.  The snowmobile hit a huge bump and the sled came unhitched.  The hitch jammed down into the ice and caused the sled to throw everything off, Neal included.  He landed chin first on top of the sharpened end of the ice spud. 

 

I was at home standing next to the stove when Dad and Neal walked in.  I looked up and remember seeing him standing there with his chin split wide open.  I don't remember how many stitches he had to get, but he still has the scar. The scar runs from mid-way under his lower lip to the under side of his chin. If the bar had hit him any lower, it would have gone completely through his neck. 

 

*Ice spuds:  Fishing through holes in ice is common in many parts of the world. One of the earliest methods of cutting these holes was to use an ice chisel, or "spud bar" as it is known in the United States. These spud bars are a chisel over 6 feet (about 2 meters) long, usually made entirely of iron or steel.

ROCKY

The kids down the road had 2 baby raccoons, one female, one male. I think the mama had been killed when a new road was put in, but I'm not sure.  Anyway, the coons were just tiny little things, maybe 6 or 8 weeks old when they were caught. The male started to get mean since the kids teased him.  Their parents finally made them give him to us and we named him Rocky.

 

He was never mean to us but he'd hide whenever those boys would come around.

 

The night we brought him home, Dad sat up with him while Rocky "explored" the cabin.  He was into everything!  Up on top of the cabinets, under the couch, playing with anything he could find. Dad wondered what to do with him when he started getting tired and ready for bed.  It was getting late and Rocky didn't show any signs of slowing down. Dad didn't want to put him outside since Rocky hadn't been there long enough to know this was now home.  Plus, the dogs had yet to "meet" Rocky so he didn't want to put him out until he was sure how they would react.

 

Dad finally got tired enough that he just gave up and went to bed. As quickly as he did, Rocky followed him in there and crawled into the covers beside him. He'd been waiting on Dad to go to bed.

 

Rocky and the dogs got along just fine.  We had two, both large. One was JD (Just Dog) and one was Charlie.  JD was a lab/retriever mix, kind of golden/tan in color, and Charlie was just another big dog (he looked to be part german shepherd).  JD took everything on to raise that we dragged in, whether it was kittens, puppies, chickens, geese or coons.  Charlie was too lazy to bother anything but he wouldn't come to you without bringing you something, maybe a stick, maybe a rock, but always something.  They all got along just fine but Rocky sure did like to tease them. 

 

The cats were another story.  They hated him! To start with, they would all eat out of the same bowl of milk or scraps but Rocky broke them of that.  He'd reach over there and squeeeeeeze them like he loved them (like a child does a doll).  A time or two of that and he had the food to himself.

 

Mom (I think it was) took Rocky to school one day for Michaels' Show&Tell (Kindergarten).  Needless to say, she ended up having to tour almost every classroom in the school.  Walking down the hallway with Rocky with every kid in the school following her made her feel like the Pied Piper.

 

In the spring, all the snow thawed at once and it would be muddy for weeks. Mom did all the laundry on an old wringer washer.  One day, she was doing the whites.  She had them washed and rinsed and was starting to hang them on the line to dry when she looked down and there was Rocky.  He had traipsed through the mud and was "helping" her.  He was very gently picking up an item of clothing, patting it on both sides, then grabbing the next item. There were little muddy handprints all over Mom's clean laundry.  Needless to say, she wasn't exactly thrilled. She picked him up, swatted his little butt like a child, and put him down.  Rocky ran off chirring (crying) and rubbing his little butt.... lol.

 

That was actually one of his favorite pranks.  Apparently he pulled that one a few times that she didn't notice.  After we had already moved back to Stafford, Mom pulled a shirt of Dad's out of storage that he hadn't worn in a while and there was a little handprint of Rocky's up next to the collar.  She just packed it back away like it was, handprint and all. 

 

In the cabin there was an upright cabinet that we used as a pantry. The bottom sections had doors and is where Mom kept staples such as flour, sugar, brown sugar, brown beans, etc.  Mom thought we had a mouse because she kept finding little holes chewed in the bottom of the sacks.  

 

One day she caught the "mouse" in action.  Rocky had figured out how to get those doors open and was chewing through the sugar, happy as a lark.  Mom yelled at him, "Rocky!" His eyes got big, he knew he was in trouble, and he grabbed the sugar sack and took off with it tucked under his arm like a football player carrying a football. He left a trail of sugar everywhere he went until she finally caught him.  That was another time Rocky got a spanking (he got several of those... lol).

 

I'm not sure how she finally found a way to keep him out of that cabinet, but a wooden spoon stuck through the latches was not enough a deterrant.  He figured that one out pretty quickly.

 

We kept a galvanized tub on top of the wood stove to heat water for baths and dishwashing. Rocky loved to get in there and play. 

 

One evening when the weather started turning cooler, Dad had built a small fire in the stove to get the chill out of the house. Unbeknownst to him, Rocky had climbed up into the tub and was quite contentedly playing.  When the water started heating up, Rocky had had enough and climbed out.  When he stepped on the stove it was hot enough that it seered his little feet.

 

I had been sitting in the living room reading a book. Rocky climbed out of the tub, I heard the SIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ of his wet feet on the stove and he screamed and took off running.  Mom grabbed him and put some ointment on his feet, all the time Rocky was just crying and crying.  It was very sad. He was afraid to ever play in that water again.  He had permanent scars from that incident.

 

One day I was in the bedroom playing with him.  I was on top of the bed I shared with my sister and he was underneath. We were playing peek a boo.  I'd peek down one side of the bed and he'd try to get me.  Then I'd peek down the other side and he'd try to get me again. He was on his back on the floor under the bed, scooting from one side of the bed to the other by grabbing the mattress supports.  Rocky was pretty smart and loved to be sneaky. He figured out the game and the next time I peeked down the side of the bed, he was there, waiting. He nipped me on the end of my nose (not hard enough to hurt).  I still laugh about that.

 

He wasn't real smart when it came to climbing trees.  And he did like to climb, trees, ladders, you name it, he would climb it.  Dad had a huge ladder set up against a highline pole and Rocky climbed to the very top and we wondered if he would ever make it down. He sat up there and cried a long time.  I don't remember if Dad had to go retrieve him or what. 

 

When Rocky climbed trees he would come down head first (their nails do not turn around like some animals' nails do).  We just knew he would fall and break his fool neck someday....  lol.

 

We never did keep him penned up and knew the time was coming when he would return to the wild.  When fall rolled around, he was old enough that he started wandering farther and farther from home. He'd be gone for a few hours, than a few days, than for an entire week at a time. 

 

Several times when Dad figured he was gone for good, he replaced the insulation between the door jams (Rocky loved to sit there and pick it out with his little fingers).  He'd no more get it replaced then Rocky would show up and tear it all out again.

 

Finally, after he'd been gone a couple of weeks, we figured we'd seen the last of him  but Mom said she saw him one more time. 

 

He wandered into the clearing as if to say "hello, how are you?" and get one more piece of bread (he loved her homemade bread) then wandered away.  Mom noticed another coon on the edge of the woods waiting for him, so we know he made the transition smoothly and wouldn't be alone.