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This is kind of random association of what I can remember when I was a
little guy and Grandmother still lived at her house before she went to Bill
and Monica's. Unfortunately I was 3 when Grandfather died so I have 0
recollection of him other than what I have read.I was always amazed by Grandmother's house on Old King George Hwy in
Newcastle. The architecture of the place was so neat - traditional 2 story
on the bottom, somewhat split level on the top between the bathrooms and the
bedrooms with a huge banister. The thing that I thought was best was the
back stairwell which she didn't use (likely because the grand kids would
have been running wind sprints up and down through the house). 'Course,
being a country boob (not thinking the world was much bigger than Newcastle)
I was amazed by glass door handles at the time (so I impress easily).I still remember the clock that used to chime in her house. The long hallway
to the back kitchen with the wood stove. The front sitting room I don't
think I ever saw anyone sit in. The sort of musty smell that hit you when
you walked in the front door (no not the pulp mill!). Aunts and Uncles
crowded on the front step while my brother David and I played with Robert
and Michael Leslie.What else? The ever present beckon to her lap while she and Dad would talk
and I munched on molasses cookies in her kitchen. She would ALWAYS ask
"Stephen are they as good as your Mummy's cookies?" which I would
unfailingly answer "no" (and Dad would cringe a little - hey Mom is and was an
awesome cook). She would always chuckle softly respond "That's right, dear".She always showed interest in whatever we had done or things we had to show
her. And she was always SOOOO soft spoken (never heard her yell in my life).
I remember a huge lobster boil once with the Weisslers (which made me gag as
I hated lobster at the time) where everyone was crowded into the kitchen.
She would always call me Dermot (who was the son of Sam's brother and much
older - I never figured out the association).Anyway that's about all I can think of from wayyyy back, writing this makes
me realize how much I have likely forgotten and how important it is not to.
If I come up with anything else (or if anyone can jog my memory) I will pop
some stuff back in. Even more interesting would be to get some of the son's
and daughters stories of growing up in that house and the others Grandfather
owned on the Miramichi.
More
Memories at Grandmothers House
From
John Vickers
Stephen's thoughts brought back lots of memories at Grandmother's.
It was always very exciting to visit. Sliding down the large bannister was a major pastime. In the livingroom amidst the statues, clocks was an old record player and I remember playing long play records - particularly Bobby Goldsboro albums...
The clocks were really something with the long keys to wind them up and the deep chimes would echo around the place. Then of course you always had to sit at Grandmother's sewing machine in the kitchen and push the paddle wheel with your feet to make it go.
When it came to snacks, Grandmother used to have a supply of Crispy Crunch Bars in the dining room area. We would also always enjoy exploring through Sam's office behind the front stairway. Woodsmen would sometimes show up at the front door and Grandmother would go in there to write cheques. She was a very beautiful writer and I used to love the way she would sign her name with big swirls.
Outback there used to be lots of rubarb growing - remember those ever so zesty rubarb pies she would make. There used to be a big field behind her place and I believe there were horses there at one time. In the fall, my father would bring us up to rake all the leaves out front and diving into piles of raked up leaves would be a major past time
I recall during lightening storms at night time, my mother would call Grandmother at her house and Dad would go up and get her. It would be very exciting to know she was coming to visit. She would often come over with a bottle of holy water and go around and bless the windows........
Reading the remembrances posted here got me to reminiscing and thinking of some of my own. It really was a neat old house and I loved visiting as a child when we'd come up from Wisconsin. I remember in the early years the milk was delivered early in the morning by a horse-drawn truck of sorts and that was the highlight of every morning. I know dad has pictures of George and I as little kids being hoisted up in that milk truck with the driver, grinning from ear to ear...it was SUCH a thrill!
The part of the house I remember best was the kitchen with the old wood-burning stove. I remember Grandmother heating irons up on the stove to iron clothes. I think the system was that you'd have several irons on there at once and as the one in use cooled it would be put back on the stove and another taken up. I think they heated old bricks in there too to be wrapped and placed in beds to keep them warm in the winter.
Oh,
and the meals! The kitchen table was something like a long plank
as I recall. I do remember that lobster, John! But my favorite
was the Miramachi salmon dinners. There would be HUGE plates of salmon
with lots and lots of drawn butter. Lord, that stuff was good!
And Grandma's raisin bread! I have the recipe from my mother and
make it often. It has those
HUGE
gooey raisins in it, with nutmeg and molasses as the secret ingredients.
There'd always be soft butter out for the bread...like a whole pound of
it on a plate! I'm getting hungry just thinking about all this.
I'm going to make the Kingston Roll recipe real soon. Thanks for
posting
it John.
That's all I have time for right now but I'll come back soon and remember some more. :-)
Mary Weissler
Memories
of Grandmother
From
Will Vickers
I remember the time our neighbours, Dolan and Gary Hartery and I smoked 2 packs of cigarettes one summer morning. I think we were around 11 years old and I came in for lunch smelling light a Export A.
As I came in Grandmother quickly noticed the smell and my greenish colour. She didn't mention anything to me but I had a gut feeling she knew what I had been up to. Anyway, needless to say just one spoonful of her stew was all I needed to run for the Big White Telephone. Kingston, the baby of our clan, ran up to Grandmother and told her of my illness as she was pouring tea. She never came to my rescue however, I heard her say "Little Will will be all right. He just learned a lesson this morning."
On a different note, I spent many a morning helping Nanny make her "Everyday Cake" as she called it. To me, it seemed she would use all her strength while using the hand held eggbeaters to mix her bowl of ingredients. I plugged her with endless questions as I sat on the countertop beside her. I remember her patience as I tried those eggbeaters. I couldn't get the rhythm. Why could she do it and not me? My frustration would usually end as she handed me the eggbeaters once again.....My face I'm sure would show signs of a chocolate eruption of some sort. I would imagine I would try to lick the chocolate or whatever it was on ends of the spools before my brothers would see me in action. Comparing it today using a simile, it would be like tasting a 30 year old bottle of wine.
I used those same eggbeaters today. I happy to say that I got the rhythm down. I think of her each time I use them.
Will Vickers
The
Trip Home
From
Anne Marie Kingston
As I read memories come flowing back of all the fun of visiting Dad's family. The Kingston Homestead on King George Highway will forever live in my mind. I think it is neat that Journey's End hotel is there now as it was the end of journey when vacationing.
Dad would start off at about 6 pm and drive straight thru anywhere from 12 to 18 hrs--depended where we lived at the time. Can you imagine 8 kids and 2 parents in Pontiac Laurention for that length of time!!!! Journeys End ensured we could strectch our legs and get over the 100 miles of gravel road on the Plaster Rock Road!!! Granny would be there with open arms --fresh baking --- Gran dad would have candies in his desk drawer for us. Wonderful just thinking about it.
A couple of Christmas's ago, I had written a story about our summers as kids up at our cottage at Craig's Camps on the North West Miramichi. I had presented it as an xmas gift to my family. Our last Kingston Reunion was held there somewhere around 1980.
Anyhow I have copied it and it is available below (if you are bored sometime its here..:)
Paul Kingston was at the peak of his success as a woodman. His cuts were always good, his drives were always successful. At about that time there appeared an anonymous poem in the North Shore Leader, one of the Newcastle newspapers, which described very well the manner of man that Paul Kingston was and is.
"The
North Branch of Sevogle, all Nor'westers will agree,
Is
the toughest tributary of the Nor'west Miramichi.
It's
a treacherous, rocky torrent, from the Narrows up above
It's
a roaring, foam-decked outlaw, and a stream the drivers love.
Where
the white "P's" jam the ledges till there isn't room for more.
When
the old Sevogle takes the bit in her rush out to sea,
There
is always great excitement on the Nor'west Miramichi.
She's
a roaring, foam-decked outlaw, but to one man she must bow,
Only
one man understands her, knows her when and why and how,
Understands
her at her wildest, knows so well her changing moods,
Curbs
her when she gets unruly, soothes her when she frets and broods.
He
is very understanding, uses no pretense or gloss,
Patient,
firm, and never changing, woodman know him as "The Boss,"
Know
him firm, unchanging purpose, with a will to dare and do,
Know
that when he takes a contract he'll be there to see it through.
Much
like this unruly river in his strange and hidden ways,
Free,
majestic, never changing, firm and fresh and unafraid,
Ever
faithful to his calling, carrying out God's holy will,
Loved
his work from early childhood, loves it now and ever will.
Linked
together in my memory, ever will these two remain,
The
North Branch of Sevogle, and I guess you know his name.
He's
up there on that river now, with a hardy crew of men,
God
grant that he may live to go there many times again."
I COME
TO YOU AS ONE OF YOUR MANY CHILDREN
I
AM SMALL AND WEAK
I
NEED YOUR STRENGTH AND YOUR WISDOM
MAY
I WALK IN BEAUTY
MAKE
MY EYES EVER BEHOLD THE RED AND PURPLE SUNSET
MAKE
MY HANDS RESPECT THE THING THAT YOU HAVE MADE
AND
MY EARS SHARP TO HEAR YOUR VOICE
MAKE
ME WISE SO THAT I MAY KNOW THE THINGS THAT YOU
HAVE
TAUGHT YOUR CHILDREN
THE
LESSONS THAT YOU HAVE HIDDEN IN EVERY LEAF AND ROCK
MAKE
ME STRONG NOT TO BE SUPERIOR TO MY BROTHERS
BUT
TO BE ABLE TO FIGHT MY GREATEST ENEMY ...MYSELF
MAKE
ME EVER READY TO COME TO YOU WITH STRAIGHT EYES
SO
THAT WHEN LIFE FADES AS FADING SUNSET
MY
SPIRIT WILL COME TO YOU WITHOUT SHAME.
BLESS
US O LORD
AND
THESE THY GIFTS
WHICH
WE ARE ABOUT TO RECEIVE
THROUGH
CHRIST OUR LORD
AMEN
.
