Peter Smith

Sayings

This commercial is for Newfoundland tourism, and talks about all the dialects we have back home.  I know there’s people I met from back home that I couldn’t understand.  And I know out near Port aux Port they speak with french accents, even if they don’t speak french.  I also remember my buddy Dave Quinton telling me he met people out there that spoke with french sentence structure. “Throw the baby down over the stairs a bottle” was one such expression.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=44wMG9b2_JY]

But we also have more sayings and word usages that are unique, and for most of us we probably don’t even realize it.  Not gonna define these, but I’m sure all Newfoundlanders will recognize them, you CFA‘s ask if you want to know!

  • I’m gonna give you a klout up the side of the head!
  • Poverty, and the devil throwing rocks at it.
  • you’re some stunned
  • where you longs to?
  • your hair is like a birch broom in the fits!
  • Now d’wonce
  • arn?
  • born tired
  • I’m gutfounded!
  • Lard dyin! You got the stove on siz, take the side outta her!
  • whoever knit you dropped a stitch
  • what odds?
  • I squat all me chips!
  • De arse is gone right outta her
  • Caplin weather
  • Mauzy old day
  • he’s some hard ticket
  • you’re gonna get a tannin (thanks Eric)

I know there’s a ton not coming to mind now, I’ll update this one sometimes, and comment on any you remember!

Why I Did French in High School

I’d like to say I was forward thinking and interested in bilingualism, but to be honest my main love was sciences, and the option we had back in those days was to take French or Geology.  I really wanted to take Geology, I did and still find it interesting.  But I took French, and learned to past participle, and god knows what other language constructs.

But I had an ulterior motive….Off the coast of Newfoundland, is a French territory called Ste. Pierre et Miquelon. They used Francs for currency, (Euros now), use the French style telephone numbers, and have their own time zone, a half hour ahead of Newfoundland time and a full hour ahead of Atlantic (Two hour ahead of Eastern).

Its a foreign country in your back yard, and a lot of high school students studying french raised money to go there.  Hence, my ulterior motive, I wanted to go there badly.

So in 1982 we did so, one weekend in May, we boarded the ferry in Fortune, NL, and proceeded to cross in the heavy lop to Ste. Pierre.  I think everyone but Peggy Butt and I got seasick, the boat ride was pretty rough.  Ste. Pierre itself was full of mopeds, renaults, citroens  and was totally cool to a 16 year old kid.  Roads were narrow, there were no malls, just traditional European style shops.  We exchanged our Canadian dollars for Francs at the bank, shopped for souvenirs, stayed at a hotel, did a ton of things that were foreign to me.

I remember we stayed at a place named something like L’Auberge Robert (I probably am off by a mile).  The biggest memory of that for me were the fresh warm croissants for breakfast with apricot jam.  To this day all I can say is oh my god!

1982 was a long time ago, and memories fade, hopefully I can get back there someday.  And if you are looking for a foreign vacation without going overseas, check it out!

The Old Outhouse

All that remains of Uncle Hay's old outhouse. Thanks Eric Cooper

All that remains of Uncle Hay’s old outhouse. Thanks Eric Cooper

Last night the rain was coming down, making a soothing noise, but reminding me of many cabin trips where we’d have to brave the rain to use the facilities.  For some reason I was also reminded of The Red Green Show, and the poems Red used to recite.  I came up with my own poetic masterpiece to suit my mood….

It is raining.

An April rain, chilling and cold. Making a half frozen slush to shuffle through for a midnight outhouse run, where it plays a tap dance on the tin roof, then drips down the back of your neck.

It is raining.

You think I’ll have to turn down offers? In any event, the old outhouse was an integral part of growing up, and while many were rough and ready, especially those built for cabins in the woods, those people had for their living areas were surprisingly more than you’d expect, and as much as it can be, a pleasure to use.  Back home, “down on the land”, Uncle Hay had and kept up an outhouse out the path from his house.  It was a bit of a trek if you were short taken I’m sure, but as kids sometimes when you had to go, you had to go.  This outhouse was, for the genre, beautiful in my eyes.  It was well walled, well painted, had a window, and well maintained roof, and Uncle Hay kept a nice supply of toilet paper out there.

What made it even better was that he, or perhaps it was Brad and Paul, I’m not really sure, kept a supply of comics and reading material out there.  More time than necessary was spent in there keeping up with Archie and Jughead! In any event, I have fond memories of that old commode, and while its an odd topic to write about I guess, its a part of home that brings back fond memories.

We don’t want no stinkin Kool-Aid!

No way siree bob! Back when we were kids, we didn’t get no fancy schmancy kool-aid! We had freshie and we liked it! I still remember the little packages stacked in their boxes on the shelf at the CO-OP in Clarenville.  I’m sure the flavours had names too, but no one called freshie by its flavour name.  You had red freshie, or purple freshie, or orange or green.  I also remember Mom had these little Tupperware popsicle things, and we’d pour the freshie in those and have our own popsicles.  Tasted so much like a Mr. Freeze!

I’m not sure why it was the drink of choice for us, I assume it was likely cheaper, and maybe promoted a little more locally as I’ve since found out it was a Canadian product.

Tang

Tang

Thinking back on drinks, we also had the legendary Tang.  I remember reading that tang was developed for the space program, but I’m not sure how true that is.  What you may not remember though is that Tang also came in other flavours  Yes we had grape and red tang back in the day.  (Red is so a flavour! Stop arguing!)

Anyway a brief memory from today when someone mentioned something was tangy!  Anyone remember any other little things like this that bring back memories?

Cleaving Splits

Its a wet and windy start to April here, not April showers, but more like April falling sideways cold needles.  Makes me want to hunker down with a nice wood fire.  I wrote before about the old wood stove, and how it was such a cosy part of home.  Well today I’m reminded of getting the thing lit, while we were bivvering with the cold, especially if it was a fire at the cabin.

Slabs stacked for winter.

Slabs stacked for winter. (Eric Cooper Picture)

To start a fire of course you need gas… um I mean you need kindling.  To us Newfoundlanders tho kindling is a foreign word, what you really need is splits.   Part of the evening chores of bringing in a wood box of wood, also included filling a split box full of splits. What are splits? Well they are slabs that have been cleaved on a chopping block.  And what are slabs you may ask? Well slabs are the sides of wood left over from when a log has been sawed into lumber at a mill.  We’d buy them by the pickup load from the local mill if you didn’t have a mill of your own, and they’d be used as part of your winter wood supply, great for getting a bit of heat in a hurry.

Everyone had a big old log or stump in their woodhouse to cleave slabs, or split wood on.  We’d lay a slab down on it, or perhaps prop it up against it and chop an axe down through till we had some splits about an inch or two wide with nice jaggly edges to catch easily when put in the stove with some old newspaper or catalog pages.

Also unfortunately, many a foot or hand has been cut with someone being a little too careless with the old axe, luckily I never was, tho I did catch the toe of my steel nosed boot once.

Anyway on a April sideways wet needle rain kinda day, a load of slabs keeping a wood fire going would be a welcome way to warm my cold feet.

Good Friday Trouting

Growing up back home, one of the Easter traditions was a Good Friday trouting trip.  These were sometimes a walk in the woods in back of home, or sometimes a trip in car to a roadside pond, but were often a whole family event.

The great thing about the whole trip was that you never knew from year to year what “kind” of trouting you were doing! Lots of Easter weekends it would be ice fishing, and on others you’d be fishing with a rod and reel on the shore of a completely ice free pond.

Of course one of the other memories of those days was the fact that it may not have been a rod and reel you saw people using.  A lot of people used a bamboo pole.  I’ve never actually tried it, and really haven’t seen it done in years, so now, thinking back on it, I’m a little puzzled on how people actually pulled a fish in. I assume once the hooked it, they had to pull the line in hand over hand!

The picture on the left wasn’t a Good Friday trip (at least I don’t think it was).  It was taken I believe in 1969 (making me 4 at the time) when all of my Dad’s siblings except one (Herven) had gathered together for the first time in years, and the last time too as I know I never saw Aunt Mae again.  I only have faint memories of it, but the whole family and some Aunt’s and Uncles made our way into Friggin’s (Fagan’s) Cove Pond for a family trip, so it reminds me somewhat of Good Friday fishing.

I’m not sure if the Good Friday trouting trips are as much of a tradition now as they were, I know as I got older, I always liked to go, but it became more with friends than family, but I guess that’s part of growing up.

Fishing isn’t the same in Nova Scotia for me, I don’t know where to go, and there are too many fish types to catch, and not know what to do with.  Back home we had trout and that was about it.  Still though, I think when Hayley gets a bit older, I may see if she’d like to go on a fishing trip.

Happy Easter everyone.

Sports Day at Vardyville

Spring is coming (please please please, I’m begging!) and while its still early, it brings back to mind Sports Day at Random Island school.  Back for the first few years when we went there, every year we’d have a sports day, with races, discus, shot put, and the like.  There’d be ribbons, and prizes, and a great time.

The highlight of this was that it was held, at least early in the school’s history at Vardyville Park, also known as Reub’s Farm.  To the best of my knowledge, and I can only go from memory of conversations, Reuban Vardy had a farm on this land, which was just over the Britannia road from Hickman’s Harbour. In my day, it was a private park with a store/take out and pinball machine, and a rudimentary ball field (at least I think there was a ball field).   I remember fries and hotdogs and snacks throughout the day.

Events tend to run together over the years, and these sports days were in the mid 70’s after all, but I do recall the pinball machine.  It cost 10 cents and I’d play what felt like for hours, but of course it  wasn’t because I also remember spending a ton of time outside, racing, throwing shot put, and participating (badly) in whatever events we had.  And of course, watching Randy Baker and I think Shawn Avery playing stretch with every school boy’s crush, Miss Sargeant.

I’m not sure what became of the park, but in any event, it was a beautiful spot of land, with the rattle in the background, and we as kids had a great time there every year while it was still the host site, and it holds a special memory of my youth.

UPDATE: Added a couple pictures scanned from yearbook.sportsday1Sportsday2

Rovin to the Dunrovin

A few years before I moved away from Newfoundland, I took what for me was a memorable trip on ATV.  I’m sure for many it wasn’t so special, but I was working in St. John’s and didn’t get to make as many longer excursions as I would have liked.

Anyway, this one weekend, at some unknown or at least not remembered prompting, Elvis Cooper and I decided to head to his cabin, which was in behind Burgoyne’s Cove, several miles in the road. It was winter however, and this wasn’t a maintained road, so we couldn’t go by car, which was a big part of the reason for going!

We drove the ATV and Elvis’ Skidoo over the road and ditches to Elliotts’s Cove, and filled up our tanks and some extra gas cans.  Then we drove across Random Sound on the ice and got on the old railway bed.  We made a little detour to Shoal Harbour as Elvis needed some skidoo part, but then we drove the railway bed down the Bonavista Peninsula till it hooked up with the private road on that side, near Lethbridge, then drove several more miles in that old road to the cabin. According to Google Maps, its about 43 km just from home to Burgoyne’s Cove, not counting the convoluted way we went, so I’m sure we added on nearly as much again if not more.

When we got there, his mother, Joyce, had been there for a day or two, and had a big turkey cooked, which we devoured.  After supper we all got on our machines and drove back out that road to the Dunrovin Motel to a dance, and a few drinks.  Later that night we all made our way back to the cabin to sleep, and made our way home the next day.

In some ways it was nothing special, but in more, such a long ATV trip, to a quiet cabin with a feed and friends was awesome.  A memory I’ll always look back fondly on.

Damn you Sheila!

It seems every year, right around St. Patrick’s Day, we have one last blast (well we can hope its the last anyway) of winter.  This year is no exception with a snowfall warning for tonight.  Growing up, and likely still, people called this storm Sheila’s Brush.

I’m sure there are many variations on the legend of Sheila, but the one that stuck with me is that she was Paddy’s wife, and tired of his drunken partying on his namesake day, gets her brush and cleans up after him, stirring up a storm of bad weather for those mere mortals like us.

In any event, after all these years I wish the two of them would learn to get along, I’m sick of winter already!  Stay warm everyone, and if necessary, make like Paddy and have a sip of Bushmills :).

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

May you have warm words on a cold evening,
a full moon on a dark night,
and the road downhill all the way to your door.