Peter Smith

Up, Down, Out, Over the road

It may be prevalent elsewhere, but one thing Newfoundlander’s know is that distance isn’t measured in miles or kilometers, its measured in time.  How far to St. John’s? 2 hours.  Gander? Hour and a half. If you don’t do it in those times, then you’re obviously driving too slow.

One other thing we have is how we point out communities and locations on the way.  Back home, Apsey Brook was at the end of the road, so we of course had to go “up” the road to go anywhere, and everyone knew coming from that direction you were coming up.  A confusing side effect of this was that Snook’s Harbour meets at the bottom of three hills or grades, and so that portion is of course named “bottom”.  It was always amusing to see CFAs (come from aways) confusion when we said we were going up to bottom.  Of course, since the road took a 90 degree turn there, we had to go “over” to Elliott’s Cove.

Going to school was down to Hickman’s, and if we went shopping we went up to Clarenville. It all makes perfect sense, no?  Then again we also had to deal with going out the arm, out the sound, in to town, and so on and so on.  Yet we all knew which was which, and if someone got it backwards (like maybe me now, is it out to town? or in? I keep forgetting?) god help them for the fun making about to be heaped on them.

Anyway, was always fun to head up to bottom and play ball, and then run over to the store to get a snack.  If you get a chance, pick me up something while you’re over :).

March 12, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

The Swizzle

Back not so long ago, after I was technically “grown up” (yeah right, as if that’ll ever happen), my buddy Bernard had a Sega Genesis.  Like a lot of things in rural Newfoundland of the like, it didn’t necessarily have a steady place in any home though, as it was always borrowed by somebody, lots of times that somebody being me.

My favorite game on it was called Landstalker, an RPG that I played for hours, and cursed the zone known as Greenmaze over and over.  This was before the internet, and figuring out how to play and finish the game was done all by yourself or with friends.

But the best memories of playing the Genesis were over at my cousin and friend Derek’s house.  We’d have it hooked up to the old floor model TV, and a group of us would take turns playing PGA European Tour Golf.  Usually it was Derek, Eric, Cory Avery and I, and we’d play for hours.  But the thing I remember most, other than Derek tilting the controller trying to make the ball turn, is Cory’s exclamations.  “Look at him swizzle that one in there!”, “Watch me swizzle this one boys!”.  It became part of our vocabulary (reminds me, will have to tell you about the word “git” sometime) from then on, anytime we’d try to make something work, or fit, or really even go somewhere, we were swizzling it.

Would be fun to have it hooked up now and share a beer with the boys and try to swizzle a few shots in!

March 9, 2013 by Uncategorized 1

Painting the boat

In fall of the year, we all pulled our boats up on the beach, and turned them upside down for winter.  Typically this became somewhat of a social event, as one man can’t pull a boat up by himself.  We’d put down some time washed round sticks, and some wet slippery slabs and get a few people on each side and pull it up, and then most people on one side, with a couple on the back to brace it as we’d turn it over onto some supports.  Often we’d pull up several boats at once, and a few beer would be drunk, drank, drinked, whatever the right derivation is, and a few yarns would be told.

Once spring came, preparations began to get the boat in the water again.  This involved scraping the flaked paint off, adding oakum where necessary, and repainting with marine paint.  This chore often fell to the kids of the family, and really wasn’t that hard, nor onerous so, I at least, didn’t mind it.

However paining a boat does involve one piece of knowledge that apparently for one year at least I forgot.  I took the paint and oakum down to the beach, and proceeded to scrape the boat, and give it a nice new white coat of paint.  Dad went down later that day or the next to check on my work, and came back laughing his head off.  I of course asked him what was so funny.  He said “Well you did a good job on the boat! Too bad it was Ralph’s!”

While Dad is gone now, he never let me forget that, nor will Eric I’m sure, as its his favorite story.  Maybe someday I’ll get a boat back home and Vince can return the favour!  Miss you Dad, and Ralph too!

 

March 4, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

The Three Dons

This is curling season in Canada.  The Scotties Tournament of Hearts just ended, and starting tomorrow the Tim Horton’s Brier begins.  Curling brings back memories of growing up and watching Sportsweekend and other sports programming on CBC on Saturday afternoon and weekends.  Back then every weekend, there was a 1 hour curling program on every Saturday evening in winter.  What was more memorable than the curling in some ways were the hosts.

No they didn’t make you any offers you couldn’t refuse, but it seemed comical that all three hosts were named Don!  Don Wittman, Don Duguid and Don Chevrier.  Curling is a big part of the canadian sports scene, and these guys introduced us to the likes of Al Hackner, the Wrench, Ed Werenich, and the ever so quiet Russ Howard.  I’m not sure what they squeezed into their hour long show back then, but I remember watching religiously as a kid.  I remember dad laying on the couch, me laying on the floor, with my feet over the furnace grate, and watching closely. Not only is it a fun sport to watch, but brings back great memories of growing up.

Looking forward to watching more this weekend and next week!

March 1, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

Jiggs Dinner

I’ve been told that the term “dinner” is used to reference the main meal of the day.  Back home in Newfoundland, that was traditionally the midday meal especially for fisherman, who had been out in boat since 4am.  The evening meal was usually lighter and called supper.   This carried over for most everyone, and we all called the midday meal dinner in school and elsewhere, even though for commuters, the supper meal was the bigger meal.  On Sunday though, midday dinner was usually the feast meal of the week, and that feast was usually Jiggs Dinner.

Jiggs Dinner was made up of all the traditional Newfoundland vegetables  boiled up with salt beef.  Salt beef sounds disgusting to some I know, but og my god, its like ambrosia for the initiated!  Missing from our dinner on the left is peas pudding.  Yellow peas boiled up with the rest of the vegetables in a cloth bag.  I never liked the stuff, so perhaps there’s more of a secret to it than that :).

Accompanying Jiggs Dinner was some sort of “roast”.  Nowadays, chicken or beef from the store is more usual, but back home, it would likely have been

Rabbit and Chicken in the pot, lots of onions.

Rabbit and Chicken in the pot, lots of onions.

moose, caribou, a duck or, as seen here, rabbit.  Whatever the meat, traditional Newfoundland roast was smothered in onions.  And the coup d’etat was the gravy.  The secret to the gravy was to add some of the vegetable juice to the meat drippings, make a flour and water thickening, and of course, add the Cross and Blackwell gravy browning.

After dinner, dad would likely help with the dishes, and then head off for a nap as the post meal coma would kick in.  Later that evening, we’d have the left overs potato made into potato, mustard and beet salads along with pickles, beets and cold meats, and perhaps some Kam to make a cold plate for our Sunday supper.

February 24, 2013 by Uncategorized 3

Random Island Ghosts

In books, it seems every small town has numerous ghosts.  But I really can’t remember many ghost stories from back home growing up.  There may be many I’ve never heard, and if so would love to hear about them, so let me know!

I do have two stories of a “ghostly” nature, though how ghostly you can decide.  One remains unexplained and backed up by rumor I’ve heard, the other, well…. you’ll see.

The first story may have been a prank, I don’t know, and not sure anyone would remember the story now but me.  But back home in Apsey Brook, near the old one room school, was a shed for coal, aptly enough called the coal house.  Years after the school was no longer used for school, the coal house was still there, with its kilroy was here drawn on the wall, and small pieces of coal caught in the seams and corners.  It had sliding doors; just wood in a groove, with a hole through for a handle to pull.

Usually the main door was usually partly open, but the day in question, Keith and Lorne and I (I being the younger brother tagalong) were over near there, and the door was shut. Suddenly Lorne points at the door and says look!  We look, and, and to our (or mine anyway) surprise, and a little fear, a big eye was looking out of the hole in the closed door.  We stared for a few seconds and finally Lorne runs over and yanks the door open.  To the tune of a loud “Baaaaa” one of Jim Phillip’s sheep runs out.  Looking back now I can’t imagine anyway it got in there, so I’m going to assume the kid had a prank played on him!

The second story is mostly rumor I heard, and “common knowledge”.  How true any of it was is anyone’s guess, but I do have a small recollection that backs it up.  Uncle Ingham Smith died in 1972, and his wife Sybil eventually(maybe immediately? I don’t recall, I was only 7 :)) moved in with her son, Roy.  Their grandson Roger when he got married moved into the old house for a period before building his own in Elliott’s Cove and moving.  Rumor has it though, that the reason he moved was that Uncle Ingham was haunting the house.  Lights would go on and off, the fridge would open, footsteps would be heard.  Of course this may have been just that, rumor, but it was an interesting story.  I do have one memory though that backs it up, though perhaps faulty electrical could be the cause.  I recall one evening in particular, when no one was home in the old house, looking over across the brook and seeing the light over the door go on and off several times.

Ghosts? Perhaps a sheep got in the house as well? I don’t know, but those are the only ghost stories I know of from Random Island.  Share yours in the comments?

February 24, 2013 by Uncategorized 3

The Milkman

I know cities had the early morning milkman where you’d leave the bottles on the step, and get the fresh in return.  But that’s not quite how it worked back home.  I really don’t know if it was common practice for there to be a milkman in rural areas, but back home up until he retired anyway, we had a visit twice weekly from one.

While he drove a Central Dairies truck, it wasn’t only milk and milk products he sold, he also had sausages, honey buns, snacks, eggs and more.  I forget what days he came, but as kids I remember two main things.  The first was that he always had an extended visit with Ralph Smith.  Living where we did, we could keep an eye up the road and be prepared with cash when he arrived. I remember him bringing a basket of assorted products up to our front door, and once we had picked out our items, he’d look up slightly and come up with a price. He had this big old wallet on a chain, full of change and he’d count out your change after.

That leads me to my second big memory of him.  As kids hanging out, when he’d come round, we’d often gather round the truck and buy snacks from him.  Mini blueberry pies, bars, milkshakes.  One day up in Snook’s Harbour, when he came by, we gathered round and Eric picked up two milkshakes.  The milkman looked up and paused and said 1.25.  Eric looked at him incredulously and said, “What!? Are they 62 and a half cents each?”

I really don’t remember the response, as I choked and started coughing and sputtering on my own milkshake.

February 22, 2013 by Uncategorized 1

The Other Currant

Description : White Currant Auteur : Jastrow | 兔 (2004)

A friend/relative (Waves at Meghan) mentioned today that she had been given some black currant jelly.  This reminded me of “the other currant”.  Back home, in the garden of the home that Meghan is actually restoring, Aunt May had some black currant and red currant bushes, and they’d always be absolutely loaded with berries.

Lesser known though was out across the garden a little, near the path from running to Uncle Hay’s there was a white currant bush.  While I know some people love black and red currants, I could never take to them, at least not raw, they do make good jelly;  I have recipes here using red currant jelly for glazes and the like.

But I’ve rarely heard of many talking about white currants, and noone seemed to actually pick them, well except me.  They were sort of transparent, as you can see in the picture, full of seeds, and looked somewhat like a small gooseberry.  But god were they delicious!

The bush was smaller than the red and black currant bushes, and the berries themselves were smaller, but sooooo good.  I wonder what the jam or jelly from these would be like?

Meghan, start cooking some later in summer!

February 20, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

Fruit chips ahoy!

Anyone that knows me reasonably well, knows that my favorite snack has to be chips.  Yes, I’m an unabashed chip-a-holic.  Growing up back home we had more brands than now, there were Lays yes, and Humpty Dumpty, but also Scotties (click the link for an image of those), and of course the big one of the time back home, Hostess.

Before the advent of the plastic bag we use now, chips came in these foil bags, we’d rip the top right off to get at them.  Often Hostess would have a contest, and we’d have to be careful ripping the top because the entry was printed right on the inside of the bag in this blue ink.  This ink also used to come off easily on your fingers, so I’m sure onto the chips as well…. yeah I’m sure that was good for me 🙂

Hostess also had these 3 … monsters? as mascots, they even had stuffed toy versions of them, I’m not sure if they had a name or not, but they showed up at all the events.

With a few exceptions (Dill Pickle, Ketchup (side note what ever happened to Catsup?)), I liked and like pretty much any kind of chips, but usually stick with the old standard “regular” or as they were and are known back home, plain. There were, however, three flavors released in the 70’s that even I couldn’t stomach.

I have a vivid recollection of them.  Going to the doctor in Clarenville was an adventure in patience as appointments had no real correlation with time as we know it.  I’m sure there’s a research paper about the effects of time dilation in medical clinics there somewhere.  The main medical office in Clarenville in those days was down on the lower road, and it had its own drug store (Budget Drug Mart I believe, though I’m not even sure it had a name then).  As a kid while waiting for an appointment I’d be up and down the stairs there a dozen times, looking at comics, wandering, alleviating boredom any way I could, often involving chips.  But for some reason, Hostess introduced Grape, Cherry, and Orange chips back then.  Being a chip-a-holic they all had to be tried.  But that was it.  I don’t think I could even finish a bag.  These had to be the most horrendous things ever produced as a snack!

And oddly, now I want a package, just to remind myself how bad they were.  Does anyone else remember these?  Anyone have a picture?!

 

February 17, 2013 by Uncategorized 6

When fish were big and boys were small

One of the staple things we had growing up was fresh, frozen and salted cod.  Here in Nova Scotia haddock reigns supreme, but nothing to me beats the taste of a fresh out of the water cod.  Generally the casual fisher back home used a hand line with a traditional or Norwegian jigger. We’d lower the line overboard till it hit bottom and then pull up a fathom or two and start jigging back and forth till we hit a fish, then we’d pull it up and into the boat to be immediately cleaned.

I can still remember the feeling when you hit a big one, or as dad called them, a growler. You’d be jigging the line back and forth and then suddenly you’d bring up solid.  Sometimes they were so hard to pull in.  And if you happened to hook a mackerel  well, then your line was on times tight and then loose as they’d swim madly like a fly fish.

And of course in the days before nylon line, we’d have the older cord, everyone had notches in the gunnels of their boats where the line wore into the wood.

This one year, for whatever reason, dad decided to try a trawl.  Essentially it was a line with 50 smaller lines attached, with baited hooks on each.  We set it out near our marks somewhere and came back a day or two later.  Well we were pulling it in and caught a few fish, and then… it appeared.  As you can see on the left, the fish was bigger than me!  This was probably about 1974 or 75 I think, I’m pretty sure it was before my sister was born, making me 9 or 10 in this picture.  The cod weighed in at 65 pounds!

We cleaned it and tried to salt it, unfortunately it was so thick it didn’t take well, or we didn’t leave it long enough, and some spoiled, but we still got quite a few meals!

February 16, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

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