Happy Thanksgiving!

At least here in Canada. Maybe its because winter comes earlier to us than to the majority of our southern neighbours, but we celebrate thanksgiving the 2nd Monday in October.  Like them its a shopping holi…. no wait, wait sorry, it isn’t!

While we don’t have any history of pilgrims and sharing with the native Indians, and our thanksgiving history is all over the map (celebrated in April at one point! See the link above) it, at least now, is a celebration of the harvest, thankfulness for what we have, and of course family and friends.

Newfoundland Blue - courtesy Melissa Wiseman

Newfoundland Blue – courtesy Melissa Wiseman

It is also known in our lighter way as Turkey Day, and turkey is the traditional meal cooked for some on the Sunday or other the actual Monday holiday.  In my family, and I think for most Newfoundlanders, we ate thanksgiving dinner at Newfoundland dinner time (lunch) on Sunday, and it consisted of Jiggs dinner with all the fixings, dressing, peas pudding, etc.  One thing I want to mention though is something I really haven’t seen since I moved away. We, in Newfoundland, had what I thought was a common blue potato, but I don’t see them up here.  All blue potatoes I see here have flesh that is completely blue, not like the blue we had back home, and pictured.  These have bluish/purplish skin and white flesh with blue veins.

Also with dinner there were likely to be puddings!

Now the problem with pudding is… what kind?  My dad used to make a flour and baking powder pudding that is similar in taste to a tea biscuit, and its served with the dinner.  My buddy Bernard calls it a gravy biscuit.  There’s also pudding, or duff, that is, well I honestly don’t know what its made from, but its boiled in the boiler with the dinner usually, and served for dessert traditionally with molasses cody.

Apsey Brook United Thanksgiving

Apsey Brook United Thanksgiving

Besides the traditional gathering of family and friends, and belly bursting food, Thanksgiving was also traditionally a time to share the bounty.  We would always have a special thanksgiving church service, and people would bring vegetables, meats, fish, preserves and other purchased staples to the church, which would be gathered and shared with the more needy after the fact.  I’m sure there was also a little “showing off” involved, as it was always nice to have pride in how good a crop of potatoes or carrots or whatever you had.  It also often led to trading.  Often times people back home traded what they had for what they didn’t, and this worked in reverse in other years.  For example, if you were lucky enough to kill a moose, or own a cow, you might trade a quarter of beef or moose for potatoes or vegetables, etc.

I hope you and yours have a great thanksgiving from me and mine.  Loosen your belt, laugh with family, eat some duff, splurge on the gravy, and remember to hold everyone dear close.  Happy Thanksgiving!

October 8, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

Cold Packing Time

When I was a boy, I heard of people canning fish and meat for winter, and I always wondered how they did it.  Always wondered how a person at home sealed a tin can.   For some reason I never associated our cold packing in bottles with canning.  I always thought that canning involved, well cans.

While I’m sure there is some method of doing just that, I since realized that canning is generally referred to bottling or putting up or preserves.  This being the hunting and harvesting season, is when we’d generally start to see cold packing happening.  Moose, rabbit, apples, damsons, and who knows what else would be prepared for canning.

Electricity came to Random Island the year I was born, or at least to my part of it, 1965.  Before that to keep food for winter, vegetables were kept in a root cellar, and fish was generally salted.  Fruit, berries, and meats though were usually cold packed, and that continues today, more so because we like them that way than because we need to.  Besides that we’d also make some pickles.  Not pickled cucumber, but more like what we see in stores now as chow chow.  There were many kinds, rhubarb (ew), and my favorite green tomato and apple.

But cold packing was a big thing.  Everyone had a huge boiler that they’d scald the bottles in to sterilize them.  Meats would be cut into small pieces, and added to the bottles with some fat back pork.  Berries and fruits were generally put in the bottles whole, tho sometimes cut smaller to aid cooking times.  The bottles would then be placed back in the boiler to cook the food, with a rubber sealed lid placed on lightly.  Once cooked, the bottles would be placed on a rack to cool, and the contraction/cooling process would create a vacuum with the lid, sealing the bottle.  A screw top ring would be added to keep it tight.

These bottles would then be used as meals throughout the winter, though in my time, they became more of a dessert or in the case of meats, something to augment the traditional Sunday evening cold plate.

Now I’m hungry, anyone got a bottle of moose to send me for supper?

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October 6, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

Traipsin over the Goowhitty

This is my favorite time of year.  I love the crisp October mornings, even if we’ve not really had one yet.  To walk in behind Apsey Brook, in on the level, boots breaking the ice skim on the puddles, crisp air in your nostrils, its as close to perfect as I can imagine.

The only downside is the smell of the goowhitty leaves and flowers both alive and dead giving off their distinctive smell.  What is goowhitty you ask? Go Whetty? Gole Weddy? Many pronunciations, but as for what it is, well its….. goowhitty! Everyone knows that!

Well actually its a combination of plants, or one with many names, or… I’m confused.  In any event its Labrador Tea, Lambskill, and Sheep’s Laurel.  Though one or more of those may be the same thing! One of the plants at least is https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kalmia_angustifolia.

Whatever it is, I think every rural Newfoundlander knows the smell.  Its not really a bad one, but something we’re all familiar with as we traipse through the woods, to the pond, to the berry barrens, to our heritage.

If you get a chance, take a walk in the quiet woods soon, smell the goowhitty, play with the ice skim on the puddles, be a kid and pull it up and look through it like glass.  Smell the frost, the salt air, and be at peace.  There’s no feeling like it.

October 2, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

Fill in!

Comes the cry from Vince’s or Ivan’s, fill in! No we didn’t need to fill in any holes, except those around the table.  Fill in is the cry to fill your seat around the poker table.

Fall Friday nights were often spent at Ivan’s or Vince’s, playing poker, not the texas hold-em of today, but dealers choice, usually 5 Card Draw.  Get a jackpot? Well then someone needed jacks or better to open the next hand.  We also occasionally played some blackjack or blind indian, high or low chicago, and I forget what else.

The biggest difference in our games was though the gizmo.  The gizmo was an innocuous film canister.  Well, its what held it anyway.  The gizmo takes some explaining; the first hand of the night was the gizmo hand.  All players put a loonie in the pot and we played as normal, with the winner winning the gizmo, and its value being the contributed loonies.  Here’s where it gets interesting, when it was the winners turn to ante, he anted the gizmo, basically a free ante.  but if anyone else wanted to play that hand, they had to ante its value.  So we could automatically have a large pot on the board before we really started.  Tradition then said the winner added another loonie to its value so as the night went on, it got more and more valuable.

Of course with increased value, often no one played the hand at all, but sometimes…. well holy cow!

Of course there were other memories of poker night too, like the night Ivan’s brdige collapsed, or Dale Butt calling for Tracey and Eric saying “Terra Nova fisheries, Connor speaking”.  To be followed by two more “Duffet’s Building Supplies, Carpenter Speaking”, and finally “House of the Lord, Jesus speaking” before he caught on he wasn’t getting wrong numbers.

Memories of me and Howard raising each other over and over, him with a pair of 3s and me with a pair of deuces.  And Chris Haynes laughing his head off cause he had thrown away three nines. Memories of being “notched”, of Vince feeding the rabbit, of Vince opening a jackpot and then throwing away his openers and taking 5 and still beating Jim Bailey and memories of watching the OJ Simpson chase on Ivan’s small black and white tv.

 

September 27, 2013 by Uncategorized 3

The Fair

The fair back home means only one thing, Thomas Amusements.  When I was younger I’m pretty sure there was a second one too; maybe Kavanaugh, Kincaid?  I forget for sure.  In any event, for many, less so me, it was a highlight, or two depending on how often they came to town, of summer.

These travelling amusement parks always reminded me of the stories of Gypsies.  They’d seemingly appear overnight in a parking lot, and set up rides, games, cotton candy, candy apples, and who knows what else.  One year though there were bumper cars, I did love those!

I was never a fan of the rides, they always were spinning things that just made me nauseated, not happy!  But the treats were good, fries in the old gray carton, eaten with a toothpick and black malt vinegar, cotton candy, etc.

Also some of the games were fun, if nearly impossible to win.  Spin the wheel, knock over the milk cans, ring toss, etc.  I remember once winning a little blue lantern on something, and several stuffed toys.

As I got older, the luster seemed to wear off for me anyway, and I can’t say I find it enjoyable anymore, but they were definitely a huge memory of boyhood 🙂

September 21, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

First Job
Elliott`s Cove Ball Park

Lion’s Ball Park

Last night, I saw John Cleese here in Halifax.  And that reminded me, in a round about way, of my first job.

In the summer of 1982, the year I graduated high school (last graduating Grade 11 class before grade 12 was introduced) the Random Lions Club got a grant to develop a park at Elliott’s Cove Pond.  They proceeded to have a summer job program for some students, and one supervisor.

I put my name on the list which if I remember correctly was by filling out a form at manpower, and was lucky enough to get chosen.  After all these years I forget who else worked there that summer, but I do remember Merril Rogers was our supervisor/co-worker, and that both Rob and Derek Burt worked there as well.

At the time, where the park is now was nothing but woods, we worked hard that summer, clearing land with chain saws, sometimes in oilskins in the pouring rain.  Wheeling wheelbarrow loads of crushed stone to make paths, chopping up roots, hauling stumps, making bridges, etc.  But by the time the summer was over, a lot of the core park area was ready to be developed more.

One regret that I have is that from my first paycheque, which Dad cashed for me at the bank while I was working, he got me a silver dollar to have as a keepsake from it.  I had it for many many years, until my move to Nova Scotia where at some point it was forgotten or mislaid.  Hoping sometime I can find it.

How does John Cleese enter into this? Well one of my most vivid memories of the summer was myself and Rob Burt, on the beach near the brook, reciting scenes from Monty Python and the Holy Grail as we ate our lunch.

Hard work, and still a lot of fun.  And we started a park that while maybe nothing spectacular has had lots and lots of use since, and am proud.

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September 15, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

Apple Pickin Time

Near the road back home in Apsey Brook, on Uncle Luther’s Land (I guess Carol’s? Meghan’s? now, well thats irrelevant :)) is Dad’s apple tree. Its Dad’s because his grandmother gave it to him, so its a little bit old now.

I’ve not had an apple from it since I moved here I don’t think, but my mouth waters now just remembering them.  Around this time of year, probably a little later if you liked them ripe, was time to start picking the apples.  I preferred them a little unripe, and still green, they tasted pretty much like Granny Smith‘s then.  Later when they got yellower and some frost got into them, they got a little mushier, and more like a Golden Delicious, not my favorite.  And in general not most others either, as the old folks would say they were only fit for apple sauce and pie then.

The tree brings back a lot of memories too.  I remember taking a book from the bookmobile  and laying back on the big branches reading for hours on end while leisurely eating apples.  I also remember hundreds of friends and strangers coming to the door looking to buy a bag.  Some years there were soooo many it seemed there was no end.  Others there were less, but usually there were tons.

I remember one year, I sooooo wanted a pair of $200 hiking boots from Roses Plumbing in Clarenville (yeah, shoes, at a plumbing store… ).  I sold enough apples a two dollars a CO-OP bag (our major supermarket) bag full to buy those boots.  And those weren’t like today’s bags, there were soooo many apples stuffed in them!  Plus on top of that we gave plenty away to friends and family and had more than enough for ourselves. Shame of it all is Mom accidentally threw those boots away a year or so later!

Of course everyone made pies, and apple sauce, and baked apples for dessert.  But my favorite was to eat them raw, or to have moms green apple and green tomato pickles (like a chow chow for the non-newfoundlanders). I love those things so much, don’t want a lot, but it adds such a taste to the traditional Sunday supper cold plate.

Of course there are other memories too.  The tree was near a huge bed of wild roses.  Those things smell terrific but there’s no way to control them.  We’d try to trim them back and keep them somewhat under control, but they also did help provide a barrier to the thieves.  Yes, crime was rampant back in those days, and likely still today.  At least the crime of young people robbing apple trees, its a rite of passage!  Even with my own tree, I’ve participated in this rite.  Something we all did.  In earlier times, you could get an ass load of salt for your troubles.  Some of the older folks would make their own shotgun shells filled with coarse fisherman’s salt and shoot those heinous robbers.

I never did it often, nor got caught (at least that I remember) but I did scare quite a few people out of our tree.  The one time I remember best was when Dad and I scared Jason Bailey out of the tree, and he jumped…. right into the rose bushes.  I can still see dad now, bent double from laughing so hard as Jason was scratched to pieces in those old trees.  I don’t know if he ever came back to steal some again, but I am pretty sure he still remembers that night!

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September 7, 2013 by Uncategorized 6

Its flippin September, time for flippin school, and …. flippin cards!
I think Roy Marsh and Paul George, not sure who's facing away. That may even be me, not Roy, I did have hair back then! (Photographed from RandomMemories Yearbook)

I think Roy Marsh and Paul George, not sure who’s facing away. That may even be me, not Roy, I did have hair back then! (Photographed from RandomMemories Yearbook)

In Random Island Integrated, spending my days
Classes from Randall and Loder, makin me dazed
When along came a couple of guys up to no good
Flippin their hockey cards, like bad boys would

Apologies to Will Smith for the bad interpretation!  School time is here again, and that was often met with a lot of groans and sighs from us kids, but there were some positives too, often we didn’t see our friends for the whole summer.  While Random Island doesn’t have a lot of people, its also not so easy for a kid of 10 or 12 to get the 15 miles to his best friends house unless he biked it.

Like all kids of that generation, we were also all hockey mad, and of course we all collected the o-pee-chee hockey cards.  We’d buy a pack when we could, or bug our parents to, but of course the real way to collect hockey cards is in the school hallway, flippin them! Odds! Evens! Oh man, you won my lucky checklist! I’m not flippin for that one! That’s a trophy card! I’ll give you 10 for it!

I can still hear the familiar refrain after all these years, and the pleasure of winning a stack, and the agony of losing all your cards and trying to borrow 5 from someone.  And I still swear to this day that checklists were luckier than the rest!

September 2, 2013 by Uncategorized 7

Bare Mountain

As you come down over the hill along by the cemetery in Apsey Brook, looking straight ahead and way way down, you’ll see a bare rock face off in the distance.  I’m not sure if this has a real name, but I always called it Bare Mountain, and as a kid had a great desire to go there.

Well when I got older, myself and my usual partner in crime decided to do just that.  We were talking about it the other day, and how good it would be to have today’s phones and cameras back then.  We walked down to the steadies coming from Friggin’s cove pond brook, and made our way over the barrens and bogs keeping the hill in sight as best we could. I’m not sure if it was this trip or another, but I remember getting so hot at one point I soaked my shirt in a bog hole and put it back on.

As we walked we were steadily climbing, and eventually we made our way there, or at least to a spot that we called there.  I seem to remember Eric taking a couple pictures with a disposable camera, but I can’t remember, and with film cameras who knows if they even came out.

Until we were talking about it the other day, a lot of the details had escaped me, but I remember now that we could see Snook’s Harbour in the distance, and strangely, there was a metal survey marker in the rock.

Looking at Google maps now, trying to pinpoint the location, but I can’t I can only surmise its somewhere on the highlands over bluff head.

Has anyone else ever been there? Know anything about the survey marker? I’d love to know more about it!

August 30, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

Going to Work with Dad
Dad at Work

Dad at Work

From the time I was born till he retired, Dad worked at the department of highways as a clerk.  Now a clerk for the department of highways may be an office job, but the offices them selves were usually one room buildings attached to bunk houses the department had set up in various working areas around the province.  Sometimes, when I was young dad may have stayed at these locations overnight or worked later than is the norm now.  One of the curiosities I remember was dad calling home on the old mobile phones and having to say over after we finished speaking.

As a kid one of the great things about Dad’s work, was that in summer time I could actually go spend the day at his work site, in many of the locations.  When I was a small boy, he worked out of Shoal Harbour Pit, a pipe yard for making concrete ditch pipes.  The old pit is gone now, but it was located where the ball field is now.  I can’t really remember much about this location except the little white shack dad worked in.

For another summer at least he worked out of a similar camp in Robinson’s Bight, not where the community is now (there wasn’t one there then) but closer to lady cove, in an old gravel pit by a brook.  As a kid I spent days there with him, playing around the area, catching trout in ice cream tubs, catching water skippers (I hadn’t remembered water skippers in years till I started writing this!), and of course sharing lunch from dad’s seemingly huge lunch can.

Mostly though, i remember dad working at the salt shed in Clarenville, first in the old style camps, and the later, as seen in the picture a better building, still with an attached kitchen and bunk house.  As a kid I’d go to work with dad, and sometimes spend the day, exploring the yard, playing with the glass beads they used to add to paint for road lines, marveling at all the salt in the salt shed, making castles out of the sand blasting sand, and of course playing poker with the adults at lunch time :).

Other days tho, I got a kid’s delight, heading out on the old float (flat bed) with Ches Baggs, or on a dump truck with someone, perhaps Ted Ryan, I forget who did what now, or hanging out with Paddy Mitchell, though I complete forget what he did.  Also trips on the grader, bulldozer, and god knows what else anymore; all in all a young boys delight.

So many characters were there too, with their many accents and mannerisms, and so much shared food and fun.  Of course nowadays, you’d never get away with such things, nor would you likely trust your child to be gone for the whole day with a lunch can on heavy equipment with co-workers you really only knew from work.  But it was a more trusting time, and a smaller world.  And I was lucky to have got to spend so many wonderful days with such patient men who took a young scrawny kid and spent the day with him, as well as spending wonderful days with my dad.

August 24, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

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