Playing in the Rain

September 26, 2019

Do kids play outside in the rain anymore? I bet they don’t. We did as kids. Not if there was a thunderstorm of course, but if it was just your garden variety, softly falling rain, we were often allowed to play outside.

I remember Johnny and I playing in the rain in the front of our apartment when we lived on Mann Avenue in Sandy Hill, when I was in grade two and he was in grade three at Saint Joseph School. It was the year before we moved to 10 Isabelle Street.

There was a kid in my class who we played with a lot. His name was Joseph Flannagan. I remember Joseph came calling on us quite often to go out to play. He was a really good friend and Johnny and I used to walk to school with him almost every day and back home again in the evening. Often, on a Saturday, Johnny and I played outside with Joseph and If it was raining it didn’t stop us. We weren’t pampered the way many kids are today. We had raincoats and rain boots which we put on over appropriate clothing and we were just fine.

One occasion I remember very clearly. I think it was in the fall because there were a lot of leaves on the ground. I remember jumping through puddles and looking for worms with Johnny and Joseph. I think Johnny and Joseph picked up worms but not me: yuk! Some of the other neighborhood kids joined in the fun. I don’t remember if we got very muddy but we probably did. I do remember watching the leaves flowing down the side of the street and we kids running after them as they flowed away.

When Johnny and I were alone, we usually played in the large backyard that belonged to the apartment building, but when there were other kids with us, we were allowed to play in the front. They were nice kids.

We only lived at Mann Avenue for a year and then we moved to the house that daddy built at 10 Isabelle Street in Hull. I missed Joseph when we moved. I think he was my best friend at that time (well after Johnny of course)

Isabelle Street was wonderful because we had our own private backyard where we could play: something the apartment didn’t have.

In the summer when it was hot, mommy occasionally would let us kids play in the backyard in the rain wearing just our bathing suits. I loved the squishy feeling of the mushy grass between my toes as we ran around the yard.

Sometimes it was just Johnny and me, and other times we were joined by Jimmy and Patty. I remember the giggling as we all played together. There was no fighting whatsoever when the four of us played “ring around the rosy" and other games in the rain.” It was noisy though. I don’t know what the neighbors thought of it all. These days you’d probably have someone calling the cops on you. I wonder if Jimmy and Patty remember playing in the rain with Johnny and me?

Mommy would give us plastic pails to enhance our fun and we all tried to catch as much rain as we could and then pour it over our heads.

There was a sandbox in our back yard which daddy made and it was really fun squishing your toes in the sand and then running around afterward to clean your feet off in the mushy grass or by pouring the rainwater from your pail over your legs and feet. Mommy wasn’t too fussy about the sandbox game though, because she didn’t want us to get sand in our hair. “no playing in the sandbox” mommy would say to us and then hose us off. We kids usually had a bath once a week on Saturday evening and we would wash our hair at that time too, so getting sand in your hair was not a good thing to happen. Actually, it was funny to see the hose going and the rain falling at the same time.

Yeah playing in the rain on warm days in our bathing suits was fun but playing in the rain wearing raincoats and galoshes on cooler days was fun too.

I sometimes do my gardening in the rain. It’s the best time for planting. To this day I still like walking in the rain.

Friday Nights at 10 Isabelle Street

I wasn’t a big fan of going to school when I was growing up and I really looked forward to Fridays. I could hardly wait to get home. It’s not that I didn’t do well at school; I studied very hard and usually my grades were good. It wasn’t that: it was because I was extremely shy. It almost crippled me. The worst thing was if I had to speak in class and to this day I still hate speaking in public.

Mommy and daddy always built us kids up and told us “you’re as good as the best and better than the rest” but it was very hard for me to overcome my shyness. My heart still races and I feel panicky when I get called upon to say a few words before a crowd. I guess it amounts to some kind of phobia.

There were some mean kids I remember who used to tease me. “Maureen Maloney full of baloney” I got a lot. I remember mommy told us “sticks and stones may break your bones but names will never hurt you” but they kind of did actually. I guess every school and every generation has its bullies.

Most of the kids were nice however. I had some really good friends that I felt comfortable with. I remember one of my friends, Cecilia lived across the street from my primary school, Our Lady of the Annunciation in Hull and sometimes I would go to her place at noon and eat my lunch with her instead of in the school cafeteria. Wendy was another good friend and oftentimes I would visit her on the way home from school for a short time. One of my best friends growing up was Kathleen who lived next door to us on Isabelle Street, but she didn’t go to the school I went to. I think she went to a French School .

Anyways I think all kids are happy when it’s Friday. I really did thank God it was Friday when the end of the school week came around. It was like two days of heaven on earth because I loved the weekends, being home with my family: it was just so comfortable. In fact walking home from school with Johnny on a Friday evening was the best feeling.

I remember watching Mighty Mouse at 5 o’clock and eating my supper on one of the TV trays that mommy kept in the corner of the living room. Mighty Mouse seemed to be always rescuing a "damsel in distress" who was tied to a train track. This was a recurring theme.

I still remember the Mighty Mouse Theme song like it was yesterday

Friday was the only time we were allowed to eat in front of the TV set. We often had macaroni and cheese. Mommy made the best macaroni and cheese in the world. Sometimes by the end of the week there wasn’t a lot of food left in the house so we might have cereal for supper. But I loved when we did that just as much as anything else.

Quite often when Johnny and I walked home from school during the winter mommy would have hot chocolate ready for us. Oh man I loved the hot chocolate that mommy made with real cocoa. And to make things even better, mommy said we could put our pyjamas on and get cozy. And if it was Friday evening we were allowed to wait till Saturday morning to do our homework: usually anyways.

We still had to go to bed  earlier than I would have liked on Fridays, but if there was a good late  movie on TV (a good movie usually meant a western) daddy would wake Johnny and me up and bring us downstairs to watch it. And on top of this, daddy made us “cheesies” for a snack. Daddy’s “cheesies” were awesome. He made them with slices of bread cut in two, topped with cheese whiz and partly cooked bacon and put in the oven for 10 minutes. We didn’t eat meat on Fridays growing up, but we had these special treats after midnight so we weren’t breaking any rules. Mom and dad were strict about not eating meat on Fridays.

Friday evening, around our house was perfect: hot chocolate, cozy jammies, TV supper, Mighty Mouse; movie after midnight and cheese and bacon things that daddy made in the oven.

And when I grew up and visited my parents in Kemptville, daddy still made these yummy cheesies for us to eat when we watched television in the evening.

Mommy and daddy I really miss you. 

Please Pray for all your kids, grandkids, great grand kids , great, great grand kids etc. etc. etc!!!

Playing on the farm

When Johnny and I visited the farm in Bath we were usually allowed to play in the front of the house by ourselves. I also remember playing down near the barn and in the fields behind the barn. I think we were only allowed to play near the barn if an adult was there.

We loved playing hide and seek and tag, and all those childhood games that were popular in the fifties and probably still are. If we were lucky, there would be a tire swing attached to a branch of one of the huge maple trees in the front yard. These trees served various functions; they provided shade for when you were having a picnic, you could attach a swing to one of them, or you could install a line between them for hanging clothes to dry.... Or you could just climb them, but Johnny and I weren't allowed to do that.

Wheelbarrow rides were fun. Sometimes if uncle Frank wasn’t busy he would push us kids, one at a time, up and down the gravel driveway. Uncle Frank was always so good to us, just like daddy. Daddy used to take us for wheelbarrow rides, wagon rides, sleigh rides, you name it, when we lived on Isabelle St. in Hull.

Anyways, back to the farm. Most of the time we made our own fun. Many of the childhood outdoor games we played had a catchy little jingle attached to it. Remember “London Bridge …. " and "Ring around the rosy...." Well all these little rhymes, which we knew by heart (and there were many of them) had actions attached to them: many of them were meant for a group and I remember playing them during recess when we were at school and at home with Patty and Johnny and Jimmy or with Kathleen and Diane, our friends who lived next door.

When Johnny and I used to play together on the farm, and because there was just the two of us we often played handclapping games like “Pat a cake, pat a cake bakers man, bake me a cake as fast as you can.” We would start off slowly and go faster and faster. Remember this one. "Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot, nine days old; Some like it hot, some like it cold, Some like it in the pot, nine days old." Usually Johnny was better at games than I was, but when it came to hand clapping ones I was better. I think girls played these games more than boys when I was a kid. These games were fun. You didn’t need any equipment or supplies: just your hands and a friend or a brother.

There was always a ball around and we would often play “catch” together. Sometimes we would throw it against one of walls of the barn; we weren’t allowed to throw the ball against the house. We found that out fast enough.

I remember playing  I spy something with my little eye…… and card games like Crazy Eights, Fish and War on rainy days in the room where the TV set was, off of grandma’s bedroom.



Anyways back to playing outside. Well OH MY GOSH. I remember one time playing down by the barn and oh boy, oh boy...….. Remember cow pies? Cow pies came to my mind yesterday when I was baking cookies for Michelle's wedding reception. I thought the cookies looked like miniature "cow pies" and that got me thinking of the farm again. Pat said I should write about my cow pie experience on the farm and include a picture of one of the cookies ha ha. I’m not sure what our uncles did with all the cow manure. I remember uncle Frank shovelling it into a bin so I’m guessing they would have used it as fertilizer for their crops. I’m speculating here.

Anyways the first time Johnny and I decided to play on the cow pies was our last. These big round pie shaped poos looked solid to us so we were going to make a game out of jumping from one to another. I went first and didn’t make it past the first one. The crust on the top was hard but it was deceiving because underneath was anything but.

Johnny laughed but it wasn’t very funny. I was covered in cow poo up to my knees, maybe even higher. Johnny felt badly that he laughed and told me he was sorry. “It just sort of slipped out” he said. Johnny would never say or do anything mean. He said it was like a reflex action that he laughed when he saw the poo squirt all over my legs. I think he was secretly glad it wasn't him though.

Uncle Frank heard the performance and came over because he was nearby: probably milking cows. He cleaned me off with a bucket of water and said “we won’t tell grandma about this ok?” Uncle Frank was so sweet: he never got angry at us kids for anything. I’m thinking maybe he tried the "cow pie jumping" game when he was a kid.

I don’t remember what happened to my shoes but I remember the water from the well that uncle Frank poured over my knees that ran down to my toes because it was so cold!

We never played "that" game again.

Pulling Back the Rope

Hay is the foundation of the diet for all grazing animals and consequently harvesting hay is one of the biggest jobs on a farm. In the summer we all see cows and horses eating grass in pastures but this isn’t possible during winter months or times of drought so it was important to put enough hay aside for these times.

Grandpa Maloney had lots of cows at the farm in Bath. Johnny and I used to go down to the barn west of the farmhouse and watch as uncle Frank rounded them up for the evening milking, after which they would stay in the barn until the morning. The next morning they would milk the cows again before sending them out to graze in the pastures.

I think the farm at Bath was primarily a dairy farm although I believe they sold some of the cows for meat and I will talk about all that at another time.

I don’t know much about cultivating hay except that it takes a lot of time and hard work to get a good crop. Grandpa and uncle Frank and uncle Harold were out working in the fields every day during the summer months providing it wasn’t raining. They worked from dawn til dusk only taking time out for dinner at noon and a short nap around 2PM.

They always brought a pail of well water and a cup with them. Summers during the 50’s were really hot

People talk about global warming nowadays like it’s a fact. No offence, but it was much hotter then than it is now, believe me. These days if the weather is hot it’s like, “stay indoors” “don’t work too hard” “go to a shopping mall where there is air conditioning” “drink lots of water” Of course drink lots of water; were not stupid. Everybody is so mollycoddled these days. Oh and this really gets me. Instead of beginning with the real temperature, they always start with the humidex in the summer and the wind chill factor in the winter. Why can't they just give us the proper temperature first before all the other stuff for gosh sakes.

Anyways, one thing I do remember about our visits to the farm in Bath was when it was time to load the hay into the barn. I had the job of what was called “pulling back the rope” .

After the hay was gathered from the field in the large wagon which was pulled by either a tractor or a team of work horses it was brought back to the barn to be stored in the loft. There were no bales of hay in those days: it was all loose.

I don't remember which barn they used to store the hay. There were at least two barns, maybe three on the farm in Bath. I know there was a barn east of the house past the wood shed and a bit north of it but there was also another barn west of the house and down a short fenced in gravel road where they used to milk the cows.

Anyways, if I remember this accurately, large bunches of hay were lifted into the loft by a pulley and claw system until the wagon was empty. One of our uncles or grandpa would stand in the wagon and operate the large mechanical fork device which was able to grab large amounts of hay at a time. Then the pulley which was attached to this device was hooked up to the back of the tractor which would be slowly driven away from the barn, hoisting the bundle of hay up into the loft.

One of our uncles would be in the loft guiding each load as it went up. I remember aunt Mary helping with the hay as well when she was there.

Johnny occasionally had the job of driving the tractor. One of our uncles would call out to Johnny when it was time to stop the tractor. Then whoever was on the wagon pulled the fork release rope and the hay dropped into the loft. At that point, Johnny unhitched the rope and that’s when I did my part which was to pull back the rope to the barn for the next bundle.

Somehow or another the fork fell back into the wagon, ready for another load. I’m not sure how it all happened but this is how I remembered it.

I usually stood at the entrance to the barn a safe distance from the wagon but away from the hot sun.

Johnny was at least 12 before he was allowed to drive the tractor. I am certain that driving a tractor at such a young age would be frowned upon these days but this was in the 50s when kids had a lot more responsibilities than the kids of today.

Johnny loved driving the tractor and I honestly really liked my job of pulling back the rope. I miss those days.

To this day, whenever I see uncle Frank and we talk about our visits to the farm he always
mentions " Maureen pulling back the rope."

Great Grandpa and Great Grandma Brousseau / ancestors and descendants

Part one - Great Grandma and Great Grandpa Brousseau

I remember visiting great-grandpa Brousseau once with mommy and daddy and Johnny and Jimmy and Patty. He lived in Sandy Hill but I don't remember the name of the street

All I remember of great-grandpa was that he was very gentle and kind.

He might have been ill the day we visited him because he was downstairs resting on the couch in the parlor which was on the right-hand side upon entering the house. It seemed like a large house with stairs on the left-hand side I believe but that`s about all I can remember.

Most of the knowledge I have of great-grandpa Brousseau was what mommy told me. And I never knew great-grandma because she died of tuberculosis when she was very young. I know great grandpa Brousseau eventually married again and had more children and but I don't know that much else.

I wish I knew more about mommy and daddy when they were growing up and their parents and grandparents too. I should have asked more questions.

Mommy told me that at one time when her grandfather Brousseau was younger he owned a dairy farm in Montreal and that it was located in what is now known as Lafontaine Park. I think mommy told me it was off of St. Catherine Street.

One thing I know for sure is that great-grandpa was a very kind and generous man. In fact, he began every day by distributing milk from his dairy farm to people in need for free before his regular deliveries.

Great Grandpa Cesaire Brousseau and Great Grandma Therese Blouin were married at St Louis de France Montreal in 1892 and had three children, Emile, ( grandpa ) aunt Bertha and  before Great Grandma's death of Tuberculosis at the age of 24 

Mommy also told me that when great-grandma Therese was very ill, great-grandpa asked Brother Andre whom he knew quite well, to come to their home and pray for her. Grandpa Brousseau was just a little kid at the time and when he recounted the story to mommy, he said that everybody in the household was excited because the "good brother" as they called Brother Andre was going to be a house guest.

Unfortunately, my great-grandma didn't recover. When Brother Andre arrived at the house he knew right away before he prayed over her that she wasn't going to survive. Great Grandma Therese was just 24 when she died of tuberculosis. 

I find it interesting that both granny and grandpa Brousseau shared a connection to Brother Andre.

I don't know what happened after that. Did Great-Grandpa remarry in Montreal? When did he move to Ottawa? He lived in Ottawa for a long time and like I said I remember visiting him when I was very little. I know he lived in Sandy Hill with his new wife and the children

Mommy also told me that great-grandpa was a very devout Catholic and attended mass almost every weekday at Paroisse Sacre Coeur in Sandy Hill in Ottawa and sang in the choir on Sundays. He loved God, he loved his very large family and he loved to sing. Can't go wrong there!

While searching on the internet for information on the Brousseau family tree, I found the links below, much of which were compiled by my cousin Denise Charlebois. Thanks, Denise; awesome work!

Below are a few charts from Denise Charlebois awesome research 

Below the charts are links for a comprehensive detailed summary of the family tree. 

The links below were from this website 
https://mesancetres.ca/en/

click here for the family tree of grandpa Brousseau

Émile Brousseau 1896–1985 – webtrees (mesancetres.ca)

Click here for family tree of grandma Brousseau

Majorie Hedwidge Guillet 1898–1993 – webtrees (mesancetres.ca)

click here for ancestors of granny and grandpa Brousseau

Émile Brousseau + Majorie Hedwidge Guillet – webtrees (mesancetres.ca) 

Click here for the Ancestors of great grandpa and Great Grandma Brousseau Brousseau

Césaire Brousseau + Thérèse Blouin – webtrees (mesancetres.ca)

Click here for information on our great great grandmother Marie Bessette who was a cousin of Saint Brother Andre of Montreal 

Marie “Bessette” Bissette – – webtrees (mesancetres.ca)

Part Two - Granny and Grandpa Brousseau 

A Few Photos

The three pictures below were taken at a mass in honour of granny and grandpa at Aunt Adie and Uncle Bob's in their backyard at 10 Crescent Drive in Lakeview Terrace. 1983 I think it was the celebration of their 50th Anniversary. Aunt Audrey Guillet knew some young seminarians and she asked them to lead the music. They were members of the Community of Priests founded by Fr. Bob Bedard  They are now called the Companions of the Cross

  

   Below - 

Grandpa with six of their children

Below

Granny with their 5 girls 

Below

 At their cottage in Burnett I used to love going there. Aunt Adie and uncle Bob also had a cottage in the same area. It was just across the road  and up on a hill. I remember one time going to granny and grandpa's cottage with aunt Carol when she was just a teenager. The beach was a short distance away going East. I remember walking on the railway tracks one time with aunt Carole to go for a swim although I didn't go in the water and just watched aunt Carole as she swam

Granny sitting in the middle of the front row

Visiting Granny and Grandpa Brousseau

As well as my visits to daddy’s parents on the farm, I have equally fond childhood memories of summer visits to mommy’s parents in the house that grandpa Brousseau built and where mommy grew up, at 50 Sweetland Ave., in Sandy Hill. Whereas Johnny and I went together to visit Grandma and Grandpa Maloney, when I visited granny and grandpa Brousseau I usually had them all to myself.

Grandpa came to get me on several occasions for at least a few days and sometimes for as long as a week. He always gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek. Grandpa had this trick that I knew was coming. He would kiss us kids on the cheek while blowing through his moustache so that it made a whistling sound. I laughed hysterically every time he did this.

Grandpa wasn’t very tall so he used to sit on a cushion when he drove his car. Just a little bit of trivia

Oh how I loved those times. I remember entering the house by way of the back porch located at the right hand side of their narrow driveway.

From the back porch there was another door leading into a very large kitchen. There was an icebox in the porch on the left. In the centre of the kitchen there was a table and behind the table to the left there were narrow winding stairs that led up to the room that became mine for as long as I was there. It was a room straight out of a fairy tale with frilly curtains and bedspread and I loved it! It was so private and cozy. There was a door at the bottom of the stairs and one at the top. As a kid I had the feeling like it was my own little apartment.

There was even a typewriter near the window. I remember trying to type on it although I am not sure if I was allowed to or not.

The porch, kitchen and the magical bedroom all had a distinctive really nice smell that is locked in my memory. Maybe it was the wooden floors or cupboards: I don’t know how to explain it. Sort of like a new car smell but different. Grandpa spent a lot of time in the basement building furniture so that could be part of it.

Anyways, granny always had a big hug for me when I got there and of course milk and cookies at the kitchen table.

I remember taking milk and cookies down to the basement for grandpa too when he was busy building a new piece of furniture. Milk and cookies were always a staple when visiting granny and grandpa: even when we got older.

Sitting on the wooden swing in the backyard with granny and sometimes grandpa and talking about anything and everything, especially mommy when she was growing up, was so exciting. I wish I could remember more of what we talked about. I think grandpa made the swing but I’m not sure.

Aunt Adelaide, granny’s sister lived on Nelson Street which was parallel to Sweetland and just one street west of it. She lived in the house directly behind granny and grandpas’s so if they were both outside at the same time they could have a chat at the back fence, and I think they usually did. I remember going to visit aunt Adelaide with granny once. I think we had to walk around the block to get there: I don’t think there was a gate in the fence.

Aunt Mary who was another one of granny’s sisters lived in granny and grandpa's house but she had her own little apartment. The entrance to her apartment was at the front of the house whereas granny and grandpa’s front entrance was to the right and down the little walkway. I used the back door most of the time and my memory is a bit sketchy when it comes to the front of the house but it seems to me that their front door opened directly into the living room and the first thing you would see was the very large grandfather clock which was about six feet high and stood on the floor on the left hand side against the wall. Beyond the living room was a hall which led to the kitchen. On the right hand side of the hall was the entrance to the basement. It seems to me granny and grandpa’s bedroom was off of the living room to the left. I remember a window above their door, which I guess you see in old houses.

Jimmy tells me that in 1975 he rented an upstairs apartment at 52 Sweetland in the house where uncle Yvon grew up and that aunt Bertha had an apartment there as well at that time. He says that Aunt Bertha was a lot of fun and that they occasionally had a gin and tonic together. A little bit of family trivia

I miss you granny and grandpa and I love you both just like I did when I was little

Christmas Memories

We kids knew from when we were very little, that the birth of Jesus which we celebrated each year with our families and friends was really special. I remember daddy saying that when we invite Jesus into our hearts we will experience joy even in the midst of our difficulties. Christmas was about loving one another the way Jesus loves us, “be  nice to your brothers and sisters“ was used by mommy a lot when we were growing up but more so around Christmas I think'. Our parents said that it was not about receiving gifts but truth be told, we did look forward to Santa’s arrival on Christmas Eve and hoped he didn’t forget what we asked for and that he didn’t get lost either. 

Mommy started the baking really early. I remember the Christmas cakes, squares and cookies of every kind; oatmeal cookies, molasses cookies, chocolate chip cookies, shortbread you name it: mommy made it. There were date squares, ritzy bars, applesauce cake, donuts, minced meat pies, apple pies. 

We had a large freezer in the basement on Isabelle Street where mommy stored these succulent dainties until they were needed. Occasionally we kids would sneak downstairs and check out the frozen goodies for a sample or two or three. The trick was to rearrange the container so there didn’t appear to be anything missing. The frozen shortbread cookies were my favourite.

Christmas cards were sent out early. I remember helping mommy address the cards at the kitchen table. She wrote a personal note on each card she sent:  I 'm sure she sent out 100 of them.  
Cards received, were hung on strings from one side of the living room to the other side. 

Before supper, every evening at 5 during the weeks leading up to Christmas, mommy turned on the radio (CFRA) so we could listen to the adventures of Santa Clause and, Alfie, Andy and Little Mary, and Crakko (the bad elf). These episodes were so magical and mysterious: we kids just loved them.

Finding a nice Christmas tree was daddy’s job and he usually got one about a week before Christmas. I remember one of the times that daddy took Johnny and me and Jimmy and Patty to find a tree. He parked the car along the highway, grabbed the saw or the axe ( I'm not sure what he used ) and we trekked through the snow taking turns pulling Patty in the sled while trying to avoid bunny droppings in the snow. After daddy found a tree to his liking, he cut it down and then dragged it back to the car, put it in the trunk and secured it with heavy cord. When we got home daddy usually cut a piece off of top because we always seemed to get a tree that was too high:  they looked smaller in the woods. After that daddy set it up in in the living room in a special tree stand which he made that had lots of room for water. 

Finally we kids helped mommy and daddy decorate it. The best thing about the tree was the smell. When the tree was up it really felt like Christmas. I don't think we put lights on the indoor tree but daddy always put lights on some of the bushes in the front of the house.

At times when we didn't have a car daddy would buy a tree from somebody who was selling them close to our house. 

The Nativity set that daddy built was put out around the time the Christmas tree was installed and decorated. Sometimes it was on a table, sometimes if there was room it was put on the floor under the tree. Baby Jesus even had straw to sleep on. 

Attending Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve was always a wonderful experience. Even though it was about a mile to our Church, Our Lady of the Annunciation in Hull, I remember walking there on many occasions, with mommy and daddy, in the winter as well as in the summer. I clearly remember  the street lights shining through the falling snow one time when we were walking to Church and I am pretty sure it was Christmas Eve. Daddy was pulling Patty in the sleigh. We didn’t always have a car. 

Mass on Christmas Eve was wonderful. Mommy and daddy had to get tickets ahead of time to ensure that we all had a seat. The church was always packed. There were always so many people that we usually didn’t get our favourite pew near the middle on the left. I remember we often had to sit closer to the back but that was ok. I loved the Christmas music too. 

After mass, mommy and daddy always took us up to see baby Jesus in the manger before going home.

When we got home on this one particular Christmas Eve, Santa Claus hadn’t arrived yet, so we kids were whisked off to bed. Santa Claus waits till children are asleep before coming down the chimney or through the front door, whatever the case may be, so it was important to fall asleep quickly. After saying my prayers, mommy tucked me in and I remember trying hard to fall asleep but at the same time hoping that I would hear the sound of Santa's sleigh in the distance before I drifted off. I dared not take a peek out the window in case he saw me and passed us by. 

Christmas Morning was always magical. We kids usually sneaked down to the living room early to see what Santa had left under the tree and then waited patiently for mommy and daddy to wake up.  Every year our stockings which we had lined up on the back of the couch on Christmas Eve were filled to the top. We usually got an orange an apple, some nuts and some Christmas candy. We didn't use fancy stockings like kids used today: just our everyday knee socks. Under the tree were beautifully wrapped presents, and I thought I was going to burst waiting for mommy and daddy. I think I was usually up before Johnny. Sometimes daddy was in the kitchen making his special stuffing for the turkey that seemed to cook all day. I don’t know why it took so long.

When everyone was up mommy and daddy handed out the presents. We didn’t just rip the paper off either. We carefully unwrapped each gift, so that the beautiful paper could be used again. Every year each of us kids received flannelette pyjamas, slippers, socks, usually a game, maybe a toboggan. I usually got a doll. I wish I had kept some of them: I still like dolls. 

One Christmas, daddy went down to the basement after we opened our presents and excitedly came up the stairs. “Santa Claus left something for Johnny and Maureen in the basement” he said.  We hurried down to find an electric train set for Johnny and a beautiful doll house for me. I will never forget how excited we were.

Oh and how we looked forward to the best Christmas dinner you can imagine with daddy’s amazing stuffed turkey and mommy’s mashed potatoes and gravy and carrots and cranberry sauce. For dessert we almost always had mommy’s delicious homemade plum pudding with caramelized sauce. It was melt in your mouth delicious.

When dinner was over and after helping to dry the dishes we all hurried to put on our new cozy pyjamas and slippers and together we would watch a Christmas special on TV. In those days there was always a Christmas program about the birth of Jesus. Not so much anymore. After that, we said our prayers and went to bed. I remember the simple prayer mommy taught me.
“God bless me and make a good girl and God bless, mommy and daddy and Johnny and Jimmy and Patty, and grandma and grandpa and granny and grandpa and all my aunts and uncles and cousins  and all my friends and everybody else Amen” 

We often had visitors, mostly relatives, during the Christmas season and there was no shortage of succulent desserts. 

A day or 2 after Christmas if we had a car, we often different Churches to see the different cribs. Some were spectacular and some were very simple but all were beautiful.

As I grew older and Paula and Barbara were added to our family, our traditions were much the same: our bedtime prayer got longer because there were more people to pray for. We always had a real tree, mommy baked tons of goodies and sent out oodles of Christmas cards, we usually went to midnight mass, but on Christmas morning it was Paula and Barbara who waited anxiously for the rest of us to get up. 

Lost in the woods

 Maureen Johnny Aunt Helen  and Mommy

probably the year after we got lost 

Daddy worked for the National Research Council on the corner of Blair and Montreal Roads in Ottawa Ontario. There were many small houses built there during and after the war to provide housing for the NRC employees and their families. At the same time, the same types of houses were built on the Rockliffe airbase which was situated just slightly North West of where we lived. They were built at around the same time for men and women of the Canadian Airforce and their families.

Overall, 46,000 similar homes were built across Canada, during and after the Second World War, by the Wartime Housing Corporation (which became the Central Mortgage and Housing Corporation in 1946.) Initially, these homes were built to house people working in war-related industry. Anyways that's a little bit of history surrounding the type of house that we lived in at that time
click here and here

Here's a bit of trivia about this house that we lived in when I was 2. Daddy told me that when I was born he planted a tiny lilac bush near the house. Years later when the NRC wind tunnel in the area of Blair Road and Montreal Road was built it was exactly where our house was and even though the house wasn't there anymore daddy told me that the lilac tree still was. I didn't know this until a few years before mommy died in 2001, When I found out  I went down Blair Road to take a look at the Wind Tunnel. I was disappointed because  I  didn't see the lilac tree but it gave me a better sense of where I lived as a two-year-old

Memory is a funny thing. Some things you can’t remember and other things are so vivid it seems like they happened yesterday. I remember that it was a cute little house. I remember the frilly curtains in the kitchen. I remember one time standing on a chair in the living room while mommy fixed the hem on a pretty pink dress she bought me to wear to the birthday party of the little girl who lived next door I think her name was Ann but I'm not sure and she might have had a brother John as well but again I'm not really sure.  

My memory of being lost with Johnny is just two scenes really but they are pretty vivid. 

One scene I remember is that we are surrounded by trees and I'm crying and Johnny is holding my hand and telling me not to worry and that he will look after me. And the second one is a clear picture in my mind of Daddy, and at least one other man, and a truck that had two doors at the back that opened outward. I remember one of the men ( probably daddy) stepping out of the back of the truck.  I don't remember anything after that but mommy and daddy filled me in with some of the details as I grew older and here they are

The day that we two kids got lost. Johnny was three and I was two. We had been playing outside in the backyard for a few minutes while Mommy was making our lunch. Mommy said that she had done this many times before and she didn't worry because daddy had built a fence behind the house that enclosed the yard. But for some reason, on this particular day, we were able to slip away unnoticed while mommy was busy making us each a peanut butter and jam sandwich. Maybe the gate wasn't closed properly or perhaps we crawled under the fence: I'm not sure. I don't know who instigated this escape but I'm thinking it was probably me.

We must have scurried along at record speed because when Mommy came to get us for lunch we were totally out of sight. Mommy said she was never so scared in her life and believes her hair started to turn gray at that moment. She immediately contacted daddy. She feared the worst: that we were taken by some stranger, never to be seen again. I don't know if we had a telephone or if she just ran to tell daddy at work. One of the men daddy worked with had a good size truck and offered to help search for us.

Mommy continued looking for us around the neighborhood while daddy and the other men went down Montreal Road and Blair Road in the truck.

Several hours later they found us in a clearing in the woods off of Blair Rd., down by the Ottawa River. I was crying and Johnny was holding my hand.

I don't remember anything after getting in the truck.

I never thought to ask mommy and daddy if they called the police.

Anyways, mommy said it was the worst day of her life but when daddy came home with us it turned into her happiest one.

Learning to ride a bike

Learning to ride a bike 

 

I learned to ride a bike in 1955. Oddly enough, it wasn’t at home at 10 Isabelle Street in Hull, but during my first summer visit to the farm in Bath. Grandma and grandpa were good friends of Mr. And Mrs. Biss who owned the farm just east of the Maloney farm and on the same side of the road. The Bisses were devout Ukrainian Catholics and attended Sunday mass at the small Catholic Church in Bath: the same Church grandma and grandpa took us to on Sundays. They had their own pew. 
 
We visited the Biss family several times over the years and Johnny and I really enjoyed having another friend to play with. Peter was Johnny’s age and a real nice kid. I think he was an only child. I don’t remember that he had any brothers or sisters. 

The very first time grandma and grandpa and Johnny and I walked over to visit them there was an aroma of freshly baked bread or buns in the air and I said to Johnny “I hope we get some." Johnny smiled. 

 
When we arrived, Peter age was riding his bicycle in the large circular driveway in front of the house. Mrs. Biss greeted us at the door, then introduced us to Peter and suggested we kids play together for a while so she and grandma and grandpa could have a little visit. I don’t remember seeing Mr. Biss that time but I’m thinking he was probably out somewhere because their car wasn’t in the driveway. The driveway was a combination of packed earth and stones and grass. Actually it was quite flat and made a good bike riding area. 
 
After grandma and Mrs. Biss left us to play outside, Peter told us we could ride around the circle on his bike if we wanted to. Johnny had a bike at home and was good at riding it so he enthusiastically took Peter up on the offer and rode around the circle a few times. 
 
Then Peter asked if I would like a turn. I told him I couldn’t ride a bike: that Johnny and daddy had tried to teach me back home on a few occasions but I found it too hard. But Peter’s bike was less scary than Johnny’s. The seat was closer to the ground and there wasn’t a bar under it.  

 
John and Peter, both assured me that I would be safe, so I gave it a try. John always looked out for me. Taking off, with Johnny supporting me on one side and Peter on the other, in no time I was riding by myself. But they both continued to stay close to me in case I had trouble. I didn't though. I was really excited because I thought that it was beyond my capability to ever be able to learn to ride a bike. Johnny was so cute. I remember him telling me that he was really proud of me. I have such good memories of my “big” brother. He was only a year older than me but he was always looking out for me. He was very wise in his ways. Peter was really nice too. He reminded me of Johnny. 
 
We kids took turns riding around the circle until Peter’s mom called us to come inside. She told us to wash our hands and then sit at the kitchen table with grandma and grandpa and her. She gave us each a raisin bun and a glass of milk.  Grandma and grandpa smiled at us. The day was perfect: I couldn’t wait to tell mommy and daddy about it.