The Untold Stories of Central Alberta

by Patricia Wynne

$20.00            

The Family - by Sylvia Miller

Addie Williams was an excellent cook. Bachelors made their way to this home for her bread and cookies and an excuse to visit. Among the most frequent visitors was a young Danish fellow, Martin Larson. He fell in love with Edna and began working towards building a home on his homestead which was on mile from the Lane ranch. Soon a very comfortable house was built with two bedrooms upstairs and a kitchen and front room downstairs.

On May 12, 1014, Edna and Martin were married at Castor, which was fast becoming a lively town. F. J. Hartley, pastor of the Knox Church performed the marriage ceremony.

Into this marriage five children were born. Laurence was the first to arrive. He was a chubby lad, but while still very you became afflicted with asthma which plagued him throughout most of his life. When he was old enough to attend school he had to ride two and a half miles on horseback. The first mile was traveled through a field as there was no road then. He would have to dismount his horse, open the gate, go through it and the close it. To make his task easier, dad built a small platform for him to climb on and then onto Jim’s back. That faithful horse saw all of us three kids through much of our school. He had also taken the Lane children to Willow Point. Mrs. Haggery, a neighbor, was the teacher. Her two children, Lynne and Bernice, accompanied her.

Laurence left the farm and moved to the coast when he was in his twenties. Here his asthma cleared up and he enjoyed good heath for the first time since his childhood. He married and had three children, two boys name Larry and Bobby, and a girl, Marilin. He bought a garage and all was well until he was stricken with cancer. After many months of suffering, we lost our older brother.

The next addition to the family was my brother, Elvin. He was the shy on in the family and usually well behaved. But there was a day when he was four years old when he did the unexpected and consequently wore a scar the rest of his days. Laurence had been allowed to accompany dad to the town and Elvin was bored and lonesome. Slim, a fast riding and nervous horse, was tied up in the small two-stalled barn. We kids were warned not to go near him. Elvin, with a switch in hand, decided it would be exciting to tickle Slim’s hind leg. At first he ignored the boy but finally let go his hind legs and Elvin caught the blow in the face, especially his nose. Fortunately he was able to make his way to the house where mother met the bleeding, frightened boy. A call on the rural telephone brought a doctor from town which was six miles away. Using the table and the kitchen as an operating room he gave Elvin a whiff of chloroform and stitched him up. He lived to tell the story, that is the true story, sixty odd years later. You see, he had fabricated a little white lie say the he fell on a board.

Eleven months later another child arrived, this time a girl. It was the 20th of December in 1015. The cold wind slapped against the shutters of the small wood framed house on the prairie. Darkness had settled early with the thick clouds overhead and snow drifted and swirled with the wind. Martin had split the wood and piled it in a box near the stove. Buckets of small coal for the kitchen range and a tub of larger lumps were placed in a corner of the kitchen. His wife Edna was heavy with their third child in two years. Laurence had turned two while Elvin was 11 months. They were still babies and not yet out of diapers and soon there would be a third. How they hoped for a girl. Of course there was no hospital. There was a doctor six miles away in the small town of Castor but his only transportation was a sleigh and horses. They couldn’t depend on him to arrive when needed. Martin must be prepared to act again as doctor and nurse. Edna had assisted several mother as a midwife so was knowledgeable as to what to do if all went well. That day she had assisted Martin in stacking bundles. Consequently she felt very weary. Martin bade her rest while he did the dishes and washed the boys before tucking them into bed. Edna dozed in a restful sleep, warmed by the crackling of the fire in the heater. Suddenly she awakened with a sharp pain in her abdomen.

“Martin,” she called, “Come here.” The tone of her voice startled him Anxiously he bent over her. “You had better prepare for your new daughter,” she whispered. He hastened to the kitchen to prepare boiling water and sterilize the scissors. He brought in clean sheets and so the maternity bed was ready.

Two hours passed slowly. The pains increased in severity and began coming closer together. He gave her a cup of hot tea and a small glass of brandy. He hoped and prayed everything would go all right. She clutched his strong hand in hers and worked bravely. It was at a time like this she wished her mother and the doctor were near. They both seemed so far away.

At last it was over. Martin looked at the small, tiny object with dismay but proceeded to tie the cord after the baby was out.

“It’s a girl,” he cried, “But, Edna, she is so small.” He quickly lifted her in his hands and gently slapped her back. A faint cry assured them she was alive and kicking. Edna was weary from labor but knew from the appearance of the two and a half pound bundle they must work quickly to save her.

“Warm the olive oil and bring it, “ she told Martin. “We’ll need the roll of cotton batting, too.”

They cleaned and oiled the baby, wrapped her in the cotton batting and made a bed out of a shoe box. Her head was no bigger than a teacup.

“Martin, you had better go for Mrs. Phelps. She will know what to do. Remember she raised twins which were about this size?”

“I hate to leave you alone,” he said. “It will be a four-mile trip by team before I get back.”

“Go quickly,” she urged. “We will be all right.”

He glanced at his wee daughter squirming in her bed, rushed up the stairs to check on the boys then tended to the fires. Bundling up in his fur coat, cap and mitts and grabbing the fur robes he hastened to the barn to harness his swift driving team and hitch them to the cutter. Those light-footed, high-spirited horses needed no coaxing. They knew the road across the field and around each brush patch. He loosened the reins and let them go. The miles seemed longer than usual tonight because of the anxiety he felt for his dear ones he had left behind. But soon they turned the corner and with a command from him, the horses topped beside the weather-worn Phelps’ home. He knocked loudly on the door, opened it, not waiting for an answer, and stepped quietly inside. Mr. Phelps awakened startled from a deep sleep.

“It’s Martin, I need help.” His Danish accent revealed to them at once who it was.

Mrs. Phelps scrambled out of her warm bed, lit a lamp as she asked “Is Edna all right? Is the baby coming?”

“Our baby is here and it fine, but it is so small, two and a half pounds. I will go for the doctor in t he morning but could you come and help us now? You raised your twins,” he reminded her.

“Roy, get Martin a cup of coffee while I get ready,” she commanded while pulling on her heavy clothes. She hunted up the hot water bottle and the eyedropper she had used for her babies. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she assured her husband. Soon they were flying over the crusted snow towards Edna and her new family.

As she entered the house Mrs. Phelps threw off her cold, snowy outer garments and went quickly to where the pale, tired young mother lay half asleep.

“Edna, I’m here.” She said gently as she stopped to kissed the flushed cheeks. “Congratulations on your little girl.”

Edna looked up into the kind, understanding face of dear Grandmother Phelps, as they called her. Suddenly all the pent-up emotions of all her fears and anxiety swept over her and she burst in tears -- tears of relief. Mrs. Phelps let her sob for a few moments knowing only too well the relief such tears would bring. She picked up a hankie, wiped her eyes and spoke with a voice which assured Edna she was in command

. “Now, let us see your new doll.” She turned to the makeshift cradle. Edna’s eyes follower her intently. If Mrs. Phelps felt any concern as she examined the little human being not much bigger than a put, she did not show it. “We must feed this little one.” Using the eye dropper and some of the mother’s milk, the first nourishment was carefully placed in the baby’s wee mouth. Martin had put away the horses and stood watching. Mrs. Phelps spoke again. “Martin, you go upstairs to your bed and get some sleep and Edna, you do the same. I’ll stand by. With a sigh of relief and thankfulness for good neighbors, both were soon in dreamland.

They named the baby Edna Sylvia and I was that baby. But early in life I was nicknamed Tootsie. The name, Toots, will no doubt stay with me for the rest of my life.

When I was ten years old another boy entered the world only to live four days. Dad was very sick with the flu and mother wasn’t much better. There was a hospital in Castor by then and it was decided that mother should have her baby there. It was a cold blizzardy night on the 4th of March when mother realized her time had come. Fred Duke, who lived two miles west had a fleet driving team. A telephone call brought him as fast as those horses could go to carry mother to town. The roads were heavy with snowdrifts and if often seemed the light sleigh would turn over. However, they made it on time but little Paul’s life was short as the effect of the flu proved too much. Mother slowly recovered but her arms felt empty. The kids, especially myself, longed for a baby brother or sister.

One year later when I was eleven years old our dream was fulfilled when a lovely healthy baby girl was born into our home. Each of us had a name for her. She was called Laura Margaret Lillian Larson, but dad called her Runty most of the time. It was a wonder she ever grew up into a fine young woman as she has so many coaches. She missed having a brother or sister near her own age in the family and was often lonely. Later, when she was married and could have no family of her own, she adopted four children. The first two were adopted at the same time with of age difference of two years. Later two more with the same difference in age were adopted so the they would never be one alone.

Glimpses of the Past - by Orpha Donnelly

Uncle Walter

Uncle Walter was a tall man—six foot six as I recall. He was very quiet but also very opinionated. He was a private investigator. I never actually met him, but we sure hear stories about him. There’s one that stands out in my mind.

Uncle Walter was my mom’s uncle, my great-grandfather’s brother. Walter Cotton had the reputation of being a miser. When mom’s four brothers were in their teens they would ask him, “Uncle Walter, what are you going to do with all your money?”

He would reply, “I’m going to take it with me.”

Grandma would get after him to buy new clothes or some food with that “moldy old money.” She would tell him, “Start living instead of existing in poverty.”

Uncle Walter’s answer would always be the same. “I’m going to take it with me.”

Now don’t get me wrong. Uncle Walter was not totally without sentiment. He had a favorite pillow and he made it very clearly known he wanted to be buried with it. We speculated on the reasons. I could have belonged to someone special in his life, although we had no idea who. We even teased him about it hoping he would get angry enough to tell us why. Maybe it was a heartbreak or something so personal he couldn’t bear to talk about it. When he died the stipulation was in his will so we complied with his last wish.

When it came time settle all his accounts and pay for the funeral expenses we were at a loss to find any money. No bank accounts, no money stashed in his home. Nothing. A few months went by and then it began to dawn on us—it was in his favorite pillow.

It took a court order to exhume Uncle Walter but the money was indeed in his favorite pillow. We replace it with one of grandma’s feather pillows and returned Uncle Walter to his resting place. There was quite a bit to spare after the bills were paid. There was some comfort in knowing Uncle Walter was a man who was true to his word. He took it with him.

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