WHEN I WAS YOUNG

My first memory that remains indelibly written on my
consciousness was of my dad and myself standing out
in our front yard, where I was looking on as he burned
the long grass to get rid of the weeds and renew our yard
with dewy crisp blades of green for a carpet. This was a common
practice in those days. Our yard was large and there weren’t
any power mowers, so normally dad used a scythe which
was a labourious undertaking indeed. He never complained
and went about his tasks in a steady quiet manner as was
his habit. I was enjoying the scent of burning grass and
the peaceful comradery with my dad on this glorious day,
when all at once the melodious pealing of every church bell
in our small village jarred us to attention. Not knowing as yet
what was happening, we stood there in awe and wonderment
It was of course the manner in which they let the people
know that the war was over. Of the remainder of the day,
I have no recollection whatsoever.
My next memory is of the Orangemen’s Parade that took place
yearly in the month of August. All we children knew, was
that it had something to do with”The Battle of The Boyne’,
that was between the Catholics and the Protestants a
long time ago. With our youth we never understood the whys
and the wherefores of it all, but there was a little chant we
used to call out as they paraded on the street which I cannot
recall and I guess it’s better that way. It turned a slow day
into one of excitement and we admired the pure white steed
the leader rode and the rat-a-tat-tat of the drums.
I have a small memory of when the highway was put through
our town, or maybe it could be the result of mom telling us
over the years of the blasting and how the debris reigned down.
There was a warning first and all the moms went to retrieve
their kids and bring them to safety then “BARROOM”’,
the earth would shake and we would all screech with
the noise of the blast. I can’t be sure, but I believe my
mother’s holy water bottle came out of hiding and we
were all promptly sprinkled as was also the case with
electrical storms.
Then we move on to the exciting time when our street
was finally paved and we children bugged the construction
workers and looked on with our eyes all agog at the size of
the steam shovel and the acrid repugnant smell of the hot tar
yet it didn’t stop us from sampling the foul mixture for chewing
gum. It was ghastly and we spit and spit to rid our mouths
of the taste. We kept our guardian angels on the hop, and they
must have smiled at some of our antics.
A very pleasant memory is of our dear old cow ‘Betsy’
who kept the grass cropped and supplied us with fertilizer
for our large garden. Today this would not be possible, to have
an animal in town, but this was back when things were more
laid back and friendly. She supplied our large family with
milk and butter and her beautiful presence. I don’t remember
but I was told what happened when she had to leave us.
Betsy loved our mother and they had a friendship that was
touching, so when the men with the truck came to get her,
she wouldn’t let them put her into it and my dear soft
hearted mother had to lead her into the truck herself.
It was so hard on mom, she cried as the truck pulled out
onto the highway and Betsy was bawling pitifully.
Poor mom, poor Betsy! Such is life!
We also purchased at one time some baby chicks and
cared for them until they were ready for the pot, which as
an innocent didn’t realize their fate. I used to go out to
the barn and converse with them and one day one of the
chickens clucked in such a way as to sound like my name.I
ran to mom telling her this and I think I caused her some
anxiety because she knew the future and I didn’t.
Then one day my favourite chicken mysteriously disappeared,
and I found out later on that my pet was supper that night.
I was crushed! So much for the hard knocks of life, and on to
the fun we had with all the many kids on our street.
We played red rover, red rover, won’t you come over, statue, ditch tag,
keely keely over, may I, we skipped, roller skated, played marbles,
bounced balls off the walls of the house and so on and so forth.
The days were deliciously carefree and we fell into bed at 9 pm.,
scrubbed, rosy-cheeked and exhausted from our exploits. Oh it
was grand to be a kid back then. Life was more slow paced and
easy going and there weren’t so many bad happenings in the news,
as our small town was still a safe place to be brought up.
We hadn’t been touched too strongly by progress so all was
perfect for raising under God’s blue sky with no threat of war
or huge disasters. All was happy and peaceful.
Thank You Jesus for the gift of life.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Mar. 15, 2007