MY HOME TOWN

Tweed was a peaceful, lovely and safe place
to grow up. The Moira River ran through it and under
the towns two bridges, the old and the new, making for a
picturesque and serene postcard-like image indelibly inked
onto our hearts. In those years you knew everyone on
your street and on every other street also. When you went
shopping or just for a walk, you greeted them all and an
outing of shopping took rather a long time, but things
went at a slower pace back then. Times were hard, but
pretty well everyone was in the same boat. They all put in
gardens to fill in where the cash wouldn’t cover.
A town is not a town on its own, but it’s the people
who make up the town, and these people were
top notch. Hard working, church going, helping in a
time of difficulty, good honest people! The streets were
tree-lined and rang out with the joy of children at play, and
we didn’t have to worry much about vandalism or thieves.
As a matter of fact, it wasn’t really necessary to lock our
doors at night. It never crossed your mind to check first
before answering the door, people just walked in, and they
were sincerely welcomed.
One of the landmarks of our town was Donny our milkman
with his horse and wagon. They were a well oiled team.
As he carried the bottles they would clink together, and you knew
fresh milk was on the way; bottles of white and chocolate to replace
the empties already on the porch with the needs of the household
written on a piece of paper protruding from the neck of the bottle.
The bottles had little stiff paper caps, and if you forgot to
bring them in, in the winter, the milk would freeze and protrude
outward like a milk popsicle.
Then there was the clip clop of the horse’s hooves on the pavement
as he slowly continued on, never stopping and his even gait
brought him right where he was supposed to be, at the neighbour’s
house where he and Donny would meet up again.
Every day of our lives back then was graced with Donny’s
cheerful greetings and joyful service to his community, not to forget
his horse who gave all of us town children a chance to touch and
talk to his faithful steed.
When this service came to an end, everyone was saddened, that
in the name of progress we had lost something that machines
could not replace, that of Donny’s smiling countenance
and his cherished horse and wagon. Life goes on!
The park was at the far end of town on Stoco Lake and in our teens,
we wore out our shoes walking there in the summer to swim
and people watch and wile away the warm sunny days with
our peers. The Pavillion was built partly on the water and when
I was older I went to dances there.
The sides opened up to a glorious view of the lake, sometimes
with the moon mirrored on it’s surface, a truly romantic setting.
People came from all the surrounding communities to dance the night away
and enjoy the balmy breeze off the water.
Closer to home, we swam just a stone’s throw away from
our home behind Joey’s house where mom was the
chaperone for everyone and would make us so happy,
the times she joined us in the cool water and relaxed for a spell.
All the schooling I ever got was in Tweed, commencing with
St. Carthagh’s Elementary School and progressing to
Tweed High School where I finished with a business-secretary
course, because I had become to sickly to go on. My first job
was at the Stedman’s Store and it taught me a lot.
I started out in the basement opening up incoming items for
purchase and after that I went to work at each of the
different departments until I became the head honcho of
the Candy Counter. I just loved it there and it was a joy to wait
on the many children who came in to see how much penny candy
they could get for their money. When the new shipments of candy
came in, it was my duty to open them and make a place
on the counter for them. I remember opening waxed boxes
of toasted coconut marshmallows and the smell almost made
you fall over. The variety considering the size of the store,
was astounding and the manager said that if we wanted we could
sample some of the items once in awhile except for the Cashews and
the Peppermint Patties and the Chocolates. They cost the most.
Before I left Stedman’s, I had become a cashier and I
can truthfully say I enjoyed every task I was given,
while I was in their employ. Time brings about change and we move on,
and I did.
My brother Ray was a chartered accountant and did the books
for the store just across the street from Stedman’s. It was an
Appliance Store with a side business of selling licenses for
motor vehicles and the owner Cartha Cassidy was also a
funeral director. Ray put a plug in for me and I got the job of
Licensing Clerk which I totally loved, and I sold the odd
appliance on the side. I kind of was available to whatever chore
came up. I met all types of people,
even loggers who would bring the licenses for their
fleets of trucks for renewal, costing thousands of dollars. Sometimes I
was taken out of the theatre by one of the car dealers
who had made a sale and needed a change of ownership.
I worked out of an old bank teller’s cage
and there were times I didn’t come out when
certain people came in who seemed to have taken a liking to me,
especially one older gentleman who insisted on giving me sweets.
I wasn’t smiling then, but I can now. I used to walk alone to
the bank with the night deposit which at times held thousands
of dollars from License sales and everyone knew me and knew
what I was carrying, but there was never an incident or worry.
After working there for four years I acquired a job at Rayco
Plumbing and Heating in Belleville,
thus ending my stay in Tweed and stepping out on my own at last,
opening another page in my story
to be continued at a later date...

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 21, 2007