Post your story
Place your memories story on Facebook Group "The Cross Roads of Stuckey Cawthorn - Cross" and I will post it here for future generations to read.
Post #1
Norene Cawthorn Reaume (Calgary, AB) wrote on July 22, 2007 at 9:53pm
One day Debbie and I were visiting Grandma Violet. It was a hot summer day and I’m sure we pestered her all day about one thing or another. We begged her for money to go to Rosscarrock Grocery for ice cream sandwiches. She said “you don’t need money for those when I can make them myself”. Oh goody we thought another one of Grandmas tasty treats. Well she got out four slices of bread, slapped a dollop of ice cream in the middle of two and handed them over. I’m not sure if the look of disappointment showed on our faces, but we promptly went outside and buried them in the backyard. We also didn’t pester Grandma again anytime soon!
Post #4
John Cawthorne wrote on August 14, 2007 at 8:08am
To set the stage for this story I will have to refer to the email that John Clubbe Jr. sent Irene K after Grandma’s passing. Here is part of the email written below by John Clubbe Jr. In the quote below Aunt Margaret would be Grandma Cross and the reference to My father (Violet’s Uncle) would be John Jr’s father John Clubbe senior. That would make John Jr. cousins of Violet, Ron and Flo. In the excerpt below John refers to a visit to Stettler in 1955. That’s where the story begins.
<<<Quote:
My father (Violet’s uncle) and mother both died in 1984. I still
have vivid memories of the trip Dad and I took in 1955 to see Aunt
Margaret in Calgary and Aunt Mary in Victoria. I remember my first
cousins Ron, Violet, and Florence, and several of their children.
Florence’s boys were into a rodeo phase. Violet’s son was as I remember Johnny. We hit it off quite nicely.
I remember your grandmother quite well. She lived in a house that
I will call, I hope not unfairly, an extended log cabin. She had good
spirits and was certainly kind to me. We stayed with Ron, where was
aunt Margaret, and also visited with Florence in Stettler.>>>Quote
John and I would be about 17 or 18 years old at the time of their visit. While at Stettler Aunt Flo took everyone including Grandma (Violet) to Buffalo Lake for a outing. John and I rented a rowboat and headed out on the lake to a small island called Bird Island a good ways off shore. We made it to the island alright but in returning to camp a strong wind came up and there was no way we could paddle against the head wind to get back to shore. The parents at camp could not see us and were getting quite worried, especially John senior. He could not wait any longer and rented a power boat and came out to rescue us. The guy that rents the boat threw us a rope and towed us back to shore. I guess being young at the time we wondered what all the panic was about. I think after that I was considered a little hooligan by John senior. So as to try to make amends I thought we best stay close to the family and we were fooling around with the boat close to shore.
John Jr. had a real fine camera to capture pictures of their holiday, a camera he carried most of the time. The boat was floating right on the shore line with the bow just a few feet away from the sandy shore with John standing at the stern of the boat where the water was deeper. To do John a favour so he wouldn’t have to take a chance on stepping out of the rocking boat with his camera, I thought I best pull the boat up on the sand so John could exit the boat easily. I reached down and grabbed the rope that was tied on the bow and lurched back with a mighty pull, next thing John, camera and all go backwards over the stern of the boat. John comes up sputtering and trying to keep his camera dry but I am sure they both got a good soaking. To this day I don’t know if the camera and pictures on the film were ruined.
So now it’s time to face the music again with John’s father. Needless to say he was not very please with the incident that just happened. Boys will be boys, I guess I must have made some sort of an impression on both of them for John to remember me in the email.
Post #7
Irene Kerr wrote on August 14, 2007 at 2:37pm
Well I guess anyone who just released a book called: “Byron, Sully & the Power of Portrature” must be fairly well educated. I know he was an English Professor at the University of Kentucky. Here’s his bio:
John Clubbe, formerly of the University of Kentucky and now living in Santa Fe, has written on nineteenth-century British and American art and literature as well as on cities, nature, architecture, and music. He has long had a particular focus on Byron and has been joint president of the International Byron Society since 1986.
So there - UJ you are probably just as intelligent and much better looking (although you’ve got to change your profile picture - it’s still scaring me).
Post #8
You wrote on August 15, 2007 at 2:00am
I believe it was Irene that said isn’t it ironic that Grandma Cross and John Clubbe Sr. were brother and sister and to have Grandma Cross with 185 plus descendants including partners and John Clubbe Sr. having two, his son and his companion.
Post #9
John Cawthorne wrote on August 15, 2007 at 3:25am
Speaking of Ice Cream reminds me of a special person:
When I was quite young probably around 12 years old, making Rhoda around nine or ten and Joe about seven, Ben was probably still around home at this time as well. I’m talking about the later 40’s when Wilda worked at the Model Dairies before she married John. I’m sure every week with out fail in the summer time she would bring home a special treat for the family, a one quart block of ice cream. Now, to you young whipper snippers, that may not seem like such a big deal. You have to relate to the times of slow transportation and walking miles to our home. Wilda would get off work in the late afternoon but hours before her shift was over at the Dairy, she would wrap a block of Ice Cream in many, many layers of newspaper and put it back into the freezer to get it as cold as possible. Then after work it was, catch the electric street car from 17 Ave and 2nd street SW to 17th Ave and 14th Street SW where one would have to transfer from the Belt Line street car to the Killarney run. The Killarney street car came all the way to 29 Street on 17th Ave. From there it was hit the road walking and then cutting across fields following trails to home, probably a good mile and a half. Remember Wilda still carrying the block of ice cream all wrapped in newspaper. I remember us kids eagerly waiting for Wilda to come walking up the drive way with her special treat. Again you have to relate to the times, there was no way to store the ice cream, we didn’t even have a fridge. Grandma would have a meal ready and we would all eat as fast as possible so we could get at the ice cream. Finally all the wrappings would come off the block of ice cream and it was still frozen solid, we all would gorge ourselves. There was no way of keeping it so it all had to be eaten right then and there, which didn’t seem to be a problem at the time.
As the weeks and months went on and the Ice Cream kept coming and coming, I was getting a bit more Ice Cream than I could handle. It finally came to a point that I never ate Ice Cream again for about 20 years. I have finally got back into eating ice cream and enjoy it as much as ever.
Many thanks to Wilda for the memories of when a dish of Ice Cream was worth its weight in gold.
Post #10
Rhoda Hollander replied to your post on August 15, 2007 at 7:59pm
What a great, true, story John! I remember this as well. I also remember Wilda bringing us Yo Yo string from the Dairy. They had special string that was probably used for packaging up icecream, as you have described. It was a 6 ply string that could be seperated into three lengths of two strands, making the perfect Yo Yo string. We used to meet Wilda halfway across the prairie, on her walk home, as we couldn’t wait to get our string. I don’t think any one of us ever became a Yo Yo expert but we certainly had our opportunity and were focused on becoming so.
Once again, to all you younger ones, a Yo Yo may not sound so interesting but it was a very special toy and, not only that, it was one of the very few toys we had as children.
Post #11
Norene Cawthorn Reaume (Calgary, AB) wroteon August 15, 2007 at 9:49pm
We have so many things nowadays compared to what you had. Something tells me we don’t appreciate any of our things as you did over ice cream treats or yoyo strings.
Post #12
John Cawthorne wrote on August 18, 2007 at 1:35am
Well while we are at “The Good Old Days” here is a story about fun on the farm.
Since there was a lack of toys and things to keep us occupied our Father took it upon himself to install a homemade Merry-Go-Round in our yard. Parts from an old horse drawn wagon would do the trick. He took a long steel axle from the wagon and drove it into the ground vertically so the end would be sticking out of the ground about two feet high. On top of the axle he placed an old wagon wheel, probably about 4 feet in diameter. It was a sturdy wheel that had wooden spokes and a steel band around the external rim. Then the wheel was all lubricated with some messy axle grease. What a great play ground we had in the yard. One of us kids would climb up on the wheel and grasp the spokes with both hands and place our feet against inside rim on the opposite side of the wheel. We would be on all fours with our belly right over the middle of the wheel. One of the others would give the wheel a spin and around and around we would go. Either until the pusher would get tired or the rider got dizzy and had enough. Well this worked all right as long as there was someone around to do the pushing so the wheel got used less and less. As it goes it was more fun to ride than push.
One evening we had some company visit the farm, I can’t remember who it was. Unbeknown to us when the company left in the late evening darkness, they backed their vehicle into the Merry-Go-Round wheel. The next day when we arose to see the damage. The wagon wheel axle was bent over so much that the higher side of the wheel was probably a foot or so higher than the low side. Talk about some disappointed kids, who could have ruined our Merry-Go-Round like this. Since that was all we had, we tried to use it the same old way with one of us riding and the other spinning the wheel. Well it didn’t work to bad but seemed a little awkward riding around on a slant. Then a miracle upon miracle happened, one of us kids discovered that when we got up on the wheel on all fours and shifted our weight to the high side, the wheel would rotate half a turn, then we could shift our weigh again to the high side and keep the wheel spinning. To start the wheel turning we would push our head and shoulders to the high side, the wheel would start to rotate and just before our head was at the bottom we would push our rear end to the high side, the wheel would gain momentum and we would repeat the movements making the wheel go faster and faster. After a while when we learned how to move and our coordination improved we could get the wheel spinning at a very high speed.
So now who needs someone to stand there and spin the wheel and take turns riding, not any more. After that the Merry-Go-Round was a popular hang out for us kids and our friends who wanted to try their hand at seeing how fast they could make the wheel spin.
Post #13
Norene Cawthorn Reaume (Calgary, AB) wrote on August 22, 2007 at 1:11am
It was like reinventing the wheel. Shows what imagination can do!
We spent a few summers at Stettler with the Stuckey’s experiencing the country life. We were so lucky to have horses to ride and fun cousins to hang out with. We got in on a branding bee and had campfires with lots of singing and stories. Debbie and I (always sidekicks) were in the garden one day when we came across a cute little piggy. We learned from Uncle Vic that it was sick and had wandered away. It would have to be put down ... unless we were to take it home with us. Of course Dad had no idea we had smuggled a pig into the back of the station wagon. We made it almost all of the way to Calgary before he found out. The little guy lived about two weeks longer and had a dog for a mother. He enjoyed a rhinestone collar and walks to 7-11. Some pig! I can still imagine Uncle Vic laughing his pants off as we drove away.
Post #14
Rhoda Hollander wrote on August 24, 2007 at 7:16am
Yes, Noreen, I remember well the pig episode. I believe her name was
Doris. Kids today could never get away with anything like that.
John, your story of the Merry-go-round brought back some happy memories. I have to wonder what all that spinning did to enhance our physical and mental development. One memory in particular, for me, is the day I snuck a tablespoon of Roger’s Corn Syrup and after I finished sucking the last of the syrup off the spoon I went outside and spent some time on the Wheel. It wasn’t long before my stomach realized that this was not a good thing. I became very sick and it was a while before I attempted to Spin again. To this day, whenever I think of the Merry-go-round, I get that same queasy feeling, like right now as I am writing this. I’ll have to work on that.
Post #15
Irene Kerr wrote on August 24, 2007 at 1:34pm
The merry-go-round story made me realize where my Dad (Uncle Ben) got his inventive spirit from. We were so fortunate every Christmas. After we finished opening our gifts - he would get this little smile on his face and usually go outside and bring back “one more thing”. It was always something that he made himself. One year it was kid-size furniture, another year - stilts. There was the beautiful shuffleboard (he even made the “rocks”) and the ingenious ping-pong table that actually fit over the dining room table in our small house. We also used it as a blackboard. I’m sure my siblings can remember other things. He also invented a “drink mixer” - it was an open wooden box that had a mechanism in it with a rotor attached. He didn’t invent homemade root beer - but he sure made great root beer - in my Mom’s wringer washer! He used to bottle it in long-neck beer bottles, and we got to help him cap it. Then we would run around the neighborhood drinking our “beer”. I’m sure the neighbors must have wondered... mmmm - I can still taste it - it was SO good!
Post #16
Norene Cawthorn Reaume (Calgary, AB) wrote on August 24, 2007 at 7:31pm
One Christmas Dad made me doll furniture exactly the same as our living room furniture. He used the material from the underside of our couch. I traded my couch for a troll doll. He has never let me forget it. How ungrateful I was!
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Post #17
Irene Kerr wrote on August 24, 2007 at 8:36pm
I don’t remember that. Maybe that’s why troll dolls creep me out - right up there along with smurfs and those nutcracker figures!
I’m sure he’s forgiven you!
Post #18
You wrote on August 25, 2007 at 7:57pm
I wrote this in part to Lynn in March 2002 but I would like to share it on “Cross Roads”
In my early years I didn’t have the opportunity to holiday travel very much so any time I was included in a trip away from Calgary by car turned out to be a memory to remember. A few trips stand out the most, first a day trip to Banff with Uncle Ron in 1950, another trip was with brother Roy making the circle through Banff, Jasper, Edmonton and back to Calgary over three days, both of which I might write about later. Our family never had a vehicle until the older siblings went out to work and purchased their own vehicles so in the very early years a ride in a car or the back of a truck was exciting. So aside from the odd family friend or Uncle Ron, Aunt Flo and I can’t forget Uncle Ted Knight and his Model T Ford which I rode in a couple of times, car traveling was infrequent to say the least.
This memory I will relate are of Stettler and the Stuckey family when I was growing up, I would guess when I was around 12 to 16 years old, not necessarily any one year but over a number of years. That would put the time over half a century ago.
My greatest traveling memories were when I was invited to go to Stettler and stay with the Stuckey family for a few weeks at different times during summer vacations. The anticipation and waiting for the day to come when I would be picked up and head off to Stettler was too much to bear. That morning I would wake up very early and drive Mom nuts asking when are they going to get here? Having my bags all packed and ready to go, the minutes would pass so slowly I’m sure our kitchen clock was running backwards. On the farmstead we had a home built steel pipe swing stand about 8 feet high which seldom had a rope and swing seat on it, but it was a great place to sit on top, so one could see further down the road for anyone coming. That’s where I would be sitting waiting to see the car coming in the distance. Once Aunt Flo and Uncle Vic or some times just Aunt Flo had arrived and after the old folks (he he) had their visit and tea, we would all bail into the car for the trip to Stettler.
The trip to Stettler seemed to be such a long ways even when we were riding in that new 1949 or 1950 Meteor. I guess things haven’t changed much but the chat was, when are we going to get there, I’m hungry and I got to go to the bathroom. After arriving at long last we all unloaded the car and settled in for a snack and off to bed after a long day. I was there!
Memories of Stettler:
The two-story house with basement, the upstairs bedrooms with the inward sloping walls due to the roofline, the house filled with nice furniture, decorated and the fine china. Down the basement a wood fired hot water heater to deliver hot water for laundry, washing and bathing.
Walking up town and visiting the jewelry store, seeing Uncle Vic working on watches and clocks with the magnifying eye piece ever handy for his work. A store filled with showcases of watches, rings and giftware. Shelves of clocks all ticking away and chiming on the hour. The wall displayed china and every imaginable item. I can still visualize the entrance with the window displays on each side of the entrance. Best of all Bill would hound his Mom at the store for a bit of money so we could slip over to the store for a treat of a chocolate bar and a pop.
The theater where we would go for a Saturday afternoon show and believe it or not would make friends with some girls at the show (Bill’s idea not mine). Vic’s 45 RPM record collection, Hank Snow and Hank Williams records and a record player that one could stack about 10 records high and it would automatically play them all. I can remember when ever I would get a chance to be by myself, I would put a stack of records on the player and just lie on the bed and close my eyes and listen to the music. I wonder where that record collection is today?
The dog, I don’t remember the name but remember playing with the dog in the grounds of the Court House very close to the Stuckey home. That crazy dog would torment Bill and I and his playmates to no end. The dog would take a article, like a hat or ball or ball glove and tease the hell out of everyone for hours by not giving it back. We would try every conceivable trick in the book to get the dog to drop the article, the dog would stay just out of reach and knew he would be safe and put the article down on the grass and let you almost walk up to it and he would snap it up and away he would go. We could scold him, praise him, pretend to forget about him nothing worked till one decided to go home then you could go back and pick up the piece later.
On one visit to the jewelry store I must have had my nose pushed up to the glass of one of the showcases where the pocket watches were displayed and probably drooling on the glass, when Aunt Flo reached in and gave me a Westclock pocket watch, well I was the happiest kid in the whole town. I think they were about $3.29 at that time I rushed to find a lace to tie on the watch ring and to my belt loop, and probably checked the time every 30 seconds.
Roller skates, couldn’t wait to get the roller skates out of the toy box and find the key to tighten them on my shoes soles and put the straps around my foot, the sidewalks were not all that smooth with lots of cracks and rough spots. That didn’t matter as I went traveling down the cement walks on those steel wheels.
Bill showed me the town, we played at the rodeo grounds, climbed on the roof of the grain elevator (which I still have nightmares about falling), visits to the hotel and playing on the outside steel fire escape stairway of the hotel, buying pea shooters and dried peas for ammunition and pelting people on the streets from the roof tops, snitching candy from the theater storage shed in the back alley through a loose board we found, visiting the Chinese restaurant the Club cafe I think, they also had a bakery counter. Then sneaking into the Pool Hall where children were NOT supposed to be.
All too soon the vacation would be over and hopes of returning the next year were on my mind.
I enjoyed writing this as it brought back many great memories for me as well.
Post #19
Norene Cawthorn Reaume (Calgary, AB) wroteon August 25, 2007 at 10:19pm
I think creative writing must be in our genes. What a great story UCN. I’ve been relating them all to Dad. I know he’s enjoying brining back memories.
Post #20
You wrote on August 25, 2007 at 11:13pm
Thanks Norene, for sharing them with brother Ben, he is so family and I know he will enjoy all the stories here. Maybe you could ask him to relate some short memory stories to you and you could post it.
I come here a few times every day to see who and what is written and read them more than once, some big chuckles as I read them all. What a great way share things that were special in shaping our lives. Generally it is the simple things we remember most. I would like to hear from the younger grand children about some of their memories, just anything like a holiday, first time driving, school memories, people that touched their lives.
The invitation is out “Hit the keyboard”
Post #21
Rhoda Hollander replied to your post on August 31, 2007 at 11:17am
Thanks John for these great stories of our trips to Stettler to stay with Aunt Flo. I anticipated these trips with the same enthusiasm as yourself. Being the girl and odd person out, my memories are somewhat different than yours and probably not as vivid as I was much younger (at that time). Bill would allow me to participate in some of the fun stuff but mostly for his entertainment as he teased me endlessly. I was sometimes the brunt of those hard little peas shooting through the air, not to mention the odd dart. I remember that we spent hours on end playing “Pie”. We would draw a large circle in the dirt and we would throw knives into the centre and where they stuck, we would draw a line across the diameter and we would mark the largest piece with our initial. That then belonged to us. The next one would have an opportunity to throw his knife into our portion of the Pie and, if he was successful in making his knife stick, would be able to cut off a piece for himself. It was possible for one person to claim the whole pie for themselves and that was always our goal . It was a great pass time and I don’t recall any one of us ever getting stuck in the foot with an errant knife.
Most of my memories were of wonderful time spent with Aunt Flo, doing things that I never had a chance to do at home. Like, going to the restaurant on main street for coffee break mid morning, where I would have a Coke and a pastry of some kind. Aunt Flo loved her pastries. At her house she would let me use her crochet cotton and yarns which I loved to work with. There was always something exciting in the air and we never knew what would be next. Aunt Flo had that effect on me all through my life and these feelings are still with me as I remember her.
Post #22
You wrote on September 4, 2007 at 12:44am
I’ll start a memory about Mom’s house.
One of the fondest memories was when all the siblings got together to build Grandma a wooden deck off the back door. It was so nice to have all the siblings there along with their spouses. Everyone had their expertise and tools to putt the whole thing together in the one day. With a couple of trips to the store for odds and ends it all fit into place. Then a few pictures were taken of the work crew enjoying the deck after completion.
I think the deck was built about 1988 or maybe 1989
Post #23
Irene Kerr replied to your post on September 4, 2007 at 11:24am
She was so happy about that day that she wrote a lovely story about it. Didn’t we see a deer or something?
My happiest memories (like everyone else I’m sure) were around the kitchen table. I would arrive, and her first comment would be her honest assessment of my appearance “my you are looking well” - “tired” - “have you put on weight?” - “your face looks fuller!”.
Then we would spend lots of time getting caught up on the family gossip. She knew EVERYTHING that was going on in her family. Then we would talk about my work, writing, current affairs, and anything else that came up. We always had tea (made properly) and she was forever trying to foist treats off on me. (Even if my face did look “fuller”).
One of my fondest memories is the visit I had with her last Christmas Eve for the entire afternoon. While I loved to see other relatives there, it was nice to have her to myself. I could yell as loud as I wanted to, and not deafen anyone else. We had a wonderful visit, but there was a sadness about her that I hadn’t seen before. She was worried about staying in her house, and about being a burden to everyone. But we still had lots of laughs and it was so nice.
I consider myself very blessed to have had her in my life for so long.
Post #24
Norene Cawthorn Reaume (Calgary, AB) wroteon September 4, 2007 at 10:19pm
I remember the day the deck was built. It was in 1989 because Paul was about 7 months old. It really was a happy day, everybody worked so well together.
My greatest memories of Grandma were around the table too. She had so many stories to tell and I always found her so amazing. I was in wonder of all the things she had done, especially single handedly raising her children. Yet she always made me feel that I was wonderful too. I used to call them my healing visits. You could walk in the door feeling glum and walk out with a skip in your step. Grandma, you are missed dearly.
Post #25
Steven Dale Cawthorn (Calgary, AB) wrote on September 8, 2007 at 10:28pm
I remember oh so much but where do I start?? chips and grilled cheese for lunch on Fridays? Getting stabbed in the leg by a unnamed sister? Building forts out of sticks with dad. the old chevy at Chestemere? Fondest of course is sleeping in the loft with no roof listening to songs from the burger baron, (now the Inn at/on the Lake) jumping off the train and getting sprayed by a big ol skunk, really it was Danny’s fault taking veggies from Georges house across from the cabin (when aunty mom defended us )almost 50 years a million memories ...priceless,,, more to come :)
Post #26
Norene Cawthorn Reaume (Calgary, AB) wrote on September 9, 2007 at 9:31am
Hah ha ha Stevie. You might have mentioned you were stabbed (poked really hard) with a fork. I didn’t do it. :) Wasn’t there a flying dart someone was the recipient of? Then there was about the only time we ever heard Dad (Uncle Ben) swear. We were helping him “plant” the garden. He was planting potatoes and we followed behind digging them up. All I remember is flying down the back alley at 100 miles per hour with Dad yelling after us. What angels we were.
Post #27
Irene Kerr replied to Norene’s poston September 9, 2007 at 3:02pm
I didn’t do it either. That only leaves one sister....
Post #28
Irene Kerr replied to your post on September 16, 2007 at 10:04pm
What a wonderful story - there is a HUGE lesson in there.
It’s hard to believe that the place where our family doc is located used to be a sledding hill!
You are a very gifted writer.
Post #29
Norene Cawthorn Reaume (Calgary, AB) wroteon September 16, 2007 at 11:38pm
Great story Uncle John! I’ll be sure to read it to Dad.
Post #30
Rhoda Hollander replied to your post on September 17, 2007 at 1:37pm
What a Great and Accurate story! You really are a gifted writer.
Post #33
You wrote on April 25, 2009 at 12:42am
The Bob Sled story has been moved to a new web location, here is the new location:
This story I shall call “The Bob Sled” , I was thinking about Norene’s post saying she shares Facebook with Uncle Ben. He will be part of this story so thanks for sharing with your Dad.
I'm trying something different here for my next story. I'm going to take you away from Facebook and Cross Roads for a few minutes of good memories for me.
Follow me with this link.........