Remembering the Farm: Cavell School 1953-1960 Grades 1-7

My father and I attended the same one room school Grades 1 to 8 in Cavell, the little village two miles north of the farm where I grew up.  My father, specializing in trouble and recess, fell out of a tree while collecting magpie eggs (on which there was a 5 cent bounty), breaking his arm and thus missed writing his grade 8 exams.  The teacher offered to give him his grade if he promised never to go to school again. Grades were never my problem.

My mother could not wait to send me to school as I was making her crazy at home.  However once I got to school and learned to read she never heard froom me again except at meal time.  One benefit of a multi-grade classroom is that you automatically learn what the older kids are learning.  By Grade 3, I was reading all the library books of the higher grades and couldn't wait for the new box of books to come from the school office each month.  With 8 grades to teach and all subjects, we were left to work on our own most of the time, which suited me anyhow.

Dad drove us by car or team and sleigh until I was old enough to handle our own horses. I was in about grade 4 and my brother Ross in Grade 2 when we started riding a pair of old horses to school.  In grade 6, we bought brand new CCM 3 speed bikes with our own hard earned money which we rode in summer.  We drove the old team and sleigh in winter. Two other families also came by horse. In winter we hung out in the barn sometimes as it was warm and and it was not inside the school.

Rules were different in those days.  Recesses and noon hours were unsupervised.  All the boys carried jack-knives.  When I was 10, I bought a genuine Stockman 3 blade knife that today would be over $100. We played "Stretch" quite a bit and no feet were stabbed.  If there were enough kids we played softball with teams and if not enough we played "Scrub", everyone supposedly getting a turn to bat of the noon hour.  The school had a high pitched roof and we played a game called "Anti-I-Over".in which two teams one on each side of the school would throw a soccer ball over the school and hope the other tean never caught it.  You couldn't cheat because you could hear it bounce.

Every school has its bullies and this one was no exception.  My grandfather fought on the School Board with their grandfather; their father and uncle made my father's life miserable and the two brothers made my life hell.  They were athletes and I was anything but, therefore easily beaten upon.  Although in a sports day event in Grade Three, I won a third prize in high jump, proving that at least young elephants can jump.

Of course we had a Christmas concert every year just before Christmas Holidays.  Early in Dec our fathers would show up and set up the stage against the windows while we crowded our desks to the other side of the room.  We practiced plays and drills and songs enough to more or less get them down pat. The year we did a Teddy Bear's Picnic marching drill and all our masks fell down so we couldn't see, the effect was far more entertaining than the teacher had hoped for.  Santa always came at the end of the concert and brought all the students bags of Christmas candy and oranges. The students drew names and exchanged gifts also.

Winters were cold in the school. There was a big coal and wood furnace in the basement but there were mornings the school was so cold we would all huddle around the big square register in the floor.  Once in a while a rubber eraser would get dropped down the register "accidentally" on top of the furnace and we would have to flee the room until the smoke died down. We all packed lunches (and somewhere is my black metal lunch box that I carried for 12 years, still in good condition).  In winter we would bring a jar of stew or soup or something and at recess we would put the jars in a boiler with a couple inches of water on the register and by noon they would be hot.  Thermos bottles had glass liners and were short lived so never used.

All rural schools in our area were closed in 1960 and we were bussed to a larger school.  Six rooms and twelve grades.  That is another story.

This cairn marks the spot where the school once stood

Classes of 1956.  That is me (Grade 3) far right seated and Ross (Grade 1) far left front row in love with Linda Watt also Grade 1. The following is a list of students in the picture.  There are 23 visible and two hidden students so obviously I am missing a couple of people.

Students I remember

Bleier - Georgina, Eileen, Leonard
Galbraith – Jack, Tom
Hingston – Allen, Ross
Huber – Fred
Kamer – Joe
Krause – Vince, Carol, Barbara
Thomas – Elton, Willie, Mike
Uland – Alma, Donna, Betty
Ward – Ralph, Elaine
Watt – Gary, Donald

Watt - Linda

Teachers

Ed Bitz (Gr 1)
Arelene Jeffries (Gr 2)
Irene (Veit) Bleier (Gr3-5)
Hilda Ulrich (sub end Gr 5)
Mrs. Smith (Gr 6)
Mrs Barr (Gr 7)

Clean Bee and the Drone

E'er dark tonight, the house will be spotless.  Tanya went into clean mode yesterday and attacked the kitchen.  Our mouse infestation may have had something to do with it.  The kickboards came off and under the counters thoroughly cleaned and the mouse bait returned.  Nibbles on one package indicated some success.  All the drawers came out and contents cleaned and returned, sorted and organized.

Today Katya came to help finish the rest of the house, arriving about 9:00 and the two of them have been hard at it ever since.  Other than a bit of fetch and carry, cleaning the junk off my desk and making lunch for the ladies, I am uninvolved in the process.  Well, I did go to town for cash and to buy some bread and water.  The water has turned muddy again, indicating repairs somewhere down the line so we use bottled water for cooking and tea until it clears up again.

Last night, Tanya made compote.  She boiled up apricots and strawberries from the freezer and fresh apples in enough water to make a drinkable juice.  Nice red, needs sugar but otherwise very good.  Katya was working upstairs and it was warm so Tanya said to bring her a glass of compote.

We have this cheap Cherry liqueur, $1.50 per half litre.  Tastes like sweet Cherry Kool-Aid with 20% pure alcohol added.  Definitely "end of the party" stuff.  I poured Katya a tall glass of compote and added a generous dollop of this cherry hootch for good measure.  She drank half the glass, pronounced it excellent and then backed off when her face flushed red.  I had to explain to Tanya what I had done and was instructed "not to help" anymore.

More Old Photos

Tanya dug out her box of old photos for me to scan.  Tanya wanted to send some to her old school mate (family name Bengert) now living in Germany.  Here are a few of them.

This is Tanya's Grandfather Franskeyvich.  He and his two brothers were all killed in The Great Patriotic War, Tanya's GRandfather at the Battle of Kursk.

Tanya, her Babuska Franskeyvich, sister Lyudmilla (Luda) and mother Maria (Masha) getting ready to work in the potato garden.  Notice the two girls cling to their grandmother. Their mother was a veterinarian and worked long hours while their grandmother was at home with the family.

This photo of Tanya's Aunt Natasha, Uncle Kolya (Nikolai) on the left and their oldest daughter Nadia, third from right, with their neighbours was taken about 40 years ago in the Taiga area far to the north of Krasnoyarsk.  Tanya's folks lived there too for the first five years of Tanya's life before moving back to Kolyegina village in Khakasia. The truck is to drive to the next village where there was an airport.  there were no roads only trails.

Four Brothers-in-Law.  This photo was taken in Kolyegina about 10 years earlier than the one above as that is Nadia sitting in the wagon between her Dad Kolya on the right and Tanya's Dad Pyotr, with the bandage.  Her dad had fallen on ice and split his head open, hence the bandage. The men are married to four of six sisters: Valya, Masha (Tanya's Mom), Anna and Natasha. 

...and then the fight began

Wife: Whenever I am down in the dumps I buy a new outfit.
Husband: I wondered where you got them.

This month has been a bit stressful for a number of reasons.  We have stayed close to home, conserving our cash.  The weather has been cool and damp; while it has not rained much it never warms up enough to dry things up either.  Fall is mouse season as they move indoors for the winter.  There was one in the drawer under the stove, which was the last straw.  It was mouse hunting time.

We stopped at the local garden shop and Tanya went in to buy mouse bait.  A five minute chore if ever there was one.  Thirty minutes later she comes out with a new house plant.  One she had never seen before so couldn't resist.  It is called Crossandra Fortuna and is just lovely.  I found these two pictures on Wikipedia and Flickr as it will be a while before ours is this big.

For $5, it is a pretty cheap pick-me-up for my wife. I promised to keep her in roses. House plants are even better.

Remembering the Farm: Little Church on the Prairies

My sister, Evelyn, in front of the little church we attended from birth until we left home.

My sister sent me a picture taken this fall of the old church we used to attend and many of her memories of it. That got me thinking about the many years I attended services there.

My Grandfather Freke  Wolfe Hingston (who was also DC Power's grandfather) was a sincere man of God and minister of the gospel. He immigrated to Canada from Skibbereen County Cork Ireland in 1906 at the age of 21, settled on his homestead and then began holding church services in the Landis Saskatchewan area. A Pentecostal Church was established in Cavell in 1926 and the following year, my Grandfather took over as Pastor while continuing to farm on the home place two miles south of town.

Ad from The Landis Record c. 1910

In 1946 the building pictured above, a former butcher shop, was purchased and renovated and served the local assembly until 1987. The name Beulah Mission on the front was missing the first S for as long as I can remember. My grandfather retired in 1952 and my father took over in the position, as it was then called, of Elder, where he was later joined by Floyd Nasheim. The little flock, never numbering more than 20 to my recollection, which attended faithfully every Sunday, were now followers of the North Battleford based “Move of the Spirit” and that is the faith in which my brothers, sister and I grew up.

My father or Floyd led the services and along with my Uncle Cyril led the singing too. Hymns were all acapella as the old pump organ rarely had someone to play it. Dad would start on keys that were comfortable for him to sing and had a fine singing voice. Mostly we sang the old hymns, without aid of hymnal. At the Cross, It is Well with My Soul, The Old Rugged Cross, Great is Thy Faithfulness, I am Thine, Oh Lord and dozens and dozens of others.

Services were long for young kids and to pass time we would look out the window, trying not to get caught, and count the rail cars as the trains went by or watch the birds in the caragana hedge or anything that moved for that matter.

We looked forward to visitors, especially the “Traveling Ministries” who would come from North Battleford to minister to the little assemblies all over the country. One was Brother Hunt (we were all Brothers and Sisters in the Lord) who was a Greek scholar among other things and very interesting to listen to but also very long winded. Apparently I told him one Sunday that if I had known he was coming I’d have eaten a second bowl of cornflakes. He was the man who convinced me that education was important and that cattle were an integral part of a well managed farm environment. He set me on my life’s journey as a beef cattle specialist. I owe him for that.

Another favourite family was the Hinchliffs. Their son Mark was my age and we would always have a great time playing in the afternoons while the folks visited. And (my future in-laws) the Livingstons. They were Aunt and Uncle long before they became Mom and Dad. Ella came with them the first (and only?) time when she was seven and I was eight. I was smitten and she was less than impressed. Seventeen years later she married me anyway.

The last service was held in the old building in 1987. The young folks all moved away and the old folks either died or moved away. So Dad closed the building down and for the next 15 years drove the hour or so to North Battleford to attend church service. The old church and my grandfather’s old house are about the only two “original” buildings left standing of the little town where I went to school and to church.

Freedom's Just Another Word

The dogs went for a run tonight after dark.  They could have gone earlier, the turkeys were not out of their yard today.  I went out about 8:00 pm and whistled.  You could hear them galloping down the road as hard as they could go.  I had two wieners (they call them sausages here. Sausage is called kolbasa.) chopped up for their reward bribe.  I bought the cheapest ones I could find.  Package of 10 for about $0.75.  The brand is STUDENTSKI.  Fitting.  Tanya says they need a PENSIONAIRE brand too.

We have an unheated attic storeroom over our garage. Once in a long while during the night a sparrow or two will find their way under the eaves into the room and, of course, become trapped. Come morning they beat against the glass on the door from my office as it is the only light they see. This morning there were two birds again.  I opened the door and they immediately crashed into the windows in my office, one falling to the floor, the other fluttering in fear against the window.  I herded it into the bedroom and opened a window and screen for it but it had crashed into another window so hard it was just sitting also.  I picked it up and set it on the ledge by the open window, then went and got the other who was still just sitting on the floor.  I set it beside its friend and pulled the curtain across, leaving them to fly out when they chose.  When I came back in a few minutes they had regained strength and were gone out the window.

They were so scared and frantic, I felt so bad for them.  Life is hard enough for a sparrow but they were at least free to fly.  I don't like cages, or pens or chains or fences, though I recognize they are sometimes necessary.  I hate it when dogs are penned up, even my dogs with a big yard to run in.  There are too many big dogs here that spend their life on the end of a 4 meter chain.  For what I don't know, I guess the fear factor must act as a deterrent to people coming in to a yard.  I'd like to turn them all lose.

I hate prisons too, though they are also a necessary evil.  There should be fewer people in them if we spent more effort at the source of the problems, better safety nets and services to help people before they become criminals.  And fewer people if we had more intelligent laws.  We don't put kids in jail for smoking a cigarette, nor do we lock up the people who sold them the package.  We need fewer people in jail for the "non-crime" of possession and more Bernie Madoff's in jail for so-called white collar crime of fraud and related which cost society so much.

Herding Turkeys

The hounds have been confined to quarters this weekend. I can't even take them for a walk in daylight hours. Zhenia has decided to free range his turkeys on the street in front of our houses. Tanya and I would like nothing better than to turn the dogs loose to wreak havoc on those stupid gobbling birds. I doubt they would kill them but certainly would chase and frighten them to death. It is probably best for neighbourly relationships to just THINK about how much fun it would be.

Maybe they will be back in their pens Monday when Zhenia goes back to work.