VARIETY: THE SPICE OF LIFE
Written by Ronald MizonPublished on January 2018
Having attended the recent concert in the hall and the get together afterwards, my mind started to work on a little idea that I could stage a sort of “junior concert” of my own if I could but just find a suitable venue. A brain wave hit me and I thought of the huge attic in our house (Coles’s). With Aunt Allie’s permission I surveyed the huge attic which led off the three upstairs bedrooms.ie mine, Bessie’s and Gladys’s.
The attic was quite spacious for my needs. A chair or two were requisitioned and boxes too were located to sit on. Some old curtains were located and put up to cover my stage.
Now, my production! I requisitioned two chorus girls.
ie Bessie and Carol. I was the Director, Producer, Master of Ceremonies and Head Cashier. Original thoughts were mine, such as they were. The chorus girls did step dances with ribbons around themselves and ribbons in their hair. I sung an Eddie Cantor song as I twirled my cane (really just a thin bamboo stick). My song was “Ma! She’s Making Eyes At Me”. They step-danced around me and as I rolled my eyes (as Eddie did), they came towards me as I sang, “Oh Ma she’s kissing me” they then broke away and sang nursery rhymes and gave recitations of various poems. Then I became their funny Man!! Played “Knock, Knock, (audience) “Who’s there?” Answer: Ivor . Question? “Ivor who?” Answer: “I’ve a bell on me bike.” (get it?). Then the oldie, “My dog’s got no nose.” “Oh, how does it smell?” Answer: "Terrible".
My audience was just young children but Aunt Allie and Gladys gave us their support. Admission was modest – just 2 cents which included a cookie and a drink of lemonade.
We had great fun and it went down well. I finished off by singing, “It’s A Long Way To Tipperary” and as my audience went home the murmurings were heard, “when will the next concert be?” Oh well, I thought, that’s the price of fame I suppose. I’ll have to start thinking again.
Reverend Barratt had left off at Etter Road and had been moved to Sambro, further around the Atlantic coast. We did visit him and his family on one occasion and enjoyed looking around and meeting his flock. Reverend Guy Case took over from Rev. Barratt. He was the man who heard our un-English or un-Canadian language when our makeshift raft was being attempted to launch earlier.
The Reverend went around visiting his flock in a Mode-T Ford. One evening whilst he was at the Hall conducting some meeting or other, I was outside and noticed some of the older boys lifting up the rear part of his car and putting two blocks of wood under the rear axle so that the rear wheels were just off the ground. After this prank was executed they just hung around in what you might call a nonchalant fashion, looking as if butter would not melt in their mouths. Eventually, the Reverend came out, waved to his onlookeers, jumped into his “Tin Lizzie”, started it up and off he went – but he didn’t!! His back wheels spun like billyoh and he went nowhere. It wasn’t until some of the elders spotted the problem and to a man lifted up his car whilst another extracted the blocks. Problem solved, the Reverend smiled all around and off he went. No hard feelings there!
Saturdays I began to help Gordon Mumford when he went to Halifax for Glen to collect items for Glen the store keeper. I naturally didn’t attempt to lift the sacks of flour, just small items. It really was just a ride out for me and to keep Gordon company in the Ford pick-up. When we passed the Bedford basin and gazed at the freighters at anchor and the RCN warships, Gordon pointed out to me the side of the hill where Halifax used to be until it was blown away by the repercussions of an explosion in the 1st World War.
I became quite friendly with the Mumfords who lived on the Uniacke Estate and I became a frequent visitor and stayed many times to evening meal. Harry was a good friend of mine as well and he trusted me with his .22 rifle in the woods but I did not shoot at birds. If I had, I’m sure Uncle George would have found me out. Harry went into the Army later and served in France (later being wounded, I think), however, he returned home safely and took up his civilian life once again, thank goodness.
Monday came again soon enough and off I went to Windsor Academy again. My attendance was going well, so I thought, but I was somewhat concerned that I was missing part of the first lesson and the last part of the second. Perhaps coming to the Academy was a mistake and not a good idea after all. I was struggling and could not make it up at home on my own, however, I plowed on and eventually arrived at the summer break and on the last day was handed a report card to take home. My heart dropped. I didn’t do very well except in English, Geography and History. Oh well, I did my best, but Uncle George was not exactly over the moon. I noticed that he did not mention renewing my rail tickets for next term. Oh well, I thought, plenty of time yet, but was there?? About a week into the school holidays a man arrived in his car and was in private conversation with Aunt Allie and Uncle George. Bessie and I were told not to wander off. Later, the man took us to his car and introduced himself as Mr. McKinnon from the Department of Health in Halifax. He inquired how we were and if we were happy. He then bade us goodbye and off he went.
Things returned to normal for about three weeks then Mr. McKinnon returned again and talked further with Aunt Allie and Uncle George, then Bessie and I. It transpired that we were leaving Mount Uniacke and we were to collect all our belongings. ie clothes, toys, books, etc. and in a flash we boarded Mr. McKinnon’s car and off we went waving goodbye to the Coles. No one else was about so in my mind’s eye I bid goodbye to all my school friends forever and with a heavy heart, endeavoured to prepare myself to return to England, so I thought.
Oh no, I was going to Pastures New.
It was quite a shock, I’ll tell you! Here we were settling down in Mount Uniacke, as we called home, and at the drop of a hat, without any warning, we were up and away to a new destination. As far as I could make out, Aunt Allie was not as well as she could be and having three children to look after was probably putting too much strain on her. Though I have heard in recent months that she had passed away at the grand old age of 104! Uncle George, so I have been informed, passed away due to cancer, though I do not know exactly when. I shall never forget the Cole’s kindness who opened their home to us in our time of need. My heart was heavy and sad at having to leave our Uniacke home.
At first I thought we were going to return to England but Mr. McKinnon informed us that we were going to a new billet. We seemed to travel for miles and during this journey it was transpired that Bessie and I were to be parted and live in separate homes. My new home was to be in a small village by the name of Milford Station, still in Hants, whereas Bessie was to go to Thorburn in Pictou County, until we could be brought together again at an undisclosed date. Bessie was to stay with a Mr. and Mrs. McKay and originally I was to stay with a Mr. and Mrs. McKie, but they had a change of heart and I ended up with Mr. and Mrs. Ernie Wallace and Annie Wallace in Milford Station. So, it was the first stop for me at Milford Station. Mr. and Mrs. Wallace greeted me with Mr. McKinnon who had a few brief words with them and then with a few words to each of us, Bessie and I bade each other a tearful farewell for the time being. For how long we had no idea. The Wallaces showed me around the house and what was to be my bedroom. They were early risers and so I had to be too.
It was quite a shock to find that my bedroom had no electric light and the only illumination was to be a kerosene lamp! What a come down from life at Uniacke!
Forms of address were a little on the formal side. I was to address them as Mr. and Mrs. Wallace but later mister said to me, “Just call me Ernie”. Ernie was a supervisor at a feed mill which stood alongside the railroad from Antigonish to Halifax. The mill prepared animal foods and a small section was set aside for the preparation of a breakfast cereal called Sun-Ray Cereal. Naturally, my breakfast became the same as the Wallaces’. It was quite good with fruit mixed in with it.
As it was still summer school holidays, Ernie, in his spare time, took me around the feed mill and gave me an outline as to how it worked. He then took me on a tour of the village, the school and a very small ice-cream parlour (no such thing in Uniacke). He treated me to my first Milford milkshake. We went on then to the Railroad Station where I was introduced to the Station Master – a Mr. Barter. He in turn introduced me to his son, Sonny and his daughter, Florence and they became my first friends in Milford, the village of my new abode.
Mr. Wallace (Ernie) was a gentle, easy-going man and I think he was pleased to have a young lad to talk to about men and boy things. Uncle George was very kind to me and thoughtful but I understand him now better. He did not always have enough time to “parlee” with me, having a tough business to run and quite a lot of employees to keep his eyes on.
I am just trying to make a comparison between him and Ernie.
Whereas Uncle George was a busy, bustling man, Ernie had a slower gaite. George B Cole will always be my Uncle George, even today. If I refer to him, he is still my Uncle George, even though he is not with us anymore. Now, Mrs. Wallace was quite different from her husband. She was, apparently, an ex-school teacher and I sometimes thought that she had the idea that she was still one, except she was “sans cane”. She gave me instructions as to how I was to live my life with them. One of the first things I had to do was to wash my socks every morning and put on a clean pair for the day. I had to carry water into the house and keep the wood box full daily. When I was to start school after the holidays I was to do my homework and memory lessons every morning before I went to school. Her philosophy was that if I did it before I went to school I would still have it fresh in my head for the day, especially the memory lessons. So I used to get up with the birds around six o’clock, wash and have my breakfast with the Wallaces and help with the breakfast dishes then get straight on with my homework. Memory lessons are reciting back to her verses from history or poems of about three or four verses long. It was completely different from my life at Mount Uniacke. Looking back now, I am sure if I had Annie Wallace behind me when I was at Uniacke and attending Windsor Academy, I would have shown much improvement. It wasn’t all work though. Play time was after school until bedtime, which came early to cope with the early risings of the whole family. I came on very well with the Wallaces. I was beginning to grow up from a little boy to a youth. During the summer I made friends with local boys and girls whom I would attend school with later and an elderly lady who Annie introduced me to. She was a widow and needed someone to pop in daily to help with the water and the woodbox and chop some kindling. At times I would run errands from the local shop. She would reward me by making milk junkets and cookies for me. She was a dear soul. At the top of our road was a big farm house and the owners had two orphan boys living and helping them with the farm work. The eldest boy was called Herb Marr and the small one was Jackie. Herb or Bert became my pal and later we would go to school together.