...Hilary Clinton quoted in 1996.
Back in my day (I know I know, I am starting to sound like
my Mother)…it wasn’t necessarily so. I
was raised in the country so the ‘village’ aspect didn’t really exist. We had a family. We had each other. I am a baby boomer and yes, I was squarely in my teens throughout
the sixties. Born in the fifties it was
still considered post war I guess.
I was two or three years old when my Father made the
decision to ‘go out west’ to find work.
It was not because he was going to make high wages or because
(nonexistent) EI had run out. It was to put
bread on the table, to put it bluntly.
He, along with a couple of friends boarded a train with suitcases filled
with food for them to exist on until they reached their destination. Their destination was the ‘lumber woods’ in Saskatchewan. I was so young I thought the ‘lumber woods’
was a grove of trees that I could see on the other side of our river. Considering my age – it was all relative; it
looked really really far away to me.
The day my Father left, he had to walk down our clay lane to
hitch a ride to the train station with the neighbors who were fortunate enough
to own a car. Mom and Dad had just taken
groceries home. In the brown paper bags
were chocolate bars – a parting present from my Dad. They were a big treat ‘back then’. As my Dad walked down the lane (my Mother
recounted this story), I took off on a dead run to take a chocolate bar to him
as I thought he had forgotten it. He
didn’t see me. An older sibling caught
up to me and escorted me back to the house.
Dad often said years later…if he had seen me, he never would have
left.
Dad was away roughly 6 months. He left my Mom and five children behind to
fend the best we could on the meager earnings he sent home. He made $1.00 a day in the ‘lumber woods’. We
didn’t own a car, so the neighbors would take my Mom to town for groceries and the
like and the same neighbors always saw to it we attended church on
Sundays. My Mom ordered clothes from the
Sears Roebuck and T.Eaton Company’s catalogues. She would fill out the order form and mail it. Weeks later the goods would be delivered c.o.d. to the local post office. She
sewed the girls’ clothes and it was a fine day when we donned these new
garments with the ‘new’ smell of fresh cotton. Because I was so young, I cannot recall many
other details.
When my Dad arrived home, I wasn’t sure who he was. It didn't take a long time for a child as
young as me to forget. He didn’t force it, but
opened his black and white suitcase (which still exists today) and began to
take out the trinkets he brought home for us.
There was a little ceramic grey kitten with a pink bow around its neck along with a black standard poodle with a
chain around its neck and a baby poodle attached (similar to the dollar store items you see today). There were others, but these two stand out in
my mind. They were displayed on our windowsills for years. Dad never went 'out west' again, but times
were still tough. Work was getting
harder and harder to find on our little Island.
After much deliberation, my Mother decided to join the workforce. It was 1963.
I can still see my Mom walking down the snow covered field
in mid April with her suitcase in hand.
She was heading to the USA where there were still jobs for East
Coasters. At nine, I wasn’t sure what
all this meant. I didn’t know how long
she would be gone, and I felt lost and confused to see my older siblings
crying. I wrote to her nearly every
day. I loved getting her letters in
return. She wrote to each one of us
individually and it must have taken up most of her free time. She told us stories of the people she was
working for and always kept her tone light.
It was reassuring.
Back at home we did our best to keep the house
running. My Father did his best. My Mom had taught him how to bake bread. I thought it comical to see his big
hands kneading the dough. He had a hard
time with me…I was a picky eater and I am sure he was terrified that Mom would
return to see me a mere ghost of myself.
So every morning, like a sentry he stood by the door with homemade eggnog
in a tall glass and I was not allowed out the door until I drank it. I did.
To this day I detest Eggnog! My
Mom returned home the following July.
She missed my sister’s grade 12 graduation by a week or so, but we were ecstatic
to have her home. She came home with new clothes for us all and her smile lit up the house again.
My Mom found work as a Nanny/housekeeper in our home town
that year. In the sixties it wasn’t
unheard of for kids to be latch-key kids although our house was never locked in those days. My sister and I would come home from school and the first order of the
day was to change out of our ‘school clothes’. There would be a note on the table from my Mom
with instructions on what to prepare for supper. We learned really young how to prep
vegetables and how to light the oil/wood stove so dinner could be cooked. I also learned it was not cool to throw out ‘leftovers’. Especially if those said leftovers was fish
(which I detested). My Father loved
fish, leftover or not. He was less than
pleased to discover the barn cat had a feast on his leftover fish. His blue eyes widened in shock and disbelief
when I fessed up and said the cat ate it.
This mistake was never repeated…I was a quick study!
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| Our family circa 1965 |
My sisters and I had our allotted chores scheduled on Saturdays. There were few extra curricular activities for us like swimming, gymnastics or sports of any kind. Housecleaning was performed by every one of
us. I was given ‘light duties’ since I
was the youngest and deemed incapable of doing anything that involved lifting
or hard physical labor. So I
dusted. I took all day to dust (I got
easily distracted in those days too). Today
it is still my most ‘unfavorite’ chore.
I would help my older brother haul in the firewood with his promise to
pull me up the hills when we went sledding.
He made good on his promise and would sled with me for hours.
We were rarely left with babysitters. Our parents didn’t go out. I can remember one time a neighbor stayed
with us so Mom and Dad could go to the movies.
One time. The next time they took
me with them. It was a Western called ‘North
to Alaska’ with John Wayne. It was
supposed to be a comedy but it was totally over my head and not understanding
the humor, I fell asleep. I still fall
asleep during a movie – it’s like a sedative.
Today things are so different. Some say it takes a village now to raise a
child. With both parents typically out
of the home working, children are in the care of early childhood educators,
after-school programs and the like. Will
today’s children be better (or worse) off for the most part? Time will tell. It’s hard for anyone today to decide because
they have little to compare it to.
I am soon to be an official ‘senior’. That dreaded word that many deny is their
current state. I am also retired and can appreciate the work and organization it takes to keep a
household running smoothly. I cannot
internalize what young families are coping with today as there is no comparison
to what ‘is’ today and what ‘was’ in my day.
Suffice to say, I have the joy of growing old (the alternative is not so
great). And I still wear a peace symbol around my neck.
To the young families of today, I wish you Godspeed in all
you do. It is because of you that I stay
young at heart and mind. Thank you for
this blessing. And if I lament on ‘my
day’, it is mostly because I feel it important to know your past – just like
my parents who passed their knowledge on to me.
So with all due respect...it does not necessarily take 'a village' to raise a child. Opposition to Hilary Clinton's theory was evident when the Republican nominee Bob Dole quoted in his acceptance speech:
"with all due respect, I am here to tell you, it does not take a village to raise a child. It takes a family to raise a child."
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| My Mom and Dad. July 1944 |
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