ADVENTURES — with Ursula Maxwell-Lewis
“If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then to me.” says Macbeth to the witches when asking if they can predict the future.
Christmas gift shopping has the same effect on me.
Often, though, I think the witches (for lack of a better contact) respond to my quirky Aquarian mental gymnastics … as occurred yesterday.
Buried in a stash of paper, pictures, passionate possibilities, and “priceless” cartoons, up popped a Johannesburg Star full page feature dated Friday, Oct. 11, 1957, recounting pioneering in Canada. It was written by a Scottish freelance writer, former Canadian immigrant and (at the time) new South African immigrant, my mother, Jean Munro.
In the column, mother mentions her first immigration to Canada was in 1929. More than a decade later, in 1948, she re-immigrated with husband and six-year-old daughter.
Amid post-war immigration promises of warm welcomes and a wealth of engineering jobs for well-trained blokes like dad, and despite family tears and entreaties not to go, off we went to the Promised Land.
The column describes a picture of a less than rosy jobs market and a limited, exorbitant, housing market that discriminated against families with children.
“One day we heard of a piece of ‘bushland’ hitherto untouched by the hand of man and owned by a Clarkson farmer,” she wrote.
After describing negotiations, price, etc., she goes on to say: “On a brilliant September day we pitched a tent (rented for 12 dollars a month) in the dubious shelter of a clump of rapier keen thorny scrub trees, as far as possible from the road….”
Her description of time, place, and emotions offers intense memories. The nearest bus stop was three miles away, the town seven, and Toronto—where Dad, despite excellent engineering credentials, found a job selling jewellery in a department store—was 27 miles away.
“The most trying chore of all was the one-and-a-half-mile scramble across filleted fields for water from the nearest farm.”
The tale continues, and—while courageous—isn’t pretty either financially or physically. Nor was unsympathetic officialdom.
The short story is that father, who had had enough of the Canadian Dream, went back to sea. An Imperial Oil job application immediately resulted in well-paid work on a global scale. Mother and I remained ‘”down on the farm.” Bear in mind that social services of any kind were a thing of the future. Immigration (certainly as Brits) was do or die.
“About three weeks before Christmas, while working with the aid of two faithful friends in a blinding sleet storm, trying to complete the roof of our one-room cabin (a portion was partitioned off for the child’s room), my husband received a message offering him a job as an engineer officer on an oil tanker.”
This resulted in a few more frantic boards on the cabin and Dad’s immediate departure for Halifax to join his ship … and finally make a living wage.
The tale continues for a few years until mother finally reports the saga ending: “When we finally left the ‘bush’ … I looked and felt like something that had been left too long in the oven. But I am convinced that my daughter will never again rise to greater heights than she did when helping Mama ‘tame the wild.’ For holding the small fort was no idyll.”
For the record, immigrants of our era were on their own: The first permanent program for the funding of social assistance, the Unemployment Assistance Act, was put into place in 1956. By that time we’d survived on our own—and had departed for another commonwealth country, South Africa.
Is this a Christmas story?
Sure it is. Finding the papers, clipping, notes, columns, and a red Western Airline bag full of all the letters I wrote to mother (unearthed only after her passing) while I worked with various airline around the world are priceless gifts Amazon can’t provide.
For the record, my maternal grandmother in Scotland learned, at age 86, to type. Her memories were published in Glasgow papers and a handwritten document by my uncle Jimmy Munro recounting his tough 1929 immigrant years in Western Canada also recently surfaced among my “souvenirs.” That’s a courageous tale for another day!
Will my children treasure them? No idea. But, for me? I’m thankful. It’s living history I participated in and which, thanks to a mother who wrote, read, laughed, and travelled, encourages me.
You, too, may have similar family archive “gifts.” If not, Cloverdale Public Library has an outstanding genealogy department, a resource to help you reveal family sagas both local and international. No witches here, but definitely today’s version of “looking into the seeds of time.” And perhaps sewing more with photo-books, letters or just sharing/taping (as my mother also did) family reminiscences, anecdotes or simply vignettes (happy, or not) for your ancestors.
Merry Christmas and best wishes for all other memory-making celebrations near and far. As we Scots say: Slàinte Mahth!
Ursula Maxwell-Lewis is the former owner/managing editor of the Cloverdale Reporter. Contact her at utravel@shaw.ca.
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MORE "ADVENTURES":
—————2012—————
Meet your muse in Surrey and Vancouver
—————2016—————
Sherlock Holmes: The Swiss Connection
Home on the range at the Cloverdale Rodeo
Off the British-beaten track by coach
A toast to Robbie Burns country
—————2017—————
Michael Jackson and the Rat Temple
Vimy Ridge on Canadian Museum of Flight radar
Volunteers at Cloverdale evacuation centre take the heat off of wildfire evacuees
—————2018—————
Tea tempts a self-professed coffee fanatic
-————-2019————--
Explore Nevada by travelling into a pioneer’s past
Japan’s courtesy, ofuro-style bathing, and snow monkeys
-————-2021————--
Historic Cloverdale United Church, signs of the times
Calgary’s Heritage Park offers a great deal of attractions
A Rocha’s Brooksdale Environmental Centre in Surrey offers rich experience
A trip to investigate some local magic
Prince Philip just got on with it—to our surprise
Festive reflections and recipes
*****
TABLES TURNED: Ursula Maxwell-Lewis chats about life, travel, and her start in journalism
-————-2022————--
Going through old paperwork and mementoes offers window into the past
A Lunar New Year lucky dip with historian Bob Sung
Caring and understanding at new hospice in Langley
Caring and understanding at Surrey Hospice Society
Escape to ‘Downton Abbey: A New Era’
Emancipation Day and the Black Loyalists of Nova Scotia
‘Beyond King Tut’ is mysterious, magical, and impressive
The reluctant traveller’s Christmas gift
-————-2023————--
Local grandmothers group helps African grandmothers
Living History: The coronation of King Charles III
Surrey’s close connection with the RCMP Musical Ride
100-year-old Surrey quilt reunites McAdam family
Surrey International Writers’ Conference welcomes people from around the world
Your own family story is a priceless gift
Sally Ann Kettle Campaign is about more than Christmas cheer
-————-2024————--
Chinatown Storytelling Centre offers window into proud Chinese-Canadian history
A passion for print: reflecting on the life of Wally Coombs
