With my parents, I believe education was important. They tried to help us in that area. Perhaps being the youngest, I was fortunate. Possibly Charlie being the oldest and Alice, who stayed home the winter Eleanor was born, were most deprived in this regard.

I believe our mother had a strong religious influence on some of us at least. She was from the Boston area, a little town called Middleton, Mass., and she spent most of her life near Middleton, N. S. She was an Episcopalian (Anglican). She took an active part in the United Church at Nictaux Falls and made sure all of us went to Sunday school and Church. (I was sorry to see that little church demolished about 10 years ago, but glad the steeple was saved and is on display in a yard where our public school is presently a home). She had a lovely soprano voice and sang many years in the church choir. I can also remember her singing for us in the home; two favorites were "The Big Rock Candy Mountain" and "Put My Little Shoes Away".

Although I taught Sunday school at the United Church several years, I gravitated more to the Baptist teachings. By age 16, I was a member. Since there was no baptismal tank in Nictaux, I was baptized in Torbrook. I can remember riding home with wet hair in the wagon with my parents. By that time, Dad had had his fill of cars and had reverted to horses (more on that later).

To give Dad his due also - he lived his religion. Although he wasn't a church going man, he attended infrequently. For years he supplied firewood for the Baptist minister and I'm sure produce as well found its way to their table. Dad and his friends held church in our barn most Sunday mornings. He always loved to socialize, was a good visitor and well read in spite of not having a high school education.

He was not frivolous, I don't remember him joining in any sports or games, but Mum loved a card game, Parcheesi, Chinese checkers, crokinole, snakes and ladders.

Christmas was always a happy time for me and I hope it will always remain that way. I have learned long since that the fact it is the birthday of the Christ Child is what makes it joyous. As a small child it was the smell of the "real" tree, silver garlands, even the red bells that were a bit worse for wear from having to be pinned to hold them together. Mum even hung boughs of greenery over door frames. We didn't have electric lights on the tree but they weren't missed. I think the glow was in our eyes. Although I suppose our gifts would be scorned by kids today. We were thrilled with anything we received. The idea of unwrapping something was as exciting as the contents.

Dad always made the same speech each year - something about paying bills coming ahead of buying presents. I think it was a cover up for the fact he couldn't really afford them but didn't want us to sense it. However, Mum proved to be the one who could make something out of next to nothing and we were always remembered.

We were very poor, but as children we were never reminded of this fact in a verbal way. Certainly we were not poor in spirit and we didn't need expensive toys as we learned to make our own fun.

That we were financially poor was perhaps evident in our wardrobe, the one pair of shoes, woods or lumberman's rubbers ankle length with laces (oh the embarrassment of these boys boots). My older sisters had even greater pangs when forced to wear white pinafores over dresses. They tell me these were often hidden behind the horse watering trough on "Spring Hill" half way to school.

I'll never forget my first pair of velvet overshoes with fur tops and up the front lacing. I was so proud of them, Eleanor and I received a pair each from older sister Mable who worked in Halifax and dressed in the latest fashion (Dad used to say he'd love to have the money she spent in clothes alone). She was instrumental in providing us with many luxuries we would not have attained until much later in life e.g., a bicycle and it was a girl's for Eleanor and me. I can even remember receiving a rubber apron from Mable at probably my only birthday party. I was so proud of it I wore it when I walked my pal Ruby half way up the big hill toward her house after the party.

I probably had the first leather coat (along with Eleanor) of any teenager in Nictaux Falls but althought it was a rich brown and quite lovely, I didn't fully appreciate Mabe's gift since no one else had one like it. This identifying with peers can be painful.

More about Dad - these sessions in our barn seemed to foster a fellowship among the men of the little village. Only later in life could I understand why Dad, a FINE old gentleman, didn't accompany Mum and the kids to Sunday school and Church. These men became faithful chroniclers of each others stories and a total kinship evolved.

Dad's inability as a marksman was a source of amusement to us, as kids he'd get so frustrated at the crows he'd grab the shot gun and his only hope was to scare them to death!

He was no better when it came to driving a car. He'd forget it needed steering. With a horse, after many trips over a familiar road, you can relax on the reins, give the horse his head as they call it, and sleep if you like. The horse will take you home. Indeed, such was often the case when Dad worked in Middleton (later in story).

Being a farmer, Dad would see a wood lot, or stand of trees, or blueberries in a pasture and the end result would be a lurch and the car would be in a ditch! He never did quite master the knack of meshing gears smoothly and often would back down a hill due to loss of power. In fact, in our old McLaughlin Buick (with isinglass windows) I can remember Mum ordering him to stop the car at the foot of "Spring Hill". She'd leave us in the car, and get out and walk and be picked up later. Main reason was the canal and bridge, were at the foot of the hill! Sometimes he would have to take several runs at it before he'd be able to master one hill to the watering trough then turn left and up the second hill, having to shift midway.

However, Dad taught us something more important than driving a car. We learned to love and trust an earthly father which prepared us to do the same with a heavenly Father and to put our faith to work.

I believe too that our mother taught us how God can change everyday situations. She seemed to always have sufficient unto the day and could even share with those outside the family unit.

We weren't aware of it at the time, but found out later that during the depression of the thirties when "tramps" (who were really only unemployed men) asked for a handout they were directed to our "Hillcrest Farm" (as it was registered) above Nictaux Falls. I believe we stood out as Christian caring people among our neighbors.

We had friends from Ontario visit the Falls in the summer of 1976. Although no Whitman's resided there (Brother Charlie had sold the farm) the couple enquired at Best's (formerly Ritcey) store if they could direct them to our farm. The man stood outside with them and pointed to our house and said, "Mr. Whitman was a fine old gentleman. I remember him well. The Whitman's didn't have much of this world's goods, but what they had they shared with others."

Another thing that both parents taught us was not to be afraid of work. "Hard work has never hurt anyone" was their maxim. They certainly set the example. Also, they seemed to show us that being content with your lot and not working for the highest pay but rather doing something you enjoy as your vocation was a good thing.

I have an idea that there were more prayers sent up on behalf of Mum's 10 kids than we ever imagined. Certainly her bible was well worn!

A cousin of Dad's, Bessie Fairn Mason, told me that our mother came to Nova Scotia as a bride when she was 19, and that she had auburn hair. Dad's mother called her, "A young slip of a girl" and didn't trust her to knead bread, churn butter, or do many of the household tasks Mum was anxious to learn. It became a matter of trial and error and self teaching after they bought Hill Crest Farm and moved to Nictaux Falls. She couldn't sew, knit or crochet when she got married, but as the babies arrived, so did the ability to cope. Most of our clothes were machine or hand made by her as were all the men's work socks. With 6 sons that meant lots of heavy mittens as well.

Dad raised sheep. It was the wool from them, washed, carded and cleaned and sent off to be spun into yarn, that provided Mum with the wherewithal for these.

Mum was the disciplinarian in our household since she was always there when problems arose. I'm sure all my brothers and sisters made that trek to cut a lilac switch knowing it would be used on our legs for misbehaving! Dad proved to be one who could easily be talked out of punishing us. He'd sometimes come upstairs to settle Eleanor and I if we were particularly noisy. I remember him saying, "Your mother sent me up here to spank you." We were cheeky enough to ask what he was waiting for and with that he'd start laughing and retreat!

Life on the farm was hard work for my parents, scratching out existence on 236 acres, much of it pastureland and rocks with a hidden asset of gravel. However, Dad had a lot of that stolen because it was located quite far from the house. Since those days, a recent owner of our farm made money selling the gravel as a result, the erosion has now encompassed what used to be our fields of produce, for example green and yellow beans for the cannery, plus strawberries, corn and other "hoe crops".

Being the youngest and a girl at that, I can remember being allowed to go swimming with the older girls. We would go to "McEwen's Dam" in Nictaux River below our fields. We would follow the road past the area where my brothers (poor guys) would be hoeing by hand. One day they decided to join us but disaster struck when Grafton split his head on a ledge while diving. That alerted our folks to the fact that work wasn't always the order of the day!

Sister Alice (Cynthia Alice, named for both grandmothers) was 15 years old when I was born as number 10 child. No wonder they quit after that! It seemed as though she was more like my mother than my sister as she was at home and a big help. It's a bit of a mystery as to the cause but I have a cataract on my left eye that resulted in complete loss of vision in that eye when I was about 12. I could discern light from dark at age 8. Just a few years ago, a scan revealed a cyst on the eye. An attempt to correct any problems might result in an enucleation of the eye. Drops for glaucoma control the optic pressure so that it seems wise to not interfere. Alice was soon away from home as she became a cook at our local hospital. Her culinary gift seems to have been passed to her daughters as I have had many delectable meals with Shirl, Val and Marcia. Another highlight was a meal prepared by Jean Hamilton, (Rodger's wife) when Richard took Eleanor and I to visit at Cobble Hill. I swear she spent two days preparing it! I must confess I have not tried her recipe for Tiramisu and the store variations don't compare.

Speaking of highlights brings me to Dawson City, Yukon, when we toured the north with Wyona and Art Edmonds. A miner friend of Ian's happened to be in the office of the trailer park when I asked re him. He told me to go to Diamond Tooth Gerties Saloon that evening as George was always there. Sure enough, we found him and he notified Ian. Next day was their Gold Rush Day Celebration. Sean was competing in gold panning (his friend actually won, an European Trip and cash) so we all celebrated at the Sundowners Hotel and a second evening at Diamond Tooth Gerties Saloon! Ian must have greased palms as the highlight was when Diamond Tooth Gertie and her Can Can Gals came off stage, surrounded Carse, planted kisses and took him on stage to sing, "Baby Face"! His face resembled a spanked baby's bottom! Next day we visited Ian and Sean's stakes where Ian was already well ensconced in placer mining of a tributary of Dominion Creek and Sean was still removing permafrost layer from his spot. A most interesting day and much cherished memory.

I have digressed from childhood memories, but be patient with me, age is in my favor!

Mable left home to go to Halifax and take a business course. I believe she was about 18 years old. Many years later, Eleanor joined her there and worked at Eaton's. Meantime, Mable met and married Pat Patterson. (Harold Wallace of Scots Wha' Hae Wi' Wallace Bled) always quoted that when revealing his correct name. They lived in Edmonton then Mable and Eleanor joined forces in Vancouver while Pat was overseas. Eleanor had 3 Howard's in her life at one point. Howard Wood however was only on loan as he was engaged to Nancy, Howie Crich was RCAF hailing from Revelstoke and then we announce the winner, Howard Edward Cousins from Port Credit! Meantime, Eleanor took a business course in Vancouver and Howard sailed the Atlantic in the Navy, all through the Second World War. He was on those tubs called corvettes much of the time. Perhaps his closest brush with death during that time was the glider bomb attack on the destroyer Athabaskan, where he was a signalman and happened to be stationed on the bridge. (Howard wrote his memories, interesting stuff.)

This brings me to brother Grafton. He followed Rodger to Ontario before he was 20, but I remember him as a hard worker on the farm. All my brothers worked hard, but only Charlie remained a farmer. Rodger and Grafton bought a small acreage with a house of sorts on it and raised produce for the Farmer's Market in Hamilton. When Rodger was in Pre-Meds at McMaster, he often took produce on his way to classes. He worked at various jobs to earn his way through college (more on that later). Grafton was working at McKinnon Industries (now General Motors) St. Catharines. He was married to Dorothy Legacy in Hamilton, joined the army in 1942. I remember Dorothy visiting us on the farm (quite pregnant with Barbara) in the spring of 1943. She had come to say goodbye to Grafton as he left for Aldershot, England. He too has written a gripping account of his army career. He and Dorothy raised 10 children, same as our Dad and Mum. When number 10 arrived, Dad told Grafton he was only to do as he said and not as he did!

When Rodger went to Western University, (Med. school), he needed a place to stay. Someone he met directed him to the house next door to the campus. Mrs. Owen liked his appearance so agreed to give him room and board for a few weeks. So now you know how he met a student nurse named Marjorie Owen. I recall staying with them a few weeks on Mt. Hamilton and specialing one of Rodger's patients. Carson and I along with our growing family, spent a week at Whitman's cottage several of those lean years when we were unable to afford a travel vacation. I must say that Carson was especially thoughtful and we made many trips east to visit my parents, other rellies and girlfriends. Our kids learned a lot through travel. Carson and I enjoyed many trips west as well, and were fortunate enough that I had relatives across Canada. We visited many spots in the U.S., United Kingdom, Hawaii, Fiji Cook Islands, New Zealand, Australia, plus the 11 weeks in 1987 touring Alaska, Yukon, North West Territories, Northern B.C. and Alberta (where Richard was working in Banff and Shirl and Tom in Calgary). Right here I will mention 2 nephews, Larry of Australia and Ralph of New Zealand. These 2 with their partners treated us royally in the winter (here), summer (there!) of 1989. So many nieces and nephews have entertained us, Babe and Tom with lobster feasts, Marion Whitman (my namesake) and Barb with scrumptious meals. You people number well over 100 and I love every one in a special way.

Another highlight was when my brother Walter sold a calf and bought us a radio - a console model at that. Radios were still pretty scarce items at that time in our neck of the woods any way. Crystal sets were the forerunners and I remember seeing one of those at Uncle Fred and Aunt Lena Whitman's. I can remember listening to the BBC News, that terrible disaster at the Moose River Gold Mine in Nova Scotia, when so many men were trapped and after days of digging, all were dead. There were programs that stand out, Amos and Andy, The Happy Gang, Inner Sanctum (who could ever forget that squeaking door introducing the program in a ghostly fashion?), and Don McNeil's Breakfast Hour. (Not in the sequence in years these occurred)

I can remember also, the day brother Vernon left to join the RCAF, was it 1938? He came to the Nictaux Falls School to say goodbye. He was so handsome and so brave in my eyes.

It must have been about the same time that Dad surprised me with a colt. I was told one noon hour to go out behind the hen house and look in the pasture. Here was Dolly with a flaming red colt lying there. He had a white star on his forehead. I couldn't imagine how this had happened as I knew nothing of such things. I was allowed to name him "King" and claimed him as mine. He grew up to be quite a mischief. I can remember him sneaking up from behind and nipping me on the shoulder. One day he tried to climb up the side of the house while hitched to the wagon! He died of a coronary while quite young, 16 years old.

Mum's hands were never idle. I don't believe she was depressed over living through a period of poverty. We kids didn't enjoy it, but fear due to lack of material things, certainly didn't cloud the home scene. Somehow, Mum could always eke out enough to spare a dish for a sick friend, neighbor or a meal for a tramp. If you can give even a small amount away, I believe you will never feel poor. Perhaps that was her secret.

The year I taught school, I took out a silly endowment life insurance policy at $50.00 per year. I was unable to pay it while in nurses training, so Mum paid it those three years. I'm still amazed at how she did it.

I once asked Dad why he waited until age 27 to marry. He replied that he had to wait for Mum to grow up! He went to Massachusetts to take a course in butter making at an Agricultural College. That is where he met our mother. His training was invaluable later as the depression years loomed. He was forced to leave the farming to Mum with the help of Charlie and some of the other brothers. He went to work in McKenzie's Creamery, Middleton, N.S., where he plied his trade and made a mean vat of buttermilk (without cultures like they're made today). He was a man of principle and it was exhibited when the manager of the creamery told him it was his duty to vote. His boss, J.D. McKenzie, was a Liberal running for MLA. Dad, being a Conservative, refused to vote either way and as a result, was commended for his stand by his boss. I remember though when he lived with us he watched and listened avidly to John Diefenbaker's campaign speech. However, he quickly snapped off the TV when Lester Pearson started to speak. When Dad died, it was just a few weeks before the 1968 Federal Election and I feel certain all of my brothers and sisters voted for Robert Stanfield. Dad planned to vote and then go to N.S. for the summer. Robert Stanfield was defeated, but we'll never know what course history might have taken if Pierre Trudeau had not gained control for so many years.

I was lucky to have had the privilege of getting better acquainted with Dad as an adult, when he lived with the Dawdy family for five years. Found we shared a common bond in our interest in history. Dad had a keen mind and could recall family genealogy for many generations. Perhaps because of his influence, I too became interested in genealogy and history of the First Baptist Church, Beamsville. It led to establishing the post of historian for the church and spurred me on to write a book "Baptists of Beamsville" for our bicentennial in 1988.

Joan was born six months after Mum died and she seemed to fill a void for Dad. He was our "Big Chief Babysitter" for five years and sometimes previously when he was able to leave Mum for a few hours. They turned the N.S. farm over to Charlie, who had remained there and helped Dad and was certainly entitled to it. They moved to Beamsville (to be near Rodger and I). They lived in one half of Carson's mother's house so it was great that they were all under one roof. Unfortunately, we lost both grandmothers close together as Carse's mother followed mine in one year, as a result, only Cheryl would remember them in our family.

Vernon's daughter Judy, lived with us for one year while taking grade IX. The day she moved out, Dad moved in as Mum had recently died. After Dad was here for five years, he went to live with Mable in Toronto for three years. Three tragedies within a month may have contributed to his death. The first was Grafton's son in law, Karl Salz being killed in a car accident a few weeks after Gord Cousin's, a grandson, lost his right hand due to an explosion. This was followed by the death of Marcela, Harold's first wife who had cancer. Dad had a prostatectomy three months before and this too may have caused a clot.

Mum's father, David Milberry, was drowed off the coast of Delaware in 1896, when the ship, loaded with plaster, floundered on the rocks. He was a steward. This left our grandmother with three young daughters with our mother being the youngest.

Aunt Sophie, the middle one, was fortunate to be able to go in training and graduated from Boston Homeopathic Hospital. Our mother worked as a nurse's aide at Danvers Insane Hospital. Too bad she hadn't trained as there was no more competent practical nurse in our community I'm sure. It was a rare occasion if we needed to spend money for a Dr.

In my case, I only recall a few instances. My girlfriend and I were playing on her Dad's horse rake. I pulled the lever to lift the rake and overbalanced. Apparently my right arm was broken when I landed on the shafts. The Dr. applied splints and bandaged it. Miracle of miracles, when I had it X-rayed, several weeks later, it had mended perfectly straight.

Another time I was seen by a Dr. was after becoming delirious. It was said I had food poisoning, but seemed strange as the rest of the family ate the same meal. However, I became ill upon reaching school. The teacher sent me home alone and after being sick several more times along the road, I finally fell in a ditch. I felt warm as toast lying in the snow. Not sure what would have happened if my niece Shirley hadn't been sleigh riding that day. I was nearly to the foot of the small hill below our driveway. She came close enough for me to ask her to get my Mum who in turn pulled me home on the sleigh. I was delirious for three days and can still visualize boxes within boxes and circles within circles revolving and causing me to be nauseous. That was first introduction to those large tablets dissolved in H20 called Alka Seltzer.

I finished high school the month I became 17 and worked in a canning factory for the summer. Decided to try school teaching as it was war time and you could teach with a permissive license. Went by train to Bear River and there was met by mail carrier Frank Hewey of East Victory. He and Helen (whom I was replacing as teacher) had married a couple of years before and they agreed to let me board with them. Grandma Hewey also lived there plus Clifford, a 14 year old nephew whose dad had died. I had primary thru Grade IX and it proved a challenge to keep all classes occupied. Sometimes it required an older class assisting a younger as if I didn't have enough diversity, I found there was an 8 year old slow learner who hadn't been to school. I visited her parents and cajoled them into bringing her to school. The poor kid couldn't talk but could imitate birds. It proved a disaster as she was terrified of the other kids and crept off by herself in the playground. I had to concede it wasn't working out and she soon left the school system to commune once more with her best friend, a raccoon.

That was quite a year and a great learning experience for me. I'm convinced that phonics is the best method of teaching reading. We had one family that traveled by boat across the lake, and then had to miss school until freeze up when they could walk on the ice. The mother obviously taught the young girl to memorize the reader. If you stopped and asked what a certain word was, she was stymied.

One day, during exams, three deer were grazing outside so I allowed the pupils few minutes' diversion.

Helen had loaned me the strap she used when teaching. (Yes, dear grandchildren, there was a time when teachers were allowed to punish pupils). I kept it in my desk drawer. If the classroom showed signs of getting out of control, I sometimes would place the strap on my desk. This seemed to have the desired effect and I'm pleased to tell you that I did not have to resort to it on any occasion during my year of teaching. My salary was $365.00 (a dollar a day) as I was not a graduate of Normal School. This was the forerunner of teacher's college which led to a bachelor's degree at university.

I enjoyed that year but had my sights set on nursing (paid $4.00 a week board) but managed to save $100.00 which bought books and uniforms to enter training in the fall of 1944.

A Dr. friend gave me some advice. He said "At first you'll be homesick. Try and stay in training for 3 months (probationary period). If you still hate it, get out!" I'm happy to say that I lived and breathed nursing from the first day and truly found my niche. I could write a book on training days alone. There were some scary episodes, for example witnessing your first spinal puncture, operation amputation, electric shock treatment, accident causing death. Seems as though your first brush with death happened on night duty and you always referred to it as the person died on you!

We worked twelve hour shifts under supervision as tough as the army. It was our class of 1947B that brought at least 2 changes to the V.G. training school.

We made up a petition asking for 2 1/2 hours off during 12, also for permission to wear white stockings and shoes in place of those horrible black ones! We were granted the time off but could only wear white shoes and stockings in our senior year. I'm sure the fact we had 80 RN signatures added to ours on the petition made the difference.

Our first three months on probation we had a striped uniform covered with a large white bib and apron and no pay.

The remainder of the first year we were awarded caps a Capping Ceremony and each of us had an older student as our "Big Sister" plus being put on the payroll and received $8 monthly.

Second year we received $10 and the senior year when we often replaced head nurses we received the fabulous sum of $12. We often beefed that hospitals treated us as slave labour. There was no thought of a student living outside of the nurse's home or residence in those days. In fact more than 1 senior nurse was forced to lose 3 months time if found sneaking in later or if they stayed away overnight without permission.

I lost 3 months less 1 week due to health reasons. If I had lost that extra week I would not have graduated with my class. Upon passing hospital exams (I passed second in our class) and completing 3 years training, I became a graduate nurse. The next hurdle was studying and passing RN exams which proved not too difficult.

I did private duty in various hospitals and homes over the years. I believe wages were $5 for an 8 hour shift in the beginning.

The following spring 1948, 4 of us traveled to Toronto by car. Two continued west, while another classmate and I obtained work at a Red Cross Outpost hospital in Northern Ontario for a few months. Since my brother was interning at the Mountain Maternity hospital in Hamilton (now known as Henderson General) I decided to move south and work there also. My classmate had gone to Winnipeg. While with Rodger, I was privileged to witness several interesting deliveries as he would call me. Meanwhile another brother Vernon, wife Eileen and Judy were motoring west so I joined them and had an apartment with my classmate and another RN, Ruby Barteaux, who had been a close chum while growing up. While in Winnipeg or the "Peg" as we called it, I worked at the Winnipeg Clinic as a float nurse, that meant I worked in all departments, med, surgery, urology, orthopedics, gyn and obs. Great experience at $119 a month - I was warned everyone wore lisle stockings (horrible things, bad as black ones of training days). I grew up in N.S. so that I know what severe winters were like. Well I was in for a surprise. They (who ever they are can say it's not so cold because it's dry, but I beg to differ, cold is cold). I walked to work if weather was warmer than 26 below but otherwise used public transits. In the summer it was often beastly hot and with prairie winds you had to shampoo nightly as soot from the steam engines (railway hub there) blackened your scalp. Needless to say I was not impressed with the climate so left after 9 months. Vern and Eileen were stationed 150 miles away at Rivers so that certainly made my time there much more enjoyable. I was with them for Christmas and while recuperating after leaving my appendix at Winnipeg General, also had the privilege of specialing Eileen when Debra May was born March 27, 1949.

Ruby and I motored back east with a young Dr. on route to Ottawa. I bailed out in Hamilton and Ruby found work at Ottawa. I was hired to start in West Lincoln Memorial Hospital, Grimsby in November, so decided to go home by bus via Boston. Proved to be a long hard trip (much prefer flying). While visiting an uncle next door to my parents, I discovered to my horror, that he had a large growth. He had been having some pain, so a surgeon operated, but unfortunately, poor Uncle Ernest Illsley succumbed a week later. I stayed to special him and left for Ontario the day after his funeral. This made me late for the opening of the hospital (I had been in touch with employer, so they understood). Meantime, sister Alice of Fruitland had made history by being first delivered at the new hospital. I was planning to be with her but Marcia Lynn Hamilton arrived (ahead of me) on November 4, 1949.

I enjoyed my time at West Lincoln, but it was interrupted when my sister Mable Patterson (who had been so good to me) casually mentioned in a letter that she was having a hysterectomy. Decided I should be on deck to special her, so off I went to Halifax on short notice. After that I decided to stay with them and worked for a couple of doctors and a dentist. Also while at Mables' I was whisked off in the middle of the night by Vic Dares (who came down the street at 3:00 A.M. blaring his horn). We flew low (only way he ever drove!) back to Elderbank (60 miles) where I had my first and only home maternity case in the person of his wife Ruth. That too was an experience! Another case I was on at Halifax Infirmary was a doctor who was both an alcoholic and drug addict. After 10 nights there, I went home with him to Truro and his wife and I looked after him for three weeks. Found out later he died in psychiatric hospital as he was bent on self destruction. That case at least made me solvent enough to buy a ticket to Ontario. I returned to West Lincoln Hospital in the spring of '53.

Vern meanwhile was transferred to Chatham, N.B. and they lived in Loggieville. I went and stayed with them in order to be with Eileen when Lawrence John made his debut on April 28, 1951 (dad's 71st birthday).

I have neglected to mention that two more of my brothers were in Halifax during my time there. Walter, Elaine and Wendy lived fairly near the hospital. Elaine seemed to take Wendy and visit her folks in Toronto each year, so I would sometimes help Walter with a dinner while she was away. Most often though, on my time off duty, I'd visit him at his service station. I can still see him on the run to the pumps always smiling. Could hardly believe my ears when Rodger phoned one night after I'd come home from evening shift to say Walter died of a coronary (October 25, 1956 age 43) while watching a hockey game in their living room in Halifax.

Harold was the other brother in the Navy while I was training. Often he was at sea but we touched bases when possible. Again, an awful shock when Mary called to say Harold was dying following surgery for an old head injury that in turn was causing him to lose his sight. Eleanor and I made a hasty trip and were at his bedside by 5:30 that same day, stayed until his service at Nictaux. I returned a few days later than Eleanor.

Now to a more pleasant topic. Soon after resuming work at West Lincoln, a little RN named Jean Leslie approached me to see if I would go on a blind date with her and her fiancè Rudy Schindel. We four (C.H.D. has now surfaced!) went dancing at an outdoor pavilion called Wonder Grove in Hamilton. Carson was going on a week's holiday up north with the boys but said he'd call. He was returning on Saturday and when I still hadn't had a call, I accepted a date for 7:30 Monday evening with someone else. At 6:00 P.M. Carson called! I told him if he could pick me up before 7:30, I'd go with him. The nurses at the residence said "Bill" never did arrive, so I am sure a certain telephone operator listened to both conversations and tipped him off, that's often what happened in those days when local operators knew everyone. Bet that sounds far fetched to my grandchildren!

They say marriages are arranged in heaven and it may be so in our case at least. Certainly didn't take us long to decide we should marry. (That is after Alf Hudson gave his approval when we went out with he and Betty Link!) We became engaged on Thanksgiving weekend. If we've had any doubts that we made a mistake, they have been quickly forgotten.

We have raised three children, who have been a credit to us and now our grandchildren number 3 3/4. They are a joy and truly the treasure of a long and happy life. P.S. November 27, 1996. The 3/4 that was mentioned earlier became Brianna Kathleen, now 5 3/4 and her twin brothers will soon be 9. Christopher, now 6 has Sister Hilary Victoria, who arrived 1 month after her mother made a journey via a rental truck from Beamsville to Victoria to join Michael. Uncle Rich flew home to drive them and we were reluctant to see them leave, towing their little red Toyota. Hilary will be 3 on January 18.

Carson, AKA, Dad, Poppa and Grandpa, left us this year on September 17. He died bravely just as he lived. We four were at his bedside that evening. There was a beautiful sunset and I am reminded of him each time I see one. He once remarked to Brian that he felt a rosy sunrise meant they would safely return from night missions over Germany. He battled with diabetes for 21 years and by x-rays, we know that he had pulmonary fibrosis for at least 12 years. He used oxygen for the last 8 months. In spite of failing health, he visited with pals at Maria's Sub Shop 6 mornings a week for coffee. He was only confined to bed for 9 days. My life is changed but I will remember the good times and endeavor to make the most of my remaining years. His greatest legacy to me is that of three good children and 5 wonderful grandchildren. An added bonus is 2 sons in laws who have proven to be good husbands and fathers.

I realize that I have written of the experiences of others in the services, so I will touch briefly on Carson's stint in the RCAF. He enlisted on Aug. 31, 1943, age 19. I must admit that I was spared a lot of anguish because at that time, we had not met. However, his mother and family members agonized over him going overseas, as he was the only one in the family circle who did. Sister Muriel, Brother Stan and wife Kay plus his Sunday school teacher Annie Lampman, gave me letters written by him while away. He graduated from gunnery school as a MUG (Mid Upper Gunner). He became part of an air crew from August 26, 1944 to June 13, 1945 when he was demobilized at Dartmouth, N.S. (just across the harbor from where I was a student nurse at Victoria General Hospital in Halifax. In 1995, the name was changed to Queen Elizabeth II Health Sciences Centre. When I attended our celebration of 50 years since graduation (in 1997) our class was presented with pins that read V.G. Hospital.

Carson kept in touch with 3 of his air crew. A great moment was when Pop Warehime (Bomb Aimer) met us near Barrhead, Alberta (north of Edmonton) to guide us to his cattle ranch. The tears flowed when these guys hugged. Dick Reid (flight engineer) of Mississauga and Jack Sharpe (Tail Gunner) of North Tonawanda, New York used to meet with us periodically and we still keep in touch. These fellows shared a special bond, as they faced death together many times.

Carson didn't talk of his wartime experiences when I first knew him. I believe these men wanted to put the horrors of war behind them and get on with making a life. However, I remember his nightmares, early in our marriage and they pertained to flying over Germany.

I learned of some incidents when his air crew pals talked over drinks before dinner. They wondered why they were issued 6 woolen blankets on arrival at their Nissen hut in northern England. One was wrapped around 3 straw filled biscuits that formed a mattress. My brother Grafton (infantry) used to tease Carse that he was in the gentleman's branch of the service.

The RCAF issued bed sheets but there were none issued to the army or navy. Carson's buddy from school days was Bill Hudson. They were stationed together, overseas, at one point. Bill would open Carse's letters and parcels sometimes much to Carse's consternation. When chastised, Bill would say "Ah Gee, I only ate the chocolate bars"!

I believe Carson enjoyed his work as a printer as much as I enjoyed nursing. He felt that he retrained at least 4 times during his career. He began learning the linotype machine (the one he used is now in the McKenzie Printery museum at Queenston, Ontario) at age 15 while still in school. Offset printing, lithographic camera work, automatic presses and the metric system of measurement were challenges he met. Bill Rannie, his boss, once remarked that "Ask Carse" became a common phrase in the back shop where he was foremen for so many years. The smell of printers ink will always remind me of him. I used to say he had it in his veins.

Finale April, 2000, well, I made it to the turn of the century. My good pal, Doug Robinson took me to a dinner dance on New Years Eve.

I feel fortunate that I am able to travel and have attended several of my relative's special celebrations. At the moment, I am planning to attend the wedding of a great nephew, Travis Dolynny in Airdrie, Alberta on September 1, 2000. I will fly to Calgary, motor from there to Kelowna with Shirley and Ray where Rich will meet me. After a visit with my brother Vern and Eileen we will go to Victoria. I'm anxious to see how much Christopher and Hilary have grown. It will be nice to visit Rich's new home. Now I have a bedroom on the west coast. Michael has been working in Seattle for nearly a year. Time will tell whether the family will move there.

I'm glad Cheryl was still there for Rich, last month, when he had a gall bladder removed. Children and grandchildren have been a wonderful gift to me and I am thankful I have seen the world, once again, through their eyes.

"My wish is that my grandkids will have a long and happy life with just enough sadness to teach compassion to face all challenges - with a positive attitude."

Written by,

"Mom",..."Nana",..."Grandma"
Marion Whitman Dawdy

Special thanks to Paul and Karen Dolynny (great nephew and wife) for typing this.
Theirs is my home away from home when I visit the Calgary area.

Copyright © 1998-2004 Rita Whitman