Ottawa, Grammy, Shatsi and the kitten.

Ottawa

When we got to Ottawa, we stayed with my Dad’s father and mother, Herbie and Norah. At least the four of them did while I went to stay with my Dad’s brother, John and his wife Ginny. They all lived in the same neighbourhood on Revelstoke Drive. My uncle and aunt had 4 boys and boy did they have fun with a girl in the house. Jay ganged up on me the most.  They must have resented me because I got the bath first then they each had to take their turn. 

I remember one day, my aunt was doing the dishes and my uncle came up and gave her a hug and said, ”What are you doing the dishes for with a girl in the house?” I guess they just were used to boys who weren’t good for much, seemingly, they needed a girl to really get things done. I say this tongue in cheek of course.

They had a large, old, grumpy German Shepard, Zucha.  It growled at me and that experience instilled a life long fear of German Shepherds. 

Fortunately my parents found a house shortly after on Avenue Road near the famous Rideau canal. I went to Hopewell Public School for grade 7. That was the first school I was to teach in years later. 

My cousin, Susan Law, lived around the corner and I just loved her.  She was Karen’s age and at that time she was more friends with her than with me. But she was always one of my favourite people. We were to become closer later in our lives.

Grammy

That first summer back home my dear grandmother, Norah, my Dad’s mom, passed away at the cottage.  Even though I didn’t see much of her, she was so special to me.  I remember she liked picking the strawberries around the cottage and she was the one who made all those smocked dresses for Karen and me when we were little girls.  She was a beautiful person.  Her cigarettes must have gotten the better of her and she died of a heart attack.  It was as though she was waiting for us to get back home; she was just hanging on. She couldn’t have been 70.

Shatsi, the hamster and the kitten

That first school year at our new home I was in grade seven at Hopewell P.S. I had a pet hamster named ‘Shatsi’. I felt an inordinate affection for this little animal. Maybe he gave me a place for loving.  He would escape from time to time and we’d find him and put him back in his cage.  Once he got into my father’s map drawer and chewed them to pieces. This was one of the few times Dad was upset at an animal. He was an ardent animal lover, preferring them to people.

I don’t remember how, but somehow we got a kitten.  It was really cute and I loved it too.  My mother couldn’t stand to have a cat and a ‘mouse’ in the house… I guess she thought the cat would eat the hamster and she told me I had to get rid of one or the other.

I came home from school one day and they were both gone. She made up some story but I knew in a foreboding way that she had taken them to the humane society.  I was heart broken, but I had no way to express it. It was a done deal.  I buried my tears and moved on.

Back to Canada

Back to Canada, 1959

We were due for another posting in 1959 and this time we were headed for Ottawa. I was eleven when we crossed the ocean again, and again on the same boat, The Homeric. 

I was older now, eleven, so I had a better understanding of the trip and I knew we would see land before I got old.  I still enjoyed the mints outside the dining room.  I liked that we were with friends that we had spent the last four years with.  Time was moving on and I would likely not see them again because we would no longer live on air force bases.  At least on the base, you had the feeling you belonged to a huge family who shared similar experiences. We were different from the civilian kids who never moved and didn’t understand the world in the same way.

The voyage back to Canada was full of events.  They really went out of their way to entertain the kids with parties and activities. 

There was one traumatic moment that quelled my soul.  

I vividly remember the day in the cabin that my Dad hit me across the head so hard that I went flying into the wall. It was a familiar pain of my brain hitting my skull at 500 miles an hour as if my skull moved, but my brain didn’t.  I felt I was going to pass out, but I was just dazed.  My tongue ran across my front teeth. The jagged chip felt huge. When I told him he broke my tooth, he became more infuriated. But he stopped hitting me. I wondered why it never occurred to me to play dead.  That would have wakened him up.

Chapter 4

Auntie

Auntie

It was around this time when we were living in France that stories started to filter in about an old aunt we had who lived in Paris. She was a recluse, rich and related by marriage to my grandfather, (Dad’s dad), Herbie. Herbie’s mother married General Morrison and Auntie Syble was General Morrison’s sister. Herbie was her only nephew.

Auntie had apparently promised her mother that, even though she lived in Paris, she would marry an American. She had many French suitors but she kept her promise and married an American, Arthur Kemp. He must have been very rich because he left her and her daughter, Elizabeth a very large home in the centre of Paris, full of antiques and collectables. 

I remember Uncle Shaun coming to see us in France with the story that he had gone to Paris to see Auntie.  It was pouring rain when he knocked on the door of her huge house, but he was not allowed in because Auntie had a cold. Because of that, I was left with the impression of her as a hermit and one with rather cold emotions.

Auntie made up for it when she died, because Herbie, being the only nephew, inherited her fortune.  This was a nice little boost to Herbie’s sons, my father and his brothers, Shaun and John. Herbie and John went over to settle her estate.  All the antiques were sold and some jewelry brought back along with some of the things she hoarded, like fine materials and kid skin gloves. I loved the silk slips and camisoles.  Looking back, I think the family would have made different decisions about what to do with all that stuff if it were to happen today.

The Mystery Machine

The Mystery Machine

One day my father came home with a large box with two reels on the side.  He asked us what it might be and we had no idea. As we discussed the possibilities of what it could be, he was taping  us.  When he played it back to us we were gobble smacked.  It was true magic indeed! We could hear our voices speak to us from that box.  I’ll never forget the impression that left on me. I was fascinated!  I remember my father listening to his classical music on that reel to reel for years. It must have been the absolute, very first tape recorder.

Karen Runs Through the Glass

Karen Runs Through the Glass

The PMQ’s had large glass doors in the front and in the back on the ground level.  These doors did not have stoppers on them and they often slammed shut with a huge bang when the wind ripped through the halls from the front of the building to the back.  This would cause the glass to sometimes shatter, leaving the frame empty.  It would take a while for the glass to be replaced. Kids got accustomed to jumping through the large opening, naturally, as that was much easier than opening the door, which the empty hole made unnecessary.  Since those responsible didn’t always get around to painting the pane as quickly as they should have, to indicate there was a window, on unfortunate occasions, the kids would inadvertently jump into the glass.

So it happened one day to Karen.  There was a frantic knock at the door.  A woman was speedily explaining to my mother to come, come quickly, Karen is losing a lot of blood.  I wanted to go with her, but I was cautioned to stay put.

All I got were the stories of what happened to Karen that day.  She ran through the window.  There was so much blood, towels full.  The ambulance couldn’t come.  She went in a car with Mom’s friends. She cut her face badly. Did she lose an eye? Her nose?  What was going on under all that blood?  

She survived to tell the tale.  She had a gash in her face from her tear duct in her eye that went half way down her cheek.  For weeks she had a large dark scab on her face.  She went to London, England for plastic surgery. Over the years the scar faded and I never noticed it anymore.  It just became part of who she was and it never seemed to bother her.