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My Beginning
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Well, this is where I began life, in this peaceful, beautiful rural setting -- as you can see by these several photographic images, the most beautiful spot in the world.
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They tell me that I arrived here by way of "Home Delivery". Practical nurses acted as midwives with the Country Doctor, who would visit day or night, on call, travelling with his horse-n-buggy. Of course, he always carried his little black satchel which contained his stethoscope, an assortment of nerve pills, as well as standard tonics and first-aid equipment. Yes, they told me, before I was old enough to learn about the birds, the bees and the kittens, that this family doctor brought me in this little black satchel. This, I was told, was the standard method of bringing all little ones into this world.
In this ideal rural environment, I was to breathe pure, fresh country air and to feel the stir of soft, gentle breezes.
I was to be nurtured on the delicate aroma of Apple Blossoms and June Roses and made strong on the pungent smell of new-mown hay.
I was to be warmed by the lazy summer heat; and then chilled by the winter's snowy blast, howling out of the north-west, piling snowdrifts fence-high across country roads, making travel difficult, hazardous, and sometimes impossible.
I was to feel the tingling excitement of my bare feet in the dew-drenched grass in early morning.
I was to feel the excruciating pain in these same bare feet as I stepped on some hidden rusty nail, and then the relief from the fat pork poultice Mama applied to facilitate the healing.
I was to feel the cool, wet, black soil of freshly-turned sod beneath my tender, young, bare feet as I followed in the furrow behind the horse-drawn plough.
I was to experience the mouth-watering tastes and the tantalizing aroma of Mama's fresh-baked bread and apple pies.
In the chill of Autumn, I would sense the acrid smell of burning leaves and garden trash. I was to remember the Joy of frolicking in those new-fallen leaves.
I was to recall with regret, having to don stockings and shoes after a long summer of foot-loose freedom.
I was to know the love of a family circle of three brothers and a sister and be embraced by the love and protection of caring parents.
What is so rare as a day in June, when, if ever, comes that perfect day?
Well, this day happened when I first began to cry. Then I laughed and the sun shone on a tired but happy mother and a contented happy infant. So it was I was born. Whether I came the natural way, or by the way of the doctor's little black bag, in either case the growing Muma household would change from then on.
Well, I was greeted by two little brothers, who seemed pleased to have someone else to play with and to wonder about. It was said that I got off to a crawling start. Sometimes I would even crawl to places where I was not supposed to go. But I suppose Mama could not keep a close watch over me on every one of my crawling safaris. I guess it was just lucky for little me that the most I ever got into was a bit of mischief. I enjoyed exploring in new realms -- even to visiting the farm animals in the never clean or dry barnyard.
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I eventually tired of exploring my strange new world from this low level, and decided that I would like to get around like Mama and Papa and my two brothers. I didn't suppose that I could do this alone. I would need some help. So, using all the body language I knew, together with some English I did not understand, I was able to solicit several helping hands to assist me. In due time, I was able to stand tall and erect, all by myself, all two feet of me with my own two feet planted firmly on the ground. Soon I learned with the attitude of hands on hips, elbows akimbo, I could pretend to be quite sure of myself and defy my little world.
When I was about two years old that same family doctor brought me another little brother to play with. Now we had a complete family. But, no, we needed a little sister to play with and to tease. So we got together and persuaded Mama and Papa to get a little sister. So it was, in due time, and with much persuasion, a little sister was added to our family.
Now, I had three brothers and a sister, a father we were taught to call Papa or Pa; a loving, patient, industrious, long-suffering mother we referred to as Mama or Ma. Then there were Auntie and Grandma. Auntie was Pa's unmarried sister. She was a practical nurse. It was she, who acting as "midwife" assisted our Family Doctor when each of us arrived. Grandma was Pa's and Auntie's mother. (Grandpa had passed away before I arrived.)
So it was, Auntie and Grandma lived here with us. This made a household of nine people, of three generations, living not too comfortably, in this plain, white frame house. We had all of the pioneer inconveniences, including the usual three-place outdoor privy, replete with raw country odours and hidden discreetly among some tall weeds and bushes away at the back of the house. There was also a well of fresh, cold drinking water, located handily at the front door. One had but to raise and lower the handle of the iron pump to get a thirst-quenching drink any time of the day, summer or winter.
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Next Chapter: The Days Of My Youth
