Jack Robinson

Located on a small bit of land, about two acres, was the home of Jack Robinson, our nearest neighbour. Jack was a sandy-haired, Irish bachelor, of uncertain age. The property consisted of a little, two-storey, frame house, several old outbuildings, a dirty white pig, a small flock of chickens, and a small garden plot, where he grew vegetables for his own use. He was, one might say, a sort of community hired man. He would accept day or part-day labour, whenever and wherever he could get it, provided he was so inclined, physically and spiritually. His one great weakness was his unquenchable appetite for booze, any kind, whenever and however he could come by it.

He shared this appetite with two boozing companions. One of these companions happened to be the store-keeper in our neighbouring village of Poplar Hill. The other member of the trio was a veterinarian serving the local animal population. Back during the days of "Prohibition", when alcoholic beverages were quite difficult to obtain, legally, they were not deterred. Roy, the storekeeper, always had on hand such flavouring extracts as vanilla and lemon. These mixed with water, made them a very intoxicating beverage which soon seriously affected their health. Needless to say, this trio became the talk of our virtuous little community, as well as the shame of our temperance folk.

His property just happened to be a part of our place, and as such, he owed us rent for its use. The rental came due every year on April Fool's Day. It was an annual event for Jack Robinson to pay us a visit with his hoarded rental money. Often times he would come when Ma and Auntie were home alone. He would sit and stutteringly give them some news or gossip of the day as well as a yearly weather forecast. He got this reliable weather information from the Farmer's Almanac, which he believed in implicitly. Then very reluctantly he would hand over the three dollar rental fee and with a few more stuttering remarks, take his leave.

During these days of my boyhood and youth, I recall several regular visitors to our farm. At least once a year both the Watkins Man and the Rawley Man would call with their home remedies and spices and things. I remember one such product we used to buy and keep on hand called "Corona Wool Fat". This was an ointment suitable for Man or Beast alike for infected cuts and scrapes. This stuff was made from the fat distilled from Sheep's wool, a form of Lanolin. It did possess healing properties. I remember, before the Rawley Man came to our neighbourhood, we used an old-fashioned remedy to prevent blood poisoning. This consisted of heating a piece of wool above the flame of an oil lamp and letting the vapour bathe the wound. The fats distilled from the scorching wool did assist in healing.