Category: Food For Thought

Anyone born in rural Saskatchewan before 1950 most likely took their education in a one room schoolhouse. My parents and their siblings fell into this category and attended one room schools in the Wallwort and Everton School Districts.

The grade levels were small in number and the teachers had to provide education to a diverse group of students, both in age levels and in learning abilities. Can you imagine being the teacher in these situations? How could they keep all the students engaged as they tried to cover the lessons? In addition, students missed many school days because they were needed to work at home or the winter weather prevented them from getting to school. My father spoke of times when the weather was really cold and their family didn’t have enough warm clothes for all the children to go to school on the same day.

One rural school teacher was Eugene Anderson and he taught for 14 years at Everton from about 1940 to 1954. My mother and her siblings attended his classes and spoke very highly of the education they received and loved his focus on athletics. There was considerable competition between school districts and the annual field days brought out the best in the student athletes. I recall my mother telling me the pride they had in “besting” the other schools and the credit was given to Mr. Anderson for preparing them for the events.

For many young people of the era, formal school ended at grade 8 as they needed to go to work at home or in the area to provide support for their family. This was the case for my parents and I know my mother wished she could have continued to learn from Mr. Anderson. Her younger siblings were fortunate to have him teach them for the majority of their school years.

I never knew Eugene Anderson. His name was revived for me a couple of weeks ago when his daughter, Gail, contacted me about a painting she had of my grandparents'(my father’s parents) log house in rural Saskatchewan near Wallwort. There have been a few published photos of this house and I have seen numerous paintings by another artist from the area. The memory of this log house is very strong for our family and I remember visiting it a couple of times as a small child in the 1960s. The stone chimney is amazing and all built by my grandparents.

It was very thoughtful of Gail to track me down via my Aunt Lorraine. These paintings are easily lost over time as many people do not have a connection to the subject. Gail thought of our family and shared the gift of this painting with us. Mr. Anderson painted the house from a photo published in a newspaper and the detail is wonderful. I expect it was special for him as well because he knew my parents and my grandparents. Truly a gifted man and splendid individual.

As with many farmhouses in Saskatchewan they fell into disrepair as people traded rural life for urban living. The houses either grew tired and fell down or became the victims of vandals and were destroyed. My grandparents log house suffered from the latter and it has been gone for many years.

Thankfully the memory will live on because of the talented art of a teacher and the thoughtfulness of his daughter.

My second cup is now empty…………………………….

On December 28, 1949 a fire broke out on the main floor of my grandfather’s house and it would change my father’s life forever. The following is a recently found article from the Saskatoon Star Phoenix, January 3, 1950, that gives a written account of the events of that day. Our family knew the story from accounts told directly to us by our father and mother and by our aunts who were rescued. My grandfather also provided an account of what happened in a family book he wrote.

My parents were married in July 1948 and their first son, my brother, was born in August 1949. They were spending the 1949 Christmas at my grandparent’s farm when the fire was accidentally started. My father faced the flames twice – once to help get my mother and brother out of the house and a second time when he went back in the burning house to the upstairs to rescue my two aunts aged 6 and 4.

Dad told us he wrapped the girls in blankets and ran down the stairs through the flames to safety. He was severely burned on his hands and face. The scars lasted forever but my aunts, Dianne and Lorraine, were not injured and have lived wonderful lives with their own families. My aunt Dianne gave the eulogy at my father’s funeral following his death on January 8, 2003 and said he was her hero. He was almost 75 years old.

It took a long time to travel the 28 miles from rural Saskatchewan, in the dead of winter, to the Tisdale hospital given the burns my father sustained. The family did not have a car so they had to travel by horse and buggy. He always spoke highly of the care he received in Tisdale and the subsequent care in Winnipeg, Manitoba.

There were many weeks in hospital where pins had to be inserted in some of my Dad’s fingers for them to function because the fingers were burned so bad. There was a concern that he would lose his right hand but all worked out in the end. At Grace Hospital in Winnipeg, Dr. Gerrard was doing new, exploratory work with skin grafting. Dr. Gerrard was able to take skin from my father’s back and inner arms and graft the skin onto his nose and face. It was nothing short of amazing the work that was done in 1950. My father credits these medical people with him enjoying a fruitful and productive life. Grace Hospital was operated by the Salvation Army and was the first Salvation Army hospital in Canada.

Another significant point that Dad always mentioned related to the cost of his treatment in Tisdale and Winnipeg. He never paid anything because they had no money. There was a small bill from the Grace Hospital, which I copied below, that covered the basic hospital stay and incidentals; however, Dad did not remember who paid the account. It is safe to say the Canadian taxpayer covered all the costs and this represents a case in point that the Canadian Health care system works.

It is with gratitude and with considerable humbleness that my wife and I have been able to support Saskatoon Hospitals over the last number of years. We are blessed in Canada for many things and our health care system is but one.

For over 50 years Dad worked, raised a family and never complained. In the winter the cold affected the pins in his hands and yet most of his work was done outside from cutting trees to feeding cattle. His face was also susceptible to the cold and it must have been so difficult working outside.

Given his circumstances he could have taken an easier route and accessed the Canadian safety net system beyond what the health care system initially provided. He never did. He worked and paid his bills and was an inspiration to any of us who knew his story.

My mother also deserves a word for her work while Dad was in hospital and during the years that followed. She worked hard and had very little in terms of material things. I’m so proud of both of them.

My father never received recognition of any kind for what he did that cold December day in 1949. He simply did what he had to do when the circumstances presented themselves.

Was he a hero – of course. Was he my hero – always.

My second cup is now empty……………..

My wife and I attended a talk by Marthe Cohn, a 98 year old French Jew who was a spy in Nazi Germany. It is a remarkable story and one that needs to be heard. Marthe has a book, “Behind Enemy Lines”, which I read a few months after her talk. This book is well worth the read as it provides detailed information about the Jews struggles in occupied France.

Marthe was born in France in 1920 in the Lorraine region near the German border. She was required to learn German in school and spoke French at home with her sisters.

Most of Marthe’s family survived World War II largely because of the assistance from French people in their community. She said that 75% of French Jews survived because French communities were willing to hide them and to provide forged papers that passed German scrutiny. In fact, the only country in Europe to have a higher survival rate for Jews was Denmark where 95% of Jews survived. The Danish Jews survived because Danish fisherman used their fishing boats to take the Jews to Sweden which was a neutral territory. The common denominator was that people risked their lives and the lives of their family to protect the Jews – respect and caring for other human beings.

Marthe is one of seven children. Her two brothers escaped occupied France early because the family believed that the young male Jews would be targets for the Nazis. It was much later that they realized they were all in danger. The family was able to escape occupied France to unoccupied France because a man in their community provided them with forged papers and there was no charge. Sadly, one of Marthe’s sisters was taken, before they could leave occupied France, for helping the French resistance and ultimately she was sent to Auschwitz and the family never saw her again. Marthe and her sister had been assisting British and American airmen escape occupied France with the help of a farmer who owned property that straddled occupied and unoccupied France.

Marthe, at age 24, joined the French Army after the Allies liberated France in 1944. She transferred to French Intelligence once an officer realized she was fluent in German. Her profile made her an ideal spy and, after a few weeks of training, she entered the field by going into Germany to gain information on German troop movements. The information Marthe obtained accelerated the Allies movement into Germany and shortened the war and saved many lives.

Marthe did not talk about her work as a spy for many years after the war because she thought people would not believe her. It was only after doing some research in France that her war file turned up and the people who reviewed the file were impressed by her contributions. The French government awarded Marthe the highest French military medal. This was the same medal the French awarded to Winston Churchill.

I believe we witnessed a talk from a humble, confident women who ran forward and not away when faced with the most difficult of times.

My second cup is now empty………………………

My second cup is now empty…………..