Memories of my Father:
Growing Up

My father grew up in the old-Ontario Scottish community of Maxville, in rural Eastern Ontario. It was an impoverished and conservative place.

My father's family lived in an old, cramped two-storey log cabin. It only had two rooms: an upstairs and a downstairs.

The cabin itself has a long and complicated history. My father's grandmother seemed to remember a man coming from the U.S. (maybe California?) to visit Maxville just after 1900 or so, claiming to have lived there as a child-- and that the cabin was ancient even then, an old trapper's lodge, older by far than even the visitor. The story may be true, and if so, the cabin may in fact predate the existence of Maxville itself, around 1800 or so. The trapping tradition in the area is certainly older than the community, anf goes back hundreds of years. The cabin has been moved from the site it occupied in my father's childhood, and is now a trapper's museum-- perhaps rather appropriately. My father's initials are still carved into the exterior.

My grandmother's name was Olive Carther. She was descended from Irish immigrants. My grandfather's family were, for better or worse, bred-to-the-bone Old Ontario Scots. His name was John. To say the very least, the couple did not have an idyllic life together.

Life was very, very hard in 1930's rural Canada-- there was no universal medicare to treat those in need, few public institutions and few progressive policies. Brutal poverty was the rule.

The first child born to my grandparents that we know of was a girl, Anna, but she died before her 4th birthday. As far as I know, her memory is preserved only in a few photographs. It' s strange to think of this bright young girl, dead now these many years, whose memories live on only in a few faded photograph images. Her laughing, her crying, her experiences and joys-- no-one is left who can remember them, I think. None of my father's other siblings knew anything about her. Shirley, the eldest and today the only surviving child, was an infant herself when Anna died.

John was born after Anna, but he lived for only a matter of hours or days. Understandably, there is little known about this child beyond the fact that he was born.

There were also frequent miscarriages.

Olive had five children who survived to adulthood. There was Shirley, my father's older sister; Bobby (Bob), the older brother; Kenneth (Kenny), another brother, Bennett (Ben, my father) and Mitchell, the youngest.

Maxville was not a very enlightened place. My father had a difficult childhood. His own father was a savage brute, who beat his mother in front of her children. After one such particularly awful beating, when my father was 12 years old, she died from complications. This was typical in the Canada of the 1950's. Myths of that period's "family values" are just that-- utter fabrications. Life was hard and women were treated very poorly by men who faced little censure.

As soon as they came of age, or even before, the children wisely fled "home".

Shirley married Dalton Gadbois, a surveyor, and had seven children. They were (in order) Sharon, Sherry, Shelley, Shannon, Trent, Tracy and Troy, all now grown and settled, and some with children of their own. Shirley and Dalton live in a picturesque, quiet town not far from where she grew up. Aunt Shirley remained at some distance from her extended family-- and has painfully strong memories of her father. For many reasons, her own life has also been somewhat difficult

Kenny stayed in Maxville. I remember him fondly from many visits. He was a strange, puritanical and eccentric aging bachelor, a kind soul in a difficult world. Kenny lived on a disability pension for some time, and helped out with the renowned Maxville Highland Games when he could. He died of cancer in 1987, only 48 years old.

Bob moved to central Ontario, married, had children, and divorced. He later moved to the Toronto area and remarried to a wonderful woman, Sudha, who had several grown children of her own. He was a successful merchant, owning a large lumber yard and hardware store. After Bob moved to central Ontario, he and my father renewed their lapsed connection. It became a close bond, one which they both needed. To the great loss of his children and adopted family, Bob died of cancer in July, 1995 at the age of 58. My father was devastated by his death.

Mitchell was briefly married. He drifted in and out of the family's life over time. As far as anyone knows, he was last seen several years ago. No-one is quite sure what became of him.

My grandfather lived alone for some time and died in poverty in the early 1970's. I was too young to remember him. The vision of my grandfather dying in poverty left a lasting impression on my father. He became obsessed with money. Even near death, my father was absurdly concerned about the smallest of expenses and financial security.