I would be delighted to hear from you, whether you are an old friend or a new one. Phone me anytime, and if you are ever in Calgary, Alberta - I would be delighted to visit with you in person!
This page is part of the interesting - and even exciting - adventure of building my own web-site.
HERE IS THE FIRST VERSION loaded on 2000-07-01. I hope that you will find these memoirs to be INTERESTING STUFF!!! KEEP WATCH!!! This page will be periodically up-dated, as I remember more stuff. Writing this auto-biography is fun; it is also sometimes quite emotional.
Growing up on the farm & In Small- town Alberta
Auto-biography of Donald B. Sanders
Our Family:
World War 2 was in full force, when I was born on D-Day - June 6, 1944. As Dad sat in the waiting room of the old hospital in Wainwright, Alberta, the radio was blaring out the news of the Allied Forces landing, on the shores of France; and Mom's favorite brother, Donald McNaughton, was on the front lines in Italy. It was morning, when the Doctor came in and said to Dad: "You are now the father of a healthy baby boy!" While praying for the safe return of her brother, my Mother named me Donald. (The 'B' in my name is quite meaningless to me.)
In 1945, my Uncle Don came home safely from the war, having suffered only a small wound, while some others in his group were dead and some had their legs shot off, etc. But my uncle never talked about the war, and I never asked him to.
I have an older sister, Lily Margaret (named after Dad's sister Lily & Mom's sister Margaret), who was born in October 1942; and I have a younger brother, Thomas John (named after Dad's father, Thomas & Mom's father, John), who was born in April 1945.
My parents were farmers in those days.
On our farm-yard there were 3 houses; it was truly a Family Farm:
House #1 was the 'home place'; it was a 1-1/2 level, cement-block house where Grandpa Thomas & Grandma Eliza (Deadmarsh) Sanders lived. [The house had been designed by Grandpa Sanders; I remember seeing the blue-prints that he himself had drawn, with each block drawn to scale; the cement-blocks were then all made by hand according to the blue-print; and the house was built by Grandpa Sanders & his three sons, Ross, Wilfred (Dad) and Edwin (Ed) the youngest].
House #2 was a bit to the west, a wood-frame house, also 1-1/2 levels, where Uncle Ed & his wife Aunt Edith (Fitzpatrick) Sanders lived, with their 2 daughters Harriet & Violet.
House #3 was smaller, a wood-frame, single-level house, a bit further to the west. This is where I lived the first 4 years of my life.
Together, the three families farmed a 'Section' of land (a 'section' is 640 acres; one- square-mile; ours was also one-mile-square), at Section #27;Township #45; Range #8; West of Meridian #4), located on the north side of Highway 14; about 6 miles east of the Village of Irma, and 12 miles west of the Town of Wainwright. Irma is about 108 miles east-south-east of Edmonton, on Highway #14; and also on the CNR main line.
In 1948, Grandpa & Grandma Sanders, along with Uncle Ed & Aunt Edith & girls, moved to the lower mainland of British Columbia, in the Fraser Valley just east of Vancouver. For many years, they operated the general store in the hamlet of Bradner (near Matsqui). Uncle Ross had moved to Ladner, B.C. (south of Vancouver in the Delta area) a few years before.
When the others moved to B.C., Dad bought the west half of the farm, and we moved into the 'home place' (the cement block house). House #3 was then sold and moved to the Village of Clandonald, north-east of Vermilion, Alberta. Dad's sister Lily and her husband Harold Morse bought the East half of the farm. They moved house #2 over to their farm, 1/2 mile to the east, where they settled with their four children - Glen, Carolyn, Donald & Robert. (Glen was never healthy, and passed away in childhood).
My Mother's relatives all lived in B.C. Her Mother Bessie McNaughton, her three brothers Donald (with wife Marion and family), Leslie (with wife Ruth and family) and Stanley (a bachelor), all lived on farms near Dunster, a hamlet near the Fraser River, on the CNR main railway-line about 80-miles west of Jasper, Alberta, on the old Highway 16. Sister Margaret (then single) lived in south-western B.C., on the coast, in Powell River. Brother Delbert (with wife Doris and family) lived on Vancouver Island, at Campbell River. Mom's father, John McNaughton, lived alone in Prince Rupert, up on the west coast.
Farming:
In those days, our main farm tractor was a Caterpillar D2, and in the spring it pulled an 8-ft wide tiller to seed the grain, and do much of the farm work. In the fall it powered an old Threshing Machine to thresh the grain. We also had a smaller tractor, an International FarmAll -A, a wheeled tractor that pulled a binder to cut the grain, and also pulled a two-wheeled bundle-wagon that Dad had made. I well remember staying home from school at threshing time - from the age of 7-years - and driving the FarmAll-A tractor to pull the bundle-wagon, as men using pitch-forks loaded the wagon with bundles.
In the early 1950's, the 'going wage' was $8 per day for stooking, and $10 per day for threshing. Mom said to Dad that brother Tom and I could stay home from school (after age 7 or so) to help the men, as long as we got paid the same wage as the men. Dad agreed. And it was fine for us boys. The work was often hard, and we worked from early morning until near dark or after, but the money was good; it was also very satisfying to be 'doing a man's job'. It was a fair deal for everyone, and the harvesting got done.
We helped the neighbors and the neighbors helped us. Often Dad would hire temporary help through the District Agricultural Office in Wainwright, to help with the harvesting; many of these men were from Ontario, and they came out west in the fall to get work on farms. Some our neighbors still used horses for their farm work during the 1950's; but our only horses were a saddle horse or two, for a few short years. After I was about 12- or 14-years old, my brother and I often worked for neighbors, stooking and threshing.
At haying time, the FarmAll-A tractor was used to pull the mower to cut the hay, and to pull the side-delivery-rake to put the cut-grass neatly into rows; then the Cat was used to pull the Hay-Loader that Dad had built, to pickup the rows of hay. (The Hay-Loader was a unique piece of equipment that Dad had invented, using the transmission of an old car, parts from an old binder, a wooden-box-on-iron-wheels, and various other parts). (Dad also invented or crafted other useful pieces of machinery, like: a lathe for the work shop and a motorized sifter to remove the husks from the 'chop' - ground grain).
At all times of the year, there were things to do - with cattle, chickens and pigs to look after; fences to build or fix; machinery to repair; blacksmithing to do on rainy days; overhauling of tractors in the winter; etc. During the summer holidays, there was often other work to do - with haying time, picking rocks, etc. In the winter, even at -30F degrees, we sometimes had to get dressed up very warmly, and go out to the back forty with the Caterpillar tractor to get a load of hay for the animals at home.
Our cattle were mostly Registered Herefords (the reddish-brown ones with white markings). Most of the grain we grew was oats; not just oats, but "Registered 'Victory' Seed Oats". Some years Dad had his own 'float' in the local Irma parade, featuring 'Victory' oats. Some of our grain was fed to the farm animals; some was used for next year's seed; some was sold to the local 'elevator'; and some was sold as 'Registered Seed' to other local farmers.
But there were also:
Trees to climb and swing on; gophers to hunt; walks to take; calves to ride; fresh air to breathe; lazy days when we could wander all over the farm; stones to throw across the slough, to try and make them skip; pieces of grass to chew on; new batches of kittens to find in the barn; bikes to ride; neighbor boys to play with; chickens to hypnotize; etc; etc.
Winters:
Winters were cold in eastern Alberta, with few warm spells, usually with lots of snow. I remember seeing the snow drifts so deep, and the snow so hard, that the cattle could walk across the top of the six-foot high wood-pole corral. And I remember the old and narrow Highway 14 being snowed-in - impassable - with six-foot drifts, closed for days at a time. So we missed school! Then the highway maintenance truck would come by, with a special snow-blower about 8-foot wide mounted on the front of it - cutting into the snow and gobbling it up - and throwing it far into the ditch, with one-lane of traffic following it, until the truck could come back to clear a wider path. And the snow would cover the telephone lines, and we children could play right over the lines. One of Dad's jobs was to keep the phone lines in good working order, winter and summer. He had some special testing equipment. In all kinds of weather Dad kept the old party-line phones working.
I remember going to school in Irma, six miles away, on the old yellow school bus. In the winter, as we neared Irma, we often would pass the local dairyman, Frank Wyand, as he delivered the daily supply of milk to Irma - driving his horses and sleigh through the ditch - loaded with cases of glass milk bottles, and the 5- and 10- gallon cans of milk and cream.
I remember after school or on week-ends - Mom bundling us kids warmly and taking us to the slough near our house; shoveling the snow off a suitable patch of ice; Mom putting on her skates (and helping us with ours); and all of us getting some cold/fun/ exercise, often pulling one another around the ice on a sleigh (which Dad had made). Cold; rosy cheeks; runny noses; invigorating. Part of life on the farm.
Hailstorms and Lightning:
In mid-summer, about 1955, a big hailstorm came through our area, along with very strong winds. The results: 90% wipeout of Dad's grain crop; granaries and wagons thrown about; roofs ripped apart; two-feet high drifts of hail beside buildings. It killed all trees as it cut a swath maybe a hundred yards wide, and for many miles long. It took many years for the trees to grow back.
To protect our farm buildings against lightning strikes, Dad installed 'lightning rods' on our house, barn, etc. One of our neighbors who didn't - their house got hit by lightning, and it ripped their telephone right off the wall. There was a small fire, but luckily it did not destroy the whole house.
Lightning Tragedy at School:
When I was in Grade 7, in the month of May 1957, the lightning struck in our schoolyard, during lunch-hour. I will never forget it - because one of my friends, who sat right in front of me in my class - he was standing on the baseball diamond with a few other boys, during a slight drizzle of rain, when there was a single 'flash-bang' - a single bolt of lightning. The bolt struck my friend Robert; he died right there at third base. Two other boys, who were standing right with him, felt the heat, but were not hurt, just badly scared, and ran to the school to tell the teachers. I ran over to third base to see our friend, who was crumpled on the ground. The soles of his shoes were burnt through, and we knew that he was dead. A real shock for us, too. It was very, very sad. So the school closed for the day. And the balance of the year was not the same.
Miscellaneous:
Wainwright is a major base for the Canadian Army, with Camp Wainwright occupying many square miles of land along the Battle River Valley (on lands 'where the buffalo roamed' in the 'early days'; in fact, the family photo album has pictures of Dad and his friends feeding hay to the buffalo from off a wagon). So we were familiar with soldiers and army personnel. Most summers there were convoys of army vehicles traveling slowly along Highway 14 in front of our house, and there were clouds of dust in the hot summer air. Soldiers' uniforms were sometimes found in the ditch, giving evidence of desertion.
One summer, the highway past our home was rebuilt to its present width, and paved. It was good to see the last of the dust. And it cleaned up the ditches.
In about 1955 a major natural gas line was built through our area, passing maybe a quarter-mile south of our home, across our neighbor's farm. Dad and the neighbor (Martin Enger) arranged for a small gas-line to be built, connecting our two farmsteads to the main line. Our old furnace and black-iron kitchen stove were then converted from coal & wood to the 'new, clean-burning' natural gas, thus eliminating the need for shoveling of coal or chopping of wood or hauling out of ashes. And our gas-line was extended to bring heat to the large work-shop and to pump-house as well, to heat the well area and the cattle-trough.
Our water supply was a deep well (over 300-feet deep), situated on top of a small hill just north of our house. The water was very 'soft' - not 'hard' like that of most of our neighbors. Dad had an underground pipe installed, to bring water into the house. But the pipeline was shallow in the ground, and had to be drained late in the fall to avoid freezing. So then we would periodically roll out a polyethylene hose (stored in our house basement) and fill up a water tank in the basement. (And drain the hose quickly so it would not freeze, too.) It was all gravity from the well to the house, with a small pump in the basement to supply the kitchen. Oh, and the hot-water heater consisted of a small heater built into the side of the old kitchen stove, which had been converted to natural gas when the pipeline came through. So we had water in the house, but no flush-toilet. We still used the old 'outhouse' most of the time. And instead of a bathtub, Dad rigged up a pail of water on a high shelf, with a gravity hose hooked up to a shower brush for a shower.
We had a deep-freezer to keep food frozen, but we had no refrigerator to keep things cool; so there was a hole dug into the basement floor, which served as a cooler of sorts for a few small items like milk, butter, etc.; and about 1/4 to1/3 of the basement was insulated from the rest of the basement, and was used as a 'cellar' to store many bushels of vegetables over the winter, and until the new garden came in the summer.
Oh, yes, the garden. We always had a very large garden, with many rows of lettuce, onions, cabbage, corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, pumpkins, potatoes, carrots, beets and parsnips, as well as some fruits like rhubarb, raspberries and such. And there was always berry-picking in the late summer/early fall - usually of the 'wild' variety (saskatoon berries, chokecherries, pincherries, wild raspberries), from bushes on the farm or near-by road allowances. And we would also buy cases and cases of fresh peaches, pears, apricots, etc. Mom always canned hundreds of jars of fruits and vegetables, and she also made dozens and dozens of jars of jams and jellies. Gardening and canning were a family affair, with Mom usually doing the bulk of the work. But I also remember times when Dad would stay in to help with the canning. And of course we children sometimes did our share of grumbling, about all of the work that we were required to do.
And flowers - Mom always had lots of flowers around the front side of house, and in the garden: poppies, pansies (my favorite - they have such pretty faces), peonies, lilies, lilac bushes (lovely clusters of fragrant flowers), and many more - I can't remember them all. I just remember that they were beautiful; and Mom enjoyed tending them. Everyone who came to the farm enjoyed the flowers. In front of the house, there was a small field of grass, which Dad cut with the tractor and mower. You wouldn't really call it a lawn, but it was okay for a game of softball.
Then The Auction Sale:
In the spring of 1959, Dad and Mom decided to sell the farm, and move into the Village of Irma. Dad had decided to go full-time into carpentry work, which had been a sideline up until now. So we did what all farmers did when they sold out: we had an old-fashioned auction sale. Dad arranged for his friend Lloyd Oxby of Wainwright to organize and conduct the sale. We fully expected to sell the extra tools, farm equipment, tractors, and significant stuff. What we had not counted on, was all of the 'worthless junk' that Lloyd was able to sell for fifty cents here or a dollar there. Items that we would have been embarrassed to put up for sale. But Lloyd knew from his many years of experience that 'junk' also sells. And sell it did, amazingly! It also turned out to be a lovely sunny day, and people came from many miles around to the sale. It was a festive day. And from the second-storey window of our house, we could look down into the yard and watch it all. For me as a teen-ager it was an adventure; it was exciting. For Dad and Mom, well, I don't remember what they were thinking. mixed feelings, I suppose - leaving a farming way of life, to live a 'town life'.
The Move to the village of Irma:
So we sold the farm and moved into 'town' - into the Village of Irma (about 350 people lived there). In a way, it was like moving home, because we knew all the people already; at school, we knew all the teachers and we knew all the kids there, because we had gone to school in Irma School (by bus) since Grade One (and I graduated from Grade 12 there in 1962); we did most of our shopping there; our church was there; Dad was on the Board of the Co-op Store there; the curling rink was there, where Dad used to curl in the Farmers' Bonspiel during the winters; the outdoor skating rink was there, with its night lighting, where we sometimes went on Friday or Saturday evenings; the post office was there, where we always got our mail; the Chinese restaurant was there, where Grandpa used to go and smoke his pipe and visit with his friends, while his 'little wife' was at the tiny Anglican church around the corner, and where Dad or Mom would buy us kids ice cream cones (yes, even at -30F degrees in the winter!); the lumber yard was there; the service stations were there; our music teacher lived there; the grain elevators were there; the railway Station was there; the Rexall Drug Store was there; McFarland's Store was there; the farm machinery dealerships were there; many things were so familiar.
But this was also a new life, a very different life from the farm. We sold our farm and bought a large house with several acres of land, near the edge of town; the Irma School with its large playgrounds was across the street to the east (occupying most of the whole block), and the Irma Fair Grounds was across the avenue to the north. It was one of the larger houses in the village. It was a stately old house - with a large front lawn, circled by a long driveway; there were large concrete pillars on either side of the driveway, at each entrance; hedges across the front of the lawn; and trees up both sides of the driveway.
Dad bought the property from his old friends, Mr. & Mrs. James Craig, Sr. Mr. Craig was also a farmer/ carpenter, and he had done quite a bit of renovating to the house. A previous owner, Mr., Locke, had raised foxes on the property before that, and amongst the tall grass on the back of the property, we found remnants of the old wood-and-wire cages. (Speaking of the Craigs, I remember, as a child of about four years old, that our family of five would sometimes visit them on the farm - where they used to live, just north of Irma - and dear old Mrs. Craig would be down on the floor playing with us children, while Dad and Mom visited with her husband.)
The house had all the conveniences of urban living, like an electric fridge, electric range, proper running water (both hot and cold), and a real bathroom, complete with flush toilets, a bathtub and a sink. Also on the main floor, besides the kitchen, large dining room and large living room, were a large master bedroom and a second bedroom for sister Lily. Upstairs, was a second bathroom, and two more large bedrooms, one each for brother Tom and me. Lots of space.
For Mom, she now had more household conveniences, she was also closer to other ladies to visit with, or she could walk downtown to visit in the store (she was beginning to feel isolated back on the farm), and she also now had a smaller garden to care for, and more time on her hands. For Dad, there were many new opportunities, as a carpenter and cabinet-maker, for both fix-it jobs and new construction. Our church was just up the street. For us kids, the school was now just across the road - no more long rides on the school bus. (Funny, though, I was often nearly late for school - I often dawdled, and usually left our house in a hurry when I heard the first bell, which rang five minutes before school started, and by running, I usually made it to class just barely on time). And we could stay after school and play ball or football with the other kids. In the winter Tom and I got involved with High School curling.
Dad soon had the property surveyed and sub-divided into 10 or 12 new lots across the north side, which was all vacant grass land; and three lots across the front, with the big house on the middle lot. Over the next few years, Dad designed and built two more houses on the property, one on either side of the big one. Dad, Tom and I did most of the labor on these houses (with some help from a few of our school friends, and the local Licensed Plumber). We mixed the concrete and wheel-barrowed it into the forms; we did all the carpentry work, all the wiring and the roofing. Sweat labor, but friendship, too. When we built the first new house, (a small one), we moved into it, and Dad sold the big house; then we built the second new house, moved into it and sold the little one. The balance of the property was kept; it was sold years later, long after I had left home, when the village took a spurt of new growth.
Home Health Remedies:
Oh, yes! I almost forgot to tell you about the mustard plasters, the castor oil and the cod liver oil - those things that you just did, back in those days, fifty years ago; yes, and the health food - the black strap molasses, the wheat germ, the brewers yeast, and the carrot juice, etc, - that Dad was hooked on way back in 1950 or so - many years before 'health foods' became popular. I just remember that I hated mustard plasters, castor oil and health foods. I still do.
Thank you for visiting my page at Angelfire. Please come back and visit again!
I would be delighted to hear from you, whether you are an old friend or a new one. And if you are ever in Calgary, Alberta - I would be delighted to visit with you in person!
