It has been written that: '…the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is blithe and bonnie and good and gay'.
My entrance into the world was indeed on a Sunday,on the 27th of September, 1925. And not without a little pride, I've always thought, that this description nicely sums up my personality. It also leaves out any mention of my height.
I was born on a farm on the 8th Line in Ramsay Township, approximately 2 ½ miles outside of Almonte, now known as Mississippi Mills. A little sister was born before me, however she died of pneumonia when she was three months old.
My mother decided I would be born in our log house assisted by a mid-wife. My father's sister, Aunt Myrtle, stayed on the farm to assist. My young mother certainly needed help - especially when I developed exema all over the top of my head. I've been told that not only was I a very tiny baby but getting me to eat was another problem. All in all, my doting parents and aunt thought that I too would not survive.
Time moved on and my health improved. My hair grew curly and visiting relatives delighted in giving me "kiss curls". My mother told me many stories regarding those early years, some of which I will share.
One Saturday night my Father walked to Almonte for supplies. It was a lengthy trip by foot. We had no car at that time. This left Mother and I all alone on the farm. At the time I was suffering from a high temperature but it soon turned into a convulsion. In the kitchen we had a big Findlay wood stove and luckily the fire was almost out. Mother wrapped me up and put me in the oven. Not the way to treat a convulsion! But I survived.
Living on a farm it was quite natural to play outdoors. There was so much to do. Mother said she would often go to call me inside, for meals, or to do some chore and I wouldn't answer her. She would go to look for me and there I would be hiding behind a big thistle. There were benefits to being small.
One day Mother set out to do the wash. Wash-day took place at least twice a week. She took from the house the large, wooden, folding-stand and set it up in the yard near the clothes line. She'd place the two large metal wash-tubs on the stand. Next, she would carry several pails of hot water from the stove and empty them into one wash-tub. Then, she'd take two empty pails to the pumphouse and fill them with cold water. The walk and the pumping would take about 10 to 20 minutes. I'd often watch as Mother would put her home-made, grey coloured soap - made from lye and lard, into the washtub. The dirty clothes were sorted and soaked. Then, the washboard was used to scrub the clothes. The washboard was about 2 feet long, and almost as wide. Framed by wood, its body was made of thick, rippled, green tinted glass. It was a very physical job. Mother would take an item, rub it up and down on the washboard, often adding a little more soap to certain spots. When she was satisfied they were clean, she'd wring them by hand, put them into the rinse tub, swish them around a bit, wring them out again and put them into a basket for hanging on the line. One day when she was hanging out the laundry, she looked over and to her surprise there I was , fully dressed, and in the tub soaking wet rubbing up and down against the washboard.
The farm was a busy place. Aunts, uncles and cousins often came to visit. In June 1928, a little brother joined our family. Although I had many, many dolls, here was a real live one. He was named Milton Lethford Logan More. He was called "Milton" after my father; "Lethford" as a middle name, "Logan" after my mother's maiden name; and "More" was our surname. He ended up being called "Lethford". When he was approximately three years old, one of my mother's brothers, Bill, came to visit. He took Lethford on his knee and told him his name should be 'Logan'. Uncle Bill told him not to answer anyone unless they called him 'Logan'. From that very time on he wouldn't do a thing for anyone unless they called him Logan. Thus my brother became known as Logan More.
As a young child I happily played, talked to myself, and in my imagination, created another big family. Mother and Father said I had many conversations and even made imaginary plans with my second family. I always had answers when I was questioned regarding this "other" family.
One time my Mother and I went to Ottawa to visit my Aunt. All three of us went for a walk on Bank Street, but I was lagging behind dressed in my cute little dress and bonnet. Fortunately they looked back just as two men in a car were about to grab me. After this my Mother would make sure I was close by.
TIME PERIOD 1932
This was a memorable year. Brother Logan was four years old now and my second brother was born June 12, 1932. He was named Bertram Charles McRae More. "Charles" was my paternal father's name and "McRae" was my maternal mother's name. But we called him "Bert".
I didn't start school until I was seven years old. I was kept back because I used to smother in the wind during the 1 1/4 mile walk to school. Also, it had been decided and approved by the teacher and trustees, that Logan should be allowed, at four years of age, to attend school. Thus Logan walked before me to shelter me from the wind and we were also company for each other.
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