This letter was written at a time when my mother who was 54 years old, lived with my Grandfather at a house on 97 Falstaff in Toronto. She found his care a burden at times as well as her job was frustrating her. What follows is her unique solution and observations.
January 19, 1986
My Dear Heather
I am sitting in the Bingo hall waiting for the gambling to commence. There are a multitude of sounds assaulting my ears – small hammers pound in tacks, ladies’ high pitched laughter, men’s lower toned chortles. There is a snack bar here. The Ladies’ Auxiliary makes the food. Home made cakes, tarts, sandwiches, cabby rolls and hot dog. I have already had dinner before I came but have decided already on a hot dog at intermission.
Years ago when my Mother took me to Bingo there were no men. It was a female forte. It still is to some degree for when a man call Bingo, you can usually hear some old timer say “He should be home either watching hockey on TV or the kids.”
I like Bingo. It is a mindless game. I do a lot of serous thinking while plopping down chips on the 20 cards I play. I also like to go to Bingo along. There is no idle chatter at me. I can play in comparative solitude and certain amount of peace prevails. When I go home, winner or not, I always feel better. Weird it may seem. But it must be so for my Dad always seems easier somewhat and I don’t feel as frustrated.
Things around home have been tiring since Dad fell and broke his arm. He was badly shaken and he is 80 years old. He is also in very good shape. He is once again going downtown to his club on Thursdays. Very big step for I feared he would never venture out again and you can just imagine how I was feeling about that.
I am sending resumés out again. The company has become so large they are unable to control what is happening. So off I go to seek my fortune.
Home again. A no win night but I feel very relaxed. Ready to face another week of whatevers. Love Your Mom
Friday, June 4, 2010
Eccentric Marriages
June 14, 1994
Marion Halpenny
Vancouver, B.C.
Hi once again Joss:
I guess I mentioned I come from a long line of eccentric people. My Grandparents (Your Great-Great) were no exception in that department. They did not have what you would call a regular type marriage.
My Gran was his second wife. His first wife died under very suspicious circumstances. Anyway, they had three children who survived, 2 boys (my father being one of the boys) and 1 girl. When my Grandfather immigrated to the U.S. of A my Grandmother was pregnant. The child she was carrying was my Uncle Monty. He was 18 years old before he met his father.
If the truth be known, my Grandfather was advised to immigrate lest something ugly happen to him. He was endeavoring to form the Bakers’ Union of Scotland. (and not too well received.) So in early 1910 he sailed for the new land and ended up in Boston, Mass where he was one of the founding fathers of the Bakers’ Union of America some years later.
In all fairness to my Grandfather, he sent their fares on at least three occasions. My Grandmother said ‘the time was not right’ and promptly spent the money.
She finally did immigrate in 1928 (at her own expense) but not to Boston. She came to Canada – Toronto, Canada. So at least now they both on the same side of the ocean. About a year after coming to Canada my Grandmother took her vacation and boarded a bus for Boston. It must have been agreeable, for every year thereafter she took off for Boston and stayed with my Grandfather. This arrangement changed when both retired from the work force. My Grandfather moved to New Britain Conn., where my Grandmother lived with him for six months and then back to Toronto for six months.
When he was about 92 years old he slipped out one day on my Grandmother and called my parents’ home in Toronto. It seems he had enough of life and figured it was time to go on to that big bakery in the sky. Seems my Grandmother objected to his wish. She would poke him during the night to see if he was still alive. My oldest brother Peter drove down to New Britain and brought my Grandmother back to Toronto. (She was not amused and I was just glad I was not party to that 24 hour ordeal back and forth.) They received a phone call one week later to say my Grandfather had got his wish – he had died.
My Grandmother, only being in her late 70’s, early 80’s and having a bit of the wanderlust, then went to Rochester, New York for sic months to live with my cousin Eileen. This arrangement was also a tad odd. For my Gran and my Cousin never liked one another as far as I could ever establish. My Gran being an Orange Presbyterian and Eileen a Roman Catholic – Sorry. I do leap ahead of myself. This is for another time.
Back to Grandfather. He lived for over fifty years in the States and never became a citizen. He came to Canada once and was so afraid to cross the border, no amount of pleading could entice him to do so again.
He was a tall man and very handsome according to my Gran. With all due respect to him, I have wondered what he did for female companionship for 50 weeks a year. But that’s only conjecture on my part knowing how fond of women all my brothers were. Hence several multiple marriages.
The things I have written to you about are only a small portion of the gaga yet to come. I do hope you find them of some interest.
Love your grandma
Marion Halpenny
Vancouver, B.C.
Hi once again Joss:
I guess I mentioned I come from a long line of eccentric people. My Grandparents (Your Great-Great) were no exception in that department. They did not have what you would call a regular type marriage.
My Gran was his second wife. His first wife died under very suspicious circumstances. Anyway, they had three children who survived, 2 boys (my father being one of the boys) and 1 girl. When my Grandfather immigrated to the U.S. of A my Grandmother was pregnant. The child she was carrying was my Uncle Monty. He was 18 years old before he met his father.
If the truth be known, my Grandfather was advised to immigrate lest something ugly happen to him. He was endeavoring to form the Bakers’ Union of Scotland. (and not too well received.) So in early 1910 he sailed for the new land and ended up in Boston, Mass where he was one of the founding fathers of the Bakers’ Union of America some years later.
In all fairness to my Grandfather, he sent their fares on at least three occasions. My Grandmother said ‘the time was not right’ and promptly spent the money.
She finally did immigrate in 1928 (at her own expense) but not to Boston. She came to Canada – Toronto, Canada. So at least now they both on the same side of the ocean. About a year after coming to Canada my Grandmother took her vacation and boarded a bus for Boston. It must have been agreeable, for every year thereafter she took off for Boston and stayed with my Grandfather. This arrangement changed when both retired from the work force. My Grandfather moved to New Britain Conn., where my Grandmother lived with him for six months and then back to Toronto for six months.
When he was about 92 years old he slipped out one day on my Grandmother and called my parents’ home in Toronto. It seems he had enough of life and figured it was time to go on to that big bakery in the sky. Seems my Grandmother objected to his wish. She would poke him during the night to see if he was still alive. My oldest brother Peter drove down to New Britain and brought my Grandmother back to Toronto. (She was not amused and I was just glad I was not party to that 24 hour ordeal back and forth.) They received a phone call one week later to say my Grandfather had got his wish – he had died.
My Grandmother, only being in her late 70’s, early 80’s and having a bit of the wanderlust, then went to Rochester, New York for sic months to live with my cousin Eileen. This arrangement was also a tad odd. For my Gran and my Cousin never liked one another as far as I could ever establish. My Gran being an Orange Presbyterian and Eileen a Roman Catholic – Sorry. I do leap ahead of myself. This is for another time.
Back to Grandfather. He lived for over fifty years in the States and never became a citizen. He came to Canada once and was so afraid to cross the border, no amount of pleading could entice him to do so again.
He was a tall man and very handsome according to my Gran. With all due respect to him, I have wondered what he did for female companionship for 50 weeks a year. But that’s only conjecture on my part knowing how fond of women all my brothers were. Hence several multiple marriages.
The things I have written to you about are only a small portion of the gaga yet to come. I do hope you find them of some interest.
Love your grandma
Friday, May 7, 2010
Family Dinners at Falstaff
This letter was sent by Marion Halpenny to Felicity Crocker, her granddaughter. Marion had one of her many bursts of creative energy and produced a number of letters to her granddaughters. Loosely called history, she has particular wit that jumps off the page. It is too bad she never became the published author she would have liked to have been.
July 14, 1994
Vancouver, B.C.
My dear Felicity:
As you already know, I was born into a rather large family. As I married, so did most of my brothers. Babies, well, they say cheaper by the dozen and I do believe everyone in my family believed this.
Before very long there were about 10 children- all under 10 years. As was the custom, Sunday was “visit Mother.” Everyone, and I mean everyone went. You were excused if you died between Sunday evening and the next Sunday afternoon.
My mother would buy a big roast of beef-cook if for about 4 hours until she was sure it was done. Veggies etc went with.
Since the dining room table could only seat about 10-12 people, the children of the Clan would have to sit in the kitchen to eat. Once the food was placed in front of my brothers and their wives, the children were forgotten about, to do as they will.
Potatoes were jammed up noses, peas fired from forks like catapults, meat chewed half way and spit out. Milk all over the floor. Not one parent could tell who ate what or how much. Needless to say it was liberally in hair, ears, eyebrows, on clothes and spread all around the general area of the kitchen. (Not much was actually consumed.)
The squeals coming from the kitchen were wild. I, of course, did not go into the kitchen at that point. I knew my wonderful children would never indulge in such wasteful behaviour and had just ignored the melée and eaten all of their food gracefully. I should tell you, none of the children were hungry. My Mother supplied candies from the moment they arrived until they went home. There was usually a liberal smattering of half eaten candies around the house. Stuck to everyone and everywhere.
My Mother and Father were saints just to put up with everyone every week. One aspect of the Sunday visits your mum Heather could probably enlarge on pertained to “Lassie Come Home” and football games. I can still hear my Mom saying, “the Lassie is watching “Lassie Come Home.” She always had a small smile on her face as she walked back out of the living room. (My brothers were furious.
Another aspect of Sundays at my parents’ house were the night terrors at least one of my children had every Sunday night. I guess I never did appreciate Sunday at my parent’s home. But, being a dutiful daughter, I went every week for many years. Then, too, I was the only one able to make gravy from the roast. Ha.
Your Grandma
July 14, 1994
Vancouver, B.C.
My dear Felicity:
As you already know, I was born into a rather large family. As I married, so did most of my brothers. Babies, well, they say cheaper by the dozen and I do believe everyone in my family believed this.
Before very long there were about 10 children- all under 10 years. As was the custom, Sunday was “visit Mother.” Everyone, and I mean everyone went. You were excused if you died between Sunday evening and the next Sunday afternoon.
My mother would buy a big roast of beef-cook if for about 4 hours until she was sure it was done. Veggies etc went with.
Since the dining room table could only seat about 10-12 people, the children of the Clan would have to sit in the kitchen to eat. Once the food was placed in front of my brothers and their wives, the children were forgotten about, to do as they will.
Potatoes were jammed up noses, peas fired from forks like catapults, meat chewed half way and spit out. Milk all over the floor. Not one parent could tell who ate what or how much. Needless to say it was liberally in hair, ears, eyebrows, on clothes and spread all around the general area of the kitchen. (Not much was actually consumed.)
The squeals coming from the kitchen were wild. I, of course, did not go into the kitchen at that point. I knew my wonderful children would never indulge in such wasteful behaviour and had just ignored the melée and eaten all of their food gracefully. I should tell you, none of the children were hungry. My Mother supplied candies from the moment they arrived until they went home. There was usually a liberal smattering of half eaten candies around the house. Stuck to everyone and everywhere.
My Mother and Father were saints just to put up with everyone every week. One aspect of the Sunday visits your mum Heather could probably enlarge on pertained to “Lassie Come Home” and football games. I can still hear my Mom saying, “the Lassie is watching “Lassie Come Home.” She always had a small smile on her face as she walked back out of the living room. (My brothers were furious.
Another aspect of Sundays at my parents’ house were the night terrors at least one of my children had every Sunday night. I guess I never did appreciate Sunday at my parent’s home. But, being a dutiful daughter, I went every week for many years. Then, too, I was the only one able to make gravy from the roast. Ha.
Your Grandma
Montgomerie Family Names
May 19, 1994
Marion Halpenny
Vancouver, B.C.
Hi Joss:
I guess when you wind me up there is no end to what can happen. If I don’t tell you some of the lore concerning this side of your roots, they will die with me and I feel that would be something of a shame.
My Grandmother, (my father’s mother – your great, great grandmother) was a rare character. I won’t go into her today. It’s about her family. Their family names include Houston, Pearson, Eglington for a few. Houston Texas was named after a Scot called Sam Houston. (yes we are related).
Many Americans tout him as a hero but he was sent to the ‘Colonies’ because he was a no goodnick- bad guy. That’s where all family black sheep were sent to prevent further embarrassment to the stoic Scots.
My grandmother’s maiden name was Houston. Her mother’s maiden name was Pearson. Thus I am, and get this for a girl, Marion Pearson Montgomerie. Nearly everyone in my family has or had a last name for a middle name, as was the custom. Peter Cairns, James Stevenson, Frank MacIntosh (my twin), me, Hugh Houston. After these, my parents veered from family, hence, Cairns Wellwood (delivery doctor) Steven Marino (Father’s best friend) and John who should have been Gilchrist. But because my father had no use for his only sister’s husband, refused to put Gilchrist on the birth certificate – so John is just John.
Bein a Scots family, it is rife with quarrels and grievances that never seem to be resolved. The people involved just die off. Instant resolution.
Back to my Grandmother’s family. We called her Gran, as did anyone who came into our house. Her father was a traveling Presbyterian Minister who traveled all over Scotland to bring the ‘true word.’
Her mother’s family were some kind of lesser gentry. My Gran became a Midwife/Nurse. She used to take assignments all over Britain. Her job was to take care of the new baby. So, she would have sic weeks before delivery and six weeks after delivery and all she did was tend to the child. No laundry, no cooking or cleaning, just the ‘wain.’ She was a graduate of the Glasgow School of Nursing – a very prestigious place indeed.
Among her family names, Eglinton places quite prominently. There is a street in Toronto called Eglinton. This is named after Lord Eglinton, who was related my Gran’s mother. I know these are a long way back and not relevant to anyone today, but as I said before, these small things will die with me…sooooo, Ramble on Grandma.
Marion Halpenny
Vancouver, B.C.
Hi Joss:
I guess when you wind me up there is no end to what can happen. If I don’t tell you some of the lore concerning this side of your roots, they will die with me and I feel that would be something of a shame.
My Grandmother, (my father’s mother – your great, great grandmother) was a rare character. I won’t go into her today. It’s about her family. Their family names include Houston, Pearson, Eglington for a few. Houston Texas was named after a Scot called Sam Houston. (yes we are related).
Many Americans tout him as a hero but he was sent to the ‘Colonies’ because he was a no goodnick- bad guy. That’s where all family black sheep were sent to prevent further embarrassment to the stoic Scots.
My grandmother’s maiden name was Houston. Her mother’s maiden name was Pearson. Thus I am, and get this for a girl, Marion Pearson Montgomerie. Nearly everyone in my family has or had a last name for a middle name, as was the custom. Peter Cairns, James Stevenson, Frank MacIntosh (my twin), me, Hugh Houston. After these, my parents veered from family, hence, Cairns Wellwood (delivery doctor) Steven Marino (Father’s best friend) and John who should have been Gilchrist. But because my father had no use for his only sister’s husband, refused to put Gilchrist on the birth certificate – so John is just John.
Bein a Scots family, it is rife with quarrels and grievances that never seem to be resolved. The people involved just die off. Instant resolution.
Back to my Grandmother’s family. We called her Gran, as did anyone who came into our house. Her father was a traveling Presbyterian Minister who traveled all over Scotland to bring the ‘true word.’
Her mother’s family were some kind of lesser gentry. My Gran became a Midwife/Nurse. She used to take assignments all over Britain. Her job was to take care of the new baby. So, she would have sic weeks before delivery and six weeks after delivery and all she did was tend to the child. No laundry, no cooking or cleaning, just the ‘wain.’ She was a graduate of the Glasgow School of Nursing – a very prestigious place indeed.
Among her family names, Eglinton places quite prominently. There is a street in Toronto called Eglinton. This is named after Lord Eglinton, who was related my Gran’s mother. I know these are a long way back and not relevant to anyone today, but as I said before, these small things will die with me…sooooo, Ramble on Grandma.
Montgomerie Motto "Garde Bien"
May 12, 1994
Marion Halpenny
Vancouver, B.C.
Hi Joss:
You probably do not recognize the script but it comes from the hand of your maternal Grandmother.
I owe you more than an apology for my neglect of your special days, Xmas, holidays, Ides of March, St. Andrew’s Day, Robert Burns Birthday, I could go on for a whole letter enumerating my misses. So let me give you one sincere, “I’m really sorry Jocelyn” in the hope your heart is a forgiving one and you give me a chance to redeem myself in some way.
I am not sure of how much family history you know. I do know your Mother loved my parents very much. My Mother when your Mother was just a young girl and my Father when she was young woman.
I am going even further back than your great grandparents. This is a true story of the Montgomeries got their coat of arm. “Garde Bien” That is the motto – Here goes:
During the fifteenth century there was much unrest in France. Many noble families were crossing the English Channel to flee the guillotine and to start new lives. The norm was for the husband to travel first, set things up and then send for his family once this was done.
Our long time ago ancestors were among the new wave of immigrants to cross the Channel. His choice was Scotland. Once he had established himself, he sent for his wife. Woman did not travel alone. And so it was that Lady Montgomerie journeyed to the coast of France with her long–time maid in attendance. They boarded the boat when the tide was going out to make an over-night crossing.
Lady Montgomerie was carrying the family fortune in her possession. This fact was supposed to be a well kept secret. Not!
Once the maid has settled her mistress in her cabin she set about to investigate the ship. (as well as the crew for she was known to be daft about sailors.) She came upon the Boson (second in command) and quickly made his acquaintance.
As is so often happens, the Boson became chatty with the maid.(called pillow talk sometimes.) He told her of the Captain’s plot to murder her mistress, dump her body over the side of the ship and steal the jewels.
The maid, being an honorable person when it came to her mistress, immediately returned to their cabin and told her the whole ugly plot.
Now the mistress was not faint of heart to be sure. She got ready and waited for the Captain to come to her cabin. When he stuck his head through the doorway, she lopped it off.
When the ship arrived in the Scottish habour next morning, there stood Lady Montgomerie on the bow, holding a sword in one hand and the captain’s head in the other – both head high for all to see.
The Montgomerie Coat of Arms shows a woman on a ship holding up a sword in one and an anchor in the other- Motto – Garde Bien. Somewhere the head of the captain was changed to anchor. I guess it seemed more genteel.
My Grandfather Montgomerie told me that year. I have never doubted it as the gospel truth~ would you?
More later on the Montgomerie Saga.
Perhaps you are too old to appreciate the fact that I work in the bakery. Oh, wonderful smells of cinnamon, chocolate. The cockroaches do take away some of the glitter but when I was a youngster, I would have though I had died and gone to heaven if my grandmother had worked in a bakery. Mine worked at Canada Packers. She brought home meat, uncooked meat. Hard for a young person to become excited about raw meat unless you are a young shark.
Your loving grandma
Marion Halpenny
Vancouver, B.C.
Hi Joss:
You probably do not recognize the script but it comes from the hand of your maternal Grandmother.
I owe you more than an apology for my neglect of your special days, Xmas, holidays, Ides of March, St. Andrew’s Day, Robert Burns Birthday, I could go on for a whole letter enumerating my misses. So let me give you one sincere, “I’m really sorry Jocelyn” in the hope your heart is a forgiving one and you give me a chance to redeem myself in some way.
I am not sure of how much family history you know. I do know your Mother loved my parents very much. My Mother when your Mother was just a young girl and my Father when she was young woman.
I am going even further back than your great grandparents. This is a true story of the Montgomeries got their coat of arm. “Garde Bien” That is the motto – Here goes:
During the fifteenth century there was much unrest in France. Many noble families were crossing the English Channel to flee the guillotine and to start new lives. The norm was for the husband to travel first, set things up and then send for his family once this was done.
Our long time ago ancestors were among the new wave of immigrants to cross the Channel. His choice was Scotland. Once he had established himself, he sent for his wife. Woman did not travel alone. And so it was that Lady Montgomerie journeyed to the coast of France with her long–time maid in attendance. They boarded the boat when the tide was going out to make an over-night crossing.
Lady Montgomerie was carrying the family fortune in her possession. This fact was supposed to be a well kept secret. Not!
Once the maid has settled her mistress in her cabin she set about to investigate the ship. (as well as the crew for she was known to be daft about sailors.) She came upon the Boson (second in command) and quickly made his acquaintance.
As is so often happens, the Boson became chatty with the maid.(called pillow talk sometimes.) He told her of the Captain’s plot to murder her mistress, dump her body over the side of the ship and steal the jewels.
The maid, being an honorable person when it came to her mistress, immediately returned to their cabin and told her the whole ugly plot.
Now the mistress was not faint of heart to be sure. She got ready and waited for the Captain to come to her cabin. When he stuck his head through the doorway, she lopped it off.
When the ship arrived in the Scottish habour next morning, there stood Lady Montgomerie on the bow, holding a sword in one hand and the captain’s head in the other – both head high for all to see.
The Montgomerie Coat of Arms shows a woman on a ship holding up a sword in one and an anchor in the other- Motto – Garde Bien. Somewhere the head of the captain was changed to anchor. I guess it seemed more genteel.
My Grandfather Montgomerie told me that year. I have never doubted it as the gospel truth~ would you?
More later on the Montgomerie Saga.
Perhaps you are too old to appreciate the fact that I work in the bakery. Oh, wonderful smells of cinnamon, chocolate. The cockroaches do take away some of the glitter but when I was a youngster, I would have though I had died and gone to heaven if my grandmother had worked in a bakery. Mine worked at Canada Packers. She brought home meat, uncooked meat. Hard for a young person to become excited about raw meat unless you are a young shark.
Your loving grandma
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