12-04 Childhood Memories

There is a large volume of mother's writings that I inherited, as she tries to record some of her family history. In this chapter, I have a couple of stories from her early childhood. The first is during WW1, and mother is about five years of age. In the second story, she is about seven and her father is home from the war.
Mother and her younger sister Ray are getting ready for an outing …
“Mother told us to make sure our middies and skirts were spotless, no smudges on the top part of our costume and no lint on the serge pleats. We both had naturally curly hair and the forelock was tightly held back with a hair ribbon tied in a large bow. Ray and I each rubbed our patent leather shoes against our stockinged legs.
It was a warm day and the sides of the streetcar windows were all open. Mother paid five cents fare for herself with Ray, and I was travelling for free. It was an adventure. Mother firstly explained that she had not visited Mrs. Stedman for a long time and that she has a new daughter that was adopted.
A memory from the trip was passing a barber shop that had two white dogs sitting on little platforms on each side of the door. It was all the rage to have dogs that looked like the picture of the Victrola dogs that advertised, “His Masters Voice”.
Another memory was passing what mother called a “pork shop”, with its hanging sausages and tripe in its juices in a white pan. We did not eat pork.
We played with Mrs. Stedman’s daughter until we got bored, and then out of nowhere I said to the girl, "You are adopted, aren't you?" The little girl shouted, saying she was not adopted and burst into tears. Her mother quickly appeared, calling me a nasty girl, explaining that her daughter was her own child.
My mother later said to me, “Why can’t you learn to keep your mouth shut?” Later in life, remembering this story, I became a Children's Aid volunteer."
In the second story, the family is preparing to head off to Centre Island for the day. Over the years, people of limited income have always headed to the Islands for their weekend escape or formal holidays.
“Getting ready to go to the Island for a picnic was no mean thing. It meant mother cooking chicken the day before and preparing every kind of salad which she put into jars. Cookies, which mother baked, were a must and then we needed cups and plates and linens. We had to put all of this into a suitcase which my father carried.
I remember bumping my knees climbing into the streetcar with my sister Ray. It was jammed with people. We got to the ferry and crossed the lake over to Centre Island.
I remember mother asking suddenly, "Where is the suitcase?" Dad looked at her and answered, "I thought you had it." We took the next ferry back, hoping the suitcase would be standing there waiting for us. But, no such luck.
That childhood experience taught me to always be ready for the unexpected in life, no matter how much planning and preparation you do in advance.”