I never remember wanting a sister even though my best friend through high school had three sisters and I thought they were mostly great and I spent a lot of time with their family. However, having a sister always seemed to me that you gave up a unique position within your family for questionable benefits.
When I announced, at any time in life, that I was the only girl in a family of four, people would say, “Oh, so you must be so spoiled.” I argued that I was not. Whatever good qualities my father had, knowing how to relate to girl children was not one of them. He’d had a lot of very ‘bossy’ sisters and only one brother. In fact, I did everything my brothers did – picking rocks off a field our dad wanted to farm, weeding corn, picking corn and then helping mom a bit in the house. That didn’t seem ‘spoiled’ to me.
Growing up with three brothers, one older and two younger, had some very particular benefits. First of all, I saw boys as ‘people’ first and boys second. I never could figure out why boys thought they could tell me what to do and if necessary, I became ‘bossy’ with my brothers. I remember one particular unfortunate experience of this. One day we all wanted to go through the woods to visit our friend Harvey. I told my brothers I would ask for permission. I went to Mom and I was told that no, we could not go. I came outside and told my brothers we could go and off we went. When we came home some hours later, we were all punished – me for going without permission and my brothers for believing me. That should have taught them important something early in life.
Early in my childhood, I was unafraid of snakes – of course, only small garter snakes. I would forge a path through the woods and told my brothers to go behind me because I knew how to deal with the snakes better than them. This non-fear of mine lasted until we had a Shetland pony. I was out riding it and my brothers thought it would be fun to fling garter snakes at me as the pony raced away and I screamed. I’m sure I provided major amusement for them and a long lasting phobia for me. Not sure the snakes liked it much either.
I vaguely remember another incident with Ken, my older brother, walking home from school. We had been told NOT to go in the slough. There was little there to attract us other than the prohibition, – think leaches, skunk cabbage. I decided to walk across a log and fell in. I don’t remember if Ken followed me or not but I believe he valiantly tried to back me up when I denied I was wet because of falling in the slough.
Once we moved to the main highway, we lived across the road from a farmer’s field that was flooded and covered in ice in the winter. Ken decided to teach me to skate…very kind of him. As usual, I was confident well above my ability. I attempted to skate. I told Ken I didn’t need his help because if I put my mind to it, I’d do just fine. Of course I fell immediately and to this day I can remember Ken’s response. ‘Weak mind huh?” This was probably the start of the dry humor that has given much joy throughout his life.
Ken was a loyal companion. One day Mom and Dad and our two younger brothers had gone to visit the Albluns (sp?), an eccentric family (but kind) that lived about ten miles from us. By the way, I describe them as eccentric because for some reason they ate honey instead of sugar, whole wheat bread instead of Wonderbread and home grown fruits and vegetables. Ken and I were left at home and we got bored so we decided to walk to their place (I suspect I instigated this). I think it ended with Ken and I at the Albluns and the rest of the family back at home. Eventually, and I’m not sure how, we were reunited. Ken may have a better memory of how this turned out.
My relationship with my younger brothers became more involved when we moved to Yarrow – they were younger than me by 2 1/2 and 4 1/2 years. Eric, the youngest, is the only person in the world who every gave me a nickname and the only one I ever allowed to give me a nickname. Actually, that’s not entirely true. My Dad’s oldest sister Marie called me “Lolly”. Eric called me “Lutray”. No idea where that came from.
Howie has often come to my rescue. When we were living in Yarrow, we had a hardware store. For some reason, one Sunday afternoon I was in the store alone – it was not open. I heard some clanging sounds from the back storeroom. I called home ( a few blocks away) and Howie answered. I told him the problem and he, more prone to sauntering than running, raced all the way to the store, still in his Sunday shirt, tie and sports jacket to rescue me. I think it was probably rats but it was good to know that I could count on his help when needed.
Another time, I was back in Canada from Greece. I had left my lovely Husqvarna sewing machine in California and really wanted to replace it. I had no money at the time. I visited Howie in Vernon and he found a replacement for me at a store he’d previously worked for, bought it and gave it to me as a present. I used that machine for years, until, like in California, it got left behind in Greece. That didn’t diminish my appreciation for the kind gesture.
As well as his kindness and emotional support, the biggest help he gave me was one day in Vancouver when my old van was so broken, it could barely limp it’s way down Marine Drive to the auto dealer where Howie worked. Howie helped me with selecting the best car, arranging the money for the car and I got the car I have and still enjoy today. Oh, and Howie keeps me supplied with computers and our conversations are riddled with humor and laughter.
Eric has been a big help in more recent years – not that he wasn’t before but I remember more recent things. Eric (like Ken before him with skating) tried to teach me to ski. He and I went up to Mt. Baker for my first lesson. As usual, I was supremely confident. Eric felt that I should first learn to get up when I fell since falling is a huge part of learning to ski. He was very helpful – so helpful that when I started skiing lessons at Grouse Mountain a few weeks later, I decided to demonstrate to some members of my class how to get up after falling down. Well of course, I fell down and couldn’t get up. Some classmates later told me that they were baffled how I had managed to fall down before the class even started.
I remember that trip to Mt. Baker for another reason. I had just gotten myself a wonderful yellow ski suit. I was feeling very stylish. As I got in line in the cafeteria at lunch time, I noticed a lot of people staring at me. I thought, “Well, I must look very good in this outfit.” However, the staring continued and I started to wonder. I asked the man next to me in line if there was something wrong. He suggested I go and look at my face in the mirror – horror of horrors – I looked like a member of Kiss; black mascara was streaked down my cheeks. I wish Eric had thought to tell me to use waterproof mascara on a misty day of skiing. That perhaps would have been more useful than learning to get up after falling down – a skill that deserted me as soon as I needed it.
Two years ago when my apartment flooded, Ken and Morgan and Eric and Jan took me in. Ken helped me select the paint colors for my remodel by preparing gyprock boards for me to test the paint on. Eric remodeled a scrap yard counter top into a custom fitted desk for me.
When my Dad was sick and Mom was in care I received a lot of moral and practical support. My brothers made my life easier by lifting many burdens. They helped me get the money to buy in Abbotsford so I could be nearer our mother. Eric drove down from Vernon with the cheque I needed and drove back the same day. Eric sat with me in Dad’s room at the hospice and we supported each other during dad’s time there. Ken and Howie were around too then and when Mom died fourteen months later it was easier with their presence. Eric handled all the finances carefully and fairly.
On a final note – two of the best things my brothers have given my life are laughter and security. I feel safe in the world with them around. And not to be forgotten, they’ve given me a third wonderful gift – the sisters-in-law I love and admire.
What a lovely tribute and a nice picture! You are very loyal to your brothers, and they are good to you. Those childhood nicknames, though! They just aren’t really you.
Several comments are in order. I’ll start with one, my recollection of the ice skating. We were still quite small. I was 10 or maybe 11. Laura (as we knew her then) put on ice skates and tried to skate in the field opposite our house. The problem was that there wasn’t much water in the first place, so the ice was thin. One skate went through (not very far) and to free herself she tried to climb out on the other skate. That just broke more ice. I don’t recall how it ended (did I help her out?), but there was no particular trauma or injury.
The yearly flooding of the fields was great for kids. Skating on rare occasions, but more often rafting. Rafts were made of fence posts lashed together and we propelled ourselves with poles.
I don’t recall anyone ever challenging our right to enter their fields and raft, or skate, or otherwise enjoy ourselves.
You are lucky to have three brothers who helped and cared for you. Having four of you so close in age meant you were all friends together. My brother was so much younger than me that he doesn’t even remember me living with them. But I did have two fascinating sisters, who were friends who cared for me as well. I think brothers are different than sisters though, and the relationship is different.
I love the photo.
I also remember the Alblühns and I don’t know if I am spelling that correctly. The archives of The Chilliwack Progress don’t reveal anything. There were two children older than us, Ronald and Ruth. They had a third child, Elmer. They took the name from our Uncle Elmer.
Most farms had bales of hay and they did, too. Mr. Alblühn proudly showed us a structure Ronald and Ruth had made of the bales. We had fun crawling through the tunnels and reaching the hidden alcoves under the hay.
I remember Mrs. Alblühn as quiet and reserved, but also kind and solicitous. As I recall, Mr. Alblühn had originally married her sister, but that sister had died and so he married again. They were at the end of Annis Rd., against the mountain, so you could toboggan on their property. On one occasion I fell as I came down the hillside. Mrs. Alblühn took me into the house and must have given me a hot drink. But what I do remember is her poppyseed cake. They had their own poppies. And they had the first compost pile that I recall seeing.
I recall an occasion when my father and Mr. Alblühn were discussing world politics. I think it was Mr. Alblühn who mentioned the displaced Palestinians, living in refugee camps. I do not recall that they disagreed in any explicit way, or that they agreed on any conclusion. It was just a fragment of conversation that was filed away in my memory.