Parents tell their children many things,
but they never know what impact
their lessons and stories will ultimately have.
It's fascinating how the same parents
can tell the same siblings the same things,
and each child will respond differently.
My brother Roy remarked on an early Northern post
how different our memories of the North were.
For him it was a time of adventure, exploration
and the pure joy of interacting with the Indians.
A Treasured Childhood Photo of Roy and Me
Sitting on the Loveseat in My Parent's Charlottetown Home, c. March 1954
The photographer had just told me to pull my dress down because my panties were showing.
Roy found that funny!
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
It was for me too,
but I read, saw, and remembered darker things.
Perhaps it was that fourteen month age difference
between us, or perhaps it was because my brother
has the gift of seeing things through rosier glasses.
I thought long and hard about posting this letter,
but I cannot tell the story of our time in the North
and ignore the cruel reality that the Indians endured.
That reality colored my world forever darker.
This letter had surprising ramifications in the future,
especially for my father and me;
and this, ultimately, is my story too,
so I will tell it as I experienced it.
On Sunday, October 23, 1960
My father wrote:
How’s everyone tonight?
Today was as nasty as yesterday was nice.
It was very cold and cloudy and
snowed on and off most of the day.
When it wasn’t snowing,
the wind was howling and whistling
like a thing possessed.
The water is very thick and cold.
Freeze-up is not too far off.
Mike was in today after Mass to see Uno and me
and see if we would help him out if he organized
a health clinic next Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons.
There is a serious nutritional problem among the Indians
at Lansdowne House, and especially among the children.
Some of them are literally starving to death.
The main stay of their diet is bannock and tea.
In a great number of cases, the only milk that the children
get is the little bit of canned milk that they get in their tea.
The government is supposed to supply powdered milk
and vitamin fortified biscuits, but as usual
with the government, neither has arrived for this year yet.
Mike wants to find out just what the general health condition
of the children is, so he will know what measures are necessary.
If the children are too undernourished,
they are wide open for any disease that comes along.
Uno's (left) and Dad's Schools
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue All Rights Reserved
Look, I’m telling you, you wouldn’t believe it
unless you saw it with your own two eyes.
It is utterly appalling how
undernourished some of these children are.
I was in the nursing station the other afternoon,
seeing Mike about something,
when this Indian mother brought in a baby
that was about one month old,
and it was almost in the last stages of starvation.
The mother was beyond the usual child bearing age,
and she was attempting to breast feed the child,
just as she had done with her eight others,
but because of her age and/or general run down condition,
she didn’t have sufficient milk for the baby,
and the poor little thing was slowly starving to death.
Mike didn’t realize that the poor thing
was as far gone as it was,
and he had Anne fix it up a bottle.
Well, it would have done your hearts good
to see the relish with which that baby tackled the bottle.
Unfortunately, the baby was so run down and so far gone,
that he no sooner got the milk down, then he threw it up again.
Mike immediately took the baby out of the tikinagan
and stripped it, and I wish you could have seen it.
Its arms and legs were no larger than matchsticks.
Its tummy was distended,
and its body was almost completely dehydrated.
The mother wanted Mike to give her something
to restore her milk supply.
Mike told her to buy canned milk for the baby,
but she said that she could not afford to do this.
Do you know that all the milk that her family was getting
was one half can of condensed milk per day –
this for eight children, a father, and a nursing mother.
A More Fortunate Mother with a Healthier Child
Mainland, Lansdowne House, 1960
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
Mike had to go down to the Bay and arrange
for her to get some condensed milk for the baby on credit,
on the condition that the baby’s family allowance
would be used to pay for it.
This mother and child were from the Father’s flock,
and Mike, even though he is Catholic himself, admits
that the conditions are worse on the island than on the mainland.
The people are poorer and have much larger families than on the mainland.
I would think that the church would be doing the Indians
a greater service by teaching them to prevent
unwanted children that they can’t afford to feed properly,
than worrying about their Hail Marys, rosaries,
and other such religious falderal.
After Mike arranged for the milk for the baby,
he had to show the mother how to prepare the bottles
and prevent them from becoming contaminated with germs.
She didn’t have the slightest idea how to go about this.
The Hudson Bay Post and Dock w/ Bush Plane
viewed from the Father's Island
Lansdowne House, September 1960
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
Well, the clinics are on for Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons.
Tuesday, it will be held in Uno’s school,
and Wednesday it will be held in my school.
Uno and I will have to help out at both clinics.
That winds her up for tonight.
See you all tomorrow.
Bye now,
love,
Don.
I thought about omitting Dad's criticism
of the Roman Catholic Church,
especially considering how much I have always
admired and respected Father Ouimet
and how large he loomed in our lives.
But my parents had strong convictions birth control,
and it felt wrong for me to omit Dad's remark.
Doctors sternly warned my mother
not to have any more children
after Roy and I were born
because she had serious medical issues.
But my parents couldn't stop the babies.
Donnie, Me, and Roy
Atholville, New Brunswick, 1957
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
When I was in first grade,
after the birth of my sisters Donnie and Barb,
my mother had a seriously botched thyroid operation
down in the States, and she nearly died.
She survived and went on to have my last sister Bertie.
Donnie, Barb, Me, Bertie, and Roy with Gretchen
Margaretsville, Nova Scotia, 1959
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
My mother was one of the earliest women
in Eastern Canada to take the pill,
and both she and my father thought
it was a lifesaving medical advance.
They had seen far too many children
born into extreme poverty,
and they were relieved that they
were able to limit their children to five.
Till next time ~
Fundy Blue
Baby Fundy Blue with Razor Clam
by the Annapolis Basin which
Connects to the Bay of Fundy
Her Mother: Sara MacBeath (middle)
Her Grandmother: Ella MacDonald (left)
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
Notes:
Mike Flaherty: The nurse at Lansdowne House's nursing station.
Uno Manilla: Dad's roommate and teacher at the Roman Catholic School
Bay: Hudson Bay Company post in Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario
bannock: A traditional bread made of salt, baking powder, lard, flour, and water
(recipe)
An early conversation with my mother:
Shacks Filled with Babies
To my sisters: Never for a moment did I ever wish you weren't born!
I can't imagine my life without you!
