The Lansdowne Letters: A Grandmother's Worries

Things were moving quickly as my family prepared
to travel North to Lansdowne House in February, 1961.

I don't remember all that my mother was doing
as she packed for our unknown adventure.
Nor do I remember her worrying about the trip
and Dad's delayed government paychecks.

Our Last Family Photo
Before Going North
Louise (with Bertie), Barbie,
Roy (with bean plant), and  Donnie (with Gretchen) 
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved 

I was ten years old and my imagination was on fire.
I was immersed in thoughts of living in the wilderness,
of Indians and snowshoes and wolves,
a priest and a brother (Just like in my history book!),
northern lights and bitter cold, ice holes and bush planes.
I was beside myself with anticipation.

The Wild North

Northern Ontario, 1923

Wikipedia

But I was still a fifth grader in Smith's Cove,  
immersed in performing in a play,
writing my first lengthy story,
wrapping up my Red Cross project,
and memorizing Longfellow's The Wreck of the Hesperus. 

I was thrilled that we weren't leaving before Valentine's Day!
I had recently discovered boys,
and the romantic mystery of the legendary North 
was not my only romantic interest.

I was excited about whose valentines would land
in the valentine boxes we were crafting at school.
My poor mother, on top of everything else,
had to hunt down shoe boxes for the three of us in school ~
not to mention, help us make valentines.
Valentine's Day was not so commercial then.

Pixabay

Meanwhile, Dad's mother,
my Nana MacBeath in Charlottetown, P.E.I.,
was worrying about real and imaginary dangers
which Lansdowne House posed for her grandchildren.

I'm sure my Grammie MacDonald, in New York City, was equally worried;
but her letters surely fed the fire in the battered oil drum
at the edge of her field in Smith's Cove.


On Friday, February 3, 1961
My father wrote to his mother, Myrtle:

Dear Mother,
I can’t understand what may be happening to the letters I send to you.
I guess perhaps I had better just stick to the regular mail (after this letter),
for otherwise, I can just rely on the memory of the pilots
to mail the letters I send out with them.
I am inclined to suspect that a few have gotten lost,
or someone has mislaid them.

For instance, I thanked you for the snap you sent to me
in at least one, and I think two, different letters.
It was lovely, and I was glad to get it.
I have only one criticism.  It’s too posed.
I like them better when they are candid snaps.

I am sending you the negatives of the two island snaps
that you liked so much.  In fact, I’ll send you all the negatives.
You can develop what you want and return the negatives to me.
I wouldn’t mind you keeping the snaps,
if it wasn’t so hard to get copies of them up here.

I am sending two photos in this letter,
one of Uno and Brian Booth playing cribbage,
and one of Brian and me.
Both snaps are posed actually.
Brian is the clerk at the Hudson’s Bay Company.

Uno Manilla and Brian Booth

in the front room of the two-room shack Dad and Uno shared

Lansdowne House, Ontario, Canada

Photo by Don MacBeath, Winter 1961

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved 

The letter of Sunday, January 19th,
which just arrived today
is full of a lot of worries about the children,
so I’ll proceed to try to set your mind at ease.

First, regarding fires, there is no more danger from fire
in the forestry shack than in your apartment building.  

Less in fact, because the shack is equipped with a “Selkirk Chimney,"
which is a special type of insulated metal chimney designed especially
for use in wooden buildings in northern climates.

Also, there is a new oil burner and a new propane range.
Besides, if a fire ever did break out,
all the windows and doors are easy to get out of,
and all within three feet of the ground.
However, we won’t leave them alone in the shack.

My Father and Brian Booth

in the front room of the two-room shack Dad and Uno shared

Lansdowne House, Ontario, Canada

Photo by Uno Manilla, Winter 1961

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved 

About their education.
Naturally I don’t intend to keep them at the level of the Indians.
I intend to let them progress as rapidly as they are capable of doing,
with proper testing to see that they are learning everything.
And I won’t roar at them.  

I also plan to be a better father and give them more of my leisure time.
Togetherness is going to be the mantra of the MacBeath family.

Don’t worry about the water holes.
They are all covered by heavy covers.
Besides only the DOT water hole is large enough to fall into,
and it is protected by a shack with a locked door.

As for bad ice in the spring,
I promise to lay down very strict rules
regarding the ice at breakup and the lake in the summer,
if we are here.

Sara has instructions as to what to bring in the line of clothing.
Actually the real severe cold weather will be over 
or just about over by the time they arrive.
The winter is pretty well shot by the time March rolls around,
even if the ice hangs on in the lake till June,
and they won’t be arriving till 20 Feb.

I don’t see why the possibiity of visiting Lansdowne is too remote.
Aside from the flight in, which only takes 1¼ hours,
it would be no worse than coming to Alymer.
Besides, I thought you were adventuresome
and didn’t mind air plane trips.

Northern Bush Plane on Skis

Flickr:  James Tworow   License (Photo Edited)

I will write a letter to Mr. Mitton inquiring about
regular quarterly Sunday School papers and lessons,
and I plan to have family worship every Sunday.
The McRaes and the McMahons all do.
It should be a very rewarding experience for us.

I think that by and large,
the children should benefit from their northern experience.

Well, this is about all I have to say right now.
I am very busy at school and preparing for Sara’s arrival.
Both projects are progressing favorably.

My weight has been stationary for several weeks at 192,
but this week, darned if it hasn’t shot up to 195.
I am going to have to really struggle to keep it below 190 ~
in fact, to even get it down to that level.

I am afraid Dr. Leigh was correct when he told me
that I was a heifer, and there was really nothing I could do about it.

However, I am getting rid of the paunch pretty well,
and I won’t let that come back.
If I do get big again, at least I’ll be in good shape,
and I’ll be big like Grandpa Pratt or Uncle Alex, stout, but not fat.
However I am going to make a real effort to keep the weight down.

I have had to discontinue the Lansdowne Letter again,
as Uno’s typewriter is not working too well,
and I don’t like using it too much.

Besides, he has started using it more,
and I find it hard to get a chance to use it.
I am still waiting for mine.
Sara sent it to Yarmouth for an overhaul,
but it hasn’t come back from there yet.

Well, I must sign off now and get to bed. It is quite late,
and I have to get up early and pump oil into the school tanks.
I have 450 gallons to pump.

I have to have all the oil drums empty
in time to send them back on the next tractor train.
Pumping oil is a pain in the tail end.

It takes about 10 minutes to pump a drum, and I have ten drums.
However it is quite cold standing still just pumping,
and I have to go inside and get warm
(especially my feet) after every drum or two.
However it shouldn’t take me more than three hours
or 3½ hours to finish it.

Bye now,
Love, Don

An Early Tractor Train

Date and Location Unknown

Nor Can I Determine Copyright

Google   Source???  

I realized as I wrote my introduction to this post,
that I had reached a major turning point in our northern story.
My voice and memories are starting to overtake my dad's.

I smiled as I typed my father's words
because I know how things turned out
and how well his plans were realized.
He tried to predict what would happen,
but he was wrong on many points.
One shocking and unimaginable event for my parents 
was already gathering momentum and beyond their control.

Ten-Year Old, Grade Five Me

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved 

Meanwhile I remember that valentine box
covered with white construction paper, 
loaded with red valentines,
and sporting a pink cupid with a heart and arrow
and that all important slot into which valentines would fall.

I remember standing in front of my schoolmates 
and wearing grownup clothes to perform in the play,
but nothing of what the play was about.

Most of all, I remember standing in my classroom
and dramatically reciting The Wreck of the Hesperus.
I was that frozen maiden lashed to a drifting mast,
my hair floating about me like seaweed on the waves.

At the height of my young infatuation
with daredevil Richard Halliburton and passionate Lord Byron,
I was ready for my first real adventure in the wild.  

He cut a rope from a broken spar, And bound her to the mast.

The Wreck of the Hesperus

Project Gutenberg License

Till next time ~
Fundy Blue



On the Shore of the Annapolis Basin
Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia, Canada
July 24, 2016
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

Notes:  

1.  Recitations:
     I went to school in a place and time when poetry recitation was still in vogue.
     In addition to reciting Longfellow's The Wreck of the Hesperus to my class (poem),
     I had previously recited Noyes' The Highwayman to them (poem).
     During my elementary teaching career, I occasionally assigned short poems to memorize
     as homework, something neither my students or parents embraced with enthusiasm.

2.  Adventuresome:
     Dad's mother had traveled to Europe and Morocco as a young, single woman.
 
3.  Mr. Mitton:
     In 1954 Rev. Harold Mitton became the pastor of Charlottetown Baptist Church which my family
     attended when we lived in Charlottetown from 1952 to 1956.

4.  Weight Conversions:
     190 pounds = 86.1 kilograms
     192 pounds = 87.0 kilograms
     195 pounds = 88.4 kilograms

5.  Liquid Capacity Conversion:
     450 Imperial (Canadian) gallons pounds = 2045 liters

6.  Tractor Trains:
      Drums of oil, heavy equipment, and large orders of food and other supplies were transported to
      remote places in Northern Ontario by tractor trains.  Bulldozers or "cats" hauled sleighs loaded
      with supplies across the frozen muskeg and lakes during the winter to reach these communities.
      I'm guessing that my father saw some of the last tractor trains, because they were already
      disappearing in the Canadian north, replaced by trucks traveling on winter ice roads.
   

For Map Lovers Like Me:

Location of Smith's Cove

 Harbourview Inn

Smith's Cove on the Annapolis Basin

Birch Villa Cottages

Location of Lansdowne House

Known Today as Neskantaga

Wikipedia