The Lovable Labs: Hanging with Weesie and Big T

Not too long ago Rufus and I got to spend 

an extra long weekend with Weesie and Big T!

They just love it when we come to visit,
and we love it too!

They're always good for
lots of love, walks, and treats.

Big T Giving Us Some Love!

See How We Make Him Smile!

Watch how Rufus and I work it:

We sit down and stare, 

and then Big T or Weesie turn inside out 
trying to do what we want!

Four Eyes Working on Big T
Guess What We Want!

And just look at the eyes I fix on Weesie!

Really how long could you resist me?

Telepathy at Work

What did I tell you?

We are going on a walk!

Ready to Walk

Lots of times Weesie and Big T both walk us.

It's alway Big T and Rufus,

and Weesie and me

(We girls like to stick together!).

Rufus with Big T

Of course it is always Weesie with her camera

which means I don't get to star in many photos with her.

Although I have to admit that 

Weesie goes after me a lot

with my fetching blonde eyelashes

and my striking brown eyes.

Gracie (Me)!!!

When Big T retired, he morphed into this social butterfly.

He's running here, there, and everywhere,

playing pickle ball every day.

And Weesie ~ 

now she's this writer

on her computer for hours 

every day!

But I just park by her feet 

and give her the look.
She'll get the message!

She will walk Rufus and me 

for miles!

Now if you want to see something funny,

you should see Weesie walking us

while trying to photograph everything that moves and doesn't!

 Walking with Weesie

She will hold our leashes in her left hand

and her camera in her right as she shoots.

God help us if she spots something like

the pronghorns on the prairie!

The only thing we can do is flop down and wait!

But I surprised her!!!

We were walking down along Piney Creek,

and Weesie was shooting everything in sight.

Granted, she was good 

about letting us check out

all the great smells 

and doggie messages.

But really?

A leaf in dead grass?

Weesie had us sitting on the bridge forever,

while she was trying to take yet another photo of another leaf.

Those little cottonwood leaves weren't even nice ones!

I decided to shake things up a little

and pulled a fast one on Weesie ...

Shocked the hell heck
out of Weesie!  LOL!

Then sprayed her!  LOL!
(After she dragged me out!)

And what do you think Weesie was doing???

Taking pictures
of it all.

We just plop
and let her do her thing ~ Again!

And while she's taking 
a picture of this cottonwood or that, 
she's telling us if it's 
a boy tree or a girl tree.

Who does that???

< boy tree, btw.





I suppose I shouldn't tease her.
After all, she did haul me out of the water,
while hanging on to Rufus with his leash,
and holding her camera in her teeth.

Truth is, I'm not quite as agile as I used to be;
having a little trouble with my hip
and frustrating inches around the middle.
Getting older isn't for the faint of heart.

And Weesie did drive us to the park,
so I could do all my walking there.

She finally found some leaves that made her happy:

Where else?

On a girl tree!

Girls rule!

Right, Sophie Doodle?

Winkers!

Weesie

drove us home.

And Big T came to our rescue.

Big T always comes through!

Bet you guessed this story ended with some treats!

And some naps!

I rested easy, knowing I've still got it!

The Lansdowne Letters: Exhaustion and Pumpkin Grinners

I'm sharing two letters today from November 1, 1960.
One was written by my father the day after
his tangle with the Wintigo and his stag party.
in Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario.

The second was written by my mother 
on the same day in Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia.
So many of her letters are lost, 
and I treasure each one for the glimpses 
it gives me into my childhood.

One of the Few Photos from My Early Childhood.
Dad takes my sister Barb and his nephew Jeff on a stroll.

April, 1958, New York State

Photo by Sara MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, November 1, 1960
My father wrote:

Hi There:
Today was a dead loss as far as days go.  
I did nothing out of the ordinary, 
or learned nothing new, 
or even exciting.

Writing in a Lonely Cabin in the Northern Bush 
Flickr ~ Philip Bragg   License

   
The only bit of news that I have to relate 
is that I overslept and missed breakfast.  
Oh yes, in my rush to get ready and over to school on time, 
I cut myself shaving.

It is snowing tonight, the dogs are howling, 
and I am exhausted physically, emotionally, and editorially, 
so I’m going to sign off right now and go to bed.  

Tomorrow I hope to be able to give you 
the Lord’s Prayer in Ojibway.  
Bye now, good night, and all that.
Love, 
Don.

  
I can sympathize with my father, 
having been in that state many times.
The more I experience in life,
the more I understand my father.
Coming to understand one's parents 
is a humbling gift 
that comes with maturing adulthood.  

I am always taken aback when I see evidence of how
my parents struggled financially throughout my childhood.
I never caught on until I was nearly through grade seven.

They always protected we five siblings 
from their worries, and still thought they did 
when we were old enough to sleuth things out.

It hurts to think money was so tight
that my mother worried over getting 
such a small thing as a pumpkin for us for Halloween,
something she revealed in the following letter.
Parents truly are amazing!

Me, Donnie, and Roy

One of the Few Photos from My Early Childhood:

Money was tight for pumpkins and photographs.

April, 1958, New York State

Photo by Donald MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

On the same day my mother wrote 
to her mother-in-law Myrtle (Pratt) MacBeath:

Dear Mother:
Thank you very much for the nice letter and the money for the children.  
I bought some sweet apple cider from the fruit man
for the children today with some of the money.
They love it.

Last evening I planned to write to you, 
but I was too exhausted after all the Halloween spooks.  
There were thirty-six here, 
which would seem like a handful to you.  
I imagine you were very busy.

Last Friday the children took Barbara 
to the school Halloween party.  
She went to school for the whole day and took her lunch.  
They had a marvelous time, 
and evidently the children all loved Barbie.  

They took their costumes with them.  
Barbie was dressed up like a great grammy.  
She had on an old dress of mother’s 
and a rolled up potato sack as a bosom.  
She looked so cute with her hair done up in braids and wound around her head;
and of course, the children through she was a scream,
and so they laughed.

  

Poor Barbie was disgusted
and wouldn’t dress up like
an old woman last night.  

No sir, 
the children had laughed at her!  



Barbie, Me, and Bertie
Lac Seul, Ontario, Canada
Summer,  1961

Photo likely by John Garrick

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

She just couldn’t understand why, 
even though I explained that Halloween costumes 
were supposed to be funny.  

Last night she went like a ghost and was much happier.  
Donnie went as a ghost also.  
Roy wore a red mop for hair and went as a girl.  
Louise just wore a mask.  

They received more things.  
I thought they wouldn’t receive much, 
for when I was a girl there were only a few people 
who handed out trick-or-treats.  
However they came home loaded with more things 
than they received in Greenwood.  
Now the house is sticky from top to bottom.

Friday I didn’t know what I would do to get pumpkin grinners for them.  
The Raymonds across the street sent two.  
Aunt Nan had heard me worrying so she sent me two, 
and someone gave Louise another.  
We ended up with five nice little pumpkins.  
We had them in the livingroom and kitchen windows.

We do hope that you will be with us for Christmas.  
It wouldn’t seem like Christmas without either you or Don.
However, I realize that Aunt Maude might need you, 
so we will go on planning on you coming, and then we’ll see.

Don seems to be growing
very fond of his Indian children.  

Some of Dad's Indian Children
Lansdowne House, Ontario, Canada
September,  1960
Photo by Don MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

I hope he doesn’t mind the freeze up too much, 
but I should think he would be glad to get rid of 
that canoe in this cold weather.

The children are all fine now, except for colds, 
as long as they don’t get worse they will be all right.  
Roy is back to school.  
He went out with the rest last night, 
since it wasn’t too bad an evening.  
They took a flashlight with them.

Thanks again for the money.  
Louise (Mom’s sister) sent two very nice 
coats for Barbie and a ski suit.

It’s been so long since I used a typewriter 
that I find I make a lot of mistakes, 
but I should soon get back in the the groove of things.

I am so glad to hear Aunt Maude is doing so well.  
It is good for her to be home.
With love,
Sara


Barbie still doesn't  like to be laughed at
(not that I do either!),
and she ditched Barbie a long time ago.
But, oh don't siblings enjoy their long memories?

Till next time ~
Fundy Blue



Barb and Me
Westport, Brier Island,
in the Bay of Fundy,  Nova Scotia
Photo by Roberta MacBeath Heembrock
© All Rights Reserved

Links to Earlier Posts:

TLL: Word Pictures on an Inclement Day

TLL: A Cold Morning on Satan's Highway


Notes:

1.  Fruit Man:  In the fall of 1960 a variety of local vendors went house to house in their small trucks
          selling their wares to the many housewives who did not have cars and couldn't drive to Digby
          or Annapolis Royal to a grocery store.  A milkman delivered milk daily, but there was also a
          meat man, a fish man, and a produce man (probably the fruit man, but I could be wrong).


And for Map Lovers Like Me:

Location of Nova Scotia in Canada
Wikimedia

Location of Digby in Nova Scotia
Wikimedia

Location of Smith's Cove
on the Annapolis Basin between Digby (left) and Annapolis Royal (right)
It was about 6 miles or 9.7 kilometers from the Cove to Digby.
Birch Villa Cottages  Smith's Cove

IWSG: November 4, 2015 ~ Finally! Something I Can Chew On!

It's the first Wednesday 
of the month ~ 
the day when members of the
Insecure Writer's Support Group
share their writing struggles
and offer their encouragement
and support to other members.




To visit the IWSG website, click here.

To become a member of the IWSG, click here.

Our wonderful co-hosts who are stepping up to help 
IWSG founder Alex J. Cavanaugh are:  Stephen Tremp, Karen Walker, Denise Covey, and Tyrean Martinson.

Visit them and thank them for co-hosting.
I'm sure they would appreciate an encouraging comment!

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

No plane today!
I'm writing at my kitchen counter
near the fireplace with its warm flames.
I'm just not ready to cave and turn the furnace on
as winter's chill approaches.

Cramped but Warm

I'm not feeling insecure this morning;
I'm excited!
Finally, something I can chew on!

As you may know, I'm writing a memoir
set in tiny Lansdowne House 
deep in the northern Ontario bush 
over fifty years ago.
So far it's been a challenging undertaking.

First, I've had to work through haunting memories 
to get to where I can write.

My regular Lansdowne Letters posts 
have really helped,
because I can handle small bites.

My Brother and I 

Lake Attawapiskat, 1961

Photo by Donald MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All rights Reserved

A second challenge has been balancing my father's voice with mine.
His letters and my memories are my primary resources.

A third challenge has been recognizing
my memoir is not just about my family; 
it walks controversially on the national stage.

That required essential research;
and it unearthed explosive events I had no inkling of
and blew up my nice little memoir.

Booty from Victoria's  Bookstores

A prime reference evaded me
until late October,
when I finally got my hands on
Charles Bishop’s
The Northern Ojibwa and the Fur Trade:
An Historical and Ecological Study.











For me, trying to understand what happened 
it is illuminating.

For me, wading through conflicting and confusing information,
it is clarifying.

For me, hungry for accurate historical data,
it is satisfying.

Am I a trained historian?
LOL

But OMG, have I written a ton of research papers!
I know enough to tackle the work.

 

Human Refuse

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rghts Reserved

What has changed is me!
I think of all those paper-writing all-nighters 
fueled by coffee and desperation,
as I scoured references, pecked at a typewriter,
and tore my hair out over footnotes and bibliographies.
I can't believe I'm doing it again, and it's fun!

For the first time, research and writing 
are my choices on my timetable!

The Ever-Patient Terry keeps asking worriedly,
"You sure you're doing what you want?
You're having fun?"

Yup!  I'm having a blast!

Helpful Finds at My Local Barnes and Noble 

What a treat to settle in at Barnes and Noble 
with hot coffee on a rainy afternoon 
and a stack of books to peruse for guidance.
Definitely fun for me!

The mystery and the heartbreak of the North
that spurred me into action in 1961
have never lessened,
and now, with Bishop's definitive book
on the peoples and landscapes of my childhood,
I have corroborating cultural and ecological facts to chew on.

Still Fueled by Coffee, but Less Desperate

The Lansdowne Letters: The Wintigo Is Coming!

It's amazing the predicament a teacher can get into
when he tries to communicate 
with Ojibway words he doesn't understand.

Such was the case on Halloween, 1960,
when my father tried to explain Halloween to his Ojibwa children 
in the heart of wintigo territory in Northern Ontario.

A Halloween Moon

Flickr  Mark   License

On Monday, October 31, 1960
My Father Wrote  
(Stag Party letter continued):

Oh yes, we also had our Halloween party 
at school this afternoon, 
and it was also a great success.

 My Father's Ojibwa Children

Anglican Day School,

Photo by Donald MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

I can’t remember when I have ever seen children 
enjoying themselves like my Indians did.  
Bill Mitchell told me that they never had parties 
in the school, till I came.  

All the white people think it is wonderful of me 
to go to the trouble and expense to treat the Indians.
  
Bill told me also that if I had 
let him know about the party earlier, 
he would have donated quite a bit of candy and gum, etc., 
but that by the time he found out about it, 
he had already given all that he could afford 
to the Indians for the month 
and had exhausted the amount 
that the Bay allows him to spend on welfare.

Bill Mitchell Talks with an Ojibwa Man

Mitchell was the Manager of the Hudson's Bay Post

Photo by Donald MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

Bill and I are planning a whale 
of a Christmas party for them though.  
He is going to donate $20.00 himself 
and seventy dollars on behalf of the Bay.  

Harry Evans, the pilot for Superior Airways, 
is going to fly a Santa Claus in from Armstrong for the party.  
This Santa will also visit the out-lying settlements 
at Summer Beaver, Big Beaver House, and Webique.  
Bill is trying to talk me into going along to help Santa out 
and see that everything is distributed evenly.

All the Protestant white people will also be helping out with the party, 
and the Anglican Bishop will be good for a donation.  
We are not going to have any sort of a concert though,
just a nice party with Santa.  

So Donnie and Barbara won’t be confused and disillusioned, 
tell them that it will be so near Christmas 
that Santa is saving his reindeer for the big night.  
That is why he has to fly in with Harry Evans.

Waiting for Santa the Previous Year

Barb, Roy, Me, Donnie, and Little Gretchen ~

No Bertie Yet!

Photo by Donald MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

But to get back to the party we had this afternoon, 
we played all the traditional Halloween games 
such as dunking for apples, eating apples on an string, 
and many others too numerous to mention.  
The Indian children don’t celebrate Halloween, 
and they had never dunked for apples before.

  Dunking for Apples at the Party

Photo by Donald MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

Of course, there were no masks in the Bay, 
so I had them all make masks.  
Of course they didn’t have the slightest idea how to do this, 
so I had to make one first, and pass it about 
the classroom for them to examine.  

Then I had to draw about ten different faces 
on the blackboard to give them some ideas.  
I drew a clown, a fat blond woman, a baldheaded man, 
a devil, an Indian in war paint, a skull, a witch, 
and some others that I can’t recall right now.  
Some of the masks turned out pretty good.

The Children in Their Halloween Masks

Photo by Donald MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

I ran into quite a problem in communications 
when I tried to explain just what Halloween was.  
The Indians just don’t have any words for goblin, elf, 
little people, or anything like these words, 
and consequently they had no conception 
of what I was talking about at first.
  
I was just getting nowhere at first with my explanations.  
Then I thought of the Ojibway word Wintigo, 
so I introduced this into my explanations.  
All this was taking place in the morning of Halloween.  

Then I got a reaction from them.  
They all looked startled and scared; 
and I thought good, 
now they’re getting in the proper spirit 
to talk about ghosts, goblins, etc.  

I thought that the word Wintigo was ghost, 
so I started talking about how on Halloween 
all the wintigos go out on the prowl.  

Well, all of a sudden, all the little children were crying, 
and even my teenagers were looking damned scared.  

Then, I realized that wintigo 
evidentially had a different meaning than that 
that I was trying to put across to them.  

I tried to get myself out of the mix-up, 
but only succeeded in getting myself in deeper.  
The more I talked about the Wintigo, 
the more scared they got.  

Well, then, I tried the word Manito which means spirit, 
but this means nothing to the Indians, 
unless you talk about 
the Matche Manito, which means bad spirit, 
or Mino Manito, which means good spirit.  
Unfortunately the Matche Manito now means the Devil, 
and that only made them worse than ever.  

When I tried Mino Manito, 
I just added confusion to my other difficulties, 
because with the advent of Christianity, 
Mino Manito has come to mean the Holy Ghost.  
I could have used a little help from him about then, 
or even from Kishe Manito, which means Chief Spirit or God.

Well, finally I started to get alarmed 
about how scared they were. 

I was frightened that if I didn’t get things straightened out, 
they might be too scared to go home for dinner; 
and certainly, they would be too scared 
to come back for the party in the afternoon.  

I told them to stay in the class, and 
I went over to the nursing station 
after Anne Flaherty and told her my troubles.  

I needn’t have worried about the children 
leaving the school while I was gone.  
At this stage of the game, they were so scared 
that it would have taken a bomb to get them out.  

Anne is part Ojibway and speaks the language, 
so she came over to the school; 
and after about fifteen minutes of rapid-fire, 
two-way conversation with the Indians in Ojibway 
(none of which I could follow,) 
she had things straightened out for me.

It was just about dinnertime by then, 
so I let the children go home, 
and I accepted Anne’s invitation 
to stay for dinner at the nursing station.

  The Children in Their Halloween Masks

Photo by Donald MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

From Anne, I found out just what a Wintigo is.  
We have no word for it.  
A Wintigo is the very personification 
of all things evil and horrible.  

It is far worse than our devil. 
It is a combination of a devil, ghost, ghoul, werewolf, 
and anything else you can think of.  
Wintigos are supposed to eat women and children.  

If a wintigo visits the community, 
all sort of horrible things can happen.  
No wonder the poor kids were terrified.

In spite of their acceptance of Christianity and everything, 
they all believe firmly in wintigos.  
Wintigos are as real to them as God is to us.  

I have decided to leave Ojibway out of my explanations 
till I am a whole lot more proficient in the language.  

Well that winds up the page, and the day, so I will sign off.
Bye now,
Love,
Don.

I sympathize with my father and any teacher

who has gotten into difficulty trying to explain things

to students who speak a different language.

Obviously he had not heard of the psychological problem

known as windigo psychosis.

Till next time ~
Fundy Blue

In Honor of Canada's
New Prime Minister
Justin Trudeau:
The four MacBeath Girls supporting 
Justin Trudeau's father,
Pierre Elliot Trudeau,
when he ran successfully to become
Prime Minister of Canada in 1968.




Donnie, Bertie, Louise, and Barb  Freeport, on the Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia
Photo Copy by Roberta MacBeath Heembrock
© All Rights Reserved

Links to Earlier Posts:

TLL: Grounded

TLL: The Order of Good Cheer


Notes:
1.  Wintigo: 
     Father Ouimet was giving my father lessons in the local Ojibway language.
     Apparently wintigo was the spelling used there.
     The word has many spellings, windigo being a more common one.

2.  A Great Book: 

This is my favorite novel (so far)
written about the Oji-Cree in Northwestern Ontario.
It gives a chilling account of the experiences
of two young Cree fighting in WWI
and of the Wintigo
in Ojibwa and Cree cultures.

Joseph Boyden, its author, has written
two more memorable books about First Nations peoples:
Through Black Spruce and The Orenda.

Amazon




And for Map Lovers Like Me

Territories of the Ojibwa Groups

Lansdowne House is on the Attawipiskat River (by #15),
The river wasn't sketched as far as Lansdowne House
(a little to the right of the first O in Ontario). 

Wikimedia