In addition to being a scientist, my Aunt Diana was also liked to create. My mother has several of her paintings hanging in my parents’ home. In addition to amazing books and sciency items, gifts from Aunt Diana would occasionally be pieces of art.
I don’t have any photos of Aunt Diana’s paintings (I’ll have to rectify that next time I visit my parents), but I do have some of the little art pieces she gave to me when I was a kid. However, in going to find them, I came across these pysanky – Easter eggs – my great aunt Connie made.
Aunt Connie is my mother’s last living aunt. She was married to Ralph Burgess (1935-1999), my grandpa Leo Burgess’s youngest brother.
Until recent years, Aunt Connie made pysanky – Easter eggs. While associated with Ukraine, pysanky are common to many slavic cultures. I have not researched Aunt Connie’s lineage, but if memory serves her heritage includes Germans from Russia, people from the various German states who settled in the Russian Empire in the 18th and 19th centuries. This included colonies in what is now Ukraine.
Writing about Aunt Connie, I am reminded of two things. First, she also made some of the most delicious sausage I’ve ever eaten. Second, I owe her a letter!
Usually a nickname comes after one acquires their real name. Not always!
When my sister was expecting her first child, I became a little annoyed with referring to the baby-to-be as “it”. I decided to give the anticipated bundle of joy a nickname. So “it” became “Zeus”. Zeus was on my mind because of a fake TV show that was a bit on Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Much to my surprise, it stuck.
“Satellite TV Channels – Not Cool Zeus“
Ever since then, we’ve had nicknames for all the expected siblings and nibblings. When my sister was expecting her youngest, she went with “Neptune” sticking with the theme of Greek and Roman gods.
With our eldest, we once again found inspiration in late night talk shows. One of our favourite chat shows was The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. We particularly loved his cold openings featuring a menagerie of puppets. One was a pig by the name of Gustave Flaubert. Another was a crocodile by the name of Wavy Rancheros. Thus was born the nickname “Wavy Flaubert” – Flaubert for short. Even after our eldest was born, it took us a few weeks to choose a name, so in the interim we continued to use the name “Flaubert”.
When our next child came along, there were a few contenders. However, what stuck was “Mr. Baby”, selected by our eldest. “What if Mr. Baby is a girl?”, we asked. “MR. BABY” was the adamant response. At least it was better than the alternate suggestion: “Salami”.
When I was a kid, we moved around a lot. People often asked my if my dad was in the military. No, he was a Woolworths manager.
My father entered the Woolworth manager training program right out of high school. Back in the day, the program involved a lot of moving around. Later, promotions almost always meant a transfer. He was with the company for 28 years, leaving the company about six months after Wal-Mart bought it out in Canada. That’s a story for another time.
My sister and me at the Woolworths in Regina
My dad began his career with Woolworth’s in Lethbridge, Alberta as a management trainee. He once told me that his very first assignment on his first day was to unload a shipment of bras, and the female staff stood there giving him a hard time. Next, my dad trained in the Regina, Saskatchewan and Medicine Hat, Alberta stores, where he was an assistant manager.
Dad’s first store as manager was in Flin Flon, Manitoba. After Flin Flon, dad was transferred to Terrace, B.C., and shortly afterward to Duncan, B.C., where he opened a new store there as the Associate Manager.
Grand Opening of the Woolworths in Duncan. My dad is second from the right.
At one point, the Canadian head office in Toronto transferred dad to Kirkland Lake, Ontario. However, when the international head office learned about the transfer, they cancelled it. They thought it was too much to move a man with young kids halfway across Canada.
My dad (left) at the Canadian head office in Toronto.
Dad transferred to North Battleford in 1974 and was General Manager when Woolworths opened a large new store there as the anchor tenant of the Frontier Mall in 1975.
Big news in a small town.
Dad quit in the early 80s and went into business as a sales agent for a furniture company. The new career was not what dad anticipated, and he did not enjoy being separated from his family as the job entailed a great deal of travel. He returned to Woolworth’s a few months later. As he had been replaced at the North Battleford store, he was assigned to the Woolworths in Swift Current, Saskatchewan. He commuted from North Battleford to Swift Current, a distance of about 320 kilometres. Dad was there until he was transferred to Terrace, British Columbia six months later.
Four years later, the company transferred dad to William’s Lake, B.C. In 1989 Woolworth’s converted all of its larger Woolworth stores into Woolco stores, which included the Williams Lake location.
Until last Christmas, I had no idea my mom still had these.
In August 1991, dad was transferred to the Woolco in Chilliwack. In March 1994, Woolworth’s sold its Woolco stores to Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart transferred Hans to Hinton, Alberta that same month. Dad left the company in August 1994. My parents and younger siblings then moved to Lethbridge, where we still had a fair amount of family. My dad briefly went into sales before he and my mother bought a small motel in southern Alberta. My dad has now been a motelier longer than he was a Woolworths manager. My youngest sibling and I have had much different fathers!
One of my brothers had this on his bedroom door for years.
I am absolutely certain my grandmother, Helen Lerner, could have made anything from scratch, sweet or savory. She was a fantastic baker. She made her own pickles from what my grandfather grew in the garden. She made homemade noodles for her homemade soups. I’m pretty sure there was a time back in the day she made her own soap. Of course, she made her own jams, jellies, and preserves. One of my favourites was her chokecherry jam.
Chokecherries
My grandmother passed away when I was finishing my last month of grade eleven. In the last year or two of my grandmother’s life, my mother often went to Lethbridge to help her out and, later, visit her in hospital. After one of her last visits, my mother returned home with a bunch of things my grandmother had made, including several jars of chokecherry jam. I was pretty sure that they did not last long in our family of seven.
Fast forward to just over a year later. I moved to Vancouver to attend my first year of undergrad at the University of B.C. A few weeks after having moved into residence, my mother sent me a box of my things. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the box included the last jar of my grandmother’s chokecherry jam. Needless to say, I did not rush through that jar. I used it judiciously and sparingly, without being stingy, and savored every bit of it. It was a wonderful way to remember my grandmother.
A Deck of Ancestors 