This morning I am expecting a delivery of ink cartridges for the new printer. It came with sample cartridges, and I doubt they will last very long. I was shocked at the price of cartridges, and found a Montreal business, 123InkCartridges, that sells them for more reasonable prices. Actually, I have purchased cartridges from them before, about nine years ago, and was lucky to find them online again, as my memory for details like business names is almost nonexistent. I was pleased with my purchase nine years ago, and am optimistic about a positive experience this time around.
The delivery will be to the door, and I am required to be home, and to answer the door. Working on my genealogy book is a perfect activity for waiting for deliveries to the door. So that is what I will be doing today until the ink cartridges arrive.
I am looking at Rural Preliminary List of Electors for 1938. The Great Depression ended in 1939, with the onset of World War Two. My Grandparents lived through two World Wars and the Great Depression, times of great chaos and uncertainty. My Mom lived through the Great Depression and a World War. With few resources, small communities were turned in towards each other for support and survival, creating the rich environment that faded slowly, but remained strong during the years of my childhood, and of which vestiges still remain, recognizable only to those who enjoyed the warmth and acceptance that only strong communities can provide. These are the communities that have been largely displaced by monster home estates and cottages.
An analysis of economics and larger scale business paints a picture of decline and neglect. While in the strict sense of economics this is a true picture, it is only a partial picture. Yes, the small community suffered financial loss, loss of it’s schools, Post Offices, local stores, railway line, and farms, gaining only low wage employment as servants to the affluent who bought most of the land and increasingly dominate local political power in the area. This is all true.
There are however strong ties that bind the families of the communities that consisted of the original settlers, who came to the land in the 1800s. The old values are still alive and recognizable to those who experienced these communities. “Foreign” city values stand out in sharp contrast to the values of those who grew up in the communities that were gutted by centralization, global agriculture, and the influx of recreational city money.
For example, when I wanted to buy a local history book, written by members of the Women’s Institute, I called the author to request the book. Once she heard my name, she knew who I was, where I belonged in the community. She knew my Grandparents, and many of my relatives. I offered to send her a cheque to cover the cost of the book before she mailed it to me, but she would have none of that. She insisted that I wait until I receive the book, then I could send her a cheque to cover the cost of the book and the postage on the package. She trusted me, knowing that I would not even think of failing my part of the agreement.
There are 53 names listed in the Voter’s list that I am looking at today, six of which are my Great Grandfather, three of his sons (one is my Grandpa), and two of his son’s wives (one is my Granny). All of the names are familiar to me, I knew many of the people, and heard all of the names throughout my childhood. My Mom and her brother and sisters were young children when this list was created, they had been born during the depression years.
My Grandpa and Granny operated a General Store and the local Post Office during the years of the depression. My Mom told me that the house, attached to the store was wired for electricity, but that it was not working during the depression. They used coal oil lamps for light. She remembers doing her homework by the light of coal oil lamps, in the kitchen, beside the wood stove. She remembers travelling to school in the winter by horse and sleigh, and running behind the sleigh to keep warm when the deep cold of winter would seep into their clothes if they sat in the sleigh for very long.
Every memory my Mom shares is a treasure. People who lived through The Great Depression, and through World Wars, know something the rest of us don’t. It isn’t something you can learn from books, or from studying. It is an organic, primal understanding of what humans and human cultures are capable of, an understanding of how chaotic and unreliable the world can be. My generation did not experience World Wars, or a Great Depression, and those of my Children’s and Grandchildren’s generations are even further removed from these human catastrophes than my generation. Canada has not always been the relatively safe cocoon that most of us take for granted.
53 names represent a small community, a community under economic siege; a community with strong integrity and values that are completely invisible when one discusses the larger forces at work, such as the decline of the railroad, the logging industry, or agriculture. We are mistaken if we only look at large infrastructural changes when it comes to human activity. Most of history is unwritten, most of it is lived.
Note: The cartridges did not arrive. The delivery was by CanPar and they sent it to the wrong terminal, the tracking said it was “missort”, who knows when it will get here!
Date: 5:00 PM EDT Wednesday 6 July 2016
Condition: Partly Cloudy
Pressure: 100.9 kPa
Visibility: 24 km
Wind: SSE 14 km/h
“History is the version of past events that people have decided to agree upon.”
1769 – 1821
As an Emperor, I think Napoleon’s use of the word people is a Nosism. I agree with Winston Churchill’s observation that, “history is written by the victors”. I do agree with Napoleon though, that there are versions of history.