PRAIRIE FARM STORIES OF SELLING CREAM TEACH US WHILE CELEBRATING THE PAST

In 2015, I wrote this "Read My Book" piece for Regina and Saskatoon newspapers to introduce readers to the fascinating anthology Cream Money: Stories of Prairie People. The book has been popular, due to its sharing of Prairie history and memories of the old days on the farm:

We can learn much from the people around us. Whether they are family, friends, acquaintances or people we have just met, there are stories to be told and lessons to be learned. This concept has been a driving force in my work as a freelance journalist for more than 30 years and has followed me into the field of book writing, editing and publishing.

In 2011, when I began working with the Saskatoon German Days Committee to help them create their book Egg Money: A Tribute to Saskatchewan Pioneer Women, I commented that they could also publish a book called Cream Money, since cream money was another important income source for farm women in days gone by. Of course, their Egg Money book is based on a statue of that name in downtown Saskatoon, so “Cream Money” did not make sense as a project for them.

So in 2014, my husband and publishing partner Al Driver and I decided to invite writers to send us their stories of selling cream and other interesting tales from past decades of farming on the Prairies. We collected 29 short stories and two poems from 30 Prairie writers, including myself.

My mother, Sabinka Staszewski, came to Canada from Poland in August 1929. She was two years old and made the 12-day voyage by ship with her mother, father and three siblings (ages eight years, six years, and six weeks - see photo below). After arrival in Halifax, Nova Scotia, they headed west by train to what would become their new home in Athabasca, Alberta, 95 miles north of Edmonton.

The family spent their first two winters living in a hole in the ground. Literally.

During the First World War, my grandfather had seen houses that were dug into the hills of Romania. There were no hills on the Alberta farmland he’d purchased, so he adapted this idea and created the first dugout house anyone had seen in that region. Their dugout house was four feet deep, eight feet wide, and 14 feet long. A small wood-burning cook stove and oven was used for cooking and warmth. Their large trunk was their only other piece of furniture until my grandfather constructed a long bench.

One of the first items my grandparents purchased in town to add to their meagre possessions was a young Holstein cow named Jenny, to supply the family with milk. Cow’s milk was an essential item on every farm in those days, especially for a growing family. 

Other parts of my family’s story include the fact that my father, also an immigrant, and his siblings were punished for speaking Ukrainian in school. Until they could afford their own cow, my grandmother helped milk a neighbour’s cows so she could bring a quart of milk home for her own family each day.

These are lessons that we can learn from and stories which need to be told to preserve not only our history but to teach the next generation. Other stories within the pages of Cream Money tell of hard work, of children and mice falling into milk cans, of saving cream money for essential items such as teeth repair, of sending the cream cans to town by train, and relishing the rich desserts made with farm-fresh cream.

On days when I am tempted to feel gloomy, I remember the story of the dugout house. Life in Canada is good. Let’s keep sharing those stories.

Cream Money: Stories of Prairie People is available from www.driverworks.ca, McNally Robinson Booksellers, Chapters, Indigo, Coles, and other select retailers. 

Here's a link to my blog about the fun book launch we had for the book!

Small World - Reconnecting With Folks This Summer

Here's an "It's A Small World" story from last week.

When I walked into a seniors' home in Morinville, Alberta last Thursday, where I was going to be speaking about our books, a man was standing inside the front doors. He was waiting for whoever was coming to pick him up to take him to a day program outside the facility. He opened the door for me and then for Al when Al brought in our cart of books. Since we were just standing there, I decided to make conversation. I asked the fellow if they'd had much rain there.

"No, not much," he said. "Just last night."

I told him that I was glad it had rained. "We're heading to a family reunion in Athabasca, just north of here. A few weeks ago, my brother said they were spraying for grasshoppers."

The man kind of smiled, then pointed his index finger at me and said, "I KNOW who you are."

I stopped and took another look at him and my jaw dropped. "YOU'RE ________  ________," I yelled, saying his name.

He smiled.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

I had been the recipient of that pointed finger a few times when we were kids, and I had now recognized the man from that gesture I had seen many times as a kid. His family lives about a mile from our farm and we went on the same school bus every day! My brother has visited and worked with this friend of ours for years, but he'd lost track of where our friend had moved in retirement.

So now we know. 

I grabbed our friend and asked Al to take a photo of the two of us. 

How cool is that?

At a Thursday afternoon speaking event in my hometown, I reconnected with at least five seniors who played a role in my childhood as well. Some had been friends with my parents and some were neighbours. (When I was growing up on the farm, anyone who lived within a 50-mile radius was considered a neighbour.) One of the seniors was a former high school Industrial Arts teacher, whom I did not take classes from but whom I had always considered to be a respected teacher. Later that evening, I visited with three of my cousins and also reconnected with a friend from high school whom I had not seen for more than 40 years! I love how life throws such fascinating, fun curves at you every now and then.

We spent the rest of the weekend reconnecting with relatives on my father's side of our family. We visited, ate great food, played cards and other games, and genuinely had a great time.

Then Al and I, my three sisters and one brother, with most of our family members, spent Sunday afternoon at the lake near my brother's farm. It was a beautiful day weather-wise  - hot and sunny with a slight breeze.

It was the perfect ending for a great weekend of visiting, reminding me of where I come from and who I am - a farm kid from Alberta who loves the Prairies and its people.