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!

Busing it to Medicine Hat to sell books and carry on while grieving

I travelled by bus to Medicine Hat, Alberta from my home in Regina, Saskatchewan on the weekend – to do some work, including a signing at the Coles bookstore in the Medicine Hat Mall. I also enjoyed a visit with my eldest daughter, Lisa (who is also an award-winning author), my son-in-law Kyle, and their five-month-old baby girl. It was the first time in decades that I had travelled on a Greyhound bus and it was quite the experience.

I chose to take the bus because road conditions on the Canadian Prairies can change quickly, especially in winter months. I didn't want the stress of having to drive for almost five hours during a snowstorm if the weather turned bad. I thought an experienced bus driver could do that for me and I could figure out how to close my eyes and pretend everything was alright if the weather changed for the worse. Which it did, of course.

The drive there was fine. 

There was very little snow along the drive on Thursday morning. It was surprising to be able to see the fields. I did some people-watching on the packed bus – which stopped at many different communities along the way, offering plenty of opportunities for new characters to board and attract my attention.

I saw travellers who had either little income or no desire to care for themselves clothing-wise or hygiene-wise. These were people of all ages. There were younger males who explained to others that they were travelling across the country because of the downturn in the economy. (It is close to impossible to not overhear others while waiting at a bus terminal, especially boisterous young males.) Some travellers were older and by themselves. I gravitated toward older women, as they seemed closest to my age and life story.

During our lunch stop in Swift Current on the way there, I sat at a table with an older woman who also turned out to be a widow. We had a lovely visit and discussed our grief and how it takes years to process it and learn to live with it. We also talked about how others who are not as affected by our loved one’s death have carried on with their lives within days or weeks. It is hard being a widow. It is hard being alone. Our conversation offered some healing moments for each of us and we were glad we’d found each other on this journey, among this bus full of strangers.

On the buses there and back, there were a handful of riders who had obvious mental health problems. One talked loudly and explained his illness to anyone in his path. He was obviously a nice guy, but definitely sick. I wondered about him and felt sad that his drug use caused more problems for his mental health and daily interactions with others. One young man had visible twitches and made many trips to the bathroom on the bus ride home. Another yelled out in his sleep. It was enough to make me uncomfortable and I thought about the bus drivers who meet these people daily and take them onto their buses, hoping everything goes well – which it did on my buses.

On arrival in The Hat, I was met by my daughter, son-in-law, granddaughter, and this terrific sign:

It was the start to a great weekend.

As always, Lisa and I spent many hours talking about our books, marketing ideas, book awards contests, future book sales and signings, and other strategies for our respective companies - her Above 540 and my DriverWorks Ink.

It began snowing on Friday night and continued for the rest of the weekend. We visited and worked, drove through the snow, and visited and worked some more. (And I got in plenty of Grandma cuddles!)

Oh ... and we got our toenails painted! Thanks, Lisa, for the early birthday gift!

On Saturday, we had a signing event at the Coles bookstore in the mall.  Lisa signed her award-winning spiritual book Opening Up: How To Develop Your Intuition And Work With Your Angels and her new book Leap! How To Overcome Doubt, Fear And Grief & Choose The Path Of Joy. I signed two non-fiction books that I have compiled, Cream Money: Stories of Prairie People and Fun on the Farm: True Tales of Farm Life.

My granddaughter is the cutest co-signer I've ever had!

At the signing, we held each other up emotionally and spiritually when people asked about Lisa's new book, Leap! In it, she shares details of her own story and how she felt when she heard the news in August 2015 that her dad (my husband, Al) had colon cancer. She shares what that diagnosis meant in her life and how she coped with that situation at what should have been the happiest time of her life – a time of expecting her first baby.

Our entire family lived with hope from the minute that Al got sick. He chose to fight with all he had and we chose to be there beside him, doing whatever we could to keep all our spirits up and LIVE in every moment we had together. Unfortunately, in December 2015, the doctors surprised us with news that they could do no more. Al passed away two weeks later, on January 4, 2016.

In her Leap book, Lisa talks about overcoming feelings of doubt and fear as well, but mostly her story is one of carrying on through grief. She shares meditations and exercises and strategies to help readers overcome these obstacles and events in their lives.

It was tough for me to read her story, hearing my own child's pain. It was emotional for me to edit it and publish it. But she did it and I did it.

The story is difficult but important.

We know it has already helped others. 

"I am reading your new book and cannot put it down! It is filling me with the inspiration and affirmations I require. Your opening of your soul so openly in this book has me examining every inch of my own soul and filling it with love and appreciation for the journey I too am on."

We know Lisa's new book will continue to help others. And we are confident that Leap, like her first book, Opening Up, will win a book award too. It’s very well written.

So every time Lisa and I get together – as happens with my other two children and their partners – we talk, we listen, we care for each other. We miss our dad, dad-in-law and husband. We talk about him. We love him and each other. We grieve. We cry. We laugh. We hug each other. And we carry on.

Al and Deana Driver, 2013

The little one's fingers on the window were a precious sight as she looked out at the snow.

The bus leaves Medicine Hat going east only once a day. At 3:15 a.m. 

As the bus depot's answering machine's voice message says, “You heard that right; 3:15 in the morning.” You cannot buy a ticket “at this ungodly hour” – a comment that made me laugh out loud – but if you buy your ticket ahead of time, as I did, you can get on a bus driven by an experienced driver who will head out onto the highway even though it’s been snowing for three days and is still snowing, and there are warnings to stay off the highway.

It's quiet on the streets of pretty much any Canadian town or city at 2:30 in the morning. Medicine Hat is no exception.

I tried really hard to sleep while the bus driver did his job. The one kind-of-open lane of highway caused me some stress.

And it got a little worse partway home.

I did not take photos during the worst parts. I closed my eyes and said a lot of prayers.

But we made it! And I wanted to express my appreciation to the driver.

As he handed me my suitcase, which he had just pulled out from the storage compartment under the bus, I handed him a $20 bill. "I haven't taken a bus for years and I wanted to thank you for getting us here safely."

He just looked at me, so I asked him to please take it. He lifted his arm up and out a bit and asked me to "put it there", under his armpit. Ummm... okay.

As I turned and started walking away, he followed and stopped me. "Do you know that this is only the second time in 26 years that this has happened?"

"That someone gave you a tip?" I asked.

"Yes." 

"Well, you deserve it." And I left. Perplexed. I understand that people who ride the bus may not have much money but ... really? Not even a dollar? Sad.

My daughter-in-law Kelli and my youngest grandson picked me up from the bus depot and drove me home. I cherished the hugs and the "Welcome Home" sign made by my four-year-old grandson.

As I shovelled snow, I thought about the weekend and all its experiences and interactions. 

I saw this mug in Lisa's and Kyle's cupboard and I used it all weekend.

Profound and appropriate. Exactly.

What's in a Name? Authors Deana and Cornelia discuss Sabinka

I recently talked with Cornelia Bilinsky, one of the many wonderful people who submitted stories for our upcoming Cream Money book, due for release in late May. Cornelia grew up on a farm in Manitoba and now lives in Ontario. She is the author of several children's books, published by Pauline Books and Media, run by The Daughters of St. Paul in Boston. (I am constantly learning and meeting the nicest people in my line of work as a Canadian writer, editor and publisher.)

Our conversation began with me thanking Cornelia for submitting her memories of growing up on her family's farm. Then I let her know the details of when the book will be released - late May or early June. 

These are parts of a cream separator used on the farm in Manitoba where Cornelia Bilinsky grew up. Red paint has since been spilled on the separator bowl. (Photo - courtesy of Theodore Mikolayenko)

I also asked her for clarification on how to acknowledge her contribution. Does she use the name Cornelia - which is how she signed her email - or Connie, which is what shows up in her email address?

This led to an exchange of further emails, including her giving me permission to share our conversation:

Cornelia:
Thank you, Deana, for sharing this news. I am pleased my submission will be included in the book and glad that donations will be made to a very worthy cause!
By the way, I've enjoyed reading a few of your blog posts!
Cornelia

Me:

Thank you for your comments, Cornelia – or do you go by Connie? 

The stats tell me that there are people who are reading the blog posts, but I rarely hear from readers about them. It’s nice to hear from you that you are one of them.

Cornelia:

Well, there's another story. My actual name is Cornelia. It was an unusual name in our Ukrainian community of Ethelbert, Manitoba. Some of my schoolmates in the one-room elementary school I attended had trouble pronouncing it. I remember resenting their mispronunciations. In my last year of high school, my closest friends nicknamed me "Connie" and the name stuck. Friends and family still call me Connie (and you may, too). However, I have learned to appreciate my real name and have always used it in all official correspondence and documents and, of course, as the author name in my books and other writings. After all, it is the name my mother gave me.

Connie (Cornelia)

Me:
Oh, now there is an idea for another blog post. I have always had trouble with people mispronouncing my name. That's why I finally added a pronunciation in my work emails.

Deana Driver (dee-na)

DriverWorks Ink

Proud Prairie Publishers
We also had trouble deciding what name we should call my mom for most of our adult lives. Her original Polish name (Sabina) was changed (to Sabinka) when she arrived in Canada. At university, she was given a nickname (Binkie), which she responded to for all of her adult life, but actually disliked. In her 80s, Mom finally told us what she really wanted to be called (Agnes, which is her middle name).
If I do decide to write a blog about this, can I please quote from your note about learning to appreciate your real name?

Cornelia:

What a poignant story about your mom! I think this kind of thing happened to many people who immigrated to Canada, and their children as well. My husband's name is Bohdan, but when he was in Grade One, the teacher decided he would be Bobby.

Your mom's experience illustrates keenly how a name is the key to self-identity. I'm in the process of reading The Book of Negroes. One of the things that really touches me is how the main character (a slave girl, captured in Africa at age 11) longs to hear someone call her by her real name, because it awakens in her the realization of who she really is. But, of course, to the slave traders, plantation owners and others, she is only a commodity, and they care nothing for her name.

Yes, you may quote me if you like and you may use the name my mother gave me.

Cornelia

Me:

Thank you.

The Book of Negroes just may be the best book I've ever read. I loved it. Enjoy.

My conversation with Cornelia helped me realize that others might care to hear about the origin of my own unique name. I teased my mom for years about why she named me Deana. (I was pretty sure my dad had nothing to do with the naming process, as his was more the stereotypical male role in the family and my mom had been a teacher and was very creative.) All of my siblings were given names that are easy to spell, write, and say - Karen, Barbara, Alan, Leanne - while I was given 'Deana'. I am the second-oldest, so birth order was no reason that I could see for that switch-up, although I teased Mom that maybe she had been given too many drugs during my birth.

My mom often ignored my pleas for an answer to this question. One time a few years ago, when I asked about my name's origin, she told me, "I was going to call you Myris."
"My what?" I asked.
"M-a-y-r-i-s," she spelled out the word for the dumbfounded me.
"Umm ... Deana's good, Mom. Thanks."

I didn't know if Mom was joking or not. She had a wonderful sense of humour and often made stuff up, encouraging us to do our own research and come to our own conclusions. She died from pancreatic and liver cancer in July 2011, and left me wondering about my name to this day.

I had always thought my name was a compilation of those given to two of my mom's sisters. Put 'Dora' and 'Jeannie' together and you get 'Deana'. That made sense to me. But that was not correct either, I was told.

Another story Mom told me was the most believable of all her explanations. In the 1950s, she listened to a soap opera on the radio. It was called Ma Perkins and one of the many characters was Bernadeana - they called her 'Deana' for short, Mom said. I searched the Internet for hours one day to try to confirm this story. I finally found one mention of a Bernadeana as a Ma Perkins character. I cannot seem to find that reference again, but that was good enough for me to go with this story as the most plausible explanation.

There were 68 different characters over the 27-year run of 'Ma Perkins'. One of those appears to have been Bernadeana - although I'm sure Mom told me that Deana was 'the heroine' and not a bit player.

As a young journalist in the 1980s, I gave up trying to correct people who mispronounced my first name, especially if I was planning on interviewing them for only one feature story. Finally, my husband Al recommended that I need to correct everyone. "If you don't correct them, they will call you Dee-an-na your whole life." He was right, of course, and I have since learned to politely correct people.

Mom once asked me why I was so curious about my first name. "What do people call you?"

"Deena, Dana, Donna, but mostly Deanna."

"Harumph," was the sound I heard from Mom.

When I married Al Driver in 1976 and changed my last name from the Ukrainian hard-to-pronounce 'Pacholok' (with a silent 'c') to Driver, I thought that would make my name so much easier for others to say correctly.

The first time I was called by my married name, I was introduced as 'Deanna Driven.' Oh, brother.

World TB Day, the Lung Association and our Cream Money book

March 24th is World TB Day - the day to raise public awareness about tuberculosis and the fact this disease is still a threat in many countries of the world. According to the World Health Organization, tuberculosis (TB) is one of the world's top infectious killers.

The theme for World TB Day 2015 is 'Reach, Treat, Cure Everyone', to draw attention to the estimated 3 million people worldwide with TB who are not treated and cured. The Lung Association of Canada notes that in Canada, we have many world-class researchers working to find ways to treat and cure this disease. I am thankful for that.

In our immediate family, we have been affected by numerous health conditions affecting the lungs, including a TB scare faced by my mother-in-law, who was a nurse for all of her work life. My husband, Al, was hospitalized many times during his first few years of life because of severe asthma. As a child, he was so ill that he asked his mother if he could go back underneath the oxygen tent in his hospital room - so he could breathe better. I developed allergies and asthma as an adult - which are still a struggle for me - and both of our daughters have had difficulties with asthma over the years.

The scariest times were those which took any of us to the hospital. Being unable to breathe properly is frightening, and we would not wish that on anyone.

Last October, our eldest daughter, Lisa Driver, posted a message on her Facebook page in which she shared a music video that has a truly inspiring story attached to it. This is what Lisa posted:

     I was going to share this song anyways, because I love its message of living each day to the fullest.
     Then I watched the video and was truly touched by the dedication of the song to those with Cystic Fibrosis. When I was three, I had such severe asthma the doctors were worried it was CF. I haven't thought of that a lot and until this moment, didn't realize how close I came to a terminal diagnosis. I am so grateful for my health and this life.
     This video is worth the watch. Lisa

Al took our little Lisa to the hospital that day when she was struggling to breathe. He vividly recalls that moment when the doctor said that Lisa might have cystic fibrosis. It still shakes him to the core. We are so thankful that CF did not become a reality for her.

For months now, we have been working on producing a book called 'Cream Money - Stories of Prairie People', which will feature short stories told by people in Saskatchewan, Manitoba and Alberta, who grew up during a time when farmers collected and sold cream to subsidize their family's income. I am one of those Prairie people from that era. Part of my family's story will be in this book, which we plan to release in the next few months.

Our publishing company, DriverWorks Ink, has donated to various charities for years, from the proceeds of many of our books. Last fall, we were been mulling over the idea of whether to donate from Cream Money or not. Publishing is a tough business in which "every penny counts," as an industry person recently advised us at a Saskatchewan Publishers Group /SaskBooks conference. Still, we are Christian people and we give in gratitude for the gifts we have received. So money is nice, but sharing it is nicer.

After seeing Lisa's post and that incredible video last fall, we decided that we would give an annual donation from our Cream Money book sales to The Lung Association of Saskatchewan.

We look forward to releasing our Cream Money book in the next while (in which the cream can image below will play a central role), and to helping further raise awareness about lung diseases and find cures and treatments for diseases like TB, asthma, and many more.

We are in the final stages of editing the 30-plus stories that have been contributed to our Cream Money book. If you or someone you know still has a story to share about those days on the farm, please contact me by March 31 so we can make room for your submission.