World War I Tag

23 Mar Gladys Swedak’s story of Ruth

My mother’s story starts May 3, 1901 the day she was born on the Woodheed sheep farm in Annan Scotland. She was the youngest of Margaret Agnes Kirkpatrick Pool and John Pool’s 11 children. When she was 3 years old her mother died, of what I do not know. She was raised with the other younger children by her oldest sister named after their mother and nicknamed Kate. At about 5 years of age Mom fell and hit her head on the hearth of the fireplace and cut her forehead. She carried the scar all her life.
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16 Apr Margaret Birch’s story of Leola

Driving home to the farm one summer day in 1968, Mother spotted a small dog at the edge of the road by her turnoff. She rescued this lost puppy. It became apparent after several phone calls that it had been abandoned, so Pip Squeak (aka...

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20 Jun Tamra Wilson’s story of Shirley

Shirley McManus TamraThe weeks that separate the dry winds of summer from the relentless howl of a prairie winter are few and pass quickly.  This is when my mother was born into a world falling headlong into the Great Depression.  On October 4, 1930, Shirley became the last of four children born to Rose and Ernest French of Herbert, Saskatchewan.  Her mother always called her Shirley Ann and it wasn’t until she applied for a passport in 1977 that she realized that she had no middle name after all.
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22 Aug Herb Norry’s story of Mildred

My mother died on a bright sunny Easter Sunday morning when I was six years old... It was April 5th, 1931. My brother Bob was four and my sister Kathleen was eight. That was the worst day of my life until my daughter Maryann died when she was 42 years old. She was taken to the hospital on April 5th and died six days later leaving a 12 year old daughter, Kylie, and a nine year old son Matthew. That was worse. Mother and Maryann were two of a kind.
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09 Jan Sharon Heath’s story of Laurel

My Mom, Laurel Allard, was the firstborn of two daughters to Ida and Silas Pugh. Born in 1936, the middle of the dirty thirties in Port Hardy, Vancouver Island. Port Hardy is well named. It’s a remote town on the northern tip of a large, forested rock out on the edge of the continent.
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15 Dec Joy Coghill’s story of Dorothy

People who knew and loved my mother in later life remember her as a compassionate, no-nonsense kind of woman who cooked marvelous dinners. Only I, as her only child, was privileged to know that beneath this gentle exterior, she was an adventure-loving pioneer with a tiger inside her.
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10 Oct Mary Monk’s story of Lily Rose ⓜ

When I was a teenager, alone with my boyfriend in the drawing room, we would suddenly hear Mother singing the Christian hymn “Rock of Ages” in her glorious contralto voice—a warning that we had to behave ourselves before she entered the room.
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