by Sarah Ellis
Murdo did not let that stop him. He ran home and came back with an iron scoop shovel. He went down the slide spinning around and when he got to the bottom he jumped up lickety-split and sat himself right down in the snow. I guess the shovel heated up some, sliding on that icy slope. The boys were shouting, “In the hot seat, Murd?” But then he just went and did it again.
I long to do it, and lots of girls and even women were whooshing down, but I would have to do it on a shovel and I know that would not be proper.
November 27
Dear Papa and Mama,
In church today Rev. Parfitt said that the text for his sermon was going to be about tobogganing. Psalm 26, Verse 1: “I have trusted also in the Lord; therefore I shall not slide.” At first I thought he was serious and that he would say that tobogganing was sinful, but he was joking. I saw Mrs. Parfitt shaking her head. I don’t think she approves of jokes in a sermon.
November 29
Dear Papa and Mama,
There is so much to tell you about this evening. As we were walking home we saw Mr. McFarlane, from the dry goods store, and little Millie McFarlane travelling along in their cutter. The moon was bright. It was being pulled by their lovely brown and white horse. He’s called Billy. They were stopped at the railway crossing near the bridge. But when the train sounded its whistle the horse panicked and jumped ahead, pulling the cutter across the tracks.
Mr. McFarlane yelled and then he picked up Millie and threw her into a snowbank and then he whipped the reins and tried to get Billy to move, but he wouldn’t. So then Mr. McFarlane jumped out of the cutter himself. The shunting engine came across the bridge with brakes squealing. It hit the cutter and smashed it to bits. Then Billy panicked even more and ran down the steep bank, onto the ice on the river, dragging all the wrecked cutter behind him.
Then, there was just noise and darkness and confusion and Billy disappeared. Suddenly one of the men shouted, “There he is!”
I looked down. It was even darker on the river, but I thought I saw Billy standing on the ice. But then there was a great crack and that terrible sound of a horse screaming and somebody shouted, “He’s gone under.” Mr. McFarlane rushed by me and put little Millie into my arms. Then he and Uncle James and some of the other mill men slithered down to the shore.
There was shouting. I could not see what was happening, but soon we saw them leading Billy onto firm ground. Little Millie was just snugged into me. I just kept telling her that she was safe and Billy was safe and everybody was safe. Then Mr. McFarlane came and collected her, and Auntie Janet and I went home. Uncle James stayed to help with Billy. This all happened in less time than it takes to write it down. Time is not always like an ever-rolling stream, but like a rushing river.
November 30
Dear Papa and Mama,
Great surprise today. Mr. McFarlane came by the house today, after supper. He said that Billy is fine and then he told Uncle James that he had never seen a man with a better way of calming a horse. “I would have lost him if it had not been for you.” And then he thanked me for taking care of Millie.
He brought us two thank-you presents. The small present was a bag of candies, Scotch mixture. A mint is in my mouth right now. I’m making it last as long as possible. The big present is the splendid thing. It is a toboggan! We none of us ever thought we would have a toboggan. Mr. McFarlane says that he had it from when he was a boy, but that Mrs. McFarlane doesn’t care for tobogganing and that Millie is too small. We cannot wait to try it. Is a toboggan as fast as a train? It looks even faster. What is the fastest thing in the world?
December 1887
December 1
Dear Papa and Mama,
Today was the longest day ever at the mill, or maybe in the history of the world. This morning as we walked by the slide I imagined going down it and all day long I heard the machine say “To-bogg-an-ing, to-bogg-an-ing.”
But now I can tell you that tobogganing is the most glorious thing, as good as imagining! The first time we all went together. Auntie Janet was on the front, then me (the filling in the sandwich), then Uncle James on the back. The moment before you push off it is as though the whole world goes still. Then off you go, a little sticky at first, and then you’re off, faster than fast. I buried my head in Auntie’s back and held on to her for dear life. I couldn’t see anything (my eyes were closed, to tell the truth), but there was a lovely swishing sound. At the bottom there was a bit of a bump and the toboggan went right up in the air and that’s when Uncle James started whooping. Then I went just with Uncle James so I got to see, which was even scarier and more splendid. Then I went by myself and nearly steered right off the track and ended up tipping over and everyone laughed and whooped, but in a friendly way.
Once in the lineup there were some schoolgirls standing behind me and one of them said, “Oh, this must be the free time for the mill workers.” I don’t care. Her fancy clothes did not make her go faster and she was not courageous enough to ride on her own. She did a lot of squealing. I whoop, but I do not squeal.
On one run Auntie and Uncle fell off and they rolled over and over in the snow all cuddled up together and laughing and laughing and they didn’t get up right away and I heard Mrs. Ramsay (bouncing feather hat) from church say, “Well, I never,” in a disapproving way and I wanted to say, “What do you never? Do you never cuddle with Mr. Ramsay?”
When I was waiting in the line I asked Auntie what she thought would happen if we all said out loud what we think inside our heads and she laughed and said that there would be rioting in the streets.
Murdo came by right at the end and he told me that toboggans can reach speeds of ninety miles an hour. So that answers the question of what is the fastest thing in the world. Of course we let him join in.
We tobogganed until dark, until we were more than half frozen and we could hardly climb another step. I’m putting tobogganing in a bundle in my mind to remember for always.
December 2
Dear Papa and Mama,
There was a poem in the newspaper today about tobogganing.
The rollum has vanished
The skatum has fled
The rinkum is banished
The wheelum is dead
Tobog’s now the daisy
That now rules the day
Let’s tobog till we’re crazy
O lally dum day.
Uncle said it wasn’t quite true because the rinkum isn’t banished. In fact, there is going to be a curling bonspiel at the rink next week. But we all agreed that tobog is certainly the daisy.
December 3
Dear Papa and Mama,
Auntie and I did the shopping in a great hurry after work this afternoon so that we could tobog till we were crazy. All the Campbells came. Murdo wanted to try to fit the whole family on the toboggan together, but Mrs. Campbell wouldn’t let them take the little ones. But they got Kathleen, Murdo, Percy and Archie all squeezed on like sardines in a can. Some of the bigger boys try to go down standing up on the toboggan, but nobody has succeeded yet.
We came home crazy, wet and exhausted.
Mungo has a new pleasure. He likes you to drip water on his head. He purrs and rolls around and tries to bat the drips with his paw. I thought cats were supposed to hate water.
December 4
Dear Papa and Mama,
Morning. I hear Uncle lighting the stove, but I’m going to stay in bed until it is warmer. I hear that slide calling, “Flora Rutherford, come and slide on me.” But of course it is Sunday. I wish it weren’t. Is that wicked?
Evening. It was a sunny, sparkly day, and even though Mrs. Parfitt served delicious gingerbread at Bible Study I still heard the voice of that empty toboggan slide.
Instead of sliding, we knitted. My socks are nearly done. Auntie says I can give them to Uncle as a Christmas present. I have not had occasion to give presents before. What can I get Auntie? This is a very pleasant question to think about. I have one dollar saved.
December 5
Dear Papa and Mama,
Murdo told me that every year there is a big Christmas party for all the mill workers at the town hall, not just for the workers at the woollen mill, but from the knitting mill too. He said that there is a huge decorated tree and mince tarts and cherry cake and ginger beer and presents. “And dancing, but I don’t like that part.” He said that Mr. Flanagan pays for it all. We had a Christmas party at the Home too, but not with adults and we didn’t have dancing.
December 8
Dear Papa and Mama,
Today there was a letter from Uncle James’s brother, Wilfred Duncan. He lives way out west in British Columbia on a ranch. He has a big family. “He’s not much of a one for writing,” said Auntie Janet, “but we do get the news every year come Christmas.” Then, “I must write back and tell him our big news of the year.” It took me a minute to realize that she meant me. Flora Rutherford — big news. She asked if I would help with the letter, so that is what we did this evening.
December 9
Dear Papa and Mama,
There was another tobogganing poem in the paper today. Auntie Janet says that the trick of hiding the word tobogganing in it is like weaving. Here it is:
I’ve never heard the word shutelet, but maybe in poems you’re allowed to make up the words you need or put in an extra “n” so that winter’s fun can remain.
Tomorrow I’m going to have a look around the general store and see what Christmas presents can be had for a dollar. Perhaps I could give Murdo a present too.
December 15
Dear Papa and Mama,
I have not written in days because something terrible has happened. Uncle James has been hurt at the mill. It happened on Monday. The first we knew was when Mr. Haskin came into the spinning room at a run and said that Auntie Janet and I must come right away. We went down to the weave room and there was Uncle James on the floor, covered in blood. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving. I thought he was dead. Auntie Janet screamed and threw herself down upon him. Dr. Reeve appeared with some bandages and water and he started to wipe away some of the blood. Then Uncle James woke up and started saying that he was fine, he was fine, but of course he was not fine at all. The blood was coming from his right arm and hand which looked like
I cannot finish that sentence. It did not look like an arm at all, but more like meat.
Dr. Reeve bandaged the arm and then they put Uncle James on a board and carried him home. When Dr. Reeve came he gave Uncle James a drink of brandy and then he bound his arm to a wooden splint and sewed up the cuts in his arm and hand. I could not look. Uncle James did not cry or complain once, but instead tried to talk to the doctor.
The doctor gave Uncle James some pills for the pain.
For the past three days we have just sat with Uncle James. Mrs. Campbell and Granny Whitall have been bringing us soup and tea, but Auntie Janet does not eat anything. She is very busy all the time, taking care of Uncle James, but when she stops for a minute she just stares.
I am trying to be helpful and good, but I do not really know what to do.
Mr. Boothroyd came by this evening and asked what happened. Uncle James does not remember how it happened, but he got his arm caught between the belt and a pulley. He keeps saying how foolish he was and blaming himself.
When I ask Auntie Janet if Uncle James will be all right she just says that we must pray as hard as we can for him to be well.
When I close my eyes I just keep seeing the same picture over and over again. It is a picture of Auntie Janet stained with blood and her hair all hanging down when she stood up to let Mr. Reeve bandage Uncle James. Auntie Janet is usually so clean and tidy. I cannot write any more.
December 16
Dear Papa and Mama,
Rev. Parfitt came to visit today. He brought a pan of buns from Mrs. Parfitt.
We were sitting at the table when Mungo jumped up on my knee and then, quick as a wink, onto the table. He was heading toward the cream jug. Uncle made as if to rescue the cream and then he made the most terrible yelp and he turned white as paper and sweat broke out on his face. Auntie tried to get him to take one of the pills, but he just banged on the table with his other hand and said no.
December 17
Dear Papa and Mama,
Uncle James is worse. His arm and his hand turned a horrible dark colour and then he started to run a fever. Dr. Reeve came again and he talked to Auntie Janet and then they sent me away, to stay with Granny Whitall for the night. Granny Whitall was very kind and made scones for me. But they were just sawdust in my mouth. And then because Granny Whitall was kind it made me very soft and wobbly. I cried and cried.
That was last night and this morning I came home again and Auntie Janet told me that Dr. Reeve had to cut off three of Uncle James’s fingers.
The good news now is that the fever has gone down and Uncle James drank a bit of soup. The good news is so little and the bad news is so big.
December 18
Dear Papa and Mama,
Why are sick people so frightening? I wanted so much to go into the bedroom and talk to Uncle James, but I was afraid, too. It was as though the bedroom was one of those lonely secret rooms in a fairy story. I did go in, to take him tea, and he was awake and he looked at me, but he could not seem to speak.
We did not go to church today.
Later in the afternoon Mr. Boothroyd came to visit again. He brought a hamper of food from Mr. Flanagan.
When he left, Auntie Janet went in to see Uncle James and when she came back out she fell into pieces. “What can he hope to do with that poor mangled hand? What will happen to us?” Uncle James is not talking to Auntie either.
I am lying in bed with the last bit of candle burning. The train whistle is a sad sound tonight.
December 19
Dear Papa and Mama,
This morning Auntie Janet and I went back to work. Everything was the same, but different. Same mill bell, same Mill Street. Same yellow dog. Same Barney. Oh, what if Uncle James turns out like him? Same parade of people. But different. The bell was harsh, the dog made me sad and the people walked apart from us. Well, not Murdo and his parents, but the ones from the other rooms.
Auntie took my arm and kept me close to her. “They don’t know what to say,” she said. “Troubles make people shy.”
Most same and different was the works of the mill. All those wheels and belts, levers and pulleys. It was the monster of my dreams, waiting for a moment’s inattention, one slip, one mistake and it would attack. I remembered Murdo explaining it all to me, the power and cleverness of it, how it was a wonder almost as amazing as the human brain. This morning all I saw was a foul fiend, all teeth and claws, banging and screeching so that we could not think, so that it could get us.
In our spinning room everyone wanted to know the news of Uncle James. Most everyone was very kind and that made me want to cry. Except Mrs. Brown. She was angry. She said that it was all the fault of the owners. She said that if the floors were not all slick with machine oil and tufts of wool James would never have slipped and fallen into the belt. She is right. The mill floors are very slippery, especially if you wear shoes. I usually take my shoes off, to save them, and also not to slip. So Mrs. Brown is right and I would like to be angry along with her. I would like to blame someone. But I cannot find anger in me. Only a hollow place, ringed round with fear.
December 20
Dear Papa and Mama,
Auntie Janet and I have been rushing home at dinner to see Uncle. Today he was sitting asleep and Mungo was on his shoulder. When he woke up he did not pay him any heed, even when Mungo tried to lick his nose. Uncle seems to have gone away.
Auntie and I made some shortbread this evening.
December 21
Dear Papa and Mama,
Dr. Reeve came today and changed Uncle’s dressing and taught Auntie how to make a sling for his arm. He says the healing is going well. He talked about the Christmas party, which is to be on Fri
day and we will all get off early. Auntie Janet made tea and chatted, but Uncle James hardly said a word. When the doctor said, “I hope we’ll see you at the party, James, it would take your mind off things,” he didn’t even reply. I could tell that Auntie was ashamed for his rudeness.
December 22
Dear Papa and Mama,
Everyone at work is talking about the party. Auntie says that she cannot persuade Uncle James to go and so she won’t leave him, but that I am to go. Is this right? Should I stay home too? Is this a time when being obedient is the wrong thing to do? If I stayed home perhaps I could cheer Uncle up. They are starting a new story in the newspaper. I could read that. But I so want to go to the party. The wanting is as big as the sadness about the accident.
Uncle ate some supper tonight, but then he just wanted to sit and stare. I feel as though Auntie and I are twittering birds, talking around him. I think he is cross with us.
December 24
Dear Papa and Mama,
I did go to the party last night. The Campbells took me with them. It was grand, the best party I have ever been to. (I know. It is really the only party I have ever been to.) When I was getting ready to go (I wore my red Sunday dress) I got a bad feeling in my stomach because Uncle James and Auntie Janet were not coming. But Auntie Janet fixed my hair in a new way and told me to have a good time and she would be happy thinking of me.
When we got to the town hall my bad feeling dissolved because the first thing we saw was a huge Christmas tree, all decorated with candles and shiny ornaments. It was as tall as the ceiling and it smelled like the outdoors. Matron did not think Christmas trees were necessary, so we never had one. On the top was a beautiful angel, dressed in a blue gown, with fluffy wings. I thought of you both in heaven and then I thought that maybe the baby Jesus was so fresh out of heaven that he brought a little taste of it with him when he came to earth. Maybe all babies do and that’s why we are happy looking at them. Even if it does mean all those nappies and the crying and such. What did Mary and Joseph do about nappies? That might not be a proper question, but I do wonder because I washed a lot of nappies in the Home and I don’t know how you would manage that if you were living in a stable.
