Mr. MacDonald can vividly remember one such storm that occurred on a March day when he was ten years old. The winds had reached gusts up to a hundred miles an hour, and he had to go outdoors with his dad to repair a door that had blown open. They had to crawl on hands—and— knees to make the return trip to the house. As he turned his head towards the cape, he saw the lightning gliding along the ice, a spectacular sight that left him with everlasting memories.

In those days, people made their own entertainment, and story- telling was one of them. Mr. MacDonald chuckles about an exaggerated version of one of the lightning storms. Someone came to visit, and while conversing about a lightning storm striking the hen— house, he said, “One bolt of lightning struck it, splitting it in two. The hens scurried up in the air and when they came down they were all plucked!”

As a young lad, Leonard would leave home early in the morning, to light the fire at school, and then continue on to the church, where he sang the morning Mass. Later, he would return to the school, hoping to find the fire still burning. He received ten cents a day for his singing, but Father McPherson paid him only when he asked for it. He was not fond of paying Leonard. His father and other family members

all sang in the choir, as well. In 1922, there was a calamity that struck St. Margaret’s, when

someone noticed the church on fire. His father saw the fire, and rushed into the church, and rescued the Blessed Sacrament at his own peril. There was very little communication with other communities in the earlier years, since there were no telephones. He recalls that his brother, Reg, died in Honolulu from a blow that he received in a boxing—match. It took one month before the remains returned to St.

Margaret’s. “January 2, 1939 was one of the most lonesome days of my life,”