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by Francis W. P. Bolger

Although I was born in “Northview Cottage”, on the North Road, much of my youth was spent in Stanley Bridge at my Grandmother’s home. Grandmother Kemys Walsh had been widowed in 1922, when her husband, Patrick Walsh, the village harness maker, died suddenly at the young age of 64. I was born in 1925. By the time I had reached my sixth year, I began to spend one to two days a week with my grandmother, who lived alone in an attractive home, overlooking the lovely Stanley River, surrounded by her enviable flowers, vegetable garden, and exotic fruit trees with the red currant, black currant and gooseberry bushes literally bursting through the paling fence. The two evenings at week and the weekends I spent absorbing the love that she lavished on me - her Francis - will always remain a treasured memory. And that experience with her was destined to last and be savored from my first days in school in May, 1930, until I wrote my Entrance Examinations to the Prince of Wales College in June of 1940, and left in September to study at P.W.C. at the young and lonesome age of 15.

The evenings and nights with Grandmother always seemed magic and memorable. As soon as I crossed the Bridge and walked up the boardwalk past the barn, Uncle Austin Walsh’s harness shop and ran into the house, I was showered with love. First we had a review of all events since my last visit. Grandmother then assigned the chores that needed attention before supper. Invariably, I took an empty bucket and went to Miller Fyfe’s for a bucket of fresh water. The water at the Walsh’s was brackish due to some salt water seepage and was only used for wash— ing and not for drinking. Miller regaled me with stories, teasing about girls, and as I left with the full water bucket, the old, venerable home reverberated with peals of laughter which only Miller could emit. There was usually a trip to one of the two stores on the west side of the Bridge, usually to Wesley and Upton Smith’s emporium. The grocery list always included a candy treat. Then there was wood to be carried in, and in the winter, hard coal for the base- burner that glowed, romantically radiating heat throughout the house in the long winter nights. In season, there were “tame” strawberries to be picked, red and black currants and gooseberries.

One assignment not looked to with glee was the losing battle with the prolific weeds in the veg— etable garden.

Supper followed this spate of activity. One of my classmates - A.S. (Buddy) MacEwen - always noted that I would have better meals and a better lunch for school when I stayed in Stanley Bridge. My mother in the North Road vehemently denied and rejected this suggestion! Buddy probably had a point!

After supper there was all manner of recreation. In winter we coasted on the Hill and in the fields, skated for miles on Stanley River — and as we grew older, made use of the rink facilities at the bottom of the Hill. In summer, of course, the Swimming Rock was the favorite place for swimming. Later, in the evenings we would enviously watch the young men jump and dive off the Bridge at Stanley, a feat we were never encouraged to imitate.

Darkness brought me back to Grandmother’s kitchen. There were lessons to be prepared for school the next day. We would then engage in card games - Little Casino and Rummy — I recall as being the favorites. Grandmother had the most exquisite gramophone. It was deep red in color and when permitted, I would play records and be thoroughly engrossed. And then there were many wonderful hours with the spectrograph viewing the memorable pictures that always portrayed satisfying dramatic events and persons.

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