THE YANKEES COME HOME

The old home had four bedrooms which were shared when necessary. The greatest inconvenience was when Dad’s family members returned home to their native Prince Edward Island each summer for a holiday. My father used to say, “It was like hell broke loose!”

When the word arrived that they would soon be coming, the cleaning began from top to bottom. All the good bed clothes would come out of the old trunks. The mothballs would be removed, and the clothes all washed. They were then put out on the clothes line to dry, for they must have that fresh, unique smell when Aunt Eva or Aunt Bessie laid their heads to rest on that P.E.I. pillow. After all, it had been a whole year since they had witnessed such a remarkable experience.

Finally the door opened, and we, as children counted the number coming through the door-way. Our greatest dread was where we were going to sleep for the next two weeks. Sometimes we were lucky enough to get the one and only cot, but that only accommodated two of us, so the rest took up their abode on the hard floor. The remaining tattered and torn blankets were used to keep us warm.

For the next few days, we stayed close to home, as we waited for the mysterious bags, that adorned the hallway, to be unveiled. Finally the moment arrived. If we saw curtains and table-cloths coming from the cartons, we knew we were in trouble. When the clothes appeared, we were happy, for there was always something for everyone. Once I received a pretty red and white dress, but it was too short. My Aunt Eva was a genius when it came to creating a solutiOn to a problem. She searched into a bag and found a curtain that matched perfectly. She set up our antique Singer sewing machine, and within minutes created a masterpiece that would appeal to any child. They never came home without a “Care Package”. What did not suit one family was passed on to another.

They were not as rich as we thought they were, for they shared their wealth with other family members who were in need.

My Uncle George arrived home from Boston wearing white shoes. In that era it was rare to see a man wearing colored shoes, especially white ones. Each morning he strutted down Main Street in Souris wearing those

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