Sundays: Childhood memoir of Edmonton in the 1920s and 1930s, by Velma Logan
Velma Logan fondly remembers the Sundays of her childhood in the 1920's.
As far back as I can remember my Dad tinkered with an old car. He never ever owned a new one in his lifetime. Sunday morning meant a tray of tea and toast in bed with Mom, prepared by Dad and carried upstairs. I don't remember them owning a coffee pot at that time. Afternoons saw us driving to a small cafeacute; called "Malta Lunch" on the northwest corner of 101 Street and Portage Avenue (now Kingsway) where we each had a rainbow ice cream cone-costing five cents.
My sister Betty and I then slipped our shoes into our roller skates. They were made of heavy metal and required a key to tighten them onto the shoes. Off we skated, on our way up the Avenue to Blatchford Field several blocks away. There was the odd spill and sometimes a scraped knee due to cracks in the sidewalk. Or-a push from a sibling!
At Blatchford Field (Municipal Airport) our parents and youngest sister Billy waited patiently for us. We all watched the small planes taking off and landing. One Sunday, Dad tried to teach Mom to drive-but the odd cow would wander from the pasture across the road. Mom gave up any attempt to drive and never did learn.
Early evening we parked on Jasper Ave. and 101 St. to listen to the Salvation Army Band, to sing along and hear their prayers and sermon. Maybe once a month we drove to Cooking Lake, a popular place east of Edmonton for a picnic and a swim. Our Mom was London born and really did not care for swimming and the countryside.
As children we knew nothing about the depression. Our parents probably found it difficult to buy the ice cream and the gasoline for the car. Looking back, I guess this is why we never had a ride on one of the small planes at Blatchford Field. I believe the cost was five dollars.
Winters during those years seemed to be a lot colder than now. We ice-skated every day, weather permitting. Sometimes on bumpy backyard rinks. Later at the 112 th St. and Jasper Avenue outdoor rink that provided a live band on Sundays. This was the late thirties, before World War II. No down filled jackets or ski pants in those days so we spent a lot of time in the rink shack warming up. Another sport was sleigh riding down the 105 th Street hill below MacKay Avenue School. When no sled was available a large piece of thick, brown cardboard worked very well. 105 th Street was not paved then so a spill on bare gravel could be quite painful.
At Christmas we each received one dollar to buy gifts for all the family. This included Mom, Dad, Auntie L and Uncle B and three sisters. Woolworth's was a wonderful store with there five and dime treasures. In our stockings, Santa left Japanese orange, unshelled nuts, hard, brightly coloured Christmas candy, a rolled comic book (to keep the stocking straight, I presume) and usually a small celluloid kupie doll peeked out of the stocking top. Our stockings were not the elaborate creations of today. They were a terrible, brown shade, serviceable and unattractive.
Most Sunday nights we sat on the floor in front of a gas radiant fireplace and listened to Charlie McCarthy and the Lux Radio Theatre and did our French (spool) knotting. Dad took turns helping each of us. We worried about this as he was left-handed and did it backwards. However, it didn't seem to matter. Mom sewed the strips together in a round or an oval shape to make bedside mats.
How simple life was then. Wages were low, if you had a job. What we had, we shared. How lucky my sisters and I were to grow up with love in this era.