Five Generations in Strathcona, by Darlene Donald
Darlene Donald (Peterson) shares her memories of growing up in Strathcona in the 1940's.
\r\nDate: 1941 to 2003
I came into this world in 1941 at the University of Alberta Hospital on the south side of Edmonton (formerly Strathcona). I was born with an incomplete cleft palate, which simply meant there was no roof in my mouth; fortunately, I did not have a harelip, which was commonly a part of the anomaly. I only mention this to give you a better idea of what my parents went through. I was the third child of four. An older sister and brother and a younger brother: two girls and two boys, the million-dollar family, so they said. My older sister was a healthy 9 lbs. She was a very precocious child, who had an exceptional musical talent: she played the violin in the Edmonton Children's Symphony Orchestra at the age of two years.
My older brother was born with an inability to digest anything. My mother and father were told to take him home and make him as comfortable as possible; he would probably just pass on. Mother read an article in Chatelaine Magazine regarding children who were afflicted with an ailment called 'Failure to Thrive Syndrome'. They researched this syndrome and found that children who were fed freshly milked goat milk seemed to thrive quite well. My father went out and purchased two nanny goats, and my brother was fed warm milk from the nanny goats for approximately two years, eventually working up to a mixture of graham crackers mashed with the goat milk. When he was finally able to digest food, he was put on a regular diet.
I was unable to suckle and had to be tube fed every two hours around the clock. There were my parents, with three children, all under the age of five, two of which were not healthy. At the age of 18 months, I was admitted into the University Hospital to have my palate repaired. Unfortunately, the procedure failed. Because I was just too young to understand what was happening, I pulled all the stitches out: crying and pulling at my mouth. At 26 months of age, a repair was successfully done, and I was eventually able to eat normally.
After my surgery my mother had to go to work to pay for the surgery I had undergone. (There was no medical insurance available). She worked at the Edmonton City Bakery. At that time we had a wonderful babysitter named Dorothy, who helped hold our family together.
We lived in a very small house on 97 th Street and 82 nd Avenue on a very large, double lot, which held a very large garden containing all things necessary to feed a family, a chicken house, a cow, and, of course, two nanny goats - a most unusual setting for the city. There were homes behind us to the north, but nothing to south or west, and a very large bush to the east, which my older sister thought was a wonderful disposal area for her wet underwear. We believe she acted out in this way as a rebellion against the birth of my brother. On washday my mother would be out in the bush gathering my sister's underwear. This same rebellious child went on to become very responsible, my mother's best helper.
At the age of five years my sister would take her little red-leather purse containing my father's paycheque to the Alberta Treasury Branch on 104 th Street and 82 nd Avenue to deposit it, pay the appropriate bills, and return home without a care in the world. She would take my brother and I to Sunday school at the Church of the Nazarene and she also took us on trips to the Princess Theatre for Saturday matinees, which were sometimes viewed two or three times in a single day.
In 1946 we moved to my memory house, for this was where all my good memories were made. I attended King Edward School on 84 th Avenue and 100 th Street. School was never my favorite place to be, but I persevered and made it through to finish Grade 10. It was the weekends that were my favorite time. On Saturdays my older brother and I would head down to Mill Creek ravine to catch frogs, minnows, flying squirrels, hawks with wounded wings, and snakes. Any creature that lived in the ravine we either caught or observed very carefully. There was not a creature my brother could not identify.
Saturday morning was a very special time for me. I would wait anxiously for the milkman to arrive, his arrival identified by the rhythmic clip-clop of the horse's hooves on the pavement and the clinking of milk bottles in the back of the wagon. I would run out with a carrot or apple and sugar lumps to feed the horse as she proceeded down the street while the milkman made his deliveries. All services at this time were delivered to the door, everything from groceries to coal.
We had a neighbor who owned a hardware store on 103 rd Street and 82 nd Avenue, and I asked if I could collect vinegar and bleach bottles and bring them to him on Saturday mornings (they were used to store kerosene, paint thinner, or turpentine). Friday after school I would go about collecting the bottles from whomever I could talk into relinquishing them to me. The bottles would be loaded onto my brother's red flyer wagon and pulled ever so gently down the street. At the curbs I would very gently lift the front up, ease it forward, and gently set it down; the reverse for going up. If there was no traffic, I would go kitty-corner so as to eliminate as many curbs as possible. Gently pulling the wagon along, I felt such relief when I would arrive at the store unscathed. Upon receiving my money, I would immediately head for the South Edmonton Creamery on 101 st Street and 82 nd Avenue and purchase a cone filled with the most wonderful ice cream in the whole world; my favorites were chocolate and strawberry. After a month my help was no longer needed. My neighbor said that he had enough bottles to last him five years.
Saturday evenings were also special for all the children on the block. There were four homes - ours in the middle - that were wall-to-wall lawn. Here we would play wonderful games: Run Sheep Run, Red Light Green Light, Kick the Can, and Red Rover. The evening was fun-filled for children, and our parents sat on the verandas and porches enjoying the community closeness and cheering us on.
In May of 1948 my younger brother was born at the University of Alberta Hospital. He was an adorable child with silky blond hair and big blue eyes. Most of our neighbors and friends had finished having their children, so my brother was a real novelty. Mom was very proud of her son, never complaining about the four months she was confined to bed; the important thing was the end result. The million-dollar family was complete.
Sunday was our family day. We would attend Sunday school and then church at Strathcona Baptist Church. A summer picnic lunch would be prepared. After church we would board the trolley and go to the Edmonton Cemetery and weed and put flowers on Grandmother Self's grave, or we would go to Borden Park, which had a zoo, and I would visit the monkey cage and have many laughs watching the monkeys and their crazy antics. Some Sundays my parents would entertain, and I was very bored, as we were not allowed to play cards or board games and could play outside only if we were quiet.
One quiet Sunday, I went outside to see what I could do. Looking around, I spotted the large elm tree beside the garage and decided that I should climb it - and do it in my new patent leather shoes. Upon climbing the tree and looking at the garage roof, I thought that climbing to the roof would be a good idea. When I reached the peak of the roof, I determined that the roof would make a great slide, with a soft landing available in the potato patch. Off I went down the roof, catching my plaid skirt on a nail, and landing in the soft potato patch as predicted. I got up, went running to take another ride, when suddenly my father appeared looking very displeased. I was sternly reprimanded, and was given three reasons as to why what I had done was not a good idea: I broke the heads off the then-blooming potatoes, which cut the crop yield down; I ripped my skirt; and I was being headstrong.
As I got older my chores increased. Chores were to be done on Saturday mornings. My sister and I were responsible for cleaning the front foyer; watering the ferns that were located on the first and second level of our staircase; and cleaning the boarders' rooms and the bathroom. These rooms were located on the second floor. Our family bedrooms were on the third floor (attic), and the cleaning of these was also included in our list of chores to be done. My sister and I would polish the hardwood in the dining room with a concrete block on a piece of lamb's wool. Before this new method, it was done with wool socks and good-old elbow grease.
When I was eleven we moved from this wonderful home into a new home in Allendale (106 th Street and 63 rd Avenue); I attended Allendale School for Grade 6. At this new home, my mother opened a playschool in order to help with finances and yet be able to stay at home with my younger brother, only four at the time. Following elementary, I attended Queen Alexander for junior high and then Strathcona Composite High School for Grade 10. Following Grade 10 I got a job and quit school.
As a kid, I found the move to Allendale to be very difficult. Leaving all my friends behind was very hard; I was very lonely. I heard of a riding stable in Rainbow Valley that was looking for help with caring for the horses. My love of horses came from my time spent feeding the milkman's horse. So to help ease my loneliness, I decided to look for work there. I started to work for the owner, Bert, and it was negotiated that I would get free riding as payment for my work. I mucked out the stables, groomed the horses, cleaned their feet, bridled, saddle, and watered them; I was 12 at the time. The next year I did the same chores, but was given the added responsibility of leading people on trail rides. Dealing with the public was the best experience I could have ever had. I dealt with a lot of "wannabe" cowboys coming to show off for their girlfriends. With their egos at stake, they were not about to take any advice from an imp of a girl. Unfortunately for them, their inability to take this imp's advice would sometimes result in their ending up upside down in the middle of the stream. Of course this was either my fault or the horse's. I later spent a few summers working at the equine center in Whitemud doing the same type of chores as those at Rainbow Valley. Here I received jumping lessons and learned how to sit in an English saddle. These horses were much more temperamental, and a certain rapport was necessary to complete the necessary chores.
At sixteen I began working at the Toronto Dominion Bank. My parents had told me that I could not quit school until I had a job. A job was found, and childhood, in a sense, was over.
My older brother became a chartered account and worked in Winnipeg and then Calgary, where he worked for a major oil company. He married and has three children, who have all grown up to become wonderful, responsible adults. My sister, who received her Bachelor of Education at the University of Alberta, married, and has two kids, both of whom have gone on to do well in their chosen fields.
My younger brother became an electrical engineer, is married, and had five great kids, all of whom are graduates from different faculties at the University of Alberta, which is quite an achievement when you live in Castlegar, BC.
My husband and I met on the South Side, and were married at First Baptist Church. We have lived on the South Side all of our married life. Our children (four sons) attended the same schools that I attended, with the exception of King Edward. All four of our sons attended Strathcona Composite High School, achieving academic and athletic awards along the way. Two of our sons attended the University of Alberta and received degrees. All of our children are married and are very successful in their lives and professions. We have eight grandchildren, of whom we are very proud. Three of our sons live on the South Side, the eldest one lives in Estevan, Saskatchewan.
This has been my story of living in Strathcona for 62 wonderful years as part of five generations, which started with my grandfather, Elmore Self; my mother, Alaska (Peterson) Self; myself; our children; and our grandchildren. I have always been proud to be an Edmontonian. I think we have a very beautiful and friendly city. Our river valley has always received wonderful comments from visitors and newcomers alike.
We are the City of Champions, not only from an athletic stand point, but we have some of the best volunteers in the country, as well as good old-fashioned compassion for our fellow man, just ask anyone who has been a victim of a fire or some other disaster and has been a recipient of the good will and generosity of their fellow Edmontonians.