Life owed to older brothers and sisters

From our October 2012 issue

By Florence Sigouin – Eston, Sask.

When I was born on May 1, 1937, I was premature by three months and weighed three pounds. My bed was a sewing machine drawer lined with cotton batting and set on the over door for warmth.

I was the fifth child of a family of six. Times were tough in the 1930s, my older brothers and sisters have told me. We all had to leave home young and work hard. None of us had more than our Grade 10 for education.

All my family has passed away. My oldest brother weighed 12 pounds when born and was the first to pass away at 43 years with a rare blood disorder.

I really owe my life to my older sisters and brothers for being so good to me in so many ways.