By Marian Rempel Schweigert – Abbotsford, B.C.
I was born on a farm near Davidson, Sask. in 1932 and lived there until 1949. My mother passed away in 1937. Dad, not having time for me, left me with our neighbours, the Hamels, a lot.
I just blended in as one of their children: Theresa, Jimmy, and Stella were in the same age range. We all went to Concord School, as well as my older sisters and brothers.
The Hamels had a Model-T car, a treasure. One day, the windshield on the car was shattered. Who did it? Not me, not me. No one knew anything about it.
At the supper table that evening, we are all so full of our day, and Mrs. Hamel says, “Stella, what did you use to break the window?”
Smartly, Stella replied, “A hammer.”
Oops! They say mothers weren’t born yesterday.
I have such great memories of the Hamels and my overnight stays there. One memorable night, before bedtime, Theresa and I had to go to the outhouse.
It was dark and we had no flashlight. I went to sit on the hole, but instead, sat on a chicken that was roosting on a ledge underneath.
It scared me so bad I think I was halfway home before I got caught. I can still feel it today!