SYBIL AND BILL GOODWIN

Sybil & William (Bill) Goodwin

My Mom and Dad

(Bill and Sybil Goodwin)

I think that my Mom and Dad were meant for one another, they were married in 1939 and shortly thereafter in 1940 my sister Barbara was born, I was born in 1943.  At the time my father was a farmer living about a mile and half from Bulyea, Saskatchewan on a farm that he rented.  He farmed that land up until 1949 when the land owner decided to sell the property.  My Father was unable to find the money to buy the land and therefore was forced to move.  He was very involved in the cooperative movement at the time and was offered a position as Secretary Treasurer of the Bulyea Co-op.  This meant that he had to build a house in Bulyea.  He did so with the help of my Mother by tearing down and old barn for the lumber to build his house.  Even though I was only about five years old at the time I can remember Mom driving a small tractor and Dad with a handheld bucket for moving dirt and that is how they dug the basement for the house.  The house stands on the same spot to this day and looks every bit as inviting now as it did then.  One thing I do have to add and that is the fact that my Dad came to Canada from England when he was only 15 years old.  And I have always marvelled at the fact that he was secretary-treasurer of not only the Co-op but also in later years of the Credit Union as well, and this is without any formal education to speak of.

One thing that I can honestly say is that I can never remember and that is my Mom and Dad ever having a fight or disagreement on anything.  Everyone was welcome to their home and as my sister and I grew up and had families of our own it was always known as going to Grandma's house.  I then remember my dad one time saying “I am not sure why they call it Grandma's house, because the deed is in my name!”  Of course he ended this with a laugh.  There are so many stories that I can tell about my childhood days and the good times that we had growing up in such a loving and caring surrounding.  If only all children could be so lucky. 

 Dad at one time was quite an avid duck hunter and I could always look forward to skipping school if the weather was just right and dad decided to go hunting the next morning.  Mom always packed us a lunch and she knew we would be out from Dawn till dusk as Dad only had, at that time, a model A Ford we had to leave early and I never got back until quite late.  On one of these excursions I can remember going down and old dirt road and low and behold a skunk cut in front of us and went right down the middle-of-the-road for about a mile or so. It was quite foggy at the time and anyone who has ever been in a model A Ford knows, the windshield flips up to you can look out of it.  Every time we get close to the skunk up would go his tail in a threatening manner.  Finally we came to the crossroads where we had to turn right and low and behold the skunk decided to go the same direction.  By this time my dad was fuming mad and to this day I have never figured out why with two shotguns in the car one of us didn't get out and shoot the darn thing.  At any rate we made it in time for the hunt and came home with a few ducks.  One other thing I always remember about this is that Mom would cook up the ducks and if there was one pellet to be found in them Dad would invariably find it with his teeth.

I guess everyone thinks that their Mother is a very best cook in the world, and I am no different.  It always seemed that her cooking was the best.  Up until this last year when we went home she still manage to have an ice cream pail full of butter tarts for me and she knew those are my favourites.  Even when I was a child and she would be making her Christmas cakes she knew that I was not fond of nuts in the cakes, and she would always make a separate one for me.  I don't think, although they never had much money, anyone ever left the house hungry.  There are so many laughs that I could relate but I think I would need to write a book in order to get them all in.  For instance, one time Barbara brought this cat home which had been born in coal bin.  Of course she wanted to give it a bath, now this is not a knock against Tide soap but, after giving the cat a bath and using Tide soap all the cat's hair fell out to.  That cat was never quite the same mentally after that incident and would literally stalk us at every opportunity.  We had at that time a large square register in the middle of the living room with the furnace directly below.  Of course this got almost red-hot when the furnace was running full blast in the middle of the Saskatchewan winter.  That cat would kind of chase us around the register hoping to sink his claws into us.  My Dad was sitting in his favourite chair one night with his bare feet up on a footstool and having a little snooze.  The cat seeing this opportunity sunk his teeth into his big toe and even drew blood.  Not even my Mother was safe from this demon of an animal.  As was the habit in those days we would carry snow in and Mom would melt it on the stove until it was very hot so we could have a bath.  She was pouring this hot water into the bath tub one night when for some yet to be explained reason the cat decided to jump into the tub.  I don't think his feet even hit the bottom of the tub when he came straight back up and sunk all of his claws into Moms chest.  So now this cat was in the black books of both of my parents.  He never had too many friends amongst us either, we would be coming home at night and he had a habit of hiding in the bushes and then leaping on your legs with all claws out and biting as well.  I'm not sure what happened to that cat but I have to say I was not too sorry to see him gone.

As I said previously to recount all the days and the good times I guess would take a book but suffice it to say that we were brought up in a very caring atmosphere and hopefully some of that has rubbed off on not only my sister and I but our families as well.  I would like to add a story that my sister Barbara wrote in regards to camping.  One thing she did forget to mention is the fact that the tent that dad borrowed was I believe 8 x 12 with a 3 foot wall.  This monstrosity was put together with the ridge pole made out of 2 x 2’s that was bolted together with carriage bolts.  At the top of the 3 foot wall was also 2 x 2’s again bolted together by carriage bolts so you can imagine the ingenuity that it took just to erect this thing.  Also around the extremities there were about 150 tent pegs to drive into the ground in order to hold the whole thing up.  Of course being kids we thought this was the greatest thing since sliced bread but I'm not too sure what my Mom and Dad thought of it though.  They always seemed to recount the trip as a great deal of fun so maybe they really did enjoy it.  The hill that led down to the beach was pretty steep and I can remember a few times when it was a bit muddy the Dad would have to put the Model A in reverse and back up the hill as those cars and more power in reverse and a lower gear ratio so they could go up the hill better in reverse then forward.  Ah the good old days!

Both my Mom and Dad are gone now but the memories live on and I also have a great deal of pictures that Mom passed on to me and which I cherish.  My next big project will be to get them all on the CD with names of all the people that are on them and how they are related to me so that my kids will always have a record of their roots.  I also hope that I can someday write a few more stories that I can pass on to them and hopefully they can have a good laugh over them and remember their Grandparents and “the good old days.”

Written bye George Goodwin

My Favorite Memory  

Bill and Sybils Gifts