The War Years
(From a Child's Eyes)
Life for me in Toronto, Ontario in the
1930's and 1940's meant seeing the result of the great depression
through the eyes of a child.
Money was scarce and employment was difficult
to find. Although my father owned only one pair of trousers, that
were pressed every night, we were lucky - my father had a job.
Then, there was 1939 and the beginning
of World War II. Young men, some still in their young teens, joined
the forces and were shipped overseas. Many never returned.
My memories of life at home are, after
all, just those of a small girl, but, they left a mark that I,
like many others, had to deal with alone.
It was a time of rationing many items,
including ration coupons for food. I cannot remember all of the
rationed food but I know that sugar, tea, and coffee were some
of them.
There were air-raid practises at school
when the children had to march single file to the basement and
sit on the cold, marble floor under the wide steel staircases,
waiting, waiting. Not many of us knew what we were waiting for,
which made it more frightening. School - yes school; I must add
here that each morning we all stood at attention beside our desks
and sang "God Save The King" (King George VI), and heads
were bowed reverently while we all repeated "The Lord's Prayer".
At home, dark green blinds were on every
window and had to be drawn when the lights inside went on. There
were curfews to adhere to. Working people signed up to have a
certain amount taken from their wages each pay day to buy fifty-dollar
"Victory Bonds".
Schools sold "War Stamps". Every
Friday, my mother would wrap the twenty-five cent piece in a handkerchief
and pin it to the inside of my skirt so that it would arrive safely
and not be lost. I remember being embarrassed about the pins,
but, I would have been more embarrassed if I had no twenty-five
cents to have another stamp pasted into my book. (We were not
allowed to complain in our home; that was just the way it was.
We spoke when spoken to and did what we were told to do, without
question.)
Knitting was learned at a very early age
so that the boxes shipped overseas to our men would contain warm
gloves, socks, and scarves. As soon as I arrived home, and changed
out of my school clothes, I would knit until supper. After my
homework was done, I would knit again until bedtime. I guess because
my mother was always busy cooking, baking, or ironing, this was
all done in the kitchen. There was a radio but my mother seldom
had it turned on when I was at home, and of course, I was not
allowed to touch it. I used to sit and listen to my mother's voice
as I knit; she sang Irish songs and her favourite hymns.
"Victory gardens" were planted
by everyone who had enough space in their yards to grow a few
vegetables. The big area along the nearby railroad tracks was
allotted to different families and they grew vegetables and sold
them.
Shortages of some foods meant that the
stores would announce when, perhaps, one small carton of salmon
would be "put out". My mother always took me with her
because the crowds of women lunged at that tiny box, set on the
floor, and I was small and could crawl between all of the feet.
I remember getting my hand stepped on once but I managed to come
up with my one tin allowed. Mother said that I should be more
careful. Being both mother and father was a heavy burden and there
was not much room for sympathy.
My father did not go to war as he was older
than they liked to take, then. His job kept him mostly away, however.
He would travel for maybe two weeks and come home for a weekend
- sometimes a little longer. He was travelling sales manager for
a large shoe company and travelled much of the time to and from
Chicago, where head office was located.
One of the things that touched me profoundly
at school was the two-minute silences that were held regularly
for our soldiers overseas. We stood beside our desks, heads bowed,
each thinking our own thoughts. Sniffling and sobbing could be
heard from all directions as some remembered a loved-one who had
been reported missing in action or dead. At the end of the two
minutes there would not be a dry eye in the room but we looked
at the Union Jack in the corner and did our best to sing our Anthem.
Perhaps another of the things that had
an effect on me, and that would last a lifetime, was the fact
that, because there were no men around, I never learned how to
talk to men. I felt cheated that I had never known either of my
grandfathers. To this day, I find it difficult to carry on a conversation
with a man.
These are some of the things that I remember
about the war years, on this side of the world, in Canada. ~Joan
Adams Burchell~
The dove of
Peace flies from site to site from country to country. Please
help it make a path around the globe by taking it with you to
your site or by giving it to someone for theirs!
Doing Our Part
Spring and summer were really the only times that I remember playing.
Fall and winter was the time to knit for the 'boys' overseas.
My mother and I filled every spare moment with loving stitches
to provide warmth for my four uncles, my brother-in-law- to-be,
and my brother; - gloves and scarves and socks galore. I used
to wonder why all of our family had such big feet.
My sister served at the Red Cross Canteen,
and my mother and father were experts at packing, doing up parcel
after parcel, all filled with homemade fruit cake and other delicious
and nutritious goodies, all headed across the ocean, where many
soldiers only dreamed of receiving such a package.
Knowing that there were men who had no
hope of such a small dream coming true unless we did our part,
led us to knit for the Red Cross, who distributed our donations
to just such men. Those extra stitches made me feel warm and important
and very grown-up for a ten-year-old. ~Joan Adams Burchell~ (copyright)
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