The events recounted here are unapologetically written in a subjective manner and are not recounted for their accuracy as much as for the heritage they celebrate. I am sharing stories that our Mother told me of her heritage and life prior to her marriage to our Father. Perhaps she told them when I was at home sick or pretending to be. Perhaps it was a stormy day, and I was afraid. Perhaps our Mother was rocking me to help me recover from real or imagined night terrors. I fully acknowledge my deep emotional ties to our Mother and therefore I am not claiming to be objective. Born in rural Newfoundland in the early 1900’s, our Mother lived a very isolated life, and perhaps this is why she always cherished her solitude. Henceforth, I will refer to her as Mom and to our maternal Grandmother as Mother. The lady, who became Mom, insisted on naming the farm animals, leaving her home to travel by dog team, ship and train to enter a life of service. I have to stop myself from getting too far ahead. I really hope you enjoy the book as it unfolds. I am thrilled that writing down these memories has affirmed for me that most things are relative, especially when it involves familial relatives. I reiterate that I do not promise that I have produced a factual account of any of the enclosed events, but rather I cling to the subjective accounts of our Mom as I remember them. I set out to record stories from her childhood, and doing so has driven me to writing another one about my own childhood.
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