It took me a while to figure out what TBT meant - what can I say, I'm a bit slow on the uptake at times.
A few months ago I joined a Facebook 'page' called Hell Yeah, Prince George. It is a page for celebrating what is right and good about our town. After decades of having nothing but negative reports made in the media about the town in which I was born and grew up, it's been great having a more positive spin put on the place - and the people who live here.
Today I posted a photo of my dad and 3 of his brothers. And it's been fun having people say that their parents knew mine. One even said she had the same photo and another photo with her dad joining in. :)
I have another picture of the siblings and grandfather (grandmother died when dad was 10) but I haven't scanned that one yet. These old time photos are so tiny I have to scan them at a pretty high resolution and it takes forever - even when I do it right!
The boys made their own violins and guitars, and mandolins for the girls. There were 8 siblings, 5 boys and 3 girls. The eldest died very young - he got pneumonia and although he made it to town (it was about a 20 mile journey and he wound up walking much of the way until someone picked him up and delivered him to the hospital) they couldn't do anything for him. No anti-biotics in those days. Yes, those 'good old days' weren't so good much of the time.
The boys formed a band and played at dances in the area. They farmed, they hired themselves out as haying crew, they panned gold from the Fraser River. They did everything they could to survive in a harsh and unforgiving environment.
One of the stories I've heard was that uncle Emil (far right) saved up enough money to buy an accordion from the Eaton's catalogue. One night after playing a dance at a nearby community downriver from the farm, a couple of friends convinced Emil to stay, have a few beer and visit. He said he would miss his ride, but they assured him they would get him home.
Some time later they decided it was time to leave. Rather than a car or truck, his friends led him to the river and their canoe. Needless to say, they tipped the canoe and the accordion floated away. Harsh. And unforgiving. (Better the accordion than the three slightly tipsy - pun alert - canoeists.)
A few months ago I joined a Facebook 'page' called Hell Yeah, Prince George. It is a page for celebrating what is right and good about our town. After decades of having nothing but negative reports made in the media about the town in which I was born and grew up, it's been great having a more positive spin put on the place - and the people who live here.
Today I posted a photo of my dad and 3 of his brothers. And it's been fun having people say that their parents knew mine. One even said she had the same photo and another photo with her dad joining in. :)
I have another picture of the siblings and grandfather (grandmother died when dad was 10) but I haven't scanned that one yet. These old time photos are so tiny I have to scan them at a pretty high resolution and it takes forever - even when I do it right!
The boys made their own violins and guitars, and mandolins for the girls. There were 8 siblings, 5 boys and 3 girls. The eldest died very young - he got pneumonia and although he made it to town (it was about a 20 mile journey and he wound up walking much of the way until someone picked him up and delivered him to the hospital) they couldn't do anything for him. No anti-biotics in those days. Yes, those 'good old days' weren't so good much of the time.
The boys formed a band and played at dances in the area. They farmed, they hired themselves out as haying crew, they panned gold from the Fraser River. They did everything they could to survive in a harsh and unforgiving environment.
One of the stories I've heard was that uncle Emil (far right) saved up enough money to buy an accordion from the Eaton's catalogue. One night after playing a dance at a nearby community downriver from the farm, a couple of friends convinced Emil to stay, have a few beer and visit. He said he would miss his ride, but they assured him they would get him home.
Some time later they decided it was time to leave. Rather than a car or truck, his friends led him to the river and their canoe. Needless to say, they tipped the canoe and the accordion floated away. Harsh. And unforgiving. (Better the accordion than the three slightly tipsy - pun alert - canoeists.)
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2 comments:
I love hearing old stories like this, and with the sharing that we can do on the 'nets it's a wonderful way to pass on a heritage to people who may not have the photos and memories in any other fashion. I think of never-met cousins who didn't have the opportunity to grow up around family as I did, and sharing photos gave them a sense of where they came from.
OK, well I just had to google TBT. So there! Honestly, living in an area with no cell service I'm not a texter, and I'd never seen it before.
Great photo & story!
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