CANADIANS? WHY WERE WE AND HOW DID WE ARRIVE?

I am going to step away from New Zealand for a moment and Post an article about our family history. It has been a long time since I had an opinion piece, and I have now, decided on this one. It is of my life, and how I (we) started as a family unit on a path to this point in our lives. My opinion is that it would have taken only a slight change in path, or in the decisions made by our ancestors, to dramatically alter our life’s course.

It was while I was speaking with my grandchildren, this past week, that I finally understood that they had very little knowledge of who we are descended from. Or for that matter, the circumstances that got us here and why we became who we are. I realized, while telling them of their roots. That, if they had never asked the question. I would probably have never explained to them the origins of the family. Nor, the coincident of lives converging that got us to the point we are today. After my generation passes, if none of this information was ever written down, it would probably pass on with me (or my sisters and brother).

In today’s world families do not seem to have the time or inclination to discuss their history. Such as, the past, and family events, that in our day, was fodder for evening meal conversation. I realized that because of the changes in lifestyle and priorities in this modern world. There is little time to reflect on the glory of yesteryear. So with this Post I am going to make a small version of the history of our family, in the early days.

Starting on my mother’s side. She was born into a family of “sharecroppers” in mid eastern England near the city of Nottingham (of Robin Hood fame) and not far from Lincoln. They lived in an area called Quadring Fen, a bit south and between Nottingham and Lincoln, in the sub-district Donington and a part of the larger district Lincolnshire. My mother was born in Spalding, Lincolnshire on July 3, 1920. They named her Rose Elsie Giddings. Her father George (my grandfather) and mother Lily Anne nee Sharpe (my grandmother) were sharecroppers, which meant they farmed a piece of land owned by a landowner. In return for being allowed to live and farm the land, they gave a portion (share) to the property owner.

It was not an affluent life and barely rose to the standard of subsistence living or hand to mouth. Along came WWI and my grandfather dutifully enlisted and was off to fight the Kaiser. During this period my grandmother basically had to take over the farm and raise the babies that had popped up every couple of years. After the war, my grandfather was given the opportunity of emigrating to Canada and receiving from His Majesty, a land grant consisting of 1/4 section of land, as assigned by the British government, in their colony of Canada. Just as easily could have been Australia, New Zealand, or Timbuktu for that matter. Fate chose Canada, the British government chose Alberta, and my grand parents chose to accept, pack their meager belongings and “adios” out of England.

I believe this took place right around 1926. They were then loaded onto a boat out of England, and destined for Montreal. Two weeks later they were in Montreal and after some formalities were pointed west and told their new property was about 3500 miles “that way”. It must have seemed like heading to the edge of the world! Other than some centres of population, Alberta was largely unsettled. It was now starting to be populated by land grants to settlers from many places in the world.

It must have been daunting to be dropped off from a train near a town called Camrose, in the prairies of Alberta and be given directions to your land from there. They had no vehicle, there were no taxis or buses, there was no moving company to deliver their goods and from that point on they were off into the prairies to survive (or not) on their own wits and experiences. Horse and wagon was the transport of the day. These were brave and tough people. By the time they arrived it was late summer and winter was peering around the corner. My mother was six years old when she arrived in Canada.

Editors note: Mom said that the only thing she remembered of the trip was that she spent almost all of her time under a table in the dinner hall, due to unrelenting seasickness. She said she ate, slept and played there.

So that was how one half of the family arrived there. Now about the other half. My father was born in Ankerton, Alberta, which at that time consisted of a railway stop and nothing else. But it was the place for registry of a birth for people who had settled in that area. His date of birth was June 7, 1917 and they named him Elmer Charles Heald. His father (Charles Donald Heald was born in Fairview Iowa in 1869) ) was also a farmer who was farming a small chunk of land, in South Dakota, in an effort to raise and feed a growing family. Dad’s mother (my grandmother) was named Elma Belle Hoover and was born in Silver City Iowa in 1883. At that time dad had an older sister and brother.

His father (my grandfather) was also given an opportunity to obtain a piece of land in Alberta, Canada, on the condition that they settle it, farm it and remain on that land for a certain number of years. Dad was born, a Canadian shortly after their arrival in Alberta, Canada. Again, as with my other grandfather, owning a 1/4 section of land seemed like an estate at that time. They also accepted the challenge of moving too, and conquering the Alberta prairies. So in 1916 they packed their belongings and headed north into Canada. Coincidently the homestead they were given was about one mile from where my mother’s family eventually arrived at. Dad’s parents were given a plot on the edge of the Battle River valley (or coulee as it was then called) and about 5 miles from a hamlet called Rosalind, Alberta.

In the other direction they were about 2 miles away from the train stop called Ankerton, Alberta. Mom and Dad attended school together. It was a grade 1-9 classroom, which Dad used to say was a 5 mile walk from home “uphill both ways”. He often hitched up a horse and buggy and picked up the local children to take them to school. He was older than mom, however they both attended in the same classroom. The land was very arid and the coulee on which they were perched resembled the terrain of the “badlands” around Drumheller, to the south. To say they “scratched” a living from the dirt was very true for both families. Their land was more given to pasture and grazing than growing crops. However, they and many others persisted and eked out a living for their families.

So you can see, even from this very short Post, that there were so many things that had to happen in just the right sequence in order for our family to begin our journey as Canadians. I might mention a few such as, both halves of the family, from different countries being offered (and having accepted) homestead plots in the same local in a country thousands of miles from where they were. Also both families being able to persevere in difficult situations without giving up and returning home, each family having a child that eventually, fell in love and were married to each other, and this family taking the exact path that they did to put us in the situations where we grew and found our partners and continued growing the family as each branch has.

Once again it is my opinion that even a “slight” change in vision of any of the players, during the early stages, on either side, would have resulted in a completely “different” shape to the Heald/Giddings family. Lord help us all, you might say! One last thought; the “driver” for both of these moves and leaping into danger was the same in both sides of the family, that being THE INTENTION TO MAKE THINGS BETTER FOR THEIR CHILDREN. IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE DRIVER IN THIS FAMILY.