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| Front: My Dad. Behind: Uncle Bryce of the coal oil. Ignore the gun... |
1921.
Just another year in the life of my grandparents, George and
Lovina Stringam.
July had finally come. Snow and blizzards and calving and feed
for the cattle and any one of a thousand different winter-time worries were finally over.
For a few months.
The summer-time worries had taken over.
Grandpa and some of the older boys had gone out to the
Waterton spread. (The family ranching business had grown to two operations, one
in Glenwood and one near Waterton.)
Grandma (pregnant with her tenth child), and her oldest
daughter Emily were, with the help of one hired man, ‘holding down the fort’ in
Glenwood.
Then, the baby—as babies do—decided to make an entrance.
Which necessitated a quick trip to the hospital.
In 1921, women stayed at the hospital a good deal longer
than they do now.
Just FYI.
Granma’s visit turned into a stay of over a week.
In that time, a friend visiting from Utah had elected to
help Emily with child care and
everything-in-addition-to-childcare.
But when the opportunity to catch a ride home appeared on
the horizon, the friend took it.
Thus fourteen-year-old Emily carried on with the care of her younger siblings,
cooking for the household, and inside and outside chores by herself.
Yeah, I couldn’t have done it, either.
Things were going surprisingly smoothly.
Then . . .
Eighteen-month-old Bryce decided he wanted a drink of water.
Emily, busy in the kitchen, told him she would get it ‘in a moment’.
Bryce wandered into the wash room.
Spying a dipper, the toddler immediately decided not to wait
for his sister, but take his thirst into his own hands.
So to speak.
And downed the contents of the dipper.
Coal oil.
Making him instantly one very sick little boy—his stomach
and bowels and lungs all infected.
Discovering what had happened, Emily quickly called her
neighbour, who just as quickly called the doctor 20 miles away in Cardston.
With instructions from the only GP in the area, the two
women did what they could for the little boy and with the help of another
neighbour, they nursed him through the night and for the next week.
My Uncle Bryce lived.
And Grandma and her healthy baby girl returned home from the
hospital.
All was well.
1921. Just another year in the life of my Grandma and
Grandpa Stringam.
