Here--hopefully without boring you--I will try to tell you what I know about myself, physically, mentally and spiritually, and what I am willing to reveal, or want keep to myself. BTW, because, who others are, and what others think, matters to me, I invite you to share with us who you are, what you think and what you are willing to reveal. You have the right to remain silent. When I feel it is necessay, I reserve the same right for myself. But I promise to tell you, why.
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It was a cold and frosty January 14, in 1930, early in the morning--so an older brother, Bill (born in 1912 and died in 2004, at 92) told me--when I took my first whiff of air (pneuma) in a place called Number One Mines. It is on the north west side of Bell Island, Conception Bay, Newfoundland and Labrador (NL) Canada. BI is about 10 miles north of St.John's, the capital--the oldest city in North America. It is the largest of three islands in Conception Bay and measures about 9 km long by 3.5 km wide. Kelly's Island, named after a pirate, and Little Bell Island are unpopulated. From St. John's, it's a 20-minute drive to the ferry terminal at Portugal Cove, then a 20-minute ferry ride to Bell Island.
I was the fifth son and the seventh child of a mining family that did not need an extra mouth to feed. My next oldest brother was then ten. I couldn't have been a mistake, because, in less than two years, the last of the family, my sister, Nancy, was born (1932), when my mother was 47. She and I are the last two of the family of eight--and a very close family we were. BTW, Bell Island is an interesting place. I spent the first seventeen years of my life there.
As I grew, I found Bell Island, and its people, to be a very interesting. I also found the place to be a very adventurious and even dangerous place to live. More than once, climbing--sometimes by myself and sometimes with friends--many of the steep cliffs, and exploring the caves, around the island, I came within a whisker of being killed. Once, a rusty cable we were using broke. We fell eight feet, to a ledge. Had we not been stopped by that ledge, I would not be here to tell the story. In a separate incident, one of my contemporaries was killed.
Everyone on the island had a gun--even guns--of one kind or another. One day, a neighbour--somewhat under the influence rum--who lived just to the north of where I lived had just slaughtered a pig. He hung the carcass in the back yard to bleed. Naturally, cats from the neighbourhood all came out to have a sip of the blood. Armed with his rifle, out he came and blasted away at the cats. Several of the bullets whizzed in my direction and plowed into the fence near me to which I was applying whitewash. They missed me, by inches. I don't think he hit one cat.
Over the years there were several fatal accidents involving guns and/or knives. Long after I left home I got the news of the death of two nephews. My eldest brother's eighteen year old son was killed in a knife-accident. Another nephew died when his snowmobile went through the ice on one of the small lakes on the island. Hunting game, birds and rabbits, was part of putting meat on the table.
When I was born, there were 10,000 people--miners, fishermen, carpenters, etc., on the island. The iron ore mines, which started in 1895, closed operations in 1966.
That year, I moved from Scarborough (east Toronto) to Willowdale (north Toronto) ON, and became the minister in the central church there. I remember, that fall I was invited, along with an old friend, Steve Neary (He was in the CBC studio in St. John's), the member of parliament for the area, to be a guest ( I was in Toronto) on a popular national CBC radio magazine-like program about the future of Bell Island. We were interviewed, about the closing of the mines and about the future of those without jobs--many friends of and/or related to me-- by the CBC (our PBS) producer, Glen Gould. Music lovers will recognize that he was also a famous concert pianist, who died when he was only fifty. What a loss!
http://www.glenngould.com/gg/
For the story of Bell Island, check out: http://www.bellisland.net/
BELL ISLAND WAS PART OF THE BATTLE OF THE ATLANTIC
When I was twelve (1942), our island came under attack, twice, by enemy submarines. They sank four iron ore carriers in our harbour and blew up one of the two loading piers. Sixty-nine merchant sailors lost their lives. What a tragedy. This happened close to where our house was located and I was there when many of the bodies were hauled ashore.
[to be continued]
