This is a love story, a real love story, with all of life's challenges and successes.It features my grandparents who shaped the lives and values of their children and grandchildren
This is a
brief memoir of my Acadian grandparents, Ben and Clara Ramsay. It followed their
lives as young adults when they struggled independently to survive, and then as parents, where the challenges were different but no less difficult. Despite the
obstacles, they provided a powerful legacy and a safe and loving environment
for their large family.
I knew her
as Momma Ramsay. Some remembered her as a grandmère, others as a
great-grandmother, and even fewer remembered her as a mother. A vivid image I
have is of her sitting on the big wooden rocker in the kitchen. Her left hand drumming on the arm of the chair, worn from her wedding band, tapping out
animated conversations for decades. At 5 feet 4 inches, the tiny feet didn't
quite reach the floor. Her impact on her immediate and extended family of some
300 members contrasted sharply with her petit stature.
As a
child, visiting my mother's parents on a Sunday afternoon, I curiously watched
as Momma adjusted her glasses with a practiced hand, brushing stray hairs while
ensuring the mock hair bun remained in place. She wore comfortable dresses,
loose fitting with bright floral designs. And, of course, the outfits were only
complete with a pocket apron.
Papa
Ramsay was less known to some of the grandchildren. His commitment and constant
love ensured that his children would continue to improve the lot of his family.
He could usually be found sitting in his worn red recliner.
It was
beside a window, providing a vista of passing freight and passenger trains and
occasionally mischievous children, waving as they passed through the yard. The
chair's side was stained from striking matches for his pipe that he was rarely
without. Even into his latter years, his grey hair remained thick on the sides
with a tuft fighting for survival topside. Momma kept it in check with a soft
comb. This was in the event company appeared unexpectedly.
His frame
was medium, but somehow, he looked smaller in the chair. She ensured his shirt,
with glasses in the pocket, was kept clean and tidy. It was neatly tucked into
the heavy dark trousers. Bulky wool socks were snuggled against Stanfield
underwear, whatever the season. Thick insulated slippers completed his cozy
wardrobe.
Momma
Ramsay reminded me of a small bird, moving with a swiftness and agility that
defied her age. She had an outgoing, engaging personality, receiving everyone
equally. Many a grandchild sought out her warm, generous hugs, providing
reassurance that they were loved.
Papa was
content to have his wife steal the show. He was always a quiet, gentle man,
content to watch folks and events as they passed his way.
Their
shared space was the kitchen. It was a welcoming place, especially on cold
winter days. The clock ticked in rhythm with the woodstove's crackle. Momma
kept the stove well-fired with a few large pieces of hardwood she carried from
the adjoining shed. The warmth spread gently to all corners of the room. Her
family often encouraged her to get a new and much safer electric range. Still,
she resisted despite the occasional scorched arm.
The stove,
like everything in the house, was spotless. The white enamel sides and the
upper warming tray gleamed. She cleaned and polished it once a week, applying a
"stove black polish" coating to the cooking surface. Her vantage
point on the rocker beside the stove allowed her to see visitors coming to the
back door, and there were many, even after several generations.
One or
more of her daughters would often drop by while they were "in town."
Ovilda, who lived steps away, regularly joined her parents for tea and a chat
while ensuring everything was safe and comfortable for them.
As devout Catholics, an
occasional visit from Father McGrath, the parish priest, was a welcomed event
for Momma and Papa. He would call beforehand, giving her time to have a fresh
batch of his favourite treat (molasses cookies) ready with hot tea (King Cole,
black).
In their eighties, when they
could no longer get to Sunday Mass, his visit would include a quick Confession
followed by Communion.
For the caring and gentle
priest, it was a call to which he looked forward.
Over the
many years in this predominantly English-speaking parish, he came to know and
respect these two humble Acadian parishioners and their families. "Mrs.
Ramsay," and he would catch up on current events in the community. At the
same time, Ben sat quietly in his chair, occasionally joining in the
conversation.
He found
time passed too quickly in the company of the kind couple. Before leaving, he
always blessed them, which they accepted gratefully.
The description of my
grandparents could be of many older couples fortunate to remain in their home
well into their eighties. There was, however, something distinctive about this
pair for me. As a child and eventually a young man, they always personified love.
To proceed, we need to disavow ourselves of today's media-based definition,
which tends toward the frivolous and superficial. The love of these two persons
was deep, built on commitment and trust, patience and kindness, particularly in
the challenging times which defined much of their lives.
Over
thirty years after Momma and Papa passed, I wanted to get a mature
understanding of them and their relationship. Maybe I had created some youthful
romantic image which would not stand up to the scrutiny of impartial
observation.
I arranged
to meet with two of the couple's remaining three children.
Gerald
(Tinker) Ramsay is the son of Ben and Marie-Claire (Clara) Ramsay. At the time
of this writing, Tinker was ninety-two years old. Appearance and character gave
little indication of his age. The frame was slight but solid, with a fresh face
and clear eyes. He inherited Papa's calm and quiet personality, not comfortable
drawing attention to himself.
Iona
(Noonie) was born on May 24, 1938. She is the youngest of the Ramsay children,
seventeen years apart from her oldest family member. Noonie's effervescent
personality and enthusiasm are her hallmarks. At 85, she seemed ready to leap
up and dance at the slightest provocation.
Tinker
begins with a bit of history about his parents. "Momma and Papa were born
'downriver,' near the small Acadian community of Neguac. Poverty and hard
physical labour were their shared experiences growing up. It was common for
families struggling to keep everybody fed to have a child live with a relative
or someone who could provide lodging in return for employment.
So it was
that Clara, at age 13, found herself indentured to Miss Francis Fish, the first
female graduate of Dalhousie University Law School and a prominent Miramichi
lawyer.
"She didn't mention it
much to us growing up except to say she was treated well, and Miss Fish helped
her learn to read. She also helped sharpen Momma's inquiring mind. Being so far
away from her family at that age must have been frightening.
"Later,
she was a housekeeper for a prominent family in Newcastle. Their kids
especially loved her, and for many years after, they would come to visit. They
spoke of her kindness and gentle manner while she guided their young lives.
"When
life at home improved slightly, and she was a bit older, Momma returned to live
with her family. Millie, our oldest sister, often told the story that Momma was
invited to a community dance by an aspiring suitor. She enjoyed the outing. On
leaving the hall, she spotted a second suitor, young Ben Ramsay. He had been
too shy to ask her to the dance. Now, he sat waiting with his old horse and
buggy. Clara thanked her escort and climbed in beside Ben.
Asked
about that years later, she replied, 'Now, would I want to marry some fool who
will dance all night or someone like Papa?' She and Ben were married on
November 27, 1917. She was 24, and Ben was 23."
Noonie
offered her perspective. "Momma and Papa never experienced a real
childhood, which probably affected how they raised us. Their parenting styles
differed. His was the authority that was seldom questioned. She respected his
wishes."
"From
spring to late fall, we didn't see much of our father," adds Tinker.
"He worked on a dredge around the mouth of the bay (Miramichi) until
'Freeze Up' in November. Then he would be home till spring. Being a bit distant
with the older children, Papa had more patience with Noonie as she was the
youngest."
Noonie
readily agreed. "I would wait until Papa was in his chair, reading the
paper after supper. I would climb up on his lap and snuggle into him. I can
almost smell his pipe tobacco now".
After several years on the
dredge, Ben was hired at CN (Canadian National Railway). It meant more
financial security for his family.
"He
was on a crew that carried the creosoted rail ties where the line was being
built or repaired," Tinker recalls. "He was probably in his late
forties. I remember him coming home with his shoulders, arms and hands raw from
creosote burns. Momma would put some ointment and strands of gauze on him to
help with the pain. He would never complain.
His last
job with CN was as a Fireman. The locomotives were coal-fired. At the end of
the shift, they would come into the yard. The clinkers (burnt coal pieces)
would be dumped into a pit. His job was to keep it shovelled out. The space was
tiny, with choking fumes and heat.
"One
day, when I was about five or six, somebody came to the door to tell Momma that
Papa had been injured and taken to the hospital. While he was in the pit, a
locomotive pulled in and accidentally dumped a load of clinkers, nearly burying
him. They got him out fast, but he was badly hurt. He stayed in the hospital
for about a week and returned to work. There was some sick leave, but he was
proud and wanted to keep his family fed and safe. He was independent as well as
tough."
Despite
the many challenges of raising a family of twelve children (one child, Ramona,
died in infancy), Clara and Ben seldom exchanged a cross word. This was
confirmed in conversations with many of their adult children. Doubtless, they
were preoccupied with surviving, but something more substantial was holding
them together. Tinker and Noonie agreed.
"Where
our father was the provider, Momma was the heart of our family," Noonie
said. "She maintained the order that he set. There weren't many times any
of us would challenge her."
"I
don't recall being physically punished," Tinker said. "I think it was
because she was also the person, we all went to when we had a problem or needed
someone to talk with. I never felt alone as a kid. We were busy with our
chores, from feeding and caring for the pig, hens and chickens to helping with
the housework. One of my jobs as a small lad was to keep the kindling bin
filled beside the stove. I can still smell the cedar and the snap it made when
split."
There was a comforting
routine to the Ramsay family household machine, and their mother was the
refined oil that kept it working smoothly.
Clara (Robichaud) Ramsay was
of Acadian descent, coming from a long line of resilient peace-seeking people.
Her parents' history dates back to the earliest Acadian settlement in the
1600s.
It was then the French
territory of Acadie.
One of her ancestors was
Prudent Robichaud.
Prudent
was an accomplished individual. He taught himself to read and write French and
English and spoke Micmac fluently. He also learned to calculate and could
conduct trade in all three languages.
Over time,
Prudent would become a leader within the community, which thrived through his
efforts. For years, he skillfully navigated a way for the Acadians through the
treacherous divide involving three players: the Mig'maw, the authorities
representing the British Crown and the French representatives.
With the three parties'
conflicting interests, the thin line of trust Prudent and others had
established could not be sustained.
The
Acadian Expulsion (Le Grand Dérangement) of 1755 was brutal, and the
motivations were no less than actual genocide. The intention was to wipe out
the Acadian people.
While
being transported from his home, Prudent led a revolt that resulted in the ship
carrying them being burnt.
He later died, leading his
family and others to freedom on a mid-winter trek from Fredericton to
Quebec.
Eventually, the Acadians were
allowed to return to their homeland.
Some of Prudent's children
and descendants finally settled in Neguac, including his son Otho. He was
appointed local Justice and proved himself a strong community leader. His
residence has been restored and remains a historic site today. Clara (Robichaud)
Ramsay was a descendant of Otho.
While her
ancestors' survival characteristics and pride were intrinsic to Clara's
personality, she attempted unsuccessfully to pass along the love of her
language and culture to all of her children.
"That
failure was a real disappointment to Momma," Tinker said. "She tried
teaching the older kids first. You need to remember our town was mainly
English-speaking, and as teens, if you wanted to fit in, you wouldn't do it
talking French. By the time it came to the younger kids, she had given
up."
Early in
their marriage, Momma Ramsay felt she was losing the connection with her
Acadian family and culture. She and Ben often spoke French, but she wanted
more. Her sisters occasionally visited, but that only increased her sense of
isolation.
The story
was told by their daughter Julia that early in Clara's life as wife and mother,
the burden became too much.
She retreated
to her parent's home, looking to her mother for solace. Still, Marie Evangeline
Robichaud insisted her young daughter return to her own family and bear the
consequences of her decision.
Clara
returned to Newcastle chastened but resolved to make the best of her situation.
If she ever doubted Ben's love, that was erased as she shuffled up the street
to their home; the man who struggled to express his emotions had spread a sheet
across the door where he had painted in his cryptic handwriting, "Welcome
Home Momma"!
The death of a family member
is always a tragedy. It often shakes the foundation of the unit to its core.
Norman
Joseph Ramsay was the first-born son of Clara and Ben. He came into the world
on a bright, sunny June 1921. In February 1936, fourteen-year-old Norman
marched to the local recruitment officer for the North Shore Regiment Militia
(Reserves). The minimum age to join the Militia (Reserves) was 16. Norman
listed his date of birth as June 16, 1919, whereas he was born June 16, 1921.
The
assertive youngster impressed the officer, and he signed him up on the spot. He
served as a reservist for four years. In 1939, when Canada declared war on
Germany, Norman was ready and, at 18, was said to be one of the first men in
uniform from the Miramichi region.
The
handsome young Acadian soldier gained a reputation in the primarily English
North Shore regiment (he would later be transferred to the Carleton and York)
as a courageous, quick-witted fellow who made friends quickly. He wrote often
to his parents and his older sister, Rita (my mom), with whom he was very
close. In his final letter home, he could not tell his parents that he was part
of a unit breaking through Nazi lines in Italy.
Clara was
unable to sleep the night of May 22, 1944. Earlier, she had been thinking of
her son overseas in Europe. Awake now, she turned to lie on her side. In doing
so, she saw what appeared to be a figure at the foot of the bed. She put on her
glasses and partially sat up. An image of her son was sitting beside her.
His
tear-stained face was visible in the moonlight through the window. Speaking in
a voice that she could barely hear, she was told of his death in battle. But
she was not to worry. Now, he was at peace. The figure disappeared as his words
drained away. Her shock at the apparition's appearance was total and left her
unable to move until the morning light.
She didn't
wake Ben, fearing he would not believe her. In the morning, she shared the
news. Try as he might, Ben could not convince her it was simply a bad dream.
Three days later, the comfort of their home was shattered by a knock on the
back door.
A young
boy produced a telegram advising them that their son Norman Joseph died bravely
in battle at Pontecorvo, Italy, on May 23, 1944. Her children shared this
account over the decades. The factualness is not as significant as the love the
parents felt for their child and the intense suffering it caused them and the
rest of the family.
Post-war
Canada saw rapid industrialization and economic growth. The ripple effect was
felt even in the sleepy town of Newcastle. Plans for employment and families
that had been put on hold now began in earnest.
The Ramsay
clan saw several marriages in the following years and the beginning of new
career paths. The large home, once a hive of activity, grew increasingly
silent. But even when they left the nest, the children maintained close contact
with their parents.
Several of
the daughters remained on the Miramichi to raise their families. They often
gathered at their parents' home on weekends to catch up with current events and
local activities.
One of the
lasting and precious memories of my grandparents happened on a late Sunday
afternoon visit. There had been the usual bustle as their children and
grandchildren visited. My mother and I were the last of the company as Mom
(forever the nurse) finished checking her father's blood pressure and recording
it in her notebook.
Momma
looked over to Papa. He was nodding off but sat upright at the sound of the
train whistle. It was the "Ocean Limited," leaving the station bound
for Montreal. He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. Confident the
train was on schedule, he looked over to Mama and smiled shyly. She returned
the silent greeting by responding, "You are a good man Ben Ramsay, eh
bien, eh bien, eh bien."
"Love is patient,
love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does
not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it
keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the
truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always
perseveres."
—Corinthians 13 vs. 4–7