Moberly Memories by Emily Jorimann Collins

The following article was written by Emily Jorimann Collins. Mrs. Collins with her very distinctive style, relates her memories in a comfortable manner that brings warmth to her memories.

“ I wonder if anyone who attended Moberly School remembers what used to happen on Halloween with the boys and girls outhouses and what the boys did to the chimney, causing the schoolroom to fill with smoke as soon as the teacher lit the heater the next morning.

When Axel Lindberg or the two Edlund boys drove past the school in their old Model A Fords or whatever make they were, the whole school would run out from their classes to watch them drive by in their vehicles, whichever it happened to be at the time.

One could hear them coming for a long distance away, as cars were a novelty in those days and very rare in that part of the country. The motors were very noisy. The classes, all running out of the school in curious and exciting anticipation, must have been a very provoking time for the teacher who usually happened to be in the middle of teaching one or more classes. In Moberly School there was only one teacher for all the classes.

The hill by the school was a great source of fun, especially in the winter, for it was great for tobogganing and sleigh riding. There were lots of games such as pump pump pull away, blue nose, run sheep run, hide and seek, and others which I don’t remember the names of.

Spring was a very muddy time, when ice and snow melted and the road became ankle-deep in mud and slush. Before that time of the season, some days, depending on the temperature, we could walk to school on top of the snow which had a very hard crust if the weather turned very cold, such as from 30 to 50 below Fahrenheit. On other days one would sink waist-deep every so often because of temperature changes and sunny locations along the way to school, which was a mile for the Jorimann family and many more miles for other families.

I can remember some days walking to town with some of my brothers and my oldest sister and being picked up by someone or other who was driving to town with their team of horses with wagon or sleigh, depending on the season, and how glad we were to get a ride for it was a long 10 miles to Golden from our place to walk. And when a team of horses could be afforded, we darn near froze before getting to Golden and also on the long way home.

I remember stopping at some kind people’s place on the top road and thawing out in front of their kitchen range. Then that kind lady sat me in front of her oven with my feet on the oven door, where she placed them while rubbing my feet to make the feeling come back, I can’t remember her name, but I do remember she had a lovely kind face. She also fed us a delicious stew.

There was another couple by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Miller who used to give us hot chocolate when we visited them in Golden before heading back home on that long walk. Sometimes we were lucky enough to have a nickel to purchase a package of Wrigley’s gum, which was shared between all of us and was considered a big treat.

Mrs. Hautala was also a person of goodwill who used to live in Moberly Station House while her husband was section foreman before he was killed by a slide while on duty for the C.P.R. She used to give us lunch sometimes, while both living in Moberly and when she lived in Golden after the loss of her husband.”

“Sylvia Hautala and I were chums while in Moberly and during the time she lived in Vancouver until she married Al Jackson and moved back to Golden, and from there she and her husband moved to Vancouver Island. One day during Moberly School Days, Sylvia and I were playing on a merry-go-round which had been built for the school children. One would push while the other hung on and caught a ride. We took turns so it was my turn to push while Sylvia’s turn to ride. I was giving her a good ride when she lost her hold and fell against a sharp knot on a stump causing a very bad wound. Mr. Coupland, our teacher at the time, was very quick and thank goodness, had taken a course in first-aid, did an excellent job of prevention of loss of a great deal of blood and saw she had proper care until she was attended by a physician. She tells me the scar looks just like a vaccination mark.

Mrs. Hautala sometimes came to visit us after school was out, at which time she and Sylvia and Willie would walk with us to our place, after that they would return home by way of Moberly School and over the Lambert Trail down to the Moberly Station where they lived at the time. It was a long walk.

We used to get our milk and eggs from Mrs. Gus Johnson who -lived about a half a mile away, until our own chickens and cow could be afforded. Mrs. Johnson also attended my mother as midwife. The doctor was miles away in Golden and money and time was a factor in getting to the doctor at births.

We used to cross the bridge that Mr. Torrance built and that was quite an accomplishment!

People still talk about that bridge. My dad bought a calf, a heifer, from Mr. Torrance and it was brought across that foot bridge. The heifer calf was a very stubborn animal and decided it definitely was not going across that bridge! Mr. Torrance, my dad, and my brother, Max, had to literally pull and push the beast across the bridge and believe me, it was a very precarious thing to do, for had the men slipped and fell, it would have been bye bye, for the river was many feet down and one could feel the bridge swing a bit whenever anyone crossed it.

Once over the bridge, the animal cut loose and with tail in the air, it galloped up the precarious narrow trail to the top of the cliffside and kept on going for quite a way before stopping. We used to cross the bridge quite often to go to church at Torrances’.

Audrey Torrance used to have to cross that bridge to go to Moberly School and walked the miles all by herself, regardless of skulking cougars who walked along beside her in the bushes and sometimes there was the chance of meeting a bear along the way to or from school. I still think she was and is one of the bravest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.

The Christmas concerts and other parties and dances in Moberly School all bring back nostalgic memories. I’m saddened to know Moberly School is no longer there and that it is no longer even school property but is now someone’s place of abode, and the logs that were part of the school are now part of a house or barn. I guess that is what is called progress.

Now there are school buses to take children to school, so no more very cold trudges to school as our generation had to do to get our ABCs.

It was a healthy life, for we all got our exercise in various ways including chores after school, which kept us out of mischief and we didn’t have to join some exercise group to stay healthy or to keep fit. That came automatically with life in our day during the first half of this century.

Most of the families were too poor but we had lots of fun and made up our own games. We didn’t have toys that were bought, we invented our own and we were never at a loss for anything to do.

“One of the happy memories for me are the times I was allowed to spend with Audrey Torrance as a child.  Sometimes my youngest sister, Margaret, was allowed to come and stay too.”

“I remember on one of those occasions when my young sister was with me at Torrance’s she walked into a nest of bees that lived in the ground. She really got badly stung and Mrs. Torrance covered her with bluing, so we had a blue person wandering about that looked like someone from outer space.

Perhaps, if one of the beings from outer space had come to visit us (if there is such a being), they would have mistaken Margaret for one of themselves and taken her along with them.

Another time during haying time at Torrance’s while coming back from the hay shed, she fell through the empty hay rack, more sacred than hurt! After that, no more visits with me to Audrey’s place!

There were a lot of fun times tobogganing in the coulee behind our house on the old homestead situated at the base of Moberly Peak. I remember mother making French toast with strawberries that we all picked out in the woods on our place and she would whip canned milk and put something else in it that made that dish of berries and French toast and whipped topping taste real yummy.

We children all used to pick raspberries behind Hedberg’s place and Saskatoons on the Galstad Hill.

“I remember one occasion we heard a bear some distance away and my oldest brother said we had better leave that area, since none of us wanted to tangle with it. We promptly left at a fast pace and put considerable distance between Mr. Bear and ourselves, actually we headed for home with what we managed to gather in raspberries. If I remember correctly, my youngest brother and sister were too small to pick any berries except strawberries. I was quite small at the time and had all I could do to climb over logs and to keep berries, this time, it was Saskatoons, on Galstad’s Hill.

A very severe thunder and lightning storm hit while we picked and we all got drenched, luckily we had just finished picking since the buckets were just about full by the time the storm struck.

“I do know some of the Bergenhams, especially Grandma Bergenham, who we used to visit. I remember of one such visit she made us all waffles (and she made excellent waffles). They had a big table in the kitchen window. She placed us all around the table and I remember I was directly under the window, seated at the table next to my brothers and sisters, when I noted Grandma Bergenham was chewing something and shortly thereafter, spoing! Out the window! Right over my head! I started to giggle and the rest of the kids around the table joined in. Yes, believe it or not, that was chewing tobacco! Grandma Bergenham was a jolly person and no doubt loved by many folk. I know I loved her and though she was one in a million! God rest her kind soul. Jean Bergenham (Blaine) and I used to chum around in Vancouver.

“To get back to my days in Moberly: When I was a tot of three or four years of age, I’m told I was a perfect little brat and very stubborn. Anyway, on this particular day, my two oldest brothers and my oldest sister were out cutting brush to clear a field. I apparently kept getting in the way and my sister kept lifting me out of the way. Well, I wasn’t going to be left out of anything and I got behind my sister who was using a double-bitted axe, well wham, I got the axe chop, right proper, as it cut my head open as she swung the axe over her head and I was right behind her.  They, and I don’t know which of the two brothers, accompanied my sister to carry me into the house, but they set me inside and announced ‘she got hurt’ and then they took off in great haste from what mother told me. Mother promptly fainted and dad took care of the situation. I still have the scar to show for it.”