Cousin Agam Fhein

by John Ferguson

Very young in life, I unfortunately contracted polio. As a result I was required to be tied down in bed or sitting in a chair so as not to put any strain on my leg.

My grandfather, Mattie Ferguson, and my uncle, Danny Ferguson, would come from the store frequently and bring me balls of string to unravel to keep me occupied, and fruit to eat.

One particular day, Uncle Danny came from the store with some grapes for me. As I eagerly devoured them, he asked me, “Doesn’t your mother ever peel those for you?”
From that point on, I always asked my mother for grapes that were peeled, and she was ready to choke her brother-in-law. As if having three young boys wasn’t enough, now she had to peel grapes!

by Joanne Macdonald

My Mom and Dad, Veronica “Eoin” and Charlie “Jack D.” always attended the concerts in the [Port Hawkesbury / Inverness] area. As everyone knows Mom and Dad brought a lunch…more like a supper to feed any and all of the relatives.

Once I moved home from Edmonton, I decided to keep up the tradition but not as much a supper as Mom and Dad did but a lunch.

Biscuits, homemade cheese, “real” turkey (as my Mother used to say), ham, potato salad, homemade strawberry jam, rolls, bread, and sweets, tea, water and pop and especially Pepsi for Frank was the lunch I brought and would feed anyone who was hungry from far and near.

This one Sunday before I left for the Broad Cove concert, my brother, Kevin, came over and asked if I would stop at the Strathlorne grave yard and get the dates from the headstone of Jack D. Of course, I said yes and I would have no problem stopping there and getting that information for him.

I got to the graveyard and proceeded to look for my grandfather’s headstone. I looked and I looked, up and down the rows and no sign of the stone. I knew that was the graveyard but could not imagive why I could not find the headstone. I left and thought I’ll got to Frankie’s and he would help me.

On to Inverness at to Frankie’s, explained my dilemma to him and he said that he would take me to the graveyard but first we had to have a cup of tea. I had the trunk full of food so of course, sweets go great with a cup of tea and we had both.

Frankie and I head to Strathlorne to go the the grave and get the dates. Frankie gets out of the car, goes directly to the headstone.

I had passed this one a couple of times. I looked down and saw John David Macdonald, my grandfather.

I had been looking for a headstone with the name of “Jack D.” on it as that was the name I had always heard him called.

Charlie Macdonald: son of Jack D Macdonald and Annie Belle Rankin
Veronica MacDonald: maiden name of Charlie Macdonald’s wife.
Joanne: daughter of Charlie and Veronica Macdonald.
As Joanne says, “I am a double Macdonald.”

February 27, 2006

by Greet Macdonald as told to David Ferguson

[I talked to my mother tonight and told her about Rose getting her own room when she was a baby. Mom pointed out that I did once have a room of my own. -- Dave]

[It was] at Bertie’s house [on MacIsaac Street in Inverness], the one we bought, up the street from Grandpa [Jack D Macdonald]. We moved in there before Art was born….

Yeah, we lived in there. And John had one room, and you had the other room, and we had the third room with Artie’s crib in it.

And you would get up in the morning — and you had a lot of animals in your crib at night. And you’d come and you’d say, “Here comes Davy with all his damn trash.” You’d come over after Hughie went, you’d come over to my room and come in bed with me.

Dave: Rose remembers hearing that story, and the line was “here comes David and all his G. D. trash.”

You could get out of the crib no matter what. So I finally decided I might as well leave the sides down, you’re going to break your neck some day. So I left the side down and you’d come every morning with an armful of animals of some kind. With all your G. D. trash, that’s exactly what it was.

…There was another thing that I remember. Hughie used to come home from work and he would get Grandpa [Ferguson]’s panel truck and take John out for a drive because John wasn’t allowed to walk.

He did that every day after work. And one day — the windows in that house were really low, you know. You were standing in the front room window, looking out, and you said to me, “John is so lucky. He gets to get a drive in the car.”

And I thought, oh, my god.

So when Hughie came back, I said, you know, you’ll have to take Dave with you because he was looking and thinking how lucky John was.”

…Art was maybe about six months old, so you were about two.

(My brother John, who would have been about three and a half, was not allowed to walk because of his polio.)

My daughter Rose was born in March of 1980. Of my three children, she was at least at first the best-behaved baby. She even managed to be born quickly, and close to lunchtime, rather than in the middle of the night.

For the first month, she had a crib in our bedroom. Our townhouse had two other bedrooms, and we’d fixed one up for her. We let big sister Gillian, who was 7 at the time, pick out the paint for her own new room.

When Rose was a month old, we were ready to move her out of our bedroom. I picked her up and had a little talk with her.

“Rose,” I said, “you’re a big girl now. You’re a month old. And you’re going to get something I’ve never had in my whole life: your own room. I think you’ll like it, and I hope you appreciate this and start sleeping through the night.”

And she did.

At least that night she did — she slept for about six hours, maybe seven. I can’t remember whether that kept up, but I know she managed to “show appreciation” that first night.

by Greet Macdonald as told to David Ferguson

[Hughie Ferguson's brother Johnny] died before John [Ferguson] was born [April, 1948]. I went home from Halifax because we didn’t have any money to have a baby in Halifax, and it would be cheaper at home. So I went home to Inverness in March, and Johnny Ferguson picked me up at the station because he had a car. And he drove me home.

And he said to me on the way up to Jack D’s, he said, “I have one hell of a sore throat.” He was sucking those cough drop things.

And he came in with me and he talked with Momma and Poppa for a bit, and then he left. And Momma said, “My God, how good John Ferguson looks. I wish our Freddie would put on a little weight.”

Freddie was after having stomach surgery and he was skinny as a rail.

And anyway, I don’t remember what day it was, but it was about two days later when I got up in the morning I came down stairs and Poppa said, “John Ferguson died.”

I said, “What John Ferguson?” And he said, “Hughie’s brother.” He died that suddenly.

He apparently had diphtheria.

It was wintertime, March was winter down there . He went home and got very sick that night, and the next day he was taken to the hospital.

Well, I didn’t have any way of knowing any of this, and he died the next night. And since it was diphtheria, they couldn’t have a wake. He went from the hospital to the church with a closed casket, and was buried like that.

And then they quarantined Mina and the three kids for, I don’t know, a month or something they were quarantined.

So when that happened, Sadie went over. She said, “I’m going in quarantine with with Mina. She can’t stay there alone with three kids,” you know.

And Hughie used to sneak over at night. Janice said that today. She said, “I can remember Frank Chisholm coming over and passing the pie in through the window.”

John died that suddenly. It was an awful shock to the town. Mattie was upset about it, very upset. Because there was no need of anybody dying of diphtheria at that time….
You could have had a shot for it.

Like Mattie said, if he’d had the old doctor, Dr. Proudfoot, who was real good– Dr. Proudfoot would have smelled it. He would have swabbed that right away, you know… but nothing much was done.

And Dr. Ratchford was the doctor who was looking after him, and very shortly afterward, Dr. Ratchford left town and went to another town.

But it was horrible. There was no excuse for anybody dying of diphtheria. That was in the 40s, and he was only 33.

Johnny Ferguson: son of Mattie Ferguson, brother of Hughie Ferguson.
John Ferguson: son of Hughie Ferguson and Greet Macdonald.
Poppa: Jack D Macdonald, Greet’s father.
Momma: Annie Belle Rankin, Greet’s mother.
Freddie: Greet Macdonald’s brother.
Sadie: Sadie Ferguson, sister of Hughie and Johnny.
Mina: Elizabeth MacFarlane, wife of Johnny Ferguson.
Janice: daughter of Johnny Ferguson and Mina MacFarlane.

by Marion Coady

My name is Marion (Coady) Soroka. I am Edith and Bernie Coady’s youngest daughter. I am married to my husband Jeff, and we have two boys: Barton is 15 and Jonathon is 13.

I do have a quick story to tell about Uncle Hughie and Aunt Greet when they came to Canmore, Alberta, in the 1970’s to visit. I was 18 years old and the last place I wanted to be was at home with a bunch of “old people.”

So I was getting ready to go out the local bar. I was dressed in jeans, men’s grey work socks, hiking boots and a plaid shirt. I came into the kitchen where the “old people” were sitting around the kitchen table.

They were laughing and telling stories (which of course I was not the least bit interested in) and I could not figure out what these “old people” had done in their lives to be laughing so hard about.

Uncle Hughie looked at me and said “Jesus, Jesus, Bernie, look at the dungarees of that one, and she’s going out like that…I can’t imagine taking out anyone dressed like that.” Every one laughed, and I was not sure how to take Uncle Hughie…

Dad said “Ya, Hughie, this one is like Jesse James.”

I had five friends coming over to pick me up to go to the bar, and when they came they also were wondering what all the laughter was about.

Uncle Hughie and Dad got telling a story and the next thing I knew all of my friends were sitting on the counter tops, any available chairs, and on the floor of the kitchen mesmerized by the stories and the Cape Breton music.

(We listened to the Stones, Deep Purple…not fiddle music.)

Everyone at the table was of course drinking tea and eating homemade biscuits, not a drop of alcohol. Dad offered the guys that were there a beer out of the fridge if they wanted one, and the girls could share one he thought. They declined and asked if they could have tea.

We thought we would be there for an hour or so or head to the bar.

All of my friends decided to leave at 2:00 am, and I decided to go to bed. The “old people” stayed up telling stories and belly laughing until 4:00am.

It is now about 30 years later and when I see the same group of people, they all still say it was the best time ever. I even had friends wanting to just come to our place for tea and listen to the “cool old people” tell stories instead of going to the bar.

I must admit this is one of my best memories of my Mom and Dad having such a good time. I am still thankful for Uncle Hughie and Aunt Greet making that trip.

by Frank Macdonald

During World War II “Rugged” MacDonald enlisted in the Seaforth Highlanders out of Vancouver as a soldier and piper. My father (Freddie), was turned down by the air force because of a busted ear drum and joined the Merchant Marines for a time.

At some point, probably 1943-44, Dad was in England. In what he described as a time of misunderstanding and confusion he tried to locate Rugged. There was a pub where Canadians in England frequented, and they had a blackboard there where Canadians could write their names and how to contact them in case “somebody from home” happened into the same bar.

Dad and Rugged may have found each other far sooner except for Cape Breton’s odd association with names and nicknames. Because they were in the service they had to use their birth names. Well Freddie Macdonald’s name was actually Donald Angus, and Rugged MacDonald’s name was Francis, so even though both names were scribbled on the blackboard neither of these old friends from back home recognized the other.

Eventually, though, Dad learned where Rugged’s outfit was training and took a train to there and went to visit him. He described to me that once he got on the base and followed directions, he found Rugged sitting on a hill in his uniform playing his chanter. They spent a couple of days together before Dad had to get back to his ship and before Rugged shipped out for…even he didn’t know where.

As they parted, they decided to swap souvenirs. Rugged took off his army belt and Dad took out his wallet. “I’ll get this back to you after the war,” Rugged told Dad.

What happened next was that the Seaforth Highlanders took part in the invasion of Sicily and Rugged was killed by a sniper while playing the pipes. This took place after the battle, I was told, and when the soldiers thought the area was secure.

Dad left the Merchant Marines and went to Montreal where he met my mother (Catherine, called Kit Gillies). This period in their lives is a story in itself, but the outcome was that they decided to marry and made their way back to Inverness.

Shortly after returning, Angus Gillies, my mother’s father, died suddenly. My parents had bought a small bungalow on Campbell Street and were building a house around it. (It is now 33 Campbell Street.)

One day, the station master arrived at their house with a trunk. It was addressed to Angus Gillies but since he was no longer living the station master brought it to my mother.

My father told me that one of the most haunted moments of his life was standing in the kitchen watching my mother open the trunk and seeing, sitting on the very top of the contents, his leather wallet.

What had never come up in their conversations was that Rugged, one of my father’s best friends, was a first cousin to my mother, and as his ‘next of kin’ he had written Angus Gillies when he enlisted.

As a boy, the wallet and the belt were always around the house. Unfortunately, in the many moves (and lack of understanding and respect for these items) they became lost. The wallet accidently went through the washing machine and became stiff and useless. I have sent it to my nephew, Michael, in Calgary because if it can be rehabilitated at all, he’s the person who can do it.

This is a story I remember my father telling me, although lots of the details have been forgotten so I’m posting what remains before that, too, becomes lost.

Kind of spooky, huh?

by Dave Ferguson

My parents came from Detroit to visit us in northern Virginia several times. It may have been their first visit to the house we had on Gainsborough Drive in Fairfax County. I don’t recall the year, but Kevin, my youngest, wasn’t very old — maybe 10.

Kevin was bright but sometimes shy, and my parents were mostly strangers to him. Since I knew Dad liked playing cards, I got the two of them together and suggested that Kevin show grandpa how to play solitaire on the computer. They headed off to the upstairs room where the computer was.

The next day, Kevin told me he’d gotten up in the middle of the night and found grandpa on the computer, still playing solitaire.

I felt like showing off Kevin a bit more, so I took mom and dad up to the computer room with him.

I said, “Kevin showed you how to play solitaire. But you probably want to play some other card games, too.”

Dad said he liked all kinds of games, like cribbage and euchre.

“Good,” I said. “Kevin, why don’t you see if any other computers know anything about euchre?”

Kevin used a search engine — I don’t think Google was available yet. I explained the result to my parents.

“Kevin just asked this computer to ask other computers if they know anything about euchre. It asked 12 million computers (or whatever the number was), and it said that these 120,000 do.”

They were impressed.

Kevin and I studied the list of results.

“Okay, it looks like this computer in Australia might have a euchre game. Let’s go see.”

Kevin went to that site, and sure enough, they had a euchre game.

“Now Kevin’s asking that computer in Australia to let us have a copy.”

A few minutes later, the file was downloaded.

“All right, Kevin,” I said. “Let’s start the file up.”

Kevin knew what he was doing. Less than 10 minutes after we began, he started up the euchre game. I turned to Dad.

“Now, I don’t know how to play euchre, and neither does Kevin. But if you tell him what’s supposed to happen, he’ll figure out how to make it happen on the computer.”

By the end of the visit, Kevin and Dad were getting along just fine, and Dad got in a lot of euchre.