She Lost Her "Best Friend"

A simple Landry family story about the legacy we leave and a not so typical friendship through the eyes of thirteen year old. Though given in the first person, it is compiled from various conversations with my great Aunt Anna Bella Landry (Bradley) and research information available at the time of this writing.

Michael and Charlotte (Bouchard) Landry Family - Circa 1915

January 1917
Halifax, Nova Scotia

I’m thirteen years old and I’m crying uncontrollably. My best friend is gone. Please, it can’t be true, I need her too much. I’m a mess.

The rest of the family is attending the wake and funeral.  They thought my constant crying would be too disruptive, so I’m home.

While sobbing, my thoughts turn to this past year.  It started off great. Each day my younger sister Elizabeth and I would get up early and help Mom get breakfast ready.  Because we have five older brothers, we love having time with Mom.  There are actually four boys at home because Leo has gone overseas to fight for our country.  Also, there would have been three girls, but older sister Bernadette died two months after she was born.

Following breakfast, Dad, Joe, and Dan head off to work. Elizabeth and I clear the table then head out to St. Joseph’s School.  While we’re gone Mom cleans the dishes and does other chores like washing laundry and keeping the house spotless.  All of this is done by hand. We didn’t have a dishwasher or a washer and dryer.

When we returned home, Abe and Jimmy head off to school.  Girls go in the morning and boys in the afternoon because the boy’s school is being repaired.  Mom is spending more time teaching me how to keep house.

Then one dreadful day in June, we got news that Leo had been killed in the Battle of Y-Press in Belgium.  This left a big hole in our family and Mom was never the same.

Summer into fall is hard to remember.    As the days got colder and colder Mom continually went outside, without a coat on, to hang laundry.   When asked about it she’d say she had too much to do to bother with her coat.  Our over protective Mom, not wearing a coat didn’t make sense to me.  Then she got weak and started coughing.  Before long she was getting behind on everyday chores.  Our immaculate house was looking a bit disorganized and laundry was piling up.  Elizabeth and I were worried and so were Dad and the boys.  Mom was hospitalized and diagnosed with Tuberculosis.   She didn’t make it.   I not only lost my Mom, I lost my best friend.

Note:   Great grandmother Charlotte (Bouchard) Landry was 46 years old when she passed away. She sewed the dresses that Anna and Elizabeth were wearing in the picture above.  Charlotte was thrifty with money and she raised children who knew how to take care of it and provide for their families. Her love and dedication to her family live on in the current generations.

Landry family picture:
Back row from left to right –  Private Leo , Michael (Dad), Joseph, Annie Adams (Dan's first wife), Daniel, Charlotte (Mom)
Front Row:  Anna Bella, Elizabeth

Daily Vacations

Photo Credit: Cal Shook 

Picture the weight of the world being lifted. You are experiencing perfect peace.

Where are you located?

For me it is at the ocean. Watching the tide go in and out is like having my cares washed out to sea.  The world can wait while my soul is restored.

Rest During a Storm

After a day ministering to others, Jesus got into a boat with his disciples,then made his way to the back where he laid his head on a pillow and fell asleep.  As the boat makes its way toward the next shore, a storm hits.  The boat rocks violently and starts to capsize.  The disciples wake Jesus shouting. "We're drowning!"

Jesus sits up and tells the storm to stop and it does..
Mark 4:35-41

A Peaceful Island

At the time of this writing, my husband Jim and I are on vacation. The beauty of creation is around us as we walk along the ocean.  It's low tide.  We head for the cove.  With the tide rolled out the danger of a rip current is gone, leaving a once treacherous cove free to pass and a peaceful island within reach. My soul is at rest.

As this time away comes to a close, my goal is to create daily vacations.  A time each day to envision the cares and worries of everyday life, rolling out with the tide and freeing me to cross over to a place of peace - a daily restoring of my soul.

My prayer for you, my friend, is that you will find Peace!

Note:  Are you looking to create moments of rest and relaxation in your life?  Check out one of my favorite authors, Kirk Byron Jones.
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School Days – A Lesson on Fear

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.” (ESV)

With her tea cup clanging as it hits the saucer, my great Aunt Anna lifts the cup to her lips and takes a sip.  I sit in eager anticipation of the history that is about to come to life.

Extreme discipline is at the heart of the story below based on Anna's recollection.

Circa 1915 

Mary is in the principal's office standing in front of Sister Jaine.

"Hold out your hands."

Reluctantly Mary lifts her hands, palms down.

With a ruler, Sister Jaine whacks them.

As the beating continues, “You were told not to walk across the Protestant church yard and you disobeyed.”

Mary’s knuckles start to bleed.

“I hope you have learned your lesson,” says Sister Jaine, “You may return to class.”

Mary returns to class with bloodied knuckles.  The pain and swelling make it hard to concentrate on her lessons.

Once classes are over, Mary walks down the stairs and finds Anna waiting for her.  They head out of the building together. Holding out her bloodied knuckles, Mary shares her story with Anna as they walk home.

“It’s not right, Mary, you shouldn’t have been punished like this,” says Anna.

“When I get home, I’m telling my parents what happened,” says Mary.

The next day Mary’s father walks her to school and into the principal’s office. In a fit of rage, he informs Sister Jaine that Mary will no longer be a student here.

The following afternoon, Anna heads from class to the main entrance of the school.  Sadness sets in with the knowledge that Mary will no longer be joining her on the walk home. Then the image of Mary’s bloodied knuckles comes to mind and the wrongness of it haunts her. They tell us that we’re not allowed to cross a Protestant church yard. What is that going to do to us? They tell us we can’t enter a synagogue or any other church not Catholic. I’m not going to become another religion by entering their building or walking across their yard.  Why are we being taught to hate? This doesn’t make sense.

Afterward

Following the telling of this story, Anna proclaimed, “I still believe in my religion, but why in the name of God was it wrong to cross the yard of a church that’s not Catholic. I went to Jewish ceremonies. I went to Greek baptisms. Doing these things did not make me choose another religion. I believe everyone has a right to their religion. You can believe what you want, just don’t push it on others.  I married a Protestant and I loved him just as much as if he were Catholic.” 

Reflection

When fearful I need to check my words and actions to see if there's a ruler, of sorts, in my hand. Fear clouds my judgment and won't allow me to make informed and caring decisions. My great Aunt Anna would not let anyone bully her into prejudice.  Checking out other faiths, as well as people not like her, Anna's life was enriched with an eclectic group of friends.

Who do you identify with in this story?  Are you the child with bloodied knuckles?  Maybe you're the friend who dared to enter the yard and building of another faith?  Or maybe, like me, there are times when you're fearful and it's tempting to pick up a ruler.

Note:
Anna Bella (Landry) Bradley was 97 years old when she revealed this story. She lived on her own until about six weeks before her death at the age of 103.
Photo Credit:  All three photos from www.pixabay.com

Cape Breton Boys – a life altering sledding experience.

Sled from www.pixabay.com

Are there story tellers in your family tree?

I’ve found that spending time with relatives can uncover moving stories of triumph over tragedy.  What follows is one of my favorites. 

It is the winter of 1910 and the Landry family is living in River Bourgeois, Cape Breton.  There’s a foot of fresh snow covering the steep hill a short walk from their home.  School is out and children are making their way up to the top with sleds in hand.  One at a time and in groups, they mount their sleds and head down the slope.  The air fills with shouts of joy.

Standing on the sideline are two Landry brothers, eleven year old Abe and fourteen year old Leo.   Their hearts race with excitement as they watch their friends speed down the snowy incline.  Caught up in the excitement, Mom’s words forbidding them to go sledding have slipped deep into the dead zones of their brains.

After sliding down the hill several times, Clifford walks over and places his sled at Leo’s feet. 

“Want to take a few turns?” he asks.    

Leo says,” Thanks” as he grabs it by its side and then heads to the summit. 

The delight Leo feels, as he rides down the hill, surpasses anything he’s experienced before.  It only gets better with each trip down.

Then something strange happens.  The last thing Leo remembers is walking over to Abe and Clifford with the sled.  But now he’s running and his mind seems to have blanked out why.   Clifford is running with him.

Reality comes into focus as Leo sees what he’s heading toward.  Abe’s contorted body and a broken sled are lying next to a huge maple tree at the base of the hill.

Winter Tree from www.pixabay.com 

Leo gets there first and crouches down next to Abe’s body.  Clifford joins him within seconds. The rest of the children aren’t far behind.  

Abe’s eyes are closed and he’s not moving. His right leg is at a peculiar angle and there’s blood trickling out of gouges seen through the large tear in his pant leg.

The three of them are soon surrounded by the rest of the children.  

“Abe,” Leo shouts.

There’s no response.

“We’ve got to get him off the cold ground.  We need a large toboggan.” Clifford pleads.

The circle of children separate as a large toboggan is handed over. 

The two teens quickly grab Abe’s motionless body. As they lift, it stiffens.  Abe’s eyes open and he lets out an ear-piercing scream as they place him on the toboggan.   Leo holds back tears as his brother looks up at him wincing in pain.

 Abe starts trembling and says, “Mom’s going to kill me when she finds out.”

“Abe, we’ll figure something out.  We’ve got to get you home,” Leo says.

Grabbing the rope attached to the front of the sled, Leo pulls and heads down the path to their home.  Clifford joins him.  Abe moans as his body is jostled in route. 

Leo’s mind is racing. How can they can get Abe in the house and keep Mom from finding out? She’s going to kill us. 

Before entering the house the boys work out a plan.  They are successful in keeping it from their parents for a short while.   How they pulled this off is still a mystery.   

Once it was discovered that Abe was seriously hurt, a doctor was summoned from St. Peter’s.  By the time the doctor arrives a couple of days have passed.  Upon examination, it is discovered that Abe’s right side has taken the brunt of his run-in with the maple tree.  The trauma to that side includes:  a broken hip, several holes running down his leg with pus coming out of them, and the inability to move his foot.    

Abe Landry at Landry's Shoe Repair, Halifax, NS

Abe suffers greatly in the months to come, but recovers.  As a result of the trauma the growth in his right leg is stunted; leaving him with one leg shorter than the other. This in combination with the damage to his foot makes getting around difficult.   A cobbler helps by taking measurements and a special boot with a lift inside is ordered from New York.   The boot gives Abe freedom of movement and a passion to apprentice as a cobbler.  

Following through on his desire to become a cobbler, Abe apprenticed and then set up his own business.  He became the owner and operator of Landry's Shoe Repair in the Hydrostone district in Halifax, Nova Scotia.  Abe ran his business for 47 years. 

This story is dedicated to Leo Landry who served in WWI and fought at the battle of Y-press in Belgium where he died on 4 June 1916 at the age of 18.  

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Special thanks go out to Mark and Courtney Moore and to the late Abe Landry and Anna Bella Landry Bradley for sharing their stories with us.  “The River That Isn’t”, by Garvie Samson was beneficial in creating this short story and gives a wonderful perspective about the people and their lives in River Bourgeois, Cape Breton from 1714 to 1994. 

I’d enjoy hearing what you think of this story in the comments section is below. 

Self- Esteem and Creativity

The idea for the following brief story came to me after reading Stephen King’s book, “On Writing: a memoir of the craft”.  I woke up dreaming about it.   

Photo by Mike Landry

Punishment.

It is recess time at Dawnville Elementary.  Children are playfully running and laughing.  Over near the entrance door a tall thin boy with unkempt shoulder length hair stands alone facing the “punishment wall”.  His name is Justin and this is part of a daily routine after being caught hitting one of his classmates. 

Justice.

Several days later, with two feet of snow on the ground and frigid temperatures, recess is indoors.  The classroom is humming with conversation as children pull games and puzzles from an “activity box” and then spread out around the room.  

Justin is standing by himself staring out the window at the snow covered trees

Alan sneaks up behind him and punches him in the back.   Justin’s body lurches toward the window.  Like a lightweight fighter, Justin steadies his feet and pivots away from the window with both fists raised.  Facing Alan he pulls his right arm back…

“Stop,” Mrs. “G” yells. 

Justin freezes in position.

“Alan, hitting is not allowed,” she says.

Justin drops his arms and stands straight. 

Both boys look stunned.

“Alan, go to your desk and put your head down.”

“But, he…”

“Alan, I saw what you did and how it happened.  Go to your desk, now.” Alan does as he’s told.

“Are you OK, Justin?”

“Yes.”

“Great!”

Relieved, Justin heads to the “activity box” and finds a game he can play on his own, then moves to a spot where he can sit by himself. 

Creative Expression.

Photo by Mike Landry

Later that day Justin is sitting at a round table at the back of the class with four other children and his Remedial Reading teacher, Mrs. “G”.  He thinks to himself:  I’m stupid and I’m always going to be stupid. 

Mrs. “G” hands each of them a piece of wide ruled paper and a pencil.   After reviewing basic sentence structure the group is asked to write a sentence.  “It can be about anything. If you’d like, it can be about a place you’ve gone with someone and had fun.” 

Justin’s hand hits the table hard with a thud as he moves the paper closer. Pressing down hard, he writes, “I do not want to do this.” Mrs. “G” quickly writes a big letter “A” next to his sentence.  “Good job, Justin, you wrote a sentence.”

Almost in tears, Justin looks at her and says, “My father is out of work.  He drinks a lot and sleeps a lot.  We don’t go anywhere or do anything fun.” 

 “Justin, if you could do anything for fun, what would you do?”

“I’d go fishing with my dad.”

Handing Justin a fresh piece of paper Mrs. “G” says, “Then write about that if you’d like.”

Justin quickly wrote down a sentence about fishing with his dad.

After four more “Good Jobs”,  Mrs. “G” moved on to the next part of the lesson where she encouraged each child to expand upon their sentence.

 All five were busy writing when Justin asked if he could draw some pictures about his fishing trip. 

“That is a great idea, Justin!  Does anyone else want some drawing paper and crayons?” Everyone was in.

Their words turned into paragraphs with each adding pictures to go with their soon to be short story books.  

How about you?

Is there a Justin in you?  A part of you that longs to be loved and accepted for who you are;  that yearns to be set free?   If you could do anything just for the fun of it, what would it be?   Be creative. 

I’d enjoy hearing from you.  Share your artistic expression below.  

Resourses:  

"Calling Forth New Life" - Kirk Byron Jones

 “On Writing: a memoir of the craft” - Stephen King

A Picture on the Wall: the Halifax Explosion

Boston responded and Halifax remembers as the Tree for Boston is lit on December 3^rd in gratitude and remembrance of those who died and those who survived the Halifax Explosion.  The lighting of the tree brings fond memories of a family survivor who brought this history to life over many cups of tea and an occasional slice of homemade apple pie. 

In honor of this event I’m sharing a piece of my late Aunt Anna Bella’s story.   Anna Bella is my paternal Grandpa Joe’s younger sister.  

“I tell you, awful things happen in this life, but you’ve got to keep going on…you just have to go on.”  - Anna Bella (Landry) Bradley

The Picture

A large sepia toned family picture was hanging over Anna Bella's bed.

“Could you tell me about the picture over your bed?” I asked.

“It’s the only thing that survived the explosion?” Anna Bella said.

“What explosion?”

“The Halifax Explosion,” 

What follows is a brief excerpt from the stories she shared of survival and tragedy.

The Explosion - December 6, 1917

Halifax Harbor’s piers were busy with ships from many countries being loaded and unloaded in an effort to supply the allies as World War I waged on.  

Five streets up with a beautiful view of the waterfront was 38 Union Street.  

Everyone had left for the day and fourteen year old Anna Bella was busy clearing breakfast dishes off the kitchen table in her family’s first floor apartment.  She's feeling a bit down. Life had changed since her mom passed away of Tuberculosis in January.  Instead of going to school she was keeping house. Between her dad, three older brothers, and younger sister there was a lot to do. While in the midst of this morning routine, she was unaware of what was happening in the harbor.

The Mont Blanc, a fully loaded munitions ship, had been cleared to enter the harbor.

On the other side of the harbor the Imo was making its way out.  Further into the harbor,  a tug is on the wrong side. Before they get to close to each other, the Imo’s pilot switches lanes successfully; which keeps the two boats from colliding.  Now the Imo is on the Mont Blanc’s side of the harbor.

Once in site of each other the Mont Blanc’s horn sounds alerting the Imo to switch lanes.   The Imo signals back, requesting the Mont Blanc move over.  By the time the two ships reverse engines it was too late – the Imo’s hull pierced the Mont Blanc’s.  Then as the Imo’s engine reverses, metal scrapes metal and the two hulls pull apart.  The Mont Blanc’s deck catches fire as it drifts toward Pier 6.

Anna Bella was at the sink doing dishes when the Mont Blanc reaches Pier 6 and blows up. With the force of the blast, the house explodes.  Anna Bella’s unconscious body is thrown several yards away and buried under a pile of rubble.   The once beautiful city of Halifax was in ruins with Anna Bella buried within it.  

Smoke starts to rise from the debris as the embers from overturned coal stoves ignite the downed structures like kindling.  Seeing this, soldiers, family members, and others start calling out and listening for life.   They were hoping to lift people from the ruins before the fires spread.

As Anna Bella regains consciousness she hears the bells of the fire rigs and feels herself being pulled from the rubble and then lowered onto the street. Squinting and adjusting her eyes to the light, she focuses to see her sister Elizabeth in front of her.

The explosion has left Anna Bella’s lip partially torn off and there are cuts on her arm.  They are stitched up, out on the street.  Her face swells to the point where it will be difficult to eat for several weeks.  Once attended to, Anna Bella is relieved to find out that Elizabeth is uninjured.

In the days to come, Anna Bella and Elizabeth are reunited with family and eventually relocated to the Hydrostone section of Halifax.  *

* * * * 

Spending time with my great Aunt Anna Bella and learning about my heritage is like getting some pieces to a larger family history. Thanks to family members from both countries, Canada and the United States, I’m getting more of the missing pieces and they’re starting to fit together. 

I’d appreciate your prayers and support as I spend time each day working on writing my great Aunt Anna Bella’s memoir.  My hope is to portray her 103 years of living a “fully engaged” life as authentically as possible and to have it completed in time for the 100th anniversary of the Halifax Explosion.**  

[*Note: As more information came to light from additional audio recording transcripts of my great Aunt Anna Bella Landry Bradley, it appears that her father was on the scene not long after she was rescued and before they went to the Monastery of the Good Shepherd after their home was destroyed. 

**Note: The scope of my great aunt's life, additional research and interviews, plus relocating have altered my plans.  I've changed the focus of this book to the Halifax Explosion and the family's experience.  The book is progressing with plans to publish in 2022.  Thinking of  My Grands - Passing It On. ]

Find Rest, Peace, and Creativity this Election Season.

Are you feeling a bit fearful and angry this election season?

I sure am.

Not only am I fearful of “all” the political rhetoric, I’m concerned about the resulting anger it’s evoking within me.

Breathe

To calm my fears and relax I used the following words in a similar fashion to a "breath prayer" by taking a breath with each verse I read. 

Rest leads to Peace.

Peace leads to Clarity.

Clarity leads to Creativity. – Kirk Byron Jones, “Calling Forth New Life”

Discover

Mount Agamenticus - Cal Shook

With a more relaxed spirit, the following thoughts surfaced.

What images am I creating this election season?  What Images would I like to create?

With the answers came the insight that my rhetoric needs to be overhauled.

People that disagree with me are not stupid: they have the same fears for the future I have. 

There’s a creative spirit in everyone.

Each of us has the ability to create a variety of images.  From images that warm the soul to those that deaden the spirit.

In a world in turmoil what expressions of creativity are available? 

Am I opening the door or closing it to solutions that are not like mine.

What images are being portrayed this election season?

Are they?

Love or Hate

Peace or Fear

Forgiveness or Revenge

Joy or Misery

Compassion or Cruelty

Empathy or Disdain

York Harbor Daisies - Cal Shook

To truly love self and others requires finding inner peace.  Forgiveness allowed Jesus to say to those torturing him on the cross, “Father, forgive them...” Forgiveness of self and others brings inner joy, which reflects outwardly to others. 

Choose

The choice is each of ours – what type of images do we want to convey?

Images of:

Love, Peace and forgiveness which foster Joy, Compassion, and Empathy
Or
Images of:

Hate, Fear, and Revenge which promote Misery, Cruelty, and Disdain.

Pray

Ask God for help using a prayer like the following reflection prayer.

God please open our minds and hearts to seek out your will and guidance in our creative expression. 

Where there is hatred may we foster love?  May we take time to approach this election season with a more relaxed spirit.  May we open the door to the solutions offered by others not like ourselves, because we’re all here for a purpose.  We all have something to bring to the table.  Together we can create a world of peace and love.