MAXINE THERESA (ALAIN) PRENTICE
I was born in the town of Tillsonburg, of the county of Oxford, Ontario on August 28, 1939. It was about midnight when the doctor arrived at Grandma Rachel Strasser's house on Rodgers Street and, by 1:00 a.m., he was ready to leave. I was the second child born to Louis and Clara (Lessard) Alain. Less than a month after my arrival, I was taken to St. Mary's in Tillsonburg. There I was baptized into the Roman Catholic faith by Reverend J.H. O'Neill with Joseph and Theresa Lessard, my mother's brother and sister, as my godparents. And so my life began.
Some of my early memories are of a hard-working father, a caring mother and tea parties with a sister. As she was just one year and one week older than I, it seemed as if she were made to order, both as playmate and friend. Together we played house, put on concerts and had our fights but, always, we were pals. The summer of 1942 my family moved back to Saskatchewan to farm at Veillardville.
My preschool years ended in illness, and again I was bothered in the primary grades, so there were various stays in hospitals -- Hudson Bay, Tisdale and The Pas. A few memories from this time stand out vividly; a little Eskimo girl's friendship and her courage in the face of tremendous suffering; "happy-go-Lester", a young boy from Veillardville -- both had been badly burned; and, back home, Dad's forbidding words uttered each winter over snow angels. A fresh snow fall in the middle of winter was always an invitation to fall backwards into an unmarked patch of the yard, sinking into the soft cushion of snow built up over many weeks. Then, with a sideways motion of our legs and arms, we each made our own distinct snow angel. We had to rise with care not to disturb the pattern. I missed making the snow angels but I understood; Dad was concerned and didn't wish me to risk another bout of illness.
Some pleasurable experiences which took place in the summer were my visits to Grandma and Grandpa Alain's for, once there, I would enjoy their lawn swing. In later years I learned that Uncle Rolland had built it while the younger Alains were still at home, probably in the early Thirties. It was a large swing which Rolland had built in his dad's hayloft. When it was finished, he had quite a time to get it out. Finally, he had to knock out one end of the barn. The swing was enjoyed by many of their grandchildren throughout the years and by the adults as well.
We also liked to swim in the summer -- on the really warm days -- but lived miles from a lake. However, we had a little creek which ran just back of our house. During our earlier years, we enjoyed many hours of fun in its cool waters. The creek even has its own name, Nonsuch River -- so titled on a Prairie River map, and discovered by Yvonne Alain when compiling the Veillardville history book, Valley Echoes. Other fun-filled times were the trips to Flin Flon where we spent a couple of weeks with our Marsollier and Menzies cousins, swam in Phantom Lake and enjoyed many bottles of Aunt Bertha's homemade root beer. A highlight of each summer was the special treat Mom gave to us. I believe it was her way of saying thank you to us for helping around the house, with the gardening, canning, and so forth. Marlyne and I, each in turn, were given a couple of afternoons to visit with our aunts, often arriving when they were in the middle of shelling peas or a similar task. We just pitched in; we didn't mind. Our chats were interesting, and we got to know them better. I came to treasure these annual summer visits, so I missed them when I took on a summer job away from home.
In the fall of 1953, Marlyne and I became boarders at Sacred Heart Convent at Zenon Park. With no high school offered at White Poplar, and school buses not yet established to travel to Hudson Bay, it meant that students needed to leave home to obtain their high school education. Besides, Mom and Dad wanted us to be schooled in our religion and to learn French.
The four years spent at Zenon were good ones. We met many girls from the western provinces with whom we forged friendships as we studied, played and prayed together. Memorable moments include tears in the Convent parlor when Mom and Dad left us each fall (later, I was to learn that in their compassion for the families, the Sisters also wept); Saturday bath times with the limit of one gallon of water per student -- Zenon had no water supply of its own; Sunday walks; kitchen duties for free piano lessons; and monthly outings to the Favreau home -- as delightful and welcome as Pauline and Rose-anne's special friendship. All were learning experiences.
Then, before I realized, it was June 1957, grade twelve departmentals and time to make decisions. I owe much to Marion Smith, Hughena McLean, Sisters Clare and Angelina -- all fine teachers -- who challenged me, instilled a love of reading and a thirst for knowledge, and who, no doubt, influenced me to consider a teaching career.
But I am getting ahead of myself. My senior high school years and the couple which followed held a variety of work experiences -- all in Saskatchewan. Marlyne and I had been employed at Tisdale Hospital a couple of summers; later we worked at Sinclair Drugs in Hudson Bay; I did some housework and worked in a hardware store. I shall always be grateful to these employers for giving me valuable work experience. Then, in my search of vocation, I entered the convent. Although my stay was brief, it offered valuable insight. Sandwiched in between were four months of teaching at Smokey Ridge. I was hired directly from grade twelve, as a Study Supervisor for grades one through nine. Correspondence courses were provided which I never used except for the one high school student. In these few months, I discovered the joy of teaching.
In the spring of 1959 I received my teaching certificate in Saskatoon from the Saskatchewan Teachers College. That fall, I began teaching grade one in Hudson Bay. Then, due to the kindness and patience of an old "pro", Mrs. McLeay, many mistakes were averted on my part, and my first year of teaching proved acceptable. Since Marlyne had taught at Ile La Crosse, I had entertained notions of teaching in the far North and, in particular, at Uranium City. Having met Lynne Bowen at S.T.C., I now shared my dream with her. We met in Prince Albert that Easter and I made my decision ... to join Lynne in the southcentral part of our province. A few months later, I was hired to fill the grade two and three teaching position recently vacated at Macrorie.
I took the train to Macrorie at the end of August and discovered the prairie. A far cry from the bush, the wandering creeks and the stillness of Veillardville, it nonetheless had its own unique attraction. That fall I fell in love with the beauty of the coulees and the hills that interrupt the long stretches of this wind-swept land.
The prairies held another attraction for me. Macrorie had little social life to offer the young folks apart from the Saturday night dances held weekly. So I went with Lynne. Shortly after our arrival, at that first dance, I noticed a young man dressed in cowboy attire ... from his smart-looking boots to his western string tie. Lynne introduced us, and that evening he took me home via the East-half -- as this parcel of his dad's land was commonly referred to. I'm not certain whether it was his cute smile, sense of humor and easy-going manner that attracted me or if it was the homey, comfortable feeling I experienced when we were together. It really didn't matter. Elliott Prentice had definitely made an impression on me. We dated during the best part of a year and, on Holy Thursday the following spring, we were engaged to be married. During Easter week, after borrowing his dad's car, we drove home to tell my folks and to discuss our wedding plans.
We were married on October 28, 1961 in St. Anthony's Catholic Church at Veillardville. Lynne (Bowen) and Norman Cooper, married two weeks previously, were our attendants, along with my sisters, Bernadette and Michelle, and my cousin, Lee Lessard. A brief honeymoon to Medicine Hat, Alberta, then home to our new house (24 x 26 feet) which Elliott, his father and brother Alvin had built just weeks before. That first night was spent at Mom and Dad Prentice's because our oil stove had gone out.
At that time, Mom and Dad Prentice had been married fifty years. Norman Elliott Prentice, better known as Norm, had been born February 13, 1894 in the county of Dufferin, east of Honeywood, Ontario. Mom Prentice, commonly called “Grandma”, had been born Ina Hunt on October 6, 1894 in Mulmur Township, county of Dufferin, Ontario. She and Norm had come to know each other while attending the same school and had been married on August 11, 1911 in Toronto, Ontario.
Norm first came West on a Harvest Excursion only a few days after their wedding. He returned to Toronto that fall to his young bride. The following spring of 1912, they came west together and settled in the Ardath district. In 1916 they moved to the Macrorie district, later settling on the Doc Harrison farm in 1934.
It was here that they remained and here that I first met them and their large family of fourteen children, of which Elliott was the youngest. He was born on April 11, 1938 in Outlook, Saskatchewan, and was named Charles Elliott. He took his twelve years of schooling at Macrorie after which he worked on the C.N.R. with the section crew for a couple of summers. Then he began to farm full time with his dad. They each had their own machinery and they worked well together.
During the first five years of our marriage, we were blessed with four healthy, beautiful children: Joseph Loren Elliott, Therese Adelle, Norman Blair and Cory Lee. They were good company for each other in spite of their occasional scraps.
A large part of our children’s lives centred around their Grandma and Grandpa living next door. Loren enjoyed T.V. and, at age 5, “Batman” was tops for him. Now, Grandpa Prentice enjoyed getting a rise out of Loren. All he needed to do was to tell him that if Popeye ate a bit of spinach, he could clean up on Batman. Blair was always our “live wire” and observant, too. One time, when he was not yet in school, he remarked after his bath that his hands were wrinkled and “just like old people’s.” Cory has always been good natured -- much like his Grandpa Prentice. But, as easy-going as Cory was, there was one thing he would not tolerate. Mysteriously, we discovered him sleeping on the floor one morning, only to learn later that our cat had moved in on him during the night. Through the years, Adelle provided the feminine influence and she has always been caring -- even as a little gal. One morning she had slipped over to visit her grandparents. As she watched Pop plug his one sore ear with cotton, she glanced out the window then, turning to him, she remarked, “Better plug the other one, too, Pop -- here come the boys!”
The four children kept us busy; some days I wondered if there would ever be an end to bottles and diapers. Then one day in the fall of ‘71 Cory boarded the school bus, and I was alone! But not for long. On September 26, 1973, Sean Allan was born. This time I wasn’t as busy -- having only one baby instead of a couple -- so I enjoyed Sean, at least, most days. He has been a gift of surprises through the years. He was lost several times as a preschooler, while we were shopping in the malls in Saskatoon, yet he always knew where he was, and would ask a clerk to help him find Mom and Dad.
Like every other young couple starting out with high hopes and great dreams, Elliott and I found that life is not always easy; some years hold more than their share of difficulties. Nineteen seventy-four was one such time. About 1:00 p.m. on a March afternoon, we received a call from the principal at our little school: “Your son has been hurt on the playground and we suspect he may have a broken leg.” We told him we’d be right down. When we arrived we found ten-year-old Blair lying on a snowbank, covered with jackets. There was a raw wind blowing from the west. We tried to shield our boy the best we could, and we chatted to bolster his spirits. The ambulance had been called but, unknown to us, had been on the hoist in the garage and would not arrive for almost an hour and a half. The ride into Outlook was very rough as the roads were heavy with a build-up of snow and, with a recent thaw, they were breaking up. There were many potholes. When we arrived, Blair was taken to X-ray where it was learned that he had suffered a comminuted fracture of his thigh bone. He would need to be in traction for some time. Blair’s stay in hospital lasted nine and a half weeks.
During this time Sean was hospitalized at University Hospital in Saskatoon. He was not able to tolerate milk, soya-based milk or beef broth. Some cereals also upset him. Then, because of an oversight and poor communication, Sean’s condition deteriorated severely. Acting on an uneasy premonition, I drove to Saskatoon to see how he was doing. His eyes were sunken, his breathing shallow. He was so weak that he could neither cry nor make any move- ment. He simply lay there. The nurse was chang-ing another soiled diaper. I asked her a couple of questions, then went to the nursing station and dialed our son's pediatrician and asked him, "What have you done to my baby?" He was in the ward within minutes. Sean's recovery began that day. I remained in Saskatoon to be with him, spending the nights at Marlyne's. The strain began to take its toll; I was hospitalized in Milden. That spring seeding was late due to the heavy snowfall and spring rains and, in a feeling of desperation, I telephoned Mom. Bless her! She never hesitated. That evening she was on the bus for Saskatchewan. She took over at home tend-ing to the children and the meals. Elliott was free to put in the crop and visit Blair evenings, while I concentrated on getting well. When I came home from hospital that last time, the sun was shining on a bowl of roses sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. Someone cared! And best of all was Elliott's news that both Sean and Blair were well on the road to recovery.
During the years when the children were young I needed an outlet and some outside inter-ests. When Loren was born, I had quit teaching except for a little substitute teaching so, in response to the need in 1967, I began a private kindergarten in Macrorie. I taught over a period of twelve years -- at first one morning a week, then twice a week. Later, I took some classes in ceramics, furniture upholstery and wood refinishing, the latter two from the local commu-nity college.
Living in any community carries its own duties and responsibilities. Our small village of Macrorie is no different. Our new arena, which was built in 1967, was constructed with local volunteer help. Yearly operating expenses are mostly met with income received through the rink kitchen. This means that the women and -- in recent years -- the men, too, must take a turn at working. The ladies are canvassed for pies, soup, chili and other things. Elliott has always been very active in the field of sports -- coaching, managing and as a participant. Working and playing together strengthens a community and the same is true of the Church. We belong to the Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic Parish in Outlook where my greater interest and involve-ment, through the years, has been in the field of catechetics.
About the time Sean started school I began to consider resuming my education. This only lasted a couple of years, as I became involved in the
development of a volunteer program for the elderly, the handicapped and the shut-in. While the project has been challenging, it has given me a greater sense of fulfillment than any other work I have undertaken.
This fall of 1986 Elliott and I celebrated our Silver Wedding Anniversary. It was an oppor-tunity to reflect, to be thankful and to celebrate God's goodness to us not only through each other but also through the many others He has given to us over the years -- our five children, wee Bran-don and Brandi Rae, our families (Prentice and Alain) and many good friends. We have received much in the way of love, care, support and inspiration. With the years, we have been given a rainbow of memories to cherish.
