Beth Spence: Peterborough, Canada, and Colbourg

I did a lot of walking when I was a child—in the little town of Peterborough, Canada. From our little town we’d walk up to Norwood to an old broken down cabin and pick lilacs from the lilac bushes and we supplied all the neighbors with flowers. We’d walk along the track to Birnham’s Woods.

In spring we’d all walk to Birnham’s Woods and pick the flowers, but they’d usually be dead by the time we got home. I remember there were these bare circles where nothing would grow—they were made by the falling hot train ashes. And of course, we thought they were fairy rings. We had such silly notions as children. Where did we get them? We’d have to walk around the rings backwards three times and make a wish. I don’t think any of our wishes ever came true.

One thing I do remember was that all the men gathered along the railroad tracks. In those days there was no fear of strangers, not like now. It was during the Depression. They were all out looking for work. The westerners all came east and the easterners all came west looking for work, but there was no work to be had anywhere.

In winter, going the other direction, we used to play down by the river, the banks had such interesting rocks and trees that froze in such fantastic shapes and we decided that it was like Russia. There was one particular place near the river where my cousin and I liked to play. The rocks really looked like castles. I called my cousin Sylvia Tatania, the snow queen. We’d play there for hours. One time we really got a real bawling out because we stayed out after dark. On the way home, we used to try and hitch a ride on the farmers with their sleighs. But when we’d run towards them, they’d see us coming and they’d race away. They didn’t want us to get on.

Last summer, I was in Peterborough visiting my sister—she’s 89. She doesn’t walk much—except down by the river—and mostly from bench to bench. Me, I’m a walker. When I was young, I walked for miles and miles and thought nothing of it. If I could walk better today, I’d still walk for miles and miles. I loved it when I was miles from home. In those days, you could go anywhere. It was such a wonderful place to grow up.

—Beth Spence


Cobourg was on Lake Ontario, a lovely beach resort. There was my sister, my friend, and my brother—he was 7 years younger than me. It was a real carful. We lived about 35 miles from the lake. We’d pack up our picnic bags and swimming suits, and if we god there with any less that three flat tires, it was a miracle, and poor old Dad, he’d have to take the tire off, and fix it. He’d have to find some water to find the leak. They were inner tubes. The roads were rough. They weren’t paved, come to think of it, they were probably made of gravel. It was out in the wilds. No such thing as a gas station out there. You were really on your own. This was during the 1920s. We were standing around waiting for him to finish. I’m sure that none of us helped.… we all stood around the road kicking rocks. And I’m sure we were all whining, “How much longer is it going to be….”

One of those things I remember was the water toboggan ride. You paid 25 cents for the afternoon. The lake was like ice. We were tough. There was a pavilion, a beautiful boardwalk. It was a long journey. It didn’t get dark until 9:30 that far north so we tried to get home before dark, It made me wonder where did Dad get the water to find the holes in the inner tube. But it was all wonderful. I guess we had flat tires on the way home too but I don’t remember it. Going to the lake was a very tiring event. But it sure was fun.

—Beth Spence


WEDDING DRESSES

My husband to be was stationed in the Hebrides—he was a commanding officer at a radar station. I was in Farnborough, a small town close to Aldershot in Surry, south of London. When the war was over, we decided to get married. We had to have the banns read beforehand. We didn’t even go to church. The minister stood up in church and asked, “Does anyone have an objection to these two getting married?” No one knew us, so no one objected. I saw my husband the day before the wedding and before leaving, he said, “I’ll see you at 10:30. I said, “No, the wedding is at 10, not 10:30!” It was a pretty little Methodist church—small—not many marriages: the people gawked.

I was going to be married in my uniform (I was a sargeant in the Canadian Womens’ Corps) but a friend said: “Borrow my dress.” After the war, there wasn’t a lot to choose from. Women loaned their wedding dresses. If I’d only waited, because the next wedding was Margaret Lockwood’s. She loaned out her dress. She was a famous movie star. I could’ve been married in her lace dress. 

My friend Jerri said,” I’ll make the bridesmaids’ dresses. In the department store we found some organdy netting. We bought yards and yards of it. The dresses were plain with three-quarter sleeves and full skirts. There was no lace or decorations. She made hats with three pom-poms on them. We decided we didn’t want white bridesmaids’ gowns so we dyed two of them pink and one green. It was the first wedding after the war was over so people were excited. 

The jeweler loaned us pearl necklaces and the florist brought us sweet peas. The organist was on her sickbed but she got up to play, she had to pump the bellows. The cook made sandwiches for us. It sounds a little silly now but it was very pretty with pink and green bread—to match the dresses. They were probably filled with Spam, come to think of it. Our wedding cake was pretty with three tiers held up by pillars. 

Some friends came from Canada. It was a June wedding—the war was just over. It was quite an occasion in that small town. The officers showed up in their Sam Browns and their sticks. They looked quite handsome. My husband was in the airforce, they didn’t wear Sam Browns. So for our honeymoon we went off to London and then we went to Perensey, to a shingle beach…I looked for shingles and there weren’t any. Just round rocks. 

The end of a lovely honeymoon, he went back to Scotland and I went to Farnborough. I was a court stenographer for the Court’s Marshall. I was one of the first women to enlist in the army. I just wanted to get out of Peterborough. It was an interesting life. I met my husband in Kingston, where we were trained. I wanted desperately to get to England, which I did, and I got married there. 

I’d gone to school in Canada. I was a qualified secretary so I knew shorthand. There were some interesting cases, some stupid ones. After the war was over, there was a lot of celebrating and rioting. One time an officer took a tankard from a pub, and for that he was dishonorably discharged, for a bit of foolishness. Imagine going through the war and then being dishonorably discharged for that? A waste of time—men getting two years in prison for rioting in the streets after the war was over. The reason why they rioted was because they weren’t getting home fast enough. They had to wait two more years before they were sent home. 

—Beth Spence

I think the sad thing is that we weren’t born old. The young, they don’t understand what it’s like being old—not just the youngsters today—when any of us were young.

—Beth Spence

The older you get, the more understanding we get. The older we get the more knowledge we have. Knowledge is understanding and acceptance. —Lael Sorensen

Don’t we all have regrets… —Beth Spence

The things we didn’t do…—Lael

The things of omission are worse that the things of commission. At least you remember and enjoyed them. Things of commission, I mean. Once there was a blind man going along the way. Instead of helping him, I did nothing. Some sins of omission, you can’t forget, they stay with you and haunt you. —Beth

A lot of the sins of omission are due to hubris —Lael

Having 4 kids in tow, I made a quick decision not to help him. I should’ve stopped but I didn’t. Boy, that still bothers me to this day and that was over 50 years ago. —Beth

We often do things in a hurry. If you are in a hurry, you do the best you can. … It’s funny.

Your heart is where you grow up, no matter where you’ve been. I remember one girl got off in the most godforsaken place, and when the bus stopped in this most godforsaken place I’d ever seen, she was so excited. Home is where the heart is. —Lael Sorensen

When you’re young, you can work your way through things. The wind beneath your wings…takes us to such strange places. —Beth Spence.  3/17/06

It’s funny how the church was the center of our lives. Most social functions happened at the church hall. In our case it was the church basement, with only one stairway. We’d have a Christmas party with a Christmas tree lit with candles on it. To think what could’ve happened if they caught fire. There was no running water in the basement so they’d run a hose down to the basement and created a makeshift kitchen. They’d have a wonderful time at those parties. There were probably no more than 100 people in the congregation. St. Mark’s Church was only a couple of blocks from our house. It helped that Dad was an organist and choir director so we were the big cheeses. Mother was quite involved with putting on church functions too. The only time in my life I ever got a spanking was in church. I kept running up the aisle to sit with Dad who was playing hymns on the organ. 

—Beth Spence