and had them for friends, the Ber- nards, the Gaudets and Gradys. They sat around in living rooms in military married quarters in out of the way places such as Yorkton, Saskatchewan, and Moosenee, On— tario, and talked about the Island,

g who married whom, who had â babies, who got divorced. When we came «home» the scene was

the same; only the people were different. Mom and Dad sat around at night with Granny and Granddad and with the other relatives who were there and talked again about people, who married whom, who had children, etc. We ate unusual foods like lobster, râpure, chicken fricot, chowder, yellow—eyed beans, bannock and French biscuits. I swear that if there were a fire at our house, my parents would have saved the grinder and râpure pans before my brother and me. When I was dating my future wife, I invited her over for a râpure supper. She’s from Nova Scotia English and Upper Canada Loyalist heritage, so l explained t0 her that if we had any future, she would have t0 learn t0 like râpure. Turned out, she loved it! She has even mastered how to make it. ln a catastrophe, I Wonder if she would not save the pans bcfore the children, or maybe beforc the husband.

Anothcr influence was that because my father joined the Canadian Air Force shortly after my birth, we lived in several arcas acmss Canada, Despite where we lived, Summerside was referrcd tu as «hmnen. Surin-lime in February or March, the topic of uAre WL‘ going home this sumlner?» would cornu up. Now wc livcd in mn‘lforlahle accommndalions, we hud furniture and Clothes wherever we liwd. W‘ had a ruof uver nnr hends, lui-al and waler and four walls. lin! it was jus! where wv liwd. llonw was Snnnnersidc! We did nul own a building here or even luml, bul it was home!

As a yonlh, l renwmlwr lingvriny,

on the deck of the «Abegweit», the original one, not the modem plastic and fiberglass copy, and also on the «SS Prince Edward Island», just savoring the view of the coast of the Island. It is hard t0 explain the thrill or the excitement it gave me as the shoreline came into focus. You could smell it, you could see it, and you could feel it. Very, very few of my classmates and friends in Yorkton or Moosonee were from here. They did not take a ferry to

go home. The ground of their homeland was not red. They did not know the colour of the Island clay, how it tastes when

the wind blows it off the newly ploughed fields, the feel of it being wet and mushed between your toes. l was from a very unique and special place. I knew it then and I still know it now.

We once carne very close t0 living here on the Island. My father was transferred t0 a place where there were no married quarters available. My mother, brother and I came home t0 live with my grand— mother on East Street. My cousin Darrell gave me some schoolbooks I would need in the classroom here in Summerside. Among them was a history book entitled lec Story of Prince Edu‘ard Island by P. Blakely and M. Vernon. It was in 1965 and I was almost eleven. I read the book during my summer vacation. When we very quickly left t0 ioin my fathcr as he had found a house for us tu live in, l kept that hook. l still have it. lt has been rend scveral times.

Another bnok that mnde an impact un my Iife was une my gmmlmnther had on her hoolxshelf, “l‘he title was Cm! Cinqmmliùnu' Armizu'rmirv dr’ la paroisse N. D. du Muni— Cm'nu'l, 1813 — 191,3. She showed me hm' pan-ms! nanws in it, and how she was descendvd l‘rnm l‘au] Arsennnll, une of tlw pinneer settlers of Mont—(hrnwl. l was huokvd. l hnd tu know more.

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They did not know the colour of the Island clay,

how it; tastes I when the wind blows it off the newly ploughed fields, the fecl ofit beîng

I wet and mushed l between x; youi‘ toes.