Pappy's ducks

Silvanus "Van" Bolton Waffle, in 1920 on his brother-in-law's farm.

Family activities have a way of stirring up memories, reinforcing links across the generations. What started as an incentive for my children has brought Pappy to mind.

It was a ruse to lure my daughters to the park so I could continue some form of my daily walk whenever they're visiting. In general, the girls are agreeable to visiting the river. But not first thing in the morning when they would rather lounge in their pyjamas.

"After breakfast we'll take some bread to the park and feed the ducks," I told them.

"Okay," was their cheerful reply.

Sudden recollection

Now the children are away again, but I find myself carrying a crust to the park again one morning. I like interacting with the small flock of mallards that has established its winter resting grounds along the Eramosa River. And as I stand, throwing pieces of bread, I suddenly envision a larger crowd of ducks and geese on a snow-covered lawn beside the Detroit River. Pappy, my grandfather, loved to feed them.

Silvanus Bolton Waffle, born in 1902, had a difficult youth, losing first his mother and then his father by the time he was 17. But he received help from an older sister and brother-in-law, and being an industrious fellow he became fairly successful. In 1923 he left home in the small Ontario town of Simcoe and went to work for Ford Motor Company in Windsor, the Canadian sister city to Detroit. By 1933, the year my father was born, Pappy had launched his own business. Over the years it evolved into Waffle's Electric Ltd., which is still run by my father and brother.

Soft-hearted was not among the descriptors most people would have used for my grandfather. He was not rough, but he was a stubborn, hard worker all his life. My own father remembers him as an remote and inaccessible man. But I seem to have had a special relationship with Pappy. Being the youngest child of his youngest child, I was the grandson of his old age.

Pappy's pastimes

Pappy loved to tell stories, especially about his experiences working as a seasonal harvester in Manitoba and Saskatchewan in 1922. When everyone else had tired of these tales, I remained content to sit on his knee and listen over and over.

After supper he would take me to his upstairs study. Together we would pore for hours over his stamps and coins, and the family tree which he had carefully researched.

Go To Page: 1 2 3

Articles in this Topic    Discussions in this Topic