I have fond memories of summertime as a child going to rodeos and street dances to watch my dad’s band perform. Music was a part of my life and my family from the very start. I remember sitting on the basement stairs singing along as the band rehearsed and, as a family, helping unload gear after a gig. My love of music, the joy it brings and the family connection it provided is something I share in common with my homesteading ancestors who used music as a way to come together not only as family but as community.
Many instruments made their way to the prairies in homesteading days from guitars to violins, accordions to bag pipes and even larger instruments like pianos and pump organs. For those, like myself, that loved music but never learned an instrument, there were victrolas and phonographs and then in later years the beloved radio. Music was a unifying pastime for the cold winter nights and joyous Sunday mornings. Families gathering around to sing, dance and enjoy each other’s company. It helped to forget the fears of uncertain times, remember the places of their birth and to be filled with the expectations of days to come. It brought everyone together in a common purpose to sing, to mourn, to listen, and to appreciate. The prairie pioneers would have been dumbstruck, I’m sure, at the musical abilities we have today! I can fill the room with music by simply saying, “Hey Google, play 50’s hits”, I can find practically any song I want on YouTube, and I can take all that music anywhere I want with a small pocket-sized device! We are truly fortunate! I can fill my life with music without ever learning an instrument and without ever interacting with another person. Oh wait! What of a family gathering around the piano on a Saturday evening or going to the local dance with friends and that special someone? My heart can’t help but mourn just a little at the stories of old. In making music easier we may have made connecting harder. Perhaps after recovering from their shock (you want me to put this in my ear???), the pioneers would look at the lack of family sing-a-longs and missing community music groups and decide not to make the trade. They had a genuine need for people – a need we usually try to mitigate, override, and avoid. But not all hope is lost! We may not be able to gather around the old pump organ, but we can use our vast technology to reconnect with people! We can gather our household and pull out the board games or maybe dust off the karaoke machine! We can connect digitally and enjoy the company of others. Then, look forward with anticipation and excitement to seeing live performances again, going to concerts, and making the time to connect as a community and a world. We can plan now for all the places we will go and things we will see! I happen to know a great museum in the small town of Morse, SK… Opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Morse Museum & Cultural Centre, its Board of Directors or sponsors
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The homestead era of prairie life was filled with excitement both good and bad. This excitement was often created by the limited resources and lack of access to what we would consider basic necessities today. Weather forecasts in the palm of your hand were the predictions of the latest farmers almanac. Sudden unexplained weather, which we occasionally see on the Canadian Prairies, was cause for all sorts of excitement. Simple tasks like laundry and preparing a meal could become daunting chores when faced with the need for water and fuel for your stove, that is, if you had a stove. The most acute of ailments like a common cold or the more severe life-threatening illnesses or injuries could stir all sorts of excitement. Doctors were often few and far between. Not all exciting stories of our homesteading ancestors, though, ended in despair. There was humor, to be sure, and what some may call divine intervention and what others may call sheer luck. For young Ida Anger, she may have raised thanks heavenward the day The Good Book saved her life.
When Ida was just nine years old, she was doing the very ordinary chore of helping mother with supper. Peeling potatoes may have lacked excitement but it allowed her to sit at the table after a long day. Just as her mind was full of the task at hand and the air full of the delicious aromas of supper, she was joined at the table by the hired hand. He was seeking rest as well after his long day and as every good pioneer knows ‘rest’ must still be productive. He took the seat opposite Ida to clean his gun. Between them, the large family Bible. For all the excitement and unknowns of prairie life, this provided a sense of grounding, of bright hope for tomorrow. It was the reason for Ida’s bright hope for tomorrow for as the hired hand set the gun on the table a shot rang out in the small homestead shack. All supper preparation ceased, excitement rose in the hearts of all in the house and the yard as the shot was clearly heard. It took only a moment, a very long and very silent moment for the reality to set in. Although trembling, no wound could be found and Ida was safe. Closer examination found what had taken the bullet for Ida, the large family Bible, not unlike the story its pages tell. Laughter and tears erupted as excitement calmed. Another close call. Another exciting story. Another happy ending for the homesteaders of this wild prairie. Shrapnel imbedded in the table and a bullet hole in the book’s worn pages are all that remains of the incident. That and the excitement still stirred in the hearts of visitors to the Morse Museum as they are told Ida’s story and see the Bible with the bullet hole on display. Opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Morse Museum & Cultural Centre, its Board of Directors or sponsors. I recently purchased a new-to-me used stove. It has all the bells and whistles of a modern-day appliance. At the touch of a button I can bake, broil or warm and it’s pre-heated in a matter of minutes! With the turn of a knob the stove top heats to various temperatures and sizes. It can self-clean, steam-clean and proof my bread. This shiny piece of modern genius has more functions then I’ll ever use but only one purpose – food preparation. If I was a homesteader coming to the new community of Morse in the late 1800’s my stove would look much different and, like so many things ‘back then’, it would serve many purposes. Although it may have been as simple as a fireplace it was incredibly versatile. With far fewer frills and conveniences, it did many chores. But versatility came at a price in those days and my stove, like many other things, would've required me to do my fair share of the work.
As the old saying goes, ‘jack of all trades and a master of none’, a typical stove found on the land of a homesteader acted as a stove, furnace and water heater. In exchange for the constant tending, the old range would provide warmth to the house, food for the table and water for the wash basin. All this came at a hefty price tag and I don’t mean in reference to dollars, although they did cost a substantial amount to purchase. They cost, what my dad likes to call ‘sweat equity’. It cost you hard work and inconvenience especially when compared to the highly automated systems of today. The idea of tending a stove, I’ll admit, leaves me a bit bewildered. Without a proper adjustment tool, like a button or knob, how does one achieve a proper temperature? With a lot of practice and skill I suppose. This would not be my only challenge I’m sure. I would undoubtedly get busy with another of my many chores and suddenly wonder why I can’t feel my fingers and toes! Here at the Morse Museum, we have two old coal/wood powered stoves in our homesteading room – intimidating old things. The one in our ‘bachelor shack’ is a 1904 Home Comfort model made by the Wrought Iron Range Co. It was owned by Ernest and Nora Grossehmig (see last week’s post). Next is our 1930’s kitchen. I once asked a young student on a field trip to look at the kitchen and tell me something different from their kitchen at home. He quickly pointed to the large McClary and said ‘the stove’. When I said he was right he added ‘My stove doesn’t have a name on it’. This McClary is a beautiful piece in excellent condition. It has a built-in boiler on one side to heat water and a quaint little oven. Along with these two stoves we have an impressive ‘parlor stove’ that is also in our homestead room. This large decorative item would have been located, as the name says, in the parlor. More modern and elaborate homes would use this to heat the sitting room and some had an area in the back for a pot or kettle. Although today, we no longer gather around the big wood stove to keep warm, it’s still a necessity in our homes. It is perhaps ironic that as its use has simplified its function has complicated. A stove that needs only to prepare my food has more settings than I could shake a stick at and the stove of old served so many purposes and I needed only to throw a stick in. We may spend less time pre-heating but we spend our extra time sorting out how to set the clock! Opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Morse Museum & Cultural Centre, its Board of Directors or sponsor It seems every homeowner has their favorite item, unique feature or interesting story they like to share while giving the ‘house tour’. Here at the Morse Museum, my favorite display and all my best stories are at the Ernest Grossehmig display. This wild cowboy has tales tall enough to rival Paul Bunyan and get a movie deal. It leaves an impressionable museum coordinator wondering just how much is true.
Ernest Grossehmig was born in Germany in 1866 and set sail for the United States at the age of 14. He was a farm hand, wagon train scout, cowboy, award winning farmer, sheep rancher, rodeo rider, magician, prison guard, and a game warden. He joined up with Buffalo Bill doing trick shooting. During this time, he performed with Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley in London for Queen Vitoria. He once met the ‘James Boys’ – a notorious gang and stayed with them for a couple days and is rumored to have outshot Frank James. He worked with the US cavalry and was a prison warden in Wala Wala Washington. He was awarded 160 acres of land by President Rosevelt for his work with the US Cavalry. In 1901 he married Nora Drisler Strauss, a widow with 3 children. In 1909, they came to Canada with their 7 children and homesteaded near Hodgeville, SK. In 1911 they lost 3 of their children in severe blizzard and in 1926 the family moved to the Ernfold area where they farmed sheep. Like all the tall tales and folklore of this time period, the more people I talk to and the more stories I hear the more exciting Ernest’s life becomes. Except, in Ernest's case, I have the proof before me that at least most of the stories are true. I see his picture, read the newspaper interviews and hear the first hand accounts. Considering he lived his days as a young man in wild west, it's not so unbelievable that he would have some incredible stories to share. Especially someone so seemingly fearless and talented. His amazing shooting ability could be right out of an old western. The man is a local legend! He could shoot 9 shots in a ½” bullseye, shoot the ash off a cigarette, drive a pin into the wall firing a pistol, and would hold a mirror up to shoot backwards over his shoulder! His senior years were also filled with adventure as he was out roller-skating, outshooting police officers at marksmen competitions and at the age of 91 he was supervising production of a film about Buffalo Bill. Ernest passed away in 1965 at the age of 99 and we have many artifacts at the museum from his life including farming awards, newspaper articles and his ‘Peace Pipe’ from his time in Wala Wala Washington. “Life begins at any age you want to live it” – Ernest Grossehmig age 91 A special thank-you to the decedents of Ernest who graciously loaned and, in some cases, donated items to our collection. It is my joy and pleasure to continue sharing his life with those who visit us. Opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Morse Museum & Cultural Centre, its Board of Directors or sponsors My favorite comic strip is by far Calvin and Hobbes. An ongoing gag is that Calvin’s dad makes him do chores to ‘build character’ and Calvin is constantly complaining about this. I have my own character-building memories from childhood. Saturday was chore day and we had a list to be completed before we were able to leave the house. Did chores actually build character? I think so. They foster work ethic, responsibility and a sense of accomplishment, although, we certainly didn’t think so at the time.
Considering the chores of my grandparents and their homesteading parents, I should have been thankful for the chores I had to do. Pioneer children in the early 1900’s would have had a very different set of chores. Their toilet didn’t flush, the water didn’t come out hot and the primary mode of transportation had bathroom needs. I can only imagine, especially after my experiences camping, what an outhouse would have been like to clean. But then again, did they clean them? At the turn of the century they weren’t as pre-occupied with germs as we are today. There was, however, water to haul, stalls to muck, animals to feed and clothes to scrub. Both past and present, everyone had their own job to do and worked together to get the chores done. My family didn’t live on a farm, which automatically increases the work tenfold (at least), but we worked hard to keep the house and yard clean. Us kids sure complained about doing our part, though, hours of chores taking us all morning! Today I would love to be finished my chores by lunch. We are now grown-up children who have learned our life lessons from shoveling snow, cleaning bathrooms and scrubbing floors. We’ve gained the understanding that life is hard work – no matter the age. That there is always work to do and a sense of pride and accomplishment to be gained by a job well done. And when we grow-up, we have our own children to help us shovel snow, clean bathrooms and scrub floors. Part of the character building was learning to delegate. I’m sure if we saw a present-day Calvin and Hobbes comic he would be telling his son to “go mow the lawn – it builds character” but he would have a knowing smirk on his face thinking of how the roles have shifted and now it’s someone else’s turn to ‘build character’. Opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Morse Museum & Cultural Centre, its Board of Directors or sponsors |