While I descend from a long line of farmers and labourers, I sure have a lot of healthcare providers in my family tree!
I’ve written about my grandmother, Helen Lerner, who ended up becoming a hospital lab technician instead of attending Normal School to become a teacher. I’ve also written about my great great grandmother, Ella Thomas, who was a midwife for over 40 years. I have a sibling who is a physician, and her mother-in-law is also a prominent well-known physician. One of my siblings is a pharmacist. I have two aunts who were nurses. I have a sister-in-law who works in healthcare public policy and another who is a nurse practitioner specializing in mental health. Even my occupation is part of the healthcare system.
Helen Lerner, Hospital Lab TechnicianElla Thomas, Midwife
My wife’s family is also replete with people in the healthcare industry. There are numerous physicians in her maternal line, including her great grandfather who was a colleague of Dr. Frederick Banting, who co-discovered insulin. In fact, his daughter was one of Dr. Banting’s first patients to receive the medication. Many of the physicians in my wife’s tree served as medics in World Wars One and Two. Her grandmother also drove ambulance for the Red Cross during World War Two.
My own mother went into nursing. However, she was only in the training program for four months. She had to leave the program because at the time you could not be married or have children. That was about to change. My parents married after my mother left the program, and I came along not too much later.
I am absolutely certain my grandmother, Helen Lerner, could have made anything from scratch, sweet or savory. She was a fantastic baker. She made her own pickles from what my grandfather grew in the garden. She made homemade noodles for her homemade soups. I’m pretty sure there was a time back in the day she made her own soap. Of course, she made her own jams, jellies, and preserves. One of my favourites was her chokecherry jam.
Chokecherries
My grandmother passed away when I was finishing my last month of grade eleven. In the last year or two of my grandmother’s life, my mother often went to Lethbridge to help her out and, later, visit her in hospital. After one of her last visits, my mother returned home with a bunch of things my grandmother had made, including several jars of chokecherry jam. I was pretty sure that they did not last long in our family of seven.
Fast forward to just over a year later. I moved to Vancouver to attend my first year of undergrad at the University of B.C. A few weeks after having moved into residence, my mother sent me a box of my things. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the box included the last jar of my grandmother’s chokecherry jam. Needless to say, I did not rush through that jar. I used it judiciously and sparingly, without being stingy, and savored every bit of it. It was a wonderful way to remember my grandmother.
In the early 1970s, my maternal grandparents, Leo Burgess and Helen Lerner, were more than happy to rely on what seemed me to be horribly outdated and obsolete technology. My grandmother still used a wringer-washer and my grandfather used a push mower that to me seemed to be older than Methuselah.
These were both very much like the implements my grandparents used. I remember they each let me have a try at using them. Needless to say, both were hard work. I’ll stick to our modern gizmos, thanks. [Images shared per Creative Commons licences 3.0 Unported and 2.0 Generic, respectively. Links: washer; lawn mower.]
My mother still has the scrub board my grandmother used. She used to keep it in a spare room, which is where I photographed it. A few years ago my folks built a new house, so it now sits in a place of pride.
As can be faintly seen on the washboard, it was manufactured by Fraser Western Broom and Woodenware Ltd. in Vancouver, B.C. I see that the Museum of Vancouver, which is less than a half hour drive from where I live, has one in its collection. Based on the information on the item on its website, this washboard could not have been manufactured any later than 1950. That means my grandmother’s washboard must have been at least 25 or 30 years old when I first saw it.
While it may seem my grandparents clung to the past, they did not eschew more modern technology. Ever since before I was in kindergarten, my grandfather always used an electric razor. We always loved it when he would hold it up to our cheeks so that we could have a shave, too. I have the last electric razor my grandfather owned before he passed away in 1995, a Philishave 765. Not only does it still work, but to my surprise I’m still able to buy replacement blades for it. I rarely use it, however, because I still prefer to use a manual razor; plus, several years ago my wife bought me a new one.
This razor must be at least 30 years old, if not older, but it still works!
This week’s theme for the 52 Ancestors Challenge is “Oops”. A true “oops” does not readily come to mind, although I know I’ve had a few over the last many years. This is about more of a mistaken conclusion based upon incomplete information than it was an actual “oops”, but it was a misleading error nonetheless.
Helen Lerner, about 1945. Not English.
When I was about four or five, my maternal grandmother, Helen Lerner, went to England. At the time, my mother told me that grandma was going over to visit relatives. To me, it seemed reasonable to conclude that grandma must have been English. On top of that, at that young age I had no idea what my grandmother’s surname at birth had been, I just knew her as “Grandma Burgess”, and Burgess sounded like it could be English (spoiler alert: it wasn’t).
Meanwhile, I only knew Helen’s mother, my great grandmother, as “Grandma Wright”. Again, I had no idea what her surname at birth might have been or that she had previously been married. Wright also seemed pretty English to me, which only reinforced my belief that Grandma Burgess was English.
By eight or nine I developed my interest in genealogy. I even bought a book to help me along, Digging for My Roots, by Michael Scheier and Julie Frankel, which I still have to this day. When I started, I unknowingly did what one is supposed to do as a beginner in genealogy: ask your parents or other close family members. In addition to asking my mom some questions, I also copied what she had written in the family bible. In doing so, I learned my grandmother and great grandmother’s surnames at birth; however, I didn’t realize that “Lerner” and “Anton” were German. It seemed to me that those surnames could also be English. Moreover, my mother had not entered the place of birth for either of her maternal grandparents. When filling out the pedigree in my book, I can’t recall asking my mom where her grandparents were born. However, what little space there was to write place of birth remains blank. (Needless to say, it is recorded in my desktop database!)
My copy of Digging for My Roots, which I still have. On the right, you can see that I don’t have a place of birth for my great grandmother Ameilia Anton.
When I was in grade seven, I started taking French in school. However, when I started high school in grade eight, there were many other language options. I decided to drop French and take German. By that time, I had already begun trying to teach myself Dutch, so I figured studying German would help me with that goal. I also knew that, for some reason, my Grandma Burgess knew German. How or why she did, I had no clue. It clearly didn’t cross my mind to ask. It seems pretty daft in hindsight, but there you go.
Emelia Anton, around 1920. Also not English.
During Christmas break in grade eight, we visited Grandma Wright. During the visit, my mom said, “Grandma, guess what? Sean is studying German in school!” My first thought was to wonder why great grandma would find that particularly interesting, but my train of thought was quickly interrupted by my great grandmother immediately starting to speak to me in fluent German. I’m sure you could have knocked me over with a feather, I was so surprised. (I was also pleased with myself that I understood some of what she was saying.)
After we left, I asked my mom how it was that great grandma spoke German. My mother responded, “Because she’s German.” She was?!?
Later on, my mother told that my great grandmother was born in Russia. Of course, that confused me further. My mother then explained that her grandmother’s family was actually from Ukraine, but weren’t Ukrainian. That is when I learned about the Germans from Russia, who were colonists who settled in territory held by the Russian Empire in the 18th and 19th centuries.
Fortunately, none of these misunderstandings resulted in me wandering aimlessly down the garden path. Rather, learning the correct facts sparked my interest and put me on the correct path.
A Deck of Ancestors 
