Sherman

Sherman, an adventure through life for the author and her family. From Montreal, where she was born, four siblings, mom and dad, survived the cold of winter and the humid heat of summer on the Atlantic. A poor family, health issues moved them to the west coast, to Vancouver, in beautiful British Columbia. With both parents having a strong work ethic it didn’t take long to find work to support the family. Her Mother, Rae, a borderline genius, worked as a waitress most of her life to help keep the family fed and in good clothes, sometimes living above their means. The stress of debt caused many migraines for her father, Issie, who worked as a janitor most of his life, but his job was much more than that. Working mostly at hospitals, he spent time with patients, becoming a friend and an encourager to many. If one parent was sick the other got a second job. They did all they could to survive and provide for their children. All the kids worked at one time or another during school to get things they would enjoy, candy, going bowling, or going to the P.N.E. The Pacific National Exhibition came once a year every summer to Vancouver. The three oldest kids joined the army cadet program. Wearing the uniform proudly they worked at the circus,part of the summer. When mom was a Manageress/Hostess at the now defunct Park Royal Hotel and Restaurant in West Vancouver, all the kids got part-time jobs there; from working reception and the hotel switchboard, to bussing tables. Everyone had something to do. Movie directors, actors and many personalities stayed at the hotel and sometimes became dinner guests at our home, even giving some of us rides back to work. At one time the DuPont heiress and her friend stayed with us during one of their visits from eastern Canada. Life was never dull. Everyone had chores and towed the line or mom came home and raised the roof. No one wanted to make her angry. Years later we would find out she had bipolar disease. That may have explained some of her eccentric behaviors. Or maybe that was just learned behavior from her father who ‘was’ a genius, as an interpreter for a government office. He would pass on his gift for languages to his daughter who learned at least seven, most of them self-taught. Each child had their own responsibilities and expectations. On cleaning day classical music filled every corner of the house as we swept and scrubbed. If mom came home to a clean house after working long days she was happy. However, the struggle of working in difficult environments where women were treated with little respect took its toll on mum and sometimes she would come home and pass out. Dad was always there for her though, caring, helping, cleaning, shopping, or keeping peace. One year for his birthday, we had no money to purchase a present. That was common while we were young. We made a peanut butter and jam sandwich, wrapped it up and put it in a big box stuff with papers. Loving baking back then at about age ten, I baked a cake and we frosted it. Dad dug through the box and found the sandwich. With a big smile he coined his endearing exclamation, “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” That was Dad. He could find the good wherever he looked for it. He was a good father, a great husband and servant. Four days before he died he professed a faith in God’s son and was ‘born again’. Our family had many struggles but we always remembered the good work ethic and family ties our parents taught us. Each day was a new adventure.