* KEEPING THE DREAM ALIVE! *
- A Letter From The Yukon Trail -
- 1918 -
* My Grandfather & His Family's Log Cabin *
- In the Canadian Wilderness -
Around the turn of the (last) century
In the following true-life letter,
- Coleman Wheeler -
- 1998 -
my Grandfather, Roy Wheeler, left the Chicago area
with my Grandmother, Bertha, to homestead in Canada
(on Lesser Slave Lake) in the wilderness
north of Edmonton.
to his Sister-in-law Florence in Illinois,
he brings to life some of the personal hardships
and love of the great outdoors he and Grandma
experienced. My Dad was born & raised there -
in the Wheeler family's hand-hewn log cabin.
(a.k.a. "Hawkeye")
* My Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Roy *
- Aunt Marion, & Dad -
Kinuso, Alberta
19 August 1918
Dear Florence,
Bert wrote you about the Freeze family,
who were burned out lock, stock, & barrel.
This happening, together with it's results,
so perfectly exemplifies the spirit
of these homestead folk,
a sketchy report may be of interest.
That you may get any idea of the picture,
I must paint in some sort of background.
On a small, barren, Ontario farm,
- 63-years -
He scrimped along without the slightest chance
"I want my children to have it easier than I did."
An unsound doctrine, defeating it's own purpose
Dad Freeze put in a lifetime of hard work,
of improving his condition.
Forced to admit this fact, at his age,
was a bitter dose.
He set out at once to do something about it.
With the guts & determination of a twenty-year old,
he picked up his family
(wife, 2-sons, & a daughter)
and found his way to this community.
The urge prompting this momentous act
was to give his children a break.
Frustrated ambition, in a parent,
often breaks out this way -
by dulling the youngster's desire to accomplish
something on his own hook.
Mrs. Freeze, a tired little woman
afflicted by a slight stroke,
has a hitch in her walk as well as a hitch in her brain,
although she well attends to her many tasks.
Dad Freeze worked regularly with us in the woods,
about two-miles from his home. One morning we glanced up
the trail and beheld Mrs. Freeze stumbling toward us,
waving her arms frantically. We rushed to her;
she was badly bruised, her clothes torn,
but in a hysterical collapse she gasped,
"Fire!"
She had fallen many times
& had all but passed out during her 2-mile race.
With all the old-time furor of a fire department,
The entire family has lived with us since then,
Thrifty Dad had just laid in
...Destitution...
Why, a collar button
we hitched up a team and made a stump-hurdling,
record run. A washday's overheated stove
had done the trick. Smouldering ashes marked
the recent location of the Freeze house & barn.
two-months. It has been a tight squeeze
as to accomodations. You seldom hear of so complete
a loss. Buildings, furniture, clothes, even currency
to the tune of $250.00.
an especially large stock of supplies:
flour & sugar by the bag, cured meats, canned goods,
clothes and goodness knows what else.
Even the old ladies spectacles & false teeth were missing.
would have seemed something big to salvage.
By "grapevine telegraph" the entire valley
learned of the Freezes' predicament.
This communications system works
with uncanny accuracy;
never are there wrong phone numbers,
line interruptions, delayed or distorted telegrams.
News just spreads itself with light waves
to distances far & remote.
Back to the Freezes:
This is a glorious epic -
Following the fire, early next morning,
a tribute to the "human-ness" of humans.
I wish someone would tell it as it should be told.
neighbors from far & near
appeared at the Freeze homestead site.
There was no outspoken condolence,
no idle curiosity, no question as to what to do.
With army precision,
this crew set about the business
for which it had gathered.
The small amount of debris was cleared away
and the sound of keen axes & falling trees
already was heard in the nearby woods.
No shouted instructions,
no protracted debates over blueprint plans.
Very soon, in came the skidding teams
with the building logs.
Up popped men with double-bitted axes
& crosscut saws. Logs expertly notched,
foundation logs of another Freeze home,
rolled into place.
This monument swiftly rose, so very beautiful
in it's conception that it far surpasses
your grand monuments in your fine cities.
There was no special dedication,
a service of this kind would be entirely superfluous.
We did not miss the plug-hatted politician
who usually does the dedicating.
Each day brought a new crew to carry on.
From the railroad station came the millwork,
There appeared as if from nowhere:
groceries, wearing apparel, clock, stove, harness,
All this that had transpired dazed me.
Downright witchery!
Some master genius had merely waved his wand,
doors, & windows. Few will ever know by whom
this material was furnished. The lumber dealer
was suspected. Soon the roofs were completed,
then came the deluge:
bedding, dishes, and even tobacco to ease tense nerves.
Pictures, mirrors, doilies, towels, and even a box
of toothpicks. I saw these neighborly workmen,
when leaving for the last time,
lovingly gaze at their favorite tools
and leave them behind, these tools to be
ready-to-hand for later use by Dad Freeze.
and quickly; thus had all these wonders come to pass.
Again, from nowhere came the word
that some cash was needed.
An old shoebox was fixed on the general store counter,
people passed it & into it dropped their mite.
No subscription lists, no knowing of individual
contributions. No Jones vying with a Smith,
never a whisper of charity or philanthropy.
Cash was plenty scarce & the first check of the shoebox
showed an inadequate amount of funds.
Again the box went on the counter, a second-time
people passed it and when the cover was lifted,
Lo! An ample sum had been provided.
Now all that was needed was to persuade the Freezes
"All Aboard!"
The little old lady was on her way to secure specs
to board the train for Edmonton, 200-miles away.
At the last minute, tickets & bills were thrust
into hesitant hands and the conductor bellowed
& teeth & other necessities that could not
be acquired nearer home. In tearful gratitude
& with an unfailing will, old Dad Freeze
makes another start.
The successful, efficient solution of this problem
would put to shame any public welfare
or benefit organization of which I've ever heard.
It is difficult to think of paid caseworkers
& "relief" listed as a commercial commodity
with effort & money wasted,
cruel & criminal political administration
& the expense almost exceeding
the actual amount of relief.
I presume you think of this country
Don't so think of it.
Even our free, wild animals are more friendly
How about "State" & "Madison" corner?
There, millions tread on your toes
Where could you find
This also brings to mind apartments
Can there be such a thing as an apartment dweller
as of wide & open spaces & made up mostly
of lonesomeness.
than those of your famous ZOO. May I mention
the most lonely spot for me?
& elbow you out of their way in a mad,
rushing stampede. (Should you accost someone
with a neighborly salutation, without doubt,
you would be thrown in the hoosegow
as a kidnap suspect.)
a more crushingly lonesome condition?
with their clotheslines & fire escapes.
Did you ever watch the never-ending struggling mass
furtively scurry for cover
into their darkened burrows
during the five to six o'clock rush hour?
by choice?
By the way, our cabin is astride
the old Klondike Trail of 1898.
It is quite isolated, yet there is no lock on the door.
Should a wayfarer arrive during our absence,
he walks in, cooks himself a meal
& resumes his journey. However our code insists
that he wash the dishes & leave plenty of dry kindling.
Not to observe these items of etiquette
would likely prove fatal. A like breach of etiquette
could not be cited, even by Emily Post.
A rambling piece of writing is this,
I apologize for & retract everything
So Long,
* My Grandma, Uncle Roy, Aunt Marion *
Email:adventur@midwest.net
you may read only the news
& skip my uncalled-for-comments.
that might incite debate.
Roy
- Grandpa, & Dad -
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* THE CREATIVE WORLD OF COLEMAN WHEELER! *
