Manitoba Hunter Safety Instructor

I have vague memories of watching Mom and Dad using rifles to shoot tin cans in the forests of Leaf Rapids. This would have been before Sean was born, and might have only happened once, possibly twice. Mom and Dad had those two rifles for decades (along with Granddad's shotgun), and that's the only time I can recall them ever being used. Mom and Dad finally got rid of the rifles sometime in the 2000s. I think they probably only had them in case of bears or wolves; I certainly don't remember them being hunting enthusiasts, despite Dad being a safety instructor through the 1970s. 

Another bit of family history I wish I'd asked about or written down before it was too late. 

Man in the Mirror

 

Patterns Now Unseen Forever

 

Lead Mallet

Someone made this by burying a styrofoam ball in sand, digging a hole, and then pouring molten lead into the hole, dissolving the styrofoam and filling the hole. When the lead cooled, the unknown creator got...this. Gemini thinks it was probably intended to be used as some kind of fishing tackle or a hammer. I have my doubts. Why Mom and Dad had this, I don't remember. Why I'm keeping it, despite being a bit worried about lead poisoning, well...I guess I feel like Mom and Dad would want me to. Or maybe not. 
 

Serpentine Core

Sometimes customers from the Ruttan Mine would bring Mom and Dad interesting little keepsakes, like this serpentine core. It's smooth and soapy, and it feels like a little piece of home. 
 

A Woman of Salt Lake

In 2019, Mom accompanied Aunt Jean and Uncle John on what would ultimately be her last trip to Manitoba. I can't ask her now, so I don't know if this is Mom or Aunt Jean in the image. This is most likely Salt Lake, but I can't be sure. 
 

Man and Horse

Man and horse
A symbiosis 
Animal husbandry's
Ultimate gnosis
Strong back, fleet hooves
Domestication
Foundations of the horse-drawn nations
Bit and bridle, tack and saddle
A riding crop to act as paddle
An equal partnership, we say
But what of horse?
"I say thee neigh!" 


 

84

Mom would have been 84 today. Here she is with Dad, on the road to Leaf Rapids in 1974. 
 

Sad Times for Leaf Rapids

Mom, Dad, and Sean, summer of 1976 or possibly 1977
at the Suwanee River campground near Leaf Rapids

I only lived in Leaf Rapids for seven years or so, but they were foundational years. In the 1970s, Leaf Rapids was a thriving community of great natural beauty, built on the Canadian Shield's bedrock and wound through several acres of thick evergreen forest. It was a place not just for humans, but birds, bears, wolves, and--alas--thick clouds of mosquitoes and sandflies. Fortunately, dragonflies the size of sparrows hunted the pests down to manageable levels. 

Once the Ruttan Mine closed down, though Leaf Rapids has been in steady decline. Population, services, amenities, even local government--all the essentials are in short supply, and as CBC reports, things are getting worse. 

Part of me realizes that with no base for an economy, it's probably pragmatic to move the remaining residents to Lynn Lake or Thompson. But neither of those places ever captured my imagination, nor, in my view, have the natural beauty and ineffable mystery of Leaf Rapids. It was a great place to be a kid. 

 I hope that Manitobans can find a way to save Leaf Rapids. 

Uncle Gordon and Me

Among other Woods/Etsell losses in 2026, our Uncle Gordon Newton passed away earlier this year, and I just realized I haven't written anything about it until now. 

Here's Uncle Gordon with me in Leaf Rapids in the mid-1970s; this visit might have been the first time I met him and possibly Aunt Margaret, though I'm not sure if she came on this trip; she's not in any of the photos I have from this set. We doubtless spent some time fishing and camping, since that was the number one leisure activity in Leaf Rapids. 

Here he is with Mom and Dad, likely on the same day--all of them younger then than I am now. Time laughs at us, doesn't it? 

I was very fond of Uncle Gordon. He was superintendent of schools in Winnipeg for quite some time; he was very smart, erudite, and informed, and he had a voice I thought was quite captivating. Unfortunately, I probably only interacted with him in person perhaps a dozen or so times in my life, since for most of our time on Earth he lived in Manitoba and we lived in Alberta. Nonetheless, I'm glad that I was able to spend time with Uncle Gordon and Aunt Margaret; they were both very cool people. 

Rest in peace, Uncle Gordon. I hope my cousins Kathy, Barbara, and David are coping with their father's loss. 

Burntwood River at the Golden Hour

 

A Little Person with Some Little People

I found this just now while going through the folder of Mom's photos that I copied over from her iPad. I don't remember seeing this one before, but I definitely remember playing with the Fisher Price Little People Airport I'm seen unwrapping here. I can't say for certain, but based on my apparent age, the carpet, and the curtains, I'm guessing this was at our house in Thompson. 
 

Chair Buddies

 

First-Grade Outfit

 

This is my official grade one class photo, taken at the Leaf Rapids Education Centre. Mom made the vest and the pants that went with it. Nice job, Mom! 

Kindergarten Earl

Young Earl was a much less casual dresser than Old Earl. Does that outfit scream 1970s? I think it does. 
 

An Organic Interlude

Sometime in the mid-1970s, we travelled from Leaf Rapids to Thompson to buy an electronic organ. Mom or Dad shot a Polaroid of us playing with it in the spring of 1977. 

As a built-in teaching aid, the keys on this organ would light up to display the notes. Once you'd learned them, you could turn off the feature and play like a real organist. Mom and Dad got pretty good at it, as I recall, and the organ came with us to Alberta. I think Mom and Dad finally tired of it in the late 80s, or maybe it stopped working. 

The organ's brief presence in our lives is something of an anomaly, as neither Sean nor I play an instrument, nor did Mom and Dad seem to have much interest in doing so aside from this organic interlude. (Pun intended.) Maybe they hoped Sean or I would pursue music. Sean plays the harmonica, but me, well . . . I still have the recorder from the one music class I had in grade four or five, but I was and am pretty terrible. 

This is the our first Mother's Day without Mom, and it feels weird to say it, but I think they might have gotten a kick out of some of the stuff Sean and I have been doing with generative AI tools--taking old photos of fishing trips and turning them into movie clips and so on. Or this: 
 

Sean and Earl as painted by da Vinci. I think Mom would have gotten a chuckle out of this. Dad probably would have shaken his head, but I think he'd like the motorboat animations from our fishing trips. 

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. 

Memory Tools

Here are some of Granddad's old tools. Mom and Dad mounted these on a board from one of the Etsell sheds some years ago. These tools could date back to the 1930s. I'll find a spot to hang this; Sean has a similar tool board. I should ask him to take a photo. 

EDIT: He took a photo! I was mistaken. Sean took a barn board, but it didn't have tools on it. Instead, he mounted it on his wall, added hooks, and now he hangs his stuff on it. 

Memory Beacon

Sean and I each brought home one of these Beacon oil lanterns, originally used on the Etsell farm in Virden, Manitoba, and residing at Mom and Dad's place as long as I can remember...maybe since 1982, when Grandma died. General Steel Works started making these in 1911, but I don't think this one is that old, though I suppose it could be. I suspect it dates back at least to the 1940s. I'd say it might become handy when the apocalypse comes, but first I'd need to find oil and a wick to make it useful. 

EDIT: Sean reminded me that we actually gave the other oil lantern to Aunt Jean and Uncle John when they came by for Mom's celebration of life last year. 
 

The Memory Pool

As Sean and I continue to manage Mom's estate, we inevitably come upon connections to our family's past. I took this framed certificate down from the rec room wall today, and I don't know what to do with it. As a senior member of Manitoba Pool, Mom's dad would have been involved in governing the cooperative. I wonder what issues he might have voted on or advocated for. I don't remember Mom ever mentioning it. And unfortunately, I barely remember Granddad; he died not longer after this certificate was issued, and because we lived in northern Manitoba and Mom's parents in southern Manitoba, I probably only interacted with the man five or six times over the course of my life. 

I don't want to recycle it. But on the other hand, I have no heirs, so when I'm gone, whatever poor soul has to dispense with my estate will have to deal with it (along with all my other stuff). So keeping this only delays the inevitable. And creates more work for someone in the future. 

Sean and I have had to make some hard choices when it comes to Mom and Dad's stuff. We're trying to find good homes for anything useful. But for things like this, that only had meaning for Mom or Dad or maybe tangentially to Sean or me . . . I feel such guilt. On the other hand, I like to think that somehow our ancestors understand, and that they've moved beyond concerns like this. 




 

Reddit Glimpses Cranberry Portage

 

I came upon this post on r/1980s on Reddit just now, and I thought "Wow, this looks just like Grandma's place did in the 1980s. Hey...that looks like Mom and Dad's green Ford station wagon. And that looks like an Alberta plate. HEY...wait a minute..." 

I searched my own blog for the keywords "Cranberry Portage," and here's the source of the Reddit photo.

Pilfered from my own blog! But I'm not angry. How many images have I used from the web? Plenty. I think this is kind of neat.