his travel plans settled, Roy resumed his anticipation of the leaving party. The leaving party, which occurred the day before the Turners left for their home in Winnipeg, was a much anticipated event. The get-together was not special for its list of attendees, since, with the exception of Aunt Lil, who sometimes joined us, it was attended by the same people who attended nearly every family gathering convened in the month of the Turners’ attendance in Brampton. Unlike some other parties, it did not involve presents, or songs, or lengthy speeches, although Father could rarely resist the opportunity to publicly bestow some wishes on those gathered. It was sufficient, it seemed, for the three families to join at an event called a “leaving party” for the occasion to rise to the honorific of such a gathering; for it to transcend the ordinary picnic or dinner.
But this year—in August of 1914—there was a sense among us that the gathering truly was special. It had been a miracle, Mother said, that in the seven years since the Turners left Brampton, they had never once missed the return trip to the town from which they all hailed. We knew that the annual pilgrimage would one day come to an end; that the visits would ultimately become less regular; that they would eventually include fewer people. Even before the hostilities were declared, we recognized that Roy, a young man about to begin his career, and Bill, who would soon follow him, would not have the ability their father had to leave their places of employment for five weeks each summer. We planned this leaving party knowing that it might be the last such party for a time, not knowing when or where the remaining Darlings and Stephenses would next see the departing Turners, and not knowing, as it turned out, the full extent of those who would be departing for Winnipeg the next day.
Many locations had been proposed for the special occasion. Many had been rejected. The Forks of the Credit, a parkland in the Caledon Hills, where after enjoying a picnic lunch in the wild grasslands, the men fished, the women picked flowers, and the children ran and swam—was rejected as too commonplace. We had already been there twice that summer.
A day’s excursion to Niagara Falls was rejected by John and Bill, who desired a location at which they could swim. “Swim and not drown,” John clarified.
A drive to Mono Mills, proposed by Jim, was rejected by everyone as being too distant. Jim always suggested activities that involved cars. He was a fanatic about automobiles. He loved looking at them, touching them, and studying them. Jim also loved drawing cars. He drew them as they then were in their big carriage-like shape, and he drew them longer and sleeker as he envisaged they might be in the future. He drew their entire bodies and he drew their parts; just their tires; just their dashboards; any parts. To Mother’s chagrin, he loved to tinker with a car’s engine, to change its oil, to lift, push, prod, and replace various engine parts. He thought nothing of getting his hands and, consequently, his clothes covered in grease and oil. While Jim was at home in the summer or on weekends through the school year, a family member’s car never sat dirty in a garage or a driveway. Each was cleaned and polished as soon as Jim noticed a streak of dust or a splash of slush marring its shiny exterior.
But mostly, Jim loved being in a car. Until recently, he could only make a suggestion that the family take a trip in a car during the month that the Turners were in residence, since Uncle William was the only member of our family to own an automobile. The recent acquisition of a Ford touring car by Aunt Rose enabled Jim to refer to outings involving cars in the plural. Father thought it absurd that his sister should make such an acquisition, but his feelings toward the automobile softened when Aunt Rose welcomed Jim to drive it whenever a car was required by our immediate family.
“How about a picnic at Snell’s Lake?” I suggested. “We can drive there. It’s not too far. And it has a place to swim.” Snell’s Lake was a naturally occurring lake located in the middle of a large parkland about six miles north of Brampton. Named for the original owner of the land on which it was situate, the body of water provided Brampton with water to service its industrial and other needs. It was surrounded by both treed and cleared lands, also making it ideal for summer picnics, games of hide-and-seek, swimming, boating, and other amusements. It was the place I learned to swim and canoe. In fact, the two went hand in hand. For three years, my method of water buoyancy involved lying stomach down across two ropes strung between two cedar logs. My desire to join my friend Frances in her new red canoe, something Father would only permit if I could swim independently for fifty yards, propelled me to abandon the flotation device. So determined was I to join Frances in her canoe, I learned to swim and paddle in one day.
It was the Sunday before the leaving party. The entire extended family was sitting on our verandah. Children from down the street were playing a game of catch. The ball had just rolled in front of our house. Roy ran down the verandah steps to throw it back to them.
“Snell’s Lake. That’s a great suggestion, Little One,” Jim said. He gave one of my ringlets a pull. I never minded the nickname or the little tug, when applied by my beloved brother. I knew that they were both meant as acts of endearment. Everyone concurred, and we began to make further plans until Ina interrupted us.
“Wait a moment, did you mean this coming Saturday?” When this was confirmed, we continued our planning. Aunt Rose thought a white linen picnic was in order. She suggested a few dishes.
“I think we should pick another location,” Ina said, interrupting the menu planning. “You know Aunt Lil will not travel in an automobile.” That was true. Among Aunt Lil’s many peculiarities was her philosophical and practical opposition to cars. Claiming automobiles to be a danger to passengers, pedestrians, horses, and our way of life, Aunt Lil refused to enter one. In this she was not entirely alone. Other people were also opposed to the proliferation of the automobile—though she was the only one in our family among that group. Examples abounded to justify their view of the safety risk. We regularly heard about cars crashing or overturning as a result of missed turns or burst tires or cars being driven at excessive speeds, all of which claimed the lives of one or more passengers.
“It’s not the fault of the car!” Jim would exclaim when these examples were raised by critics. “It’s the fault of the drivers.”
Nonetheless, we conceded Ina’s point about Aunt Lil’s aversion and began to consider closer locations. None offered the water recreation sought by John and Bill. Finally, Bill asked whether anyone thought Aunt Lil would actually attend the leaving party. It was a good question. One could never be sure about anything pertaining to Aunt Lil. The fact that she said she would attend the party was no guarantee whatsoever. Her record in attending Turner leaving parties was quickly established. Of the seven that had been held since the Turners left Brampton in 1907, she had attended five. Of those, she had said she would attend three. Of the two that she did not attend, she had told us to expect her at one.
“I know she felt badly about her appearance and demeanour on the night the hostilities were declared,” Ina said. “So I think it is reasonably certain she will attend. We should look for another location. John and Bill can swim another day.”
We continued thinking. It was somewhat ironic that we had to go to such lengths to find a picnic location near a watercourse when Brampton had running through it two creeks. Unfortunately, neither one of them served as a location for water pleasure, and one of them, the Etobicoke, which ran through the downtown area and frequently flooded, was often a cause of extreme displeasure. The flats that surrounded the creek did provide a recreational use, including a place to throw balls and climb trees, but swimming in the creek itself was out of the question. Strong currents made it dangerous when it was fast-moving; pollutants made it dangerous when it was slow-moving.
The neighbouring children had switched to playing tag. Three of them were running toward us, the “it” child gaining on the first two. Eventually, Mother spoke. “You know, the McKechnies go to Snell’s Lake almost every Saturday in the summer. I expect that if we take a couple of the McKechnie girls in one of our cars, they will take Aunt Lil and one of our party in their carriage.” The McKechnies still kept their horses. Our family
