Friends and Neighbors
Aquina Anderson at her piano.
Leonard and Aquina (née Bruiette) Anderson’s family lived just two miles south of Percy and Pluma. Their home was a three-room adobe house built of poplars, willows, straw, and clay that Leonard had built when he came from Minnesota and South Dakota and took possession of his homestead in 1911. As nearby neighbors, living only two miles apart, the two families soon knew each other and the children enjoyed listening to their mothers talk.
Percy and Leonard also had a friendship, but Percy was a farmer whose goal was to sell grain while Leonard was a rancher with over 600 horses roaming the southern badlands that crossed over the United States border (what crops he raised were for winter feed). His sales were horses trained to pull wagons and farming equipment: cutters, ploughs, and harvesters.
Aquina was known throughout the region for her piano playing. By the time Edna Fern was twelve, she remembered, “the pull of [Aquina’s] enchanting piano music was irresistible, and it was arranged for me to go down to the Anderson’s place on Saturdays to look after babies, churn the butter, cut the bread, and set the table in return for a piano lesson. I would then practice during recess time at school each week.”
Piano music wasn’t the only attraction for Edna in the Anderson household: “Ernest, the blue-eyed boy I’d set eyes on the summer I first arrived at my grandparents’, was now my neighbor. Being four or five years older, he was no longer bashful, and he would ride me home on horseback in the evening after my piano lesson and chores for his mother were done. He would talk steadily all the while, and I admired his intelligence even then. Sometimes he’d come in to play cards or board games with my brothers, and often he would go home with one of Papa’s books under his arm.”
Percy and Leonard also had a friendship, but Percy was a farmer whose goal was to sell grain while Leonard was a rancher with over 600 horses roaming the southern badlands that crossed over the United States border (what crops he raised were for winter feed). His sales were horses trained to pull wagons and farming equipment: cutters, ploughs, and harvesters.
Aquina was known throughout the region for her piano playing. By the time Edna Fern was twelve, she remembered, “the pull of [Aquina’s] enchanting piano music was irresistible, and it was arranged for me to go down to the Anderson’s place on Saturdays to look after babies, churn the butter, cut the bread, and set the table in return for a piano lesson. I would then practice during recess time at school each week.”
Piano music wasn’t the only attraction for Edna in the Anderson household: “Ernest, the blue-eyed boy I’d set eyes on the summer I first arrived at my grandparents’, was now my neighbor. Being four or five years older, he was no longer bashful, and he would ride me home on horseback in the evening after my piano lesson and chores for his mother were done. He would talk steadily all the while, and I admired his intelligence even then. Sometimes he’d come in to play cards or board games with my brothers, and often he would go home with one of Papa’s books under his arm.”
Adobe home of Leonard and Aquina Anderson, 1917.
Leonard’s parents, Martin and Eliza Anderson, also lived close by, a mile or so west from their son’s family up the coulee from which another spring ran. They had left Minnesota and followed their son north where homesteads were still available. Edna wrote, “One evening, when I went to get the cows for milking, I found a patch of wild strawberries and tarried until dusk. The cows had already headed back to the barn but I got turned around and landed up at Martin and Eliza Anderson’s place.
“Their stately white three-story home with a forest backdrop looked like a mansion compared to our two-room unpainted shack and for many years after I first saw it, I would dream of it. In my dreams this ranch house would be a fabulous palace with many rooms I had not discovered yet—the dreams went on even after the house became as familiar as any dwelling in this world.
“That summer evening, a sweet, dignified lady came out and directed me home. She was Ernest’s Grandma Eliza who I came to know very well before Martin passed away and she went back to Minnesota to live with her daughter; she later remarried to become Mrs. Bachan. When she left, Leonard and Aquina’s expanding family moved up the road from their small three-room adobe house into the white palace.”
“Their stately white three-story home with a forest backdrop looked like a mansion compared to our two-room unpainted shack and for many years after I first saw it, I would dream of it. In my dreams this ranch house would be a fabulous palace with many rooms I had not discovered yet—the dreams went on even after the house became as familiar as any dwelling in this world.
“That summer evening, a sweet, dignified lady came out and directed me home. She was Ernest’s Grandma Eliza who I came to know very well before Martin passed away and she went back to Minnesota to live with her daughter; she later remarried to become Mrs. Bachan. When she left, Leonard and Aquina’s expanding family moved up the road from their small three-room adobe house into the white palace.”
Martin and Eliza Anderson’s Rock Creek ranch. The “palace” is the building on the right.
Edna Fern also remembered that while still living in their two-room shack, Pluma was awakened one late winter night by a muffled banging at the door. Percy was away, but she got up out of her bed in the corner of the main room and opened the door to a man bundled up in a heavy coat and hat and scarves. As he fell onto the floor inside the house, Pluma soon recognized that it was a neighbor. She patiently waited for him to catch his breath, and finally he explained that he’d gone to visit some friends and had drunk too much brandy (probably home brew). On his way home he’d fallen off his horse and it hadn’t waited for him so he had no choice but to start out on foot and his feet were frozen.
Edna Fern wrote, “Mother looked after him for a few days until he was able to get a ride into La Fleche to see a doctor—we later learned that his feet had to be amputated. I guess incidents like that made a strong impression on me while I was young and I never wanted to take a chance on drinking alcohol.
“Another of Mother’s acts of kindness was when she sent me to stay for a couple of weeks with another neighbor, Mary Irnie. Mary was only eighteen when she lost her first baby, and Mother knew how lonely she would be. Who could have guessed that, many years down the road, Mary would become my beloved stepmother nine years after my mother passed away” (see Wood Mountain, Saskatchewan, and High River, Alberta).
Percy and Pluma remained good friends with Mary and Glen Irnie, and when they left Saskatchewan Percy sold Glen his favorite saddle horse, the dappled Monty. He wanted Monty to have a good home, and even though Glen couldn’t pay for Monty outright he sent a few dollars at a time until he’d paid out the agreed price.
Edna Fern remembered, “Mother showed her caring side with anyone who was sick or in need. When we children were sick her very presence was healing. Ruth followed Mother’s example and when Mother got sick with the mumps, she efficiently looked after her while I stood by the door crying and feeling helpless.” (Lela said that she was nursing at the time and never did get the mumps—her mother’s milk must have given her immunity.)
Edna Fern wrote, “Mother was very well liked in the community and admired for her skills in domestic science. She would sew for other women, and her generous hospitality was well known. We were very proud when Mother was elected president of the Ladies’ Aid for our church group. And we were proud of the baking she would take to the get-togethers in the schoolhouse—our favorite was her cake with burned-sugar icing. I can still taste it in my memory, though I’ve never tried to make it.”
Edna Fern wrote, “Mother looked after him for a few days until he was able to get a ride into La Fleche to see a doctor—we later learned that his feet had to be amputated. I guess incidents like that made a strong impression on me while I was young and I never wanted to take a chance on drinking alcohol.
“Another of Mother’s acts of kindness was when she sent me to stay for a couple of weeks with another neighbor, Mary Irnie. Mary was only eighteen when she lost her first baby, and Mother knew how lonely she would be. Who could have guessed that, many years down the road, Mary would become my beloved stepmother nine years after my mother passed away” (see Wood Mountain, Saskatchewan, and High River, Alberta).
Percy and Pluma remained good friends with Mary and Glen Irnie, and when they left Saskatchewan Percy sold Glen his favorite saddle horse, the dappled Monty. He wanted Monty to have a good home, and even though Glen couldn’t pay for Monty outright he sent a few dollars at a time until he’d paid out the agreed price.
Edna Fern remembered, “Mother showed her caring side with anyone who was sick or in need. When we children were sick her very presence was healing. Ruth followed Mother’s example and when Mother got sick with the mumps, she efficiently looked after her while I stood by the door crying and feeling helpless.” (Lela said that she was nursing at the time and never did get the mumps—her mother’s milk must have given her immunity.)
Edna Fern wrote, “Mother was very well liked in the community and admired for her skills in domestic science. She would sew for other women, and her generous hospitality was well known. We were very proud when Mother was elected president of the Ladies’ Aid for our church group. And we were proud of the baking she would take to the get-togethers in the schoolhouse—our favorite was her cake with burned-sugar icing. I can still taste it in my memory, though I’ve never tried to make it.”