Anne Flaherty.
Her name surfaced for the first time
in this letter of my father's.
Anne's husband, Mike Flaherty,
took over the nursing station in Lansdowne House,
after Margaret Kelly left for a nursing position
in the hospital in Sioux Lookout
in late September, 1960.
None of us had any idea how important
Anne's family would become
to our family in the future,
and all because of a massive forest fire.
But that's a tale for future posts.
I'm not trying to tease or frustrate readers.
It's just strange for me to see
an innocuous first reference to someone
whose family has haunted me all my life.
You cross the paths of countless people
as you go through life,
and most are anonymous people
you never meet again.
And some, well, some are much, much more.
I wish I had a picture of Anne,
but I don't.
Sunday, October 9, 1960
My father wrote:
Ready, or not, here we go again:
Today was very quiet,
and there is not much to tell you.
We slept quite late and missed breakfast.
In fact, Uno missed Mass in the morning.
I got up about ten o’clock,
and I wrote up the letter for Saturday.
This afternoon, Uno went for a canoe ride
out on the lake, and I read some more
out of the Charlottetown Guardian and the Post
and played some chess with Duncan
who dropped over for a short visit about three o’clock.
Chess Pieces
Opening Position from the Black Side
one to Sara, and a couple to the Indian Agent in Nakina.
That pretty much ties up Sunday.
I don’t feel too well tonight.
I am afraid that I may be
coming down with something.
Thank goodness that
I have had chicken pox,
because it is rampant among
the Island Indians right now.
Oh, by the way,
I am getting a new pupil soon.
Mrs. Flaherty, the nurse’s wife,
wants to do some studying to improve her English
and increase her general knowledge.
She is Indian and never went past grade four or five.
Mike was wondering if she could come
to school like the other Indians
and do regular grade five or six work.
I think it would be better if
I dropped into the nursing station every day
for an hour or two after school
and tutored her and corrected her exercises
and just supervised her studies
and helped her with her difficulties.
We are going to decide before Anne starts her studies.
My Father's Classroom
Lansdowne House
that Mike asked me to do it, instead of Uno,
since they are Catholic
and Uno is Catholic
and I am Protestant.
None of them came right out and said anything,
but I can feel the displeasure.
In fact, when Mike asked me if I would,
I felt that there might be hard feelings
and suggested that perhaps, since he was Catholic,
the Father might prefer that he had Uno teach her.
He said that he didn’t care what the Father thought
and he wanted me because I had a better education,
spoke better English, had more experience,
had a more disciplined classroom, and happier children.
This is only Uno’s second year teaching
and he still hasn’t finished his grade eleven.
Besides he is several years younger than Anne,
and she thought she would be uncomfortable
taking lessons from someone younger than herself.
I hope Mike never sees my spelling;
he might change his opinion about my ability to teach.
Oh well, I have had good success so far
without being able to spell,
and I don’t think I should have any trouble with Anne.
Well, that wraps it up for tonight.
Will be seeing you all tomorrow.
Bye for now,
love, Don
This letter also hints at
some of the conflict and violence that
racked Lansdowne House in the future;
although, I am quite certain that
no one recognized what was to come
at the time Dad wrote this letter.
An earlier clue appeared in
a letter that Dad wrote on September 20, 1960:
"The chief is Protestant, and he is quite disturbed
that I am living across at the Mission with the Father.
I explained that it was the only place
that I could find to stay."
I explained that it was the only place
that I could find to stay."
when I published my 10/10/14 post
On Canoes and Procreation.
But then I hadn't yet stumbled across
the research book
When Freedom Is Lost:
The Dark Side of the Relationship
between Government
and the Fort Hope Band
by Paul Driben and Robert S. Trudeau.
I saw things much more clearly after
reading this stunning and disturbing book.
Till next time ~
Fundy Blue