Moving to Nelson

In March of 1922, the family moved to Nelson, British Columbia. It was cold, 25 below zero, when we left the farm, and it was raining when we reached Nelson. Once again, Dad was "taking the bull by the horns," as he put it. No money, no place to call home, and no work. But we all survived.

Dad had borrowed money to take us to Nelson. He had just enough left when we reached there to pay for one month's rent on a small, two-room apartment and keep us if "we ate light." We were packed in those rooms like sardines in a can as there was nine of us. (There was Mother and Dad, six kids and Arthur Furness -- Arthur was a shell-shocked English soldier of World War I who Dad had taken in and who lived with us for eight years.)

Dad walked the countryside over looking for a job and a place for us to live. He was depressed and discouraged when he started out that morning three days before the next month's rent was due. But when he came back that evening, he was jubilant. He had found a place to live at Taghum. A fellow countryman from England had offered him an old log shack he could move into rent free, with the option of buying it after he got a job.

So we moved to Taghum. Hazel (me), Vera, Beatty, John, Dad and Arthur walked the six miles as Dad didn't have money for us to ride on the train, or to transport the things we had brought with us on our tickets from Saskatchewan. So we walked and carried the family's belongings in gunny sacks on our backs. Two days we walked. We left early in the morning and came back to the apartment to sleep. The third day we took almost everything. Dad had just enough money (35 cents) to send Mother on the train. Ilene and Georgena went with Mother as they could ride free. They took the few remaining clothes, etc. that was left in the apartment.

The Log Cabin: It was old. The weeds and brush had grown up all around it. A spring bubbled up from the ground close by and everything flet cold and damp even in the sunshine. The house was built into the side of the mountains, and inside it smelled damp and musty. There was a kitchen, dining room, living room, three small bedrooms and a root cellar dug into the hillside. There was no water in the house, the spring was the water supply. An outside privy served as toilet. Cobwebs and dirt, dirt and more dirt everywhere. It was a mess. But when Dad sang, "Oh there's no place like home -- Home, home, sweet home," it looked beautiful.

After we got settled in the log shack at Taghum, Dad took any job he could get. Mother started to take in and do washing. (Washing was done by hand on a washboard.) We kids all had to help in various ways. My job was ironing. I ironed dozens and dozens of men's shirts of every kind. The going was tough, but we were happy. Life never was affluent for the Merrall family.