The Icelandic Canadian - 01.03.1994, Síða 42

152
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
SPRING, 1994
Mamma, Margret I. Bardal and Johanna
Jonasson wearing the hat.
Rannveig Bardal with her uncle A.S. Bardal,
my pabbi.
While the feast was being prepared,
we were left on our own in the small
front room. There was a player piano!
No one complained about the racket
we made as we pumped on the pedals
and marvelled to see the keys moving
on their own. In addition to the piano
there was, in the comer of the room, a
small table where a bowl full of
snapshots kept us happily amused.
Stefania’s house was spotless. The
bathroom was stark but shining with
a high ceiling that was wondrous to
me.
During my two week stay I met
new friends on the street. To a kid
from the suburb of North Kildonan,
Selkirk was a city. With my new
friends, I combed the back lanes
searching through garbage cans
behind the stores for new additions to
my valued bottle top collection which
contained labels such as Cream Soda,
Ginger Beer and Wynola as well as
Orange Crush and Coca Cola.
Paul had a little store on the front
comer of his lot on Dufferin Avenue. I
well remember the joy I felt being told
by Stefania to go out to Paul’s store
and pick whichever can of soup I
fancied for my lunch.
When I pour milk from a carton I’m
reminded of my Auntie Johanna. She
was married to Jonas Jonasson, who
was an uncle to my mother. Uncle
Jonas had a dairy farm at what was
then the end of Sidney Avenue in East
Kildonan. Someone told me recently
that a house with half the basement
above ground was an Icelandic-type
house. I don’t know if that is true, but
that is the type of house they had on
the dairy farm. Uncle Jonas delivered
milk to our house in North Kildonan
travelling in a horsedrawn cart.
After he died, Auntie Johanna
moved to a basement suite in the
Agnes Apartments on Ellice Avenue.
She was a frequent visitor to our
home and much loved and respected.
She was always well-groomed and
had a happy disposition.