The Icelandic Canadian - 01.09.2008, Side 23

Vol. 61 #4
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
161
Aunty Bea and Me
by Sylvia Wetten
with permission from the Icelandic Club of B.C. Newsletter, June 2008
Aunty Bea was born as Kristveig
Sigurborg Sigurveig Bjornson on the origi-
nal homestead named Grundahol, a name
reminiscent of a certain location in Iceland.
Her first name was changed to Bertha, but
she has been fondly known as Aunty Bea.
Me - I was born on an adjoining farm in
the same year, 1920, and was named
Kristine Gudlave Sylvia Gudnason. We
have often wondered why so many names
were necessary. It seems that the custom
was to honour parents and grandparents
with namesakes.
We grew up in the Rural Municipality
of Argyle, Manitoba. My first recollection
of Aunty Bea was when, as a small child,
she developed pneumonia and was nursed
back to health at home. This was a miracle
of the ages given the circumstances in the
farm homes in those days. As childhood
friends, we attended Antonious School,
although, our country school was in a dif-
ferent district which was Hola. I often
arrived at the Bjornson’s a bit early and was
promptly seated at the table having a sec-
ond breakfast of oatmeal porridge and
cream, so rich and creamy like no other in
the whole wide world! Also sitting at this
same table would be Bea’s brother,
Sigurjon, known as ‘Siggi’, who usually
had a reptile of some sort peering out of his
breast pocket. It was often a little garter
snake which he likely kept in his pillowcase
while he was sleeping - ugh! We then
walked south from Bjornson’s place across
the fields of grain past Section ‘27’ where
the Johannessons lived, hence to the road
allowance. We never minded the two-mile
walk - yes, walking and talking - and talk-
ing - and tasting the tall bushes of
Saskatoons in the cut in the early morning
September sunshine.
Then there were the Sundays when off
to Church and Sunday School we would
go, running and walking behind the buggy
as Jonas, Bea’s father, drove to our beloved
Grund Church. It has been designated by
the Manitoba Government as a Heritage
Site. We attended the church service with
the adults and then went to Sunday School
afterwards while they gathered to chat
about the condition of the crops in this
farming community, and otherwise, share
the latest happenings. During those years,
rural electricity had not come to our area
nor had the telephone. News was relayed
from our farm to the Bjornson’s by means
of a ‘fence telephone’ that the young men
had put together. News of the ‘outside
world’ came to us via a crystal set, and
later, by a battery radio. The batteries were
charged through a windmill in the farmyard.
Time passed and we grew to love the
ski hills in the area. Skiing in the moonlight
was great. We were safe because Bea’s
brother and Scotty, the hired man, loved to
ski, so they would break the trail for us
younger ones. We skied and skated, but
also, rolled dry oak leaves into fat cigarettes
wrapped in some pages of the T. Eaton
Company catalogue which was usually
found in the outhouse. If the outhouse
could only talk! In a related incident, we
once climbed the maple tree in Bea’s barn-
yard where we lit up. I managed to get so
dizzy from those puffs of smoke that I fell
to the ground. Aunty Bea rescued me.
Today, she can practically go into hysterics
in recalling this hilarious moment. This
may have been the time that we added an
old cigarette butt to the rollings from the
ashtray in the kitchen. Bea was always a
thoughtful caregiver. How well I remem-
ber the time that she literally pried a wood
tick out of my ear with a piece of rotten
stick! She was always so helpful - not to men-
tion the many, many things that she taught
me that I shall not be relating in this story!