All dolled up

Behind the fence, the tortoise says, "Look at the three creatures all dolled up." It wanders over, "Will they give me some lettuce leaves? No, they are all chatter and no food."

(Photo: Kim, Karen, and Lia, 1959, Venezuela)

Timeless play in paradise

Well over half a century ago, three little girls played on Grand Anse Beach. There were no tourists then on the beach, only the occasional passerby who would inevitably wander over and tease them in one manner or another.

They dug a hole to China. Built a castle until a wave came and tore the walls down. Chattered excitedly about fanciful sea monsters crawling up and grabbing their legs. Bickered when the cloak of boredom smothered their imaginations.

They ran from all that fun when their stomachs cried out in hunger, and with the sudden realisation struck them that they were alone. They scattered up the beach, soft sand breaking between their toes, towards the shaded terrace where their mother and other women were luxuriating in amiable conversation, seemingly oblivious to the charge of the cavalry racing their way.

(Photo: Lia, Karen, and Kim, 1958, Venezuela)

What remains

I’ve been revisiting a place that no longer exists in the way it once did: my grandparents’ house, set back from a quiet road in rural Ontario, with a river at the edge of the garden and a rhythm that belonged to another time. (Link to document.)

Writing these memories wasn’t about reconstructing the past accurately, or even chronologically. It was about noticing what has endured. Not the large events, but the smaller ones: how light moved through rooms, how time stretched in childhood, how care was expressed through routine rather than words.

I’ve come to believe that memory doesn’t preserve everything evenly. It keeps what mattered, often without explaining why. What remains are fragments: sounds, gestures, objects shaped by hand, and the feeling of being held within an ordered, attentive world.

This piece is a gathering of those fragments. It’s written for family, but also for anyone who carries a place within them that continues to inform how they see, move, and care.

Some houses disappear. Others remain, quietly, in the way we remember how to be.

#artists I have known: Uncle Peter

When we think of artists, we often picture painters, musicians, actors, or dancers. Rarely do we consider journalists. But Peter was an artist in every sense of the word—a wordsmith and a storyteller of truth.

He belonged to the Old School of Journalism, a generation of writers/journalists who believed what they did was for the betterment of society. In speech, as on paper, his deep intellect and insatiable curiosity found expression in their barest form. He made each word and each sentence count. He avoided unnecessary flourishes, letting the power of simplicity do the heavy lifting.

I was too young to read his articles when they were first published, but his legacy spoke for itself. Younger journalists who had worked with him at the Canadian Press spoke of him with reverence. They credited Peter with setting the gold standard for journalism—a benchmark that influenced not only his peers but also the generations that followed.

On a personal level, Peter was one of the few adults who encouraged my budding love for writing. At first, I was hesitant to tell him about my passion, especially for poetry. I assumed he might scoff at my efforts as the indulgences of a teenager. How wrong I was. Not only did he take my interest seriously, but he also welcomed me into his world of creative thought. Our conversations about writing were inspiring, and I was flattered that someone of his stature would take my ideas seriously.

Peter believed deeply in the transformative power of words. He understood that language can bridge gaps, ignite passions, or offer solace in times of sorrow. He taught me that a well-chosen word could change a person’s perspective. And he didn’t draw lines between the “big” world of global events and the smaller, intimate worlds we live in. To him, both were equally deserving of attention, honesty, and care.

Looking back, I realize how profoundly Peter influenced me. He showed me that writing isn’t just an act of expression; it’s an act of connection. He believed in the power of the written word to make the world a better place.

The best idea I ever had

The best idea I ever had popped up in my head many many years ago. It was on a Saturday afternoon when I was 10 years old and playing with my best friend, Arlene. My father had brought the two of us to see our new house in Baie d'Urfe in Montreal. 

We ran around the empty rooms. which echoed our giggling excitement. To our amazement, we discovered the house had a laundry shoot. A modern wonder! From the top floor down into the basement there was a metal shaft to throw dirty laundry down.

While my father was off somewhere taking measurements of the rooms, Arlene and I were left to play on our own. We were fascinated with the laundry shoot. We'd throw our winter jackets down from the top floor, run downstairs, pick them up in the basement, run upstairs and start all over again.

Eventually, I wondered whether it wouldn't be more fun to go down the shoot ourselves. Like the tv series "the flying nun". After some planning, I decided to leave our jackets at the bottom of the shoot to cushion our fall. I thought it would be best to go head first so we could see where we were going. 

As I was holding Arlene by her dangling knees, and asking her if she was ready, my father entered the room. I heard a deep intake of breath in the stillness. He spoke ever so quietly and said to me, "Do Not Move." 

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)  

Hadley Story Corner: #7 Our Dog Bonnie (Kim)

  

Kim tells the story of Bonnie, the only dog we ever had. She was a Welsh Corgi and she lived a long and good life.

 

Kim talks about how the sisters rivalled to give Bonnie the most attention possible.

Yet, you can see why. Bonnie was very cute.

Here is Daniel and Dave giving Bonnie more attention years later after they had moved to Grenada. Dave’s way of doing petting Bonnie was scratching her sides with his toe.

Thank you, (cc) Andy Blackwood for your music.

Hadley Story Corner: #6 Dave and his boats (Kim)

 

Dave fell in love with sailing at a very young age. He lived on a street that ended at the shore of Lac St. Louis, in Quebec. He and his siblings spent many a day playing in and on those waters.

Kim tells a wonderful story about all the boats he captained over the years. I wish Dave knew about Kim living on her boat in Gibson. I think he would have gotten a kick out of knowing this. 

Here is the boat Dave and Gordon built. He told me once that it was one of the first “kits” that you could buy. Grandpa Hadley was a carpenter and engineer, so he probably did a lot of the work in building something that stayed afloat.

 

I love this photo for two reasons. The first is the relaxed no-care-in-the-world pose Dave has. It didn’t matter if this was a sunny Sunday afternoon sail or in the middle of a regatta… he was always in his element. Secondly, it looks as though someone told him to put on some sunscreen and instead of doing it properly, he just slathers on a generous amount around is forehead and cheeks.

 

Babs and Uncle Norris with Pat and Dave on their first Tiempo. Dave and Norris are obviously looking for something, but what can it be?

The Nestucca. It was owned by someone Dave knew (not sure how). Dave would go down to Seattle early summer and help the owner bring it up to Vancouver.

Their deal was that the owner and his family would have to boat for June and July. Dave and Pat would then go up to where the owner left the boat and take the boat for August and a bit of September. They were to return the boat to Vancouver and then the owner would take it back to Seattle for winter.

The owner and Dave shared the costs of the upkeep. Dave thought this was a great deal.

 

Dave teaching (maybe) David how to use one of his navigation devises.

 

Dave at the helm. Lia at the bow ready to drop the anchor. Not sure who is on the winch, might be Kim or Chris Mast. What a lovely lovely boat that was!

 

The wonderful Otter One. Dylan catching a fish. Notice the absence of life vest. Notice Dave’s foot resting on the door fame. He is obviously sleeping or reading, but not really overlooking what was going-on on deck.

Thank you, (cc) Andy Blackwood for your music.

Hadley Story Corner: #5 Babysitting (Karen)

One of the tasks Karen was given as the eldest of four siblings, was to babysit us. I’m not even sure whether or not she was paid for doing this. It was undoubtedly a thankless task.

Kim and I probably ignored anything Karen told us to do. Daniel, who was much younger than us all, was self-sufficient out of necessity. He never received the attention his age required. (For this, I apologize, Daniel.) If our parents had any common sense, they would not have left us to our own devices.

Thank you, (cc) Andy Blackwood for your music.

Hadley Story Corner: #4 Grandma Buckley (Karen)

(grandpa and grandma Buckley, Pat, John, and Peter)

Grandma Buckley, Pat’s mother, was one of our family’s unsung heroes/sheroes. She gave her life to the care of her family and community.

 

Karen talks about all of the fine handwork grandma did her whole life long. She titled this story “needlework compacts purses and teacups”. It is lovely to know that Karen still has so much of grandma’s artwork. Thank you dearly, Karen, for keeping grandma’s legacy alive.

 

(Diane, John, grandma and grandpa Buckley (50th wedding anniversary), and Pat)

There was another aspect of grandma’s handwork that I thought to mention. 

This was the work she did for the Women’s Church Auxiliary. Grandma knitted a storm of mittens year in, year out, which were sold in the Christmas Bazaars. 

Thank you, (cc) Andy Blackwood for your music.

Hadley Story Corner: #3 Pets We Had (Kim) + Story Revisited (Lia)

(Photo of Kim and Megan (as a puppy))

 

Kim tells a story about various pets we had in the Hadley household when we were a child. Then she talks about the dogs she and Damien and Dylan had.

 

As I was editing this story, I realised how different childhood memories can be.

(Photo of Lia, Bonnie and Miel as a kitten)

 

So, I recorded what I will can “story revisited”. It might be interesting to have all of the siblings give their spin on what actually happened all those years back.

 

If you do not want to record your memories, please feel free to comment in this blog post.

Thank you, (cc) Andy Blackwood for your music.

Hadley Story Corner: #2 Auntie Barbara (Lia)

A few years ago, I drew/wrote Sara my story of Auntie Barbara. For, I see a lot of Auntie Barbara in Sara.

I am not sure whether you can actually read the drawing. I might have to do it over again.

Karen asked me to "tell" the story in the drawing. Not so easy to do, but I tried my best.

Thank you, cc Andy Blackwood for your music.

Hadley Story Corner: #1 Auntie Barbara (Karen)

The Hadley Story Corner is a place for Karen, Kim, Daniel, and I to reminisce about people and occurrences in our past. It is our hope you will enjoy the telling of tall and humble tales.

Today’s story is about Auntie Barbara. She was Dave’s sister. Karen tells us about wonderful influence on her as a child.

There will probably be a lot of stories about Auntie Barbara. She was both larger than life and down to earth.

Thank you, cc Andy Blackwood for your music.