Sunday 29 October 2023

Ancient Christian Symbols


In early Christianity, particularly as it entered the Gentile world and the Roman Empire, we know that there were various ways that Christians communicated and conveyed their presence. One interesting example of this that one finds is a simple drawing of a fish as a way to indicate the 


presence of something Christian. One apparently finds it particularly commonly among the catacombs, the early graveyard of Christians, below the city of Rome and its nearby environs. 


We also know that this adaptation or derivative of the word fish led to the use of the letters of the word fish to form “an acronym or acrostic for "ησοῦς Χρῑστός Θεοῦ Υἱός Σωτήρ", Iēsoûs Khrīstós, Theoû Huiós, Sōtḗr.” These words in common or ‘koine’ Greek “translate into English as 'Jesus Christ, God's Son, [our] Savior’.”


One then finds carved into stone in a number of city ruins of the Roman Empire a circular combination, sometimes casually referred to as a pie chart, of these letters.


This entry in Wikipedia, quoted twice above already, describes it succinctly:


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ichthys 

Jesus - Iota (i), Iēsoûs (Ἰησοῦς), "Jesus"

Christ - Chi (ch), Khrīstós (Χρῑστός), "anointed"

God’s - Theta (th), Theoû (Θεοῦ), "of God", the genitive [possessive] singular of Θεóς, Theós, "God"

Son - Ypsilon (y or u), (h)uiós (Yἱός), "Son"

Saviour - Sigma (s), sōtḗr (Σωτήρ), “Savior""


How these letters were combined is crudely represented in this engraving below from the ruins of Ephesus according to the above Wikipedia article. To understand it better with the help of a colour line drawing, look at the accompanying ‘pie chart’ where I for Iesous/Jesus is blue, X for Xristos/Christ is green, Th for Theos/God is black, Y for Yios/Son is red and S in the sigma form for Soter/Saviour is orange.

Finally, a photo I took from the streets of the ruins of Laodicea, mentioned in

Colossians and Revelation, is pictured as well, although the circle and some elements are rather time-worn.





 

Saturday 28 October 2023

A Tribute to My Mother

 Many years ago, in a snowstorm, the dearly beloved woman holding me a year later in this photo, gave birth to me in a Manitoba snowstorm, although we were safe and warm in Winkler’s quite new Bethel Hospital.


After recently writing a tribute about my maternal grandparents, my wife encouraged me to write one about my mother. One of my initial reactions to this was, how does one write a tribute to someone that has been gone from your life for 60 years. On second thought, my grandparents have been gone for 35 years already, and I managed to write something about them. I gather I can write something about my mother. When we talk about my mother in this case, I need to be clear. My father remarried 10 months after my mother's passing, so we have a stepmother, but this is about my real, biological mother. She lives in our memories still, this woman who nursed me, mentored me and loved me till she was gone so suddenly in Dec. 1963.


I certainly have memories of my mother that could fuel such a piece of writing. There are also things I have heard about her from friends and relatives. Four years ago I came into possession of a five-year diary of hers from the ages of 14 to 19, as well as some other journals. This certainly shed a different light, or should I say additional light, on who my mother was.


And that will be my starting point. I want to say something about who my mother was before I go on to write about how she influenced my life. Again, these are my memories; my siblings are entitled to theirs.


My mother, Margaret Enns, was born in 1920 as the second child of Franz (Frank) and Maria (Marie, nee Loewen) Enns in a small farming community northeast of the town of Winkler, named Greenfarm. She came from ancestors who immigrated to Canada in 1876 from what was known as New or South Russia, referring to its having recently been taken from the Turks and Tatars by the Russians. Some 110 years earlier the same ancestor lines had move from Prussia, previously Poland, to this area of Russia. In fact, maternally, Jacob Hoeppner, who was one of two delegates who left Prussia to spy out the land of Russia as it were, is an ancestor of hers. Earlier in this century, a cousin of mine who did some travelling in these countries, and also some archival research, managed to trace her line indirectly back to the 16th century in the Netherlands. In fact, the information we have pinpoints what is now the province of Zeeland and quite likely the town of Veer. The family name at the time was DeVeere. From here, family members had moved to Schiedam, which is a suburb of present-day Rotterdam. They had also moved on to Amsterdam, and from there, still in the 16th century, to Poland.


More importantly than simply tracing genealogies, when it comes to the influences that shaped her life, the geological line consisted of individuals who had left the Roman Catholic Church in the so-called Protestant Reformation, to become Anabaptist, later known as Mennonites.


Even though many Mennonites, even then, were quite well off and found in a variety of businesses and professions, such as lace and braid making an, brandy distilling, or grain traders as in the case of the DeVeeres, they tended to live frugal and humble lives. This revived faith of theirs also caused them to do more to look after one another in many areas than others in the society around them might have done. Taking care of the poor and orphans was a duty. Helping out when there were fires and floods led early in the 17th century already to mutual aid organizations under such circumstances.


Although, as mentioned, they had conducted business in a variety of trades in the 16th and 17th centuries, the constant pressures of the king, the local councils and even trade guilds in Poland, led some of them to abandon these things and turn to farming in the Vistula Delta. To be sure, there were skills that the Dutch already held, such as knowing how to drain farmland and unproductive swampy land into productive agricultural areas. This led them to be quite prosperous in these ways to the point that some local councils and even local nobles and church officials who owned land were quite happy to have them as owners or leaseholders on their estates. For well over 100 years, they developed these skills further during their sojourn in Poland. However, when it became Prussia and ever more militaristic, this clashed with one of the tenets of their faith, which was not to take up arms. This was what led them to leave Prussia for Russia where they were given freedom not to have to do so, at least initially.


This last was one of the same factors that led my mother's grandparents and great grandparents generation to leave Russia for Canada when the state there began encroaching on the originally granted freedoms. Again, they arranged these same terms with respect to religious freedom with the Canadian authorities.


My maternal grandparents with their two youngest children and one on the way moved in 1923 from Greenfarm to an area somewhat more distant from Winkler to the northwest, known as Burwalde. Grandfather did well with farming here. By and large then, mother grew up in a home where they were never really in need of anything.


Mother went to the local country school until about Grade 9. By that time she had done things like join 4-H and Sewing Clubs and around that time she also went with some friends to Canadian Sunday School Mission Camp on lake Winnipeg at Gimli. Thus, she was not entirely shielded from the world as some more conservative Mennonites were. Indeed, it was around the time of her birth that many Mennonites left Canada for Mexico because, again, the government, of Canada this time, was beginning to require them to attend public schools, learn English, and be exposed to some nationalistic and patriotic learning, versus the simpler Bible – oriented education they had been allowed to do when the had the privilege of running their own schools according to the agreements negotiated when they immigrated to Canada. 


However, my mother's family was obviously not that conservative. Some of that conservatism did show up though when mother really wanted to go on to complete her high school. It took her some time to convince her father of this and she actually missed a year of school in the process. However, she had her eyes on teaching as a profession and so she actually completed high school in the private residential Mennonite Collegiate Institute in Gretna, nearly forty miles from home. She then went on to enrol in the provincial teacher training program in Winnipeg at what was called the Normal School on William Avenue. 


Again, mother had some friends that we're doing the same thing. They stayed in rooming houses in the vicinity of their school and sometimes spent time studying together as one can see from one of her pictures. From mother’s letters and diaries one also learns how adventurous she was. She attended concerts, went to see special displays, such s one of tropical butterflies in the T. Eaton Department Store, attended some public speaking events by prominent personalities, such as the gentleman who had founded the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Nor did she limit her attendance to church to those of Mennonite persuasion. She visited several different kinds of churches. She tried singing in some choirs too.


She was also though still very family oriented and, I would say, emotionally tied to the land where she grew up. She often writes of missing her family and not exactly looking forward to returning to the city after a weekend or holiday at home. She got to do her teaching practicum in Burwalde and really did not want to return to Winnipeg after that. She shared a number for experiences and opinions with her older brother Frank, including when he had to spend some months in a building camp in what became riding mountain national Park, which was his alternative service in World War II, instead of having to go into the military.


At the same time, mother seems to have been troubled by some lack of motivation and, should I say, self-discipline. She often seemed to leave her preparation and homework till rather close to deadlines. Then she would castigate herself for not starting things earlier and getting done more promptly. This often led her to question her decision to go into teaching and she often wondered whether she was moving in the right direction. These sentiments come out in her diaries and include failure to make entries on a number of dates.


However, now that this was the path she had chosen, her father, who had experience as a school trustee, used his ability and connections in this regard to make sure she got a teaching job upon graduation from Teachers College. Her first job was in fact in the area that had been the village where her ancestors had settled just southwest of Winkler, Hoffnungsfeld. However, she then moved on from there to another rural area which was still Mennonite, Clear Springs, near Steinbach.


Mother was not even through teaching her first year at this school when my father entered her life. They both discovered they shared a mutual interest in Christian missions and father was at that time set on returning to Northern Manitoba to continue a work pastorally that he had begun there as a teacher fulfilling his conscientious objector alternative service status. However, his prospective employer, the United Church, really wanted married staff in those positions. Within six weeks of their meeting, they were married and less than two months later, they were on their way north.


Mother was by this time 24 years of age and I think she was relieved to be married, as many people in that period of time got married younger than that. At the same time, given what I have read in her diaries and what I know of her life with our father, I know that whirlwind romance was really built on love. This was demonstrated so well as far as I can recall, all through the 17 years of their married life of which I was privileged to be a part of. One example of this that I often cite is that only once do I recall her and father getting into an argument. It was over whether we should take a family photo when we were in our Sunday best before lunch, interfering with its being ready and warm, which I think was Dad’s inclination, or after, which I think was mother’s preference. I don’t remember though which way the decision went. 


Whatever problems plagued our mother as referred to above in terms of those years of high school and later study, did not seem to rear themselves in our years as a family as far as I can recall. She worked very hard. Within 11 years of marriage, she had five children, four sons and one daughter.


Mother had learned to cook and bake and she provided for us better than well in that regard. I would have to say we were spoiled, especially when it comes to how much dessert was part of our life. It is a wonder we aren't all diabetics. In spite of all the hard work mother had to do to satisfy the appetites of five growing children, I really don't remember her ever limiting what we ate. There always seem to be enough food.


Living up north, meant all of this baking was done in the wood stove. Father, later aided by us children, helped supply that stove with wood to keep the house warm as well as to do all the food preparation. We also had to go to the river, later the lake, to bring in water. Carrying out buckets of slop to a designated area was another task we were at times entrusted with. Mother and father also put their hand to gardening from the beginning. When we got older, mother also canned some of the fruit we picked, particularly Saskatoons. We were often given fish by our neighbours and she would can some of that. When we went south to visit our grandparents, which was more or less for the better part of a month almost every year, she, grandmother and my aunts would pick and can fruits and vegetables from the grandparent’s garden to help us through our winters up north.


We did not have electricity to begin with either, so all of this work was done by the light of gas or coal oil/kerosene lamps. Mother also was very active helping father in the mission work, teaching children, playing the organ and piano, which she had taken lessons of when she was young, which again shows that her parents were not that conservative. She and father would sometimes sing duets for the worship services. She did sometimes get local girls to help with housework.


Part of the work was having Bible studies and she and father would trek to the different homes where these were sometimes held in rotation, which meant bundling up the children in winter to be pulled along by sleds until we were old enough to walk the distance.


There is some evidence that mother had a degree of anxiety. One notable story that reflects this is that when she first was being given the opportunity to learn to drive, which again is a progressive thing for those days, she was going too fast to make a corner and either did or nearly went into the ditch. She walked away from that and never learned to drive. We didn't hear much about it where were children, but I know she was often anxious when we lived in Loon Straits and father made many boat trips back-and-forth across the 8 miles stretch of open lake to where the road ended to go to pick up supplies or take people for medical care. Sometimes those crossings meant encountering very high and dangerous waves. I am sure she was praying regularly.


Besides going to Bible studies, mother and father did a lot of home visitation. Sometimes mother did this on her own, including taking us children along. When we were older we enjoyed this because it gave us a chance to visit and play with our friends while mother or sometimes both parents would visit with their parents.


One thing about our parents, and I am not sure who would be the one to point to most here, but I know for myself, if I seemed to show an interest in something that was positive, they greatly encouraged it. When I was barely starting school, I became interested in the birds that populated our neighborhood. The next thing I knew had a set of bird books and then even a year’s subscription to the Canadian Children's Audubon magazine. When I showed a penchant for drawing, I have a notebook or two where mother has written interesting comments about my drawing, which she certainly obviously encouraged. Some of it in my preschool years looks more like what we might call abstract or modern art but mother tried to find something in that as well. I remember in Grade 6, when it became known, that in our Social Studies, we were going to do a lot of work that involved including illustrations in our homework, we got a prescription to the MacLeans magazine and were allowed to cut pictures from it to use for our homework. Given my artistic leaning, when paint-by-number sets became a fad, I was given one of those for Christmas when I was, I believe, perhaps 13.


When I was about six years old, our mission chapel or tabernacle as father had named it, was provided with a piano ,which was really given to us as a family, as we kept it even as we moved. Mother then took it upon herself to try to teach us children piano and when we moved to Winnipeg when I was already in grade 11, she and father arranged for us children to continue to take piano lessons, which I did, probably until the end of grade 12. At that point I was probably approaching a Grade 6 level in music.


Father had been interested in music as well and had wanted to play the violin, so mother's wedding gift to him was a violin. Somehow, in his busy life, he never got into it. When one of the teachers in the community when I was in Grade 6 turned out to be a fairly good violinist, I ended up taking lessons, but only for a year, as he left the community after that. Year later, when our daughter was studying violin, we bought Dad’s old violin so Anika has that memory of her grandmother.


In spite of not having grown up around water, mother went with us on picnics that involves boat trips. When we were younger, in Grand Rapids, this involved leaving the security of the river and heading out on to the lake to what we called a beach, but which was really mostly gravel. When we moved to Loon Straits, we often packed things up and went and had wiener and marshmallow roasts, accompanied by other foods and desserts, on the large granite rock points that framed our own private sandy bay. She also went with us when we would take boat rides across the 2 mile bay to what we called the river and travel up it to The Rapids, which was the end of how far a boat could go. 


We boys love to go out exploring from our home. In spring, it was always exciting, and there was some competition between us and our school mates in this regard, to see who could see which birds had returned first from their annual migrations. We always wanted our mother to come with us and on one of our Saturday morning excursions we were so glad when she actually did join us one spring morning. We tramped through the sometimes still deep melting snow to see what we could see. We boys didn't really sense it at the time, although I think I already knew that she had some back and foot troubles and problems with varicose veins, which probably did not make such hikes easier. But she was game to go with us. We were thankful.


I think we were also spoiled when it came to play. We seemed to have a lot of time to play as a child. I don’t know that we were expected to help much until we were attending school. Then we did things like wash and dry dishes, sweep the floor and sometimes help with baking or other food preparation, not to mention carrying wood and water. 


I must comment on discipline. We kids did get into arguments and fights. However, I don’t remember mother being hard on us. If we had really crossed the line, it was father she turned to for the dreaded spankings, which were not frequent in any case.


By the time mother had come to her second year of teaching, before getting married,  it seems she had begun to enjoy it. Her pupils had obviously enjoyed her, as they were really quite sad to see her go when she left six weeks before the end of the year to get married. Thus, it was not surprising that when we moved to Winnipeg and were all in school after a year there, she managed to get herself a substitute teaching job. I remember how happy and excited she was to dress up in her white blouse and grey flannel skirt and go and do this. Her first teaching job was actually at the school our second youngest brother Lloyd was attending, Princess Margaret in North Kildonan. Then she did some substituting teaching further north at McIvor School. Unfortunately, that ended prematurely, as did our having our mother, as she passed away some two weeks before school would've closed for the Christmas season, in 1963.


One’s mother might have passed away, but mother is never out of our lives. Especially when Anne and I began raising our own family, there are so many junctures in the lives of a family and those who were her grandchildren, that she would've loved attending, but she was never there. Indeed, when our daughter was born, our neighbour in the next block, a very kind and hospitable church lady who was raised in Winkler MB, came to visit us and brought a gift for us. She was so surprised, "She looks just like her grandmother!”


“How do you know?" Anne asked.


"I babysat for your grandmother." Mrs. Mary (Abe) Wiebe knew who my grandparents were since we told her of our connection to the Mennonites in southern MB when we moved to Gladstone to practice medicine in the summer of 1978. Every Sunday she told church people how much Anika looked like her grandmother. We have two pictures displayed side by side on our mantel, of both Mother and Anika at a very similar age. They indeed belong to the very same family, the Enns family of Winkler, my mother's roots. Even in later life photos, we saw when we came into possession of some of mother’s photo albums, it was uncanny how our daughter sometimes took poses just like her grandmother! 


In terms of what a mother can offer, who knows how much advice I might have gotten in terms of work, career, marriage and parenting, had she been alive when I really needed it. I know my father did his best as well. However, that all changed when he married a year later and soon began to raise our step siblings. But that is another story. Mother had done most of her upbringing for me by that time, as I was 17 when she passed away, and I know she left me a very good legacy in so many ways. There was her faith, her family devotion, her adventurousness, open-mindedness, gentleness and her creativity. All of those have been influential in my life as well. Someday I hope to be able to thank her for all of this when we meet in the promised new earth.


With help from my wife, Anne.

Wednesday 18 October 2023

Grandparents and the Family Farm, a Tribute

When our family moved to Winnipeg, Manitoba, in 1962 I began attending a ‘big city’ high school, Daniel McIntyre, in Grade XI. I was surprised, as I got acquainted with some of my classmates, that some did not know their grandparents. At the time, that was almost unfathomable to me. My grandparents, Maria (Marie) and Franz (Frank) Enns, and their farm 5 miles northwest of Winkler in the Burwalde school District, had been a major portion of my life from the time I was born.


Indeed, when I was born, my mother Margaret was staying with her parents and it was Grandfather who took her (and me, as yet unborn) to the new Bethel Hospital in Winkler, Manitoba, some 75 miles southwest of Winnipeg, where I was born in a snowstorm. Mother and I were staying at Grandparents Enns because our family, now three, was living far to the north in remote and largely isolated Oxford House, Manitoba. My parents had gone there some 15 months earlier – not even three months after their marriage, which itself had occurred less than two months after they met! - to begin a term of service in pastoral ministry to the indigenous people there under the auspices of the United Church.


In terms of our reuniting with my father, my birth came at an inopportune time, as it was ‘freeze up” of rivers and lakes in the north, so there was no transportation in or out, as boat and airplane were the only means. Airplanes that flew into these communities at the time could only do so if they had floats for summer or skis for winter, as they had not yet developed permanent landing strips within most of these settlements. So, mother and I stayed with my grandparents for a good month before it seemed that it was acceptable to travel north to The Pas to catch a flight home.


Grandfather, mother and I took the train to The Pas. Perhaps partly because it was freeze up, but also because it seemed that there were difficulties with the aircraft we were to fly in, the wait to fly out stretched on. Grandfather stayed on for a while but eventually had to leave us, as his eldest son's marriage was coming up (Uncle Frank). Grandfather had a couple of unmarried children (Marvin & Marian) still at home, and the farm to manage, but his accompaniment of us reflected in part his paternal love for his descendants as well as his interest in missions, which we were engaged in. He trusted the farm to his wife, who still had the help of the oldest son and youngest one,  these two boys separated by three sisters, all already married, and no longer living on the home farm.


Grandpa, as we called him, had been born in the greenfarm school district, just a couple of miles northeast of Winkler. He and grandma had been married for three years when my mother was born after her older brother, and a year later, the young family moved to take over their own farm, in 1923, in the Burwalde School District.


I believe our grandparents again showed their brave commitment to our family and our mission work by making the long trip by steamship and then canoe to visit us while at Oxford House. I am not sure when our family left Oxford House, but I know they were back at the farm again at least by the time I was about a year old. Nor do I know how long we stayed there at the time. We were in transition from Oxford House to a new mission venture in Buffalo Narrows, Saskatchewan, which began October 7, 1947.


By March, 1948, we were again back at the Enns farm in Burwalde. Once again, mother was expecting and in May my first sibling, Loretta Margaret, was born. Again,  we experienced the patient, loving, care and hospitality that our grandparents showed us for this four months stay with them.


As if that was not enough, grandfather again showed what I think was his combined love for his daughter and her family and for missions, by joining us in our new mission venture in Grand Rapids. In fact, he and his brother–in-law, John Braun stayed for as long as it took to get a new house built to a point where it was satisfactory for us to move into. Our family then settled into life in this new community. In the fall of 1949, our grandparents again showed their devotion to us when grandma and our youngest aunt, Marian, took the steam ship up Lake Winnipeg for a visit with us.


Not six months later, our family, now for with a third child on the way, was back at the farm for another lengthy stay. This was to accommodate the birth of our Leslie David, as there were still no medical facilities in Grand Rapids and I guess our parents did not have sufficient confidence in whomever might have been an indigenous midwife in the community. Again, just as with my birth, the timing was not the best but this time it was because of the break up. I am not sure, but guessing from the pictures we have, I suspect we did not get back to Grand Rapids for sometime. The winter of 1950 was one of extra ordinary snowfall and we had fun playing on the high snow drifts on the lee side of the shelter belts on the farm, digging tunnels and hiding places. We watched uncle Marvin use his home made snowblower to clear the driveways. Then came the flood that wreaked havoc with transportation.


Really, we spent practically a month at our grandparents pretty much every year in the 40s - 50s. To begin with, until 1952 or 3, we crowded into the old two-storey house. I remember the old swinging door between the front room and beyond with its cracked paint, the kitchen at the back where we enjoyed scrambled egg breakfasts which our crazy uncles taught us to use sugar and syrup on. Like pancakes I guess. From there it was a small step to put syrup, honey or jam on toast or bread and flip it over into a helping of greiven/cracklings to come up with a nice sweet and salty dish long before sweet and salty granola and crackers!


No one ever seemed to put a limit on the sweet.  We were spoiled, no doubt about it. There were cinnamon rolls, donuts (homemade), cakes pies, cookies, you name it. It seemed like every lunch, or dinner as we called it, and supper ended with dessert. If nothing else, there was jam, honey or syrup on bread or Grandma’s wonderful buns. Grandpa would come home from the daily trip to town for whatever was on a shopping list and mail and bring the famous Winkler Gardenland four quart cardboard buckets of ice cream, either fruit, vanilla or chocolate, (there weren't nearly as many favours then is now) and we would dig right in, either on a cone or in a dish, which I preferred, thinking I could get a bigger serving that way! In summertime, when we got to go along to town, we might get a popsicle or revel. Or, Grandpa would come home with ice cream wafers, fig newtons, chocolate puffs with that little bit of jam in the center open the wafer, nor toasted coconut marshmallows. At Easter we had our share of chocolate covered marshmallows, and those sweet small sugary coloured eggs. At Christmas we had those sour gooseberry and raspberry candies and other hard candies, sugar coated orange slices, nuts (which I was never found of at that age) and sometimes chocolates.


Before breakfast, or maybe sometimes lunch, grandpa would read from the scripture and between his dentures and residual German accent, we still heard the Word. At noon, we tuned in regularly to a farm show, the Jacksons, to follow their lives. I also have fond memories of grandma, likewise with a residual accent and false teeth, which she had sometimes taken out by that time, reading stories to us at bedtime, especially Johanna Spyri’s Heidi.


Sunday mornings found us in our Sunday best and all on our way to Sunday School in the local school, after which we would get back in the car and drive on to town for church. Sunday school was in English but church was still in German in those days. Sometimes we went to Sunday School there, which was changing to English. For the worship service, when we got a little older, he would sometimes go and sit in the balcony and read our Sunday School papers and look down at that memorable scene of fancy hats on one side of the centre aisle and many bald heads on the other!


Grandpa and grandma really believed in the family too. We had regular family gatherings, especially on Sundays, sometimes beginning with lunch or just the afternoon, ending with vaspa. Of course we had our fair share of what some would call traditional Mennonite food, such as arbus and rollkuchen in summer, with tart Pembina plum jam on the leftover crullers, or even syrup or honey. We certainly also had farmers sausage and verenika with cream gravy. For New Year's there was portzelke and sometimes in the summer we had apple fritters with farmers sausage and vinegar. There was roast chicken or ham with mashed potatoes and gravy, and egg salad. We would on occasion all pack up as extended family and share this experience at one of our uncle or aunts’ homes. Nobody lived more than half an hour drive away. One family who lived the farthest away, in Altona, did not have a car at the time, so grandpa would drive all the way over there and pick them up and bring them for the gathering and then take them home again. And this was in a car that lasted him over ten years! He was determined to have us together as much as he could. This family spirit was also evident in his joining in his family family-of-origin gatherings, which included us if we were around, helping is get to know we belonged to an even bigger kinship.


While the adults were visiting or sometimes the men would be inspecting the crops, we children did things like swing on the lawn swing, play croquet, or a favourite over the granary, “anti- anti over”. There were always a couple of bikes to ride too. That's where we learned to ride bike. When we were thirsty, we simply went to the well beside the house and pumped up cold fresh water into the communal cup that always hung on the pump. In winter we played indoor games such as Chinese checkers, regular checkers and, eventually a favourite, monopoly.


We learned to help too. Sometimes that involves taking a bucket of milk to feed the calf that may have been tied in the yard between the barn and the fuel tank. Or taking a dish of cream to feed the cats, or scraps for the dog. We picked a lot of raspberries, peas and string beans, shelling the peas and cutting up the beans.


Sometimes we would meet with uncles and aunts for picnics at the park in Morden or even over the border in Walhalla, North Dakota, where there was a pool we could swim in. When I spent the summer on the farm (see below), grandpa took me along to a rodeo at Manitou. We sometimes also visited the Morden Experimental Farm to wander through the park-like grounds with their many varieties of trees and flowers.


Overall, this life was very good. When we were living in Loon Straits lose five years before we moved to Winnipeg, we got our own car and so were able to make more frequent trips down to grandpa’s. There always seem to be a place to sleep and enough food to eat. Sometimes we would stay over at cousins. I have to think with much gratitude of all the extra work we seven must have made with our extended visits - finding places to sleep, making beds, doing extra laundry and extra meal preparation (aided by aunts when we had gatherings). Grandma did it all, with help from Aunt Marian and our mother and father and - sometimes us kids.


I don't remember that we ever experienced much discipline from our grandparents. Perhaps that was left mostly to our parents. I do remember one occasion when a cousin and I saw our grandfather and perhaps an uncle or two working on a field some distance away. We decided to head out through the field to see what they were up to. Grandpa let it be known that he was not impressed that we had trampled down a lot of grain. 


We had only lived in Loon Straits some nine months when we had to move from one rental home to another. It was March but still possible to cross the lake with a vehicle. Grandpa and Uncle Marvin came with the latter's Chevy pickup to help us make the move. I have mentioned the grandparents support of our mission endeavors, of which you could say this was an example. They were open to connecting with the indigenous people. On one occasion, one of our school mates had a severe case of poison ivy that required prolonged medical attention. Where did we all stay? At grandpa’s so he could go to Winkler for treatment.


After Grade 11, I spent the entire summer with the grandparents on the farm. I helped with the gardening and regular mowing of the large lawn spaces. I helped with some fieldwork such as haying. However, I never really did to learn to do much tractor work from grandpa. My major occupation that summer was to scrape paint off all the farm buildings except the house, and then paint the lot. I learned to use a spray painter and that certainly helped speed up the process. Sadly, I don't think some of the buildings have been repainted since (see photo 1 below).


All of this left me with a deep and abiding love for these wonderful grandparents. I could not have wished for better. When I was older, I continued to visit them, thinking especially of occasions like birthdays and anniversaries. When I started going with my wife, Anne, we made a visit to the farm early in our relationship. I heard later from Grandpa that they had sensed right away that I was going to marry Anne. Again, their generous loved showed itself in their openness and impartiality, already referred to when it came to indigenous people, was the same for Anne, who was Chinese extraction. When Anne had some family troubles after she had gone back for a visit to Taiwan, and couldn't return to get married at the time we had planned, she called in a panic to let me know. It seemed I knew exactly where to turn for help. She was expecting me to come and rescue her, but I had no such funds. I went to see Grandpa and without batting an eye, he gave me enough to cover the return trip to Taiwan. Of  course, I repaid him when I got my next bursary. Then, when we got married, where else but in their church, Grace Mennonite in Winkler, my mother no longer living, and father in Mexico on assignment and unable to come, our dear grandparents were pleased to have the seats of honour with us at the head table (See photo of us four below, September 24, 1977).


They came to love Anne dearly and when we went for a visit, they often wanted to gift us with something necessary, such as an extra hand mixer they had, garden tiller-which we borrowed for a while and returned, an heirloom clock from Russia - which we did not take, knowing that should be kept in the Enns' family, cookie cutters and a rocking chair when our first child was born. Indeed, such was the level of our relationship that even though our first home was some 115 miles from the old family farm, grandpa and grandma came to visit after the birth of both of our children as soon as they could. With our daughter, that meant they were already in their 80s.


Indeed, when they reached their middle 80s, they began to show signs of decline. First they moved off the farm into an apartment in town. Then grandma ended up in a care home and passed away. Grandpa followed suit a year later. They never lived to see the nineties. It was a great loss but they were of the age and state of health where they were expected to pass to the next life and we knew they had an even better future awaiting them there. For myself, with all the memories that farm holds of people and events, I am glad at least the yard is still in the family.


These grandparents were, to me, wonderful role models of love, nurturing care and  generous hospitality. They were quiet and humble Christians, faithful and devout.  They weren’t overly religious about always needing to attend church or Sunday School, but  they did so quite regularly and faithfully, again, taking them with us and providing that modeling. This also extended to community events such as picnics, nahverein (Women’s Auxiliary) and Jugendverein (Youth programs) when they featured missionaries or held sales to raise money. Grandpa added to his mentoring and role model status by actively canvassing to fundraise for the Russian Mennonites when they came in the 1920s, actively supported the Mennonite Central Committee and served on the local school board.


To honour my grandparents and remember their enduring love, and the home and yard where all this took place, I had a picture enlarged, framed by a drawn-in window, as if inviting me in, hung in my living room. It is of the drive way between two rows of evergreens, leading into the familiar yard and ordinary bungalow where Grandparents Enns used to live, where I still could imagine Grandpa's swift (running?) walk as he would come to meet us when we visited, or Grandma gazing through the kitchen window towards her dear grandchildren playing in the yard, soon to provided us with her warm cookies. We all knew, they loved us always!


- Lorne Brandt, with help from Anne 2023 10 18