My dad’s parents were Katherine (Katie) and Roy Reid.

My grandfather owned and ran a country general store. Below is a poem that I wrote about my memories of my grandfather and his store

               My Grandfather’s Country Store

In memory, today I visited

My grandfather’s country store,

Where he sold kegs of nails and aluminums pails

And linoleum for the kitchen floor.

Where there were gum rubber boots for the whole family,

Or higher boots for doing barn chores,

And, of course, denim coveralls in every size,

In grandfather’s country store.

There was checkered oil cloth by the roll

To brighten up table tops,

And handfuls of candy for a penny

And five cent bottles of pop.

Under a glass-covered counter top

Were jars of candy on display.

Grandfather would look at me and smile,

Saying “and what will you have today?”

I always said “nothing today, grampie

I don’t have any money today”;

There was always candy clutched in my hands

As I happily skipped away.

I still smell molasses and vinegar in large barrels,

With taps on one end, to pour.

I see grandfather cutting from big rounds of cheese

In his old country store.

There were colourful bolts of cotton

For ladies to sew their dresses;

Yards and yards of rainbow ribbons

For little girls to tie their tresses.

Flour, piled in hundred pound sacks,

Also, feed for the cows and the hens;

On one shelf, there were school supplies;

Scribblers, bottles of ink, and fountain pens.

There was gasoline and kerosene

And lamps, with chimneys of glass.

There was one old pump in front of the store,

Where I watched him pump the gas.

Whether it be garden seeds or fishing needs,

One would be reasonably sure.

That most anything they would be looking for

Would be found in that old country store.

Now, I recall a high-up shelf

That served all medicinal purposes.

There were oils and ointments for all man’s aches

And, sure-cures for his pigs and his horses.

Bottles of white peppermint, red liniments,

Horrible tasting cod-liver-oil;

Potions to fight a cough or a cold

Or to treat a nasty boil.

 From shoe laces to harness traces;

What a wide array of stock;

From food to feed your family, or,

For your cow---a big salt block.

There were colouring books and crayons,

Maybe a spinning top or two,

Always, rubber balls of many sizes;

All of them red, white and blue.

It was easy to tell when Christmas was near;

On the shelf there would be a doll,

And maybe a few toy cars,

With pretty tinsel ‘round them all.

Then, joy-oh-joy, the candy came in

The Christmas candy, it came in;

Chicken bones and barley toys,

And hard candy in five- pound tins

I would see most of the neighbours,

‘Most every day, for sure,

‘Cause there also was   a post office

In a corner of grandfather’s country store.

Many colourful, metal signs

Covered the outside of the store;

When they started getting old

Grandfather replaced them with some more.

Behind the store was a l-o-n-g, steep hill;

A wonderful place to slide, it’s true!

Atop those signs us kids would go;

I remember, we literally flew >>>>>>!!!!

What marvellous memories came to mind today

And took me on a tour;

Back to the days of my childhood;

  Back to grandfather and his country store!

 (Written about my grandfather’s country store, as I remember it from the late 40’s and early 50’s)

My grand father was Roy Reid from New Horton, Albert Co., N.B...

Diana (Reid) Tingley

MEMORIES SO DEAR!

                                      AMONG MY MOST PRECIOUS THOUGHTS

FROM MY BOOK OF MEMORIES,

                                   IS MANY A SUNNY SUMMER DAY

‘NEATH GRANDMA’S LILAC TREE.

GRANDMA HAD A HUGE FRONT LAWN

WITH AN OLD WOODEN SWING,

NEXT TO A SWEET- SMELLING LILAC TREE

WHERE WE WOULD PLAY AND SING.

WE WOULD SPREAD A BLANKET

IN THE SHADE OF THE LILAC TREE;

THERE WE WOULD HAVE A PICNIC;

MY GRANDMA, MY DOLLY, AND ME.

MY CHILDHOOD DAYS ARE OVER;

MY GRANDMA IS LONG GONE,

BUT MEMORIES OF HER AND HER LILAC TREE

WILL FOREVER LINGER ON.

TODAY, I CAN CLOSE MY EYES

AND GO BACK TO GRANDMA’S SWING.

I CAN STILL SMELL THOSE LILACS;

I CAN STILL HEAR GRANDMA SING.

I WROTE THIS POEM ABOUT MY GRANDMOTHER, Katie Reid

 I remember Grammie Reid and her fudge and taffy she made for myself and my cousins. It was sooooooooo good! Also, she made wonderful rice pudding. I have yet found rice pudding anyways near as good as hers. I loved to go to church with her. She would let me stand up on the seat beside her when the hymns were sung. Oh, how I loved to hear her sing. She had a voice that quivered when she sang .That is probably my favourite memory of her. I remember that she always wore a hat with a veil when she went to church and a l-o-n-g- hatpin to hold the hat in place. I loved this quiet lady who, when upset or angry, would take her frustrations out on her pump organ instead of those around her .Wow! Did that organ get a thumping!! .

   My grandfather and grandmother Reid had many heartbreaking trials in their marriage: their first born, a son who they named Bennie, died in his early 30’s after being in an accident and suffering brain damage while in his teens., one of their daughters was born a hydrocephalic and their store burned to the ground and it was not covered by insurance. My grandfather was a kind hearted man and who let people run up a bill in his store. It was believed that one of these people who had a large bill was responsible for the fire so his bill would disappear with the store. My grandparents persevered and built another store and never dwelled on the past misfortunes.