Family Move

In 1967, Magog was no thriving town. Dad had lost his job due to the company’s closure so he accepted a transfer to Sudbury and our destiny took a turn. I was nine and my family’s move affected me in so many ways. I was torn from my beloved grand-mother, my extended family, my little friends and a school where I excelled. We even had to leave behind our piano. They were now all five hundred miles away. Had we not moved, cousins would have invited me to many parties and weddings over the years. I would have participated in the daily lives of aunts and uncles. I would have had more role models. I would have had my choice of shoulders to cry on and sounding boards for life’s decisions. I’m sure that I would have married young, become a teacher and been blessed with many children. But from the perspective of my parents, moving was both scary and exciting. Scary? Mom was only twenty-nine, with six young kids aged two to nine. My parents gave up the close-knit circle of family and friends to move to a tiny country house in dire need of fixing up. They would have to rough it out with less than the bare essentials, not even running water! Exciting? Yes, finally be free of a meddlesome overprotective mother-in-law, free from social obligations, commitments and rules. No longer having to keep up with the Jones, but about to live the Swiss family Robinson experience on their own terms. Overwhelmed no doubt with a new sense of adventure and freedom, but here was their opportunity to be creative, tackle challenges, build from the ground up, live off the land as best they could. They were truly masters of their own destiny. . flying solo . no safety net . doing it our way AP: 3rd place 2021 Posted on August 20, 2021