By John Pitcher
Newfoundland is open to the warm winds of the Gulf Stream and the cold winds of the Labrador Current. This mixture of warm and cold creates fog for which Newfoundland is well known. Merasheen, a French word for Sea Dog, situated in Placentia Bay, is one of its largest islands of three hundred and five other islands in this largest bay in Newfoundland.
Most former residents, some of whom return each summer to fish, hunt, and enjoy being home, still remember the government's resettlement scheme, the hardships of its harsh winters and its hungry springs. The island is especially no place for the city dweller that might prefer the comforts of modern living and a quick, scenic eighteen mile boat ride from Placentia.
This wind swept land, of creviced clefs and twisted timber, now seems to suit only inhabitants like the secluded bluebells on its banks and the families of undisturbed sea otters rippling puddles in its calm coves. If not for its indisputable autumn beauty and the serenity of its summers, many would probably have little else interesting to say about the place. According to locals, if wind and rain persists, you are advised to take along your rain gear and have arranged in advance a quick passage back from where you came.
From my siblings’ earliest recognition I was a quiet child growing up on Merasheen Island. In fact, during my first three and a half years, I was the baby in a family of nine and just three more siblings to be born after me. I was used to standing down and having less to say. Being quiet, I listened allot especially to Gertrude, The Manager, who commanded a quiet mouth and a keen ear. She worked hard enough to demonstrate why you should not get in her way unless you were trying to be helpful and her love and care was surmountable. She washed, baked, set out gardens and tailored most of our clothes and still had time to look after our growing pains.
Lawrence Sr., The Fisherman, was much the same way with a temperament of a kind giant who worked like a Trojan. As a young boy, I remember how sympatric and worried I was about how they were going to make ends meet and while they talked about how hard it was, I certainly had fear about going back there to a time when starvation was real. Remarkably though, Dad was never been able to attract permanently any of his sons to his life of fishing. When it came to education and a better way of life, Mom ruled supreme. So at birth we were lectured to enter an unknown world of opportunity outside the current traditional ways of small boat fishing.
After the years of resettlement to Placentia, our family continued to a large extent to find a place in the world of work and education. Mom was left with Lorraine in the home for a time and Dad went fishing back on the Island fishing. He did not want to give up fishing and stayed at it ‘till he was in his late 6o’s. He reached the millstone of being able to hire his own trap hands finally and Mom got the satisfaction of knowing that neither of her children had to make a living with the miserable fishery. However, we also knew when we came of age that we had to be able to help ourselves as we raised our own families. The option of actually leaving home was perceived as better than the alternative of fishing from Mom’s point of view. If we had stayed, there were fewer options. Dad tried relentlessly to get each of us sons interested but painfully quiet on Mom’s wishes. What is hard work and why is it so accepted. What makes it hard but also endurable? Well, my parents were drivers but, they never forced us to work. We helped them because we respected them and we worked as a unit willingly like allot of children in Merasheen. Our motivation to work for our parents was born out of love, respect, and fairness. We wanted them to be happy and have more time for themselves. We also cared about each other and how we were viewed by our parents. At the end of the day, we reaped the benefits of their hard work. They were surely great and unique. God bless them and I hope our children can say the same about us.