MY GRANDPARENTS
by
Alan A Sandercott

Remembering my grandparents takes me back, way back. Today I’m a grandparent myself, a great grandparent actually, talk about an aging thought! My mind must travel back to London, Ontario. There was a world war going on and with my father on active service I spent a lot of time shuffling back and forth between two sets of grandparents. Memories of my grandparents are crammed into the few years prior to my heading west with my father in the spring of 1945 when I was only six years of age.

My maternal grandparents were both from Old Cumnock, a small village in Ayrshire, Scotland. I have vivid memories of their home, especially the basement and my grandfather’s woodworking shop. I spent hours and hours building airplanes, ships and wooden tanks that would I thought would aid the war effort. Grandpa spent hours trying to find his tools that I left all over the place. I recall one winter I crafted a great igloo in the front yard. It soon caved in, claiming his snow shovel which he finally discovered in the spring.

My paternal grandparents also lived in London, but their ancestry differed; Grandpa Sandercott was a second generation Canadian from England. Grandma Sandercott was also a first generation Canadian, but all her family was from Germany. I often wonder how she felt when three of her sons enlisted to fight Germany?? I do recall, however, that she was an excellent cook and she always made things especially for me. Grandpa worked for McCormicks in London and was always bringing home cookies and candy from work. Years after we moved to BC I always looked forward to Christmas and the boxes of goodies from grandpa Sandercott.

The holiday seasons were always special as I recall, always spent at one grandparent’s house or the other. My last Christmas back there was 1944. We spent it with my Lennox grandparents. My mother was very ill that year and an ambulance brought her home to spend the holiday with her family. It was her last as she passed away in the hospital a week later. Not a Christmas has passed since that I haven’t missed those final days.

Now I spend Christmas relaxing in my favourite chair watching my grandchildren opening their presents, bubbling over with excitement. I too often find myself searching for tools last seen in the hands of grandchildren. But I treasure the memories of my family growing up over the years. Now I know how my grandparents felt all those long years ago.