The White Elephant

During the summers of my childhood, I spent quite a lot of time at the home of my maternal grandmother in Lacolle, Quebec.  Once school ended for the summer, Mom and I would drive to Lacolle.  When Dad had his two weeks of holidays, he would drive to Lacolle, pick us up and we’d carry on to Lunenburg to see his mother (more on that in a later blog) and then back to Lacolle until Labour Day.

My grandmother and grandfather had built their home, nicknamed “The White Elephant” on what was then the edge of town.  The White Elephant was a two story house with white siding and lots of big windows.  Like many homes of its era, it was a centre plan style house – the front door opened onto a foyer at the bottom of the stairs. 

To the right was a living room that ran the length of the house.  From the living room there was a door onto a lovely covered verandah that also ran the length of the house.  This was a wonderful shady place to sit in the summer and look out on the side yard with crab apple trees.

To the left of the front door was the dining room.  As a child I was captivated by two things in this room – the built in china cupboard across the far end of the room which held the family’s china treasures and the plate rail that ran around the room just below the ceiling.  

Here is a family story.  When I was a baby Mom would put me in my pram in the dining room with my bottle while they ate dinner.  I kept taking the bottle out of my mouth and making a “woo woo” sound.  They finally figured out that I was trying to bark at the china dog figurine up on the plate rail.  (I’m happy to say the china dog now has a home with me in my china cabinet.)  There was a restaurant kitchen style swinging door between the dining room and the kitchen that also fascinated me as I never seen anything like it in a private home.

Beyond the dining room was the kitchen complete with original woodburning oven, a roll towel and a lovely big window looking out onto the back garden.

Directly at the top of the stairs was the one bathroom with black and white tiles and a clawfoot tub.

To the left was a hall open to the stairway on one side with a railing.  There were two bedrooms and, at the end, my grandfather’s den. My grandfather and grandmother were blessed with true love.  They had been young sweethearts with plans of marrying and moving out west to start a ranch when WWI began.  In Ypres France my grandfather, Major Charles W. Hewson of the 5th Canadian Mounted Rifles, lost his arm in a mortar attack.  For this sacrifice he was awarded the Military Cross for bravery, a great honor.  Although their plans of moving West had been dashed, my grandfather and grandmother married upon his discharge and loved each all of their lives. 

My grandfather had passed away shortly before I was born so, unfortunately, I never met the man in person.  But in his home and particularly in his office, his persona was powerful and real to me.  In my memory the small sunny den is entirely sepia.  His wooden desk and glass cabinet were filled with his possessions, pictures and hardcovered books about the military.  His swords and sidearms were there; although safely out of reach of children, Mom would occasionally indulge me and bring them out.

To the right of the top of the stairs was the master bedroom.  It ran the entire right side of the house.  At the back of the room was the best walk-in closet ever.  Granny's clothes were hung in a row on one side and Grandpa's in a row on the other side.   A window on the far wall of the closet allowed natural light in.  Behind the rows of hanging clothes was a shelved storage area – a great place to play, hidden away by the long coats and dresses.  My grandmother’s crèche of the nativity scene was stored away here and I often played with it, loving the china animals and the baby Jesus.  (This too is now in my home.)

To the right of the walk in closet was a door leading out to the upstairs verandah.  Besides my grandmother’s big wooden bed, his and hers dressers and a dressing table, there was another piece of furniture in the room that I loved – the antique pedal operated sewing machine.  For those of you who don’t know, these machines looked like a side table – the sewing machine part would retract below a solid top.  The pre electricity machine was operated with a foot pedal, essentially a large wrought iron treadle that rocked back and forth.  As a small child, I could squeeze myself down onto the pedal and rock back and forth like I was on a swing.

The White Elephant had a lovely large, dry attic.  At least once during the summer, Mom would ascend a ladder from the upstairs hall into the attic.  It was lovely place with interesting boxes of stuff and dust motes swirling around in the low light.

While the inside of the White Elephant was interesting for a kid like me, the outside was great fun too. 

At the back of the house between the kitchen and living room was a back hall lined with hooks for jackets and things.   The door opened out into the wood shed.  Typical for the era, there was a large dark, dank sunken area that at one time held the firewood for the stove.  My grandmother always warned me to stay out of the wood pit because she said it had rats.  I never saw a rat, but there were always plenty of spiders and that was enough to make me stay away. 

From the wood shed you could go outside onto the back verandah off the kitchen or cut through another storage shed to the garage.  There was never a car in that garage while I was there but there was a wagon that I used to take dolls around in.  And there were gardening tools that I used to cut a foot path – “the Acorn Way” - through the small copse of trees at the back of property beyond the vegetable garden.  My grandmother would indulge me as I led her through the path over and over again.

My grandmother’s house, The White Elephant, holds many wonderful memories for me.