Golden is funny place to be born. At least I’ve always thought so. Besides I never lived there nor did I ever have any desire to do so. Golden is a beautiful picturesque small town nestled in lovely green valley right next to the towering Rocky Mountains. I just happened to be born there.
During the winters bitterly cold temperatures and snow are constant companions for the families living in the Columbia Valley. December of 1931 was no exception with snow storms inflicting the Valley with its worst. There was already a heavy blanket of snow along with frigid temperatures. Wisely Mom was bundled up sometime in early December and driven the fifty torturous miles north to Golden in her 1928 Model A Ford. Mom stayed with her sister, my Auntie Eva and her husband, Uncle Bill Henderson while she waited for me to arrive. Fortunately Mom knew what to expect as she had already been through it 4 1/2 years earlier with the birth of my older sister, Phyllis.
Meanwhile Mom’s sister, Ella (aka La La) happily took over at Brisco, serving as chief cook, house sitter and babysitter at the Watkins’ home. It was a fortunate choice as La had a wonderful relationship with Phyll. She was also a very good cook so Dad and Phyll were well fed and well looked after while Mom was away.
Auntie Eva and Uncle Bill lived on the outskirts of Golden right on the main road going south towards Brisco. It was a modest two bedroom wood framed house with a path (to the outhouse). By my calculation the Henderson’s already had three children, cousins Billy, Bruce & Kay.
The Golden Hospital was in a rather small but attractive white building within walking distance of the Henderson home. It looked more like a large house in the country then a town hospital. There it sat in the middle of a snow covered field surrounded by snow laden trees. The shortest day of the year was rapidly approaching so the daylight hours were short and the nights long and dark.
The heavy snow continued to fall on December 16 closing down the road between Brisco, and Golden. I can just see Mom calmly announcing that it was time for the baby to arrive. Then, following a short flurry of activity making their way along a narrow path and through the stormy night to the Hospital. Much to Mom’s relief, I’m sure I arrived 3:30 AM on December 17th. Born in the night and have been a night person ever since. So began the first of my life’s adventures. Having thought about this over the years I’ve formed a mental picture of what happened at home that morning. The telephone rang and Dad answered it. A tense silence fell over the room while La and Phyll stood awaiting for the news. “Hello. Yes, Eva.” Dad said in a strained voice. Phyll and La now hung on every word. Dad’s face suddenly relaxed as he exclaimed, “Wonderful, that’s good news.” Covering the speaker he said “It’s a boy!” La let out a whoop grabbed Phyll in a giant hug and swung her around. “It’s a boy! You have a baby brother!” La shouted as they continued to dance around our dining room. all the while Dad is straining to hear what is being said on the telephone.
The Department of Highway’s truck with the snowplow on the front sat in our driveway. In darkness of the early morning Dad warmed up the engine, lowered the plow, drove on to the highway and headed north. The road was completely covered with snow with little or no signs of tire tracks. Fortunately Dad had driven this road many times before. Still it was a difficult and slow job as he painstakingly plowed his way along the narrow, twisting snow clogged road towards Golden.
People living in the isolated farm houses and small villages along the way knew that Dad would be coming by with the snowplow and opening up road. Just as soon as the road was plowed they joined in behind him. By the time he reached Golden there was a strain of various kinds of vehicles behind him, all anxious to get to town.
When Dad finally arrived in Golden he was tired but excited. He parked the truck and headed towards the hospital where he saw me for the first time. Mom and Dad soon agreed on a name for me and I was soon registered at the local Government Office as Edward Lloyd Watkins. I was to be called Teddy. I was the third generation Edward in the Canadian Watkins family. Lloyd was after my Uncle Lloyd whose name was Walter William Lloyd George[1]. Uncle Lloyd was Dad’s youngest brother.
Later I was christened by a Reverend Thatcher who came out of retirement to do this rite. The significant thing is that he was the same Anglican clergyman who had christened my Dad. To me this is a very precious link that I have with my father. Later I remember going up a long and twisting dusty country lane to visit Rev Thatcher at his home. At my young age he seemed to me to be a very old and wise. Although it had a deep and powerful voice he was also very gentle. His beautiful home seemed like a mansion but what really impressed me was his study. The walls lined with shelves lined with books. I have always remembered that experience including the dreaded short pants that my mother made me wear.
[1] Walter William was Grandpa’s Brother and Lloyd George was British Prime Minister
My Story The Brisco Years 