Today marks fifteen years since the passing of my Nan. Born Rose Margaret Power on August 12, 1919 she was the oldest daughter of Earl Power and Alice Baker. She was born and raised in East Jeddore, Nova Scotia, a small rural fishing community about an hour’s drive from Halifax.
Of my four grandparents (I was lucky to know all of them!), I was no doubt closest to my Nan. The fact she lived up the road from us on the Hamilton Beach Strip obviously cemented that relationship. From my earliest memories, Nan was always a part of our lives.
She often talked about life growing up in a historically impoverished area of Nova Scotia. Her family had little money, but they managed. Her father was a fisherman like most men in East Jeddore, and her mother a housewife. Because they were largely self-sustainable, their lives were not greatly impacted by the Great Depression. Their diet centred around fish, of course – something she despised in her later adult life.
She talked about going to school and her reputation for beating up the boys on occasion. She was known as “Earl Power’s Wildcat,” a badge of honour. And she told me how they would get in the “bateau” (a small rowing boat) and row up the shoreline or over to West Jeddore.
In 1938, she married my grandfather Alan Mills. Together, they raised a family of five girls. There was also a stillborn son (Alan). My grandparents eventually moved into my Great Grandmother Arabella (Mitchell) Mills’ house in Oyster Pond where Nan took care of her mother-in-law until she died. That must not have been easy, and my Nan recalled to me many a story of living with “Grandmother Mills” (that’s a post for another day).
Unfortunately, the marriage broke down and my grandparents separated in the 1970s before getting divorced a decade later. Ironically, this twist of fate is what enabled me to have the special relationship with Nan. Had they remained together she never would have moved to Ontario, and I would have seen her once a year at most.
I have so many wonderful memories of Nan: Christmases, family BBQs, drives out to the country, etc. One that sticks out, as well, was a tendency for my brother and I to take her shoes when she was visiting and hide them in the field behind our house so she couldn’t go home.
A couple others…
Finding her sprawled out underneath her Christmas tree that fell on top of her listening to her grumble about Christmas and swear that “this was the last year she was dressing up a tree.”
On a trip to Nova Scotia at the Halifax airport picking up our car rental, we didn’t have a valid credit card, so she offered cash as a security deposit. The worker (who happened to be bald) literally took all her cash on hand. After finally getting into our car, I asked her where she wanted to go first? “To the bank to get some damn money because that bald bastard took it all,” she snapped.
My grandparents reconciled the year before he died. One of my favourite photos is of them outside the old Oyster Pond home. She was fortunate to be able to live somewhat independently as she aged. I helped look after Nan in her later years, and we strived to do as much as we could together.
Nan died in 2008 after a brief illness. She is buried in the East Jeddore Cemetery, overlooking the harbour that is synonymous with her younger days. Her legacy lives on through numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren who have been named after her, including my own daughter whose middle name is Rose.
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