From the Kitchen of
Big Ma & Big Pa
Cherished Memories with
Yarns, Recipes & Remedies
Family Tree of
Tom O’Dowd and Amanda Crepeau
Tom O’Dowd “Big Pa”
(Youngest son of James O’Dowd & Catherine Partel)
Amanda Crepeau “Big Ma”
(Daughter of Eusebe Crepeau & Marie Blanchette)
Married February 14, 1898
Their Children
Joseph Brono (Mary Dumas)
Children: Harvey, Paul and Doris
Mary Ludovica (Joseph Deslandes)
Child: Jane
Mary Dora (William Howe)
Children: Alice, Dora, Norma, William, Michael, Carol, Gail and Tommy
Joseph Renold
(Died Nov.1904)
Mary Beatrice (Albert Monchamp)
Child: Roch
Mary Anne (Michael Goonan)
Children: Michael, Richard, Mary, Daniel and Violet
Joseph Arnold
(Died May 1916)
Mary Violet
(Died Feb. 1940)
Joseph Alfred (Georgette Paris)
Children: Thomas, Jill, Judith and Sue
Mary Alice (Gerald Cloutier)
Children: Rita, Roger, Richard and Gerald
Joseph Harvey (Mary Hartman)
Children: William, Sally, Eileen, Cindy and James
MEMORIES
“Love Forever”
For Big Ma and Big Pa - With love by, Mickey Howe
This is a yarn that brings back the fondest and loving memories of Big Ma and Big Pa to a time when my Mom would take me to visit them. I remember being eight to ten years old on one of those visits. Big Ma made the most wonderful lunch of dumplings, roast pork, potatoes and white gravy sauce; the taste and quality fit for a king. Big Pa would then take me out to see his garden. After that, we would sit on the back porch and Big Pa would fill his clay pipe with tobacco, putting very little in a second pipe for me. Let me tell you, I felt ten feet tall having a chat with Big Pa while puffing away on Irish Dodeens.
One of my most treasured memories was when he saw a wart on my hand. Big Pa stood up, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a penny and bought my wart. I was amazed that in a few days, the wart disappeared. As I grew older, logic prevailed. It was just a virus that had cured itself.
Now in my heart of hearts I think that I believe that Big Pa buying the wart was the real reason for the curing of the wart.
Our Indian Roots
(As remembered by Mary Ann [Nan O’Dowd] Goonan as told to her daughter Mary Jerome before her death)
In order to marry our grandfather (Eusebe Crepeau) Big Ma’s mother Marie Blanchette had to change her Indian name to a Christian name and get baptized in the church. She remembers going to an Indian hut made of canvas and sticks (not teepee shaped). My grandmother cooked on a pit in the floor. She made the dyes from berries and herbs and dyed many things beautiful colors. She always had a smile and wore her hair in one long braid. She used to wear a feather in her headband but later wore just the headband. The headbands were decorated with beads that she also used to decorate many other things. She made moccasins that went up to your knees, out of one piece of leather. It was very, very soft leather. I think my sister Lutavecca (which means Moon Water) was named after her. Freddie remembers her hanging out the clothes when a goose came and bit her on the bum. She turned and broke its neck and then went in and cooked it for dinner.
Marie Blanchette & Great Grand Children
Our Irish Roots
(As remembered by Fred O’Dowd)
When Big Pa’s family came from Ireland, they made barges (like rafts) and went down the St. Lawrence River to the Nicolet River to homesteaded there. You could get 110 acres of land if you farmed it. There were many Irish settlers then: the O’Sullivans, O’Haras, O’Shaughnessys, O’Briens, McNamaras, Gradys, Ellis and many more Irish families. I don’t remember much about Big Pa’s siblings, just his brothers John, Mike, James and sister Bridgett. Big Pa’s sister Bridgett married an Ellis and they had three daughters; Lena, Rose and May (who was slow). Lena and Rose (who were old maids, although one of them married a Count later in life) started the first high school in Drummondville. I remember they had a well behind their house. They shoveled out the cow manure in a pile next to it. The water in that well was always yellow. I would never drink it, although they did and survived.
Our Family Roots
(As remembered by Harvey O’Dowd)
When Big Ma married Big Pa she could not speak English and he could speak French. They were married on Valentine’s Day 1898 and soon started a family.
Wedding Photo
Big Ma was a very smart lady. She taught herself how to speak and read English. She always worked very hard and helped Big Pa around the farm. She grew her own flax in the garden, and wove it into sheets. It was the most beautiful linen. I wish I had some of them now. She would stay up late at night to knit things for us. She made all her own patterns to make all of our clothes. One day she saw a lady with a nice hairdo in church and came home and fixed Violets hair the same way. It was beautiful.
(As remembered by Fred O’Dowd recorded by Judy Phillipe)
Big Ma was always quiet. She was a squaw but wouldn’t admit she was part Indian. Her mother made boots and Indian clothes, Big Ma could too but wouldn’t because she was ashamed of her heritage. Big Pa respected her but others didn’t.
The Early Years in Canada
(As remembered by Mary Ann (Nan O'Dowd) Goonan as told to her daughter Mary Jerome before her death)
Big Ma loved to read and all her children’s second names were after characters in a book. All the boys’ first names were Joseph and the girls were named Mary.
How hard it was, so cold on the farm. It was so awful for them when Arnold died of meningitis in 1916. He would scream he was in such pain. They had to tie his hands to the side of the crib to stop him from pulling his hair out. Renold died of pneumonia in 1904.
Violet had a bad heart and a short neck. She had been born when Big Ma was only 7 months pregnant and had no fingernails or toenails. Big Ma would put her on a pillow near the stove during the day to keep her warm.
I remember when Violet died. She had just gotten engaged to a guy named Jimmy. Her favorite song was "It's Only a Paper Moon" and she was always singing it. The day she took me (Mary) to see my mother (Nan) and my new baby brother (Danny) in the hospital, she died suddenly while standing at the end of my mother's bed. The nurses came and took care of me until Big Pa and Aunt Beatrice came to pick me up.
(As remembered by Fred O’Dowd recorded by Judy Phillipe)
Big Pa was Irish and went to an Irish school to learn to read. He was the youngest in his family and in those days the farm was left to the youngest child. So he inherited the family farm.
When I was young we had horses (no tractors) and used a horse and team to travel. I couldn’t ride on a buggy, because I got too sick so I had to run behind it. We went to Ste-Brigitte-des-Saults, a little over 2 miles away and I ran the whole way. We went there because Pa had a lot of turnips he thought he could sell. But most people had their own vegetables and we had to return home with the whole load. It took a long time to travel 2 miles.
Big Ma & Big Pa, Nan, Alice, Beatrice, Violet, Harvey,
Vecca, Brono, Dora, Freddie & the dog
We went to church on horse and team. We never missed Mass. When someone was sick the priest would bring the host to the farm and would ring a bell. We would take our hats off and get on our knees until he passed. We prayed in the fields at noon when the church bells rang. We prayed every night also. Big Pa read the English Bible and his prayer book. He was a holy man and read them day and night.
Big Pa’s sister lived with us. She had an eye infection, which ultimately caused the eye to dry up and fall out. My sister Beatrice remembered her and talked about her often. My brother Bruno was the first born, then Vecca, Dora, Arnold (who died) Beatrice, Annie, Renold (who died) Violet, Freddie, Alice and Harvey.
My father’s mother (Catherine Purtell) smoked a clay pipe. She died before I was born, but she was alive while Beatrice and Dora were kids.
During WWI Big Pa bought a farm for Bruno and the family farm was to be left to Harvey because he was the youngest son. He would be expected to care for his parents until their death.
When Bruno was 20 years old he decided that he did not like farming and went to live in the US with his uncle and cousins. Big Pa was stuck with two farms, 38 milking cows, 6-7 horses, sheep and pigs. Big Pa hated the cows’ tails hitting him in the face when he was milking them so he cut their tails off. When he tried to sell them at the auction he had a hard time.
The First Move to the US
When we first came to the US, I was about six. We stayed here a few years trying to make enough money to make payments on the second farm. Big Pa lost the original farm because he had a mortgage on the new farm and did not have enough money to cover it.
Freddie, Vecca, Bruno, Dora, Beatrice, Nan, Violet,Big Ma, Alice, Big Pa, Uncle John & Harvey
Return to Canada
(As Remembered by: Alice Cloutier)
When we went back to Canada to sell the farm, Big Ma’s mother, Marie Blanchette, came to live with us. She got sick and died. It was the morning I was making my confirmation (with my two cousins Paul and Thomas Crepeau) the priest said to pray for her because she was so sick. No one had told him of her death and after mass he scolded me for not telling him. I was very upset. I don’t know why one of the grown ups hadn’t told him. They were at the church too.
(As remembered by Fred O’Dowd recorded by Judy Phillipe)
Selling the farm broke Big Pa’s heart. He had to buy more cows to make it a farm again and make it sellable. He lost a lot of money. We had a dozen cows, or so, this time and 40 or so young cows coming along. We sold the milk for money. We didn’t sell the produce; we used it to maintain the family.
(As Remembered by: Alice Cloutier)
One of the cows, a big black & white cow, would not let anyone except Big Ma milk her. If anyone else tried she would kick the pail over and spill all the milk out. I remember when Harvey and I were young, on cold mornings on the farm, we would run outside and put our bare feet in cow dung to keep them warm. We had a platform in front of the farm with a cross on it and we went out every night at 6 o’clock to say the rosary.
Aunt Alice milking a skinny cow
(As remembered by Fred O’Dowd recorded by Judy Phillipe)
Big Ma pickled and preserved food for the family. Turnips, cabbage, carrots, and potatoes were stored in a ground cellar. During winter we chopped wood for the next season. The far end of farm had standing trees that were cut down each winter and stacked. The wood stove only heated one room at
the farm. We slept on mattresses made of cornhusk, one under, and one over.
All the older kids had gone to the US except for us little kids, Violet, Alice, Harvey and me (Freddie). We stayed in Canada with Big Ma & Big Pa. Big Ma cooked beans and peas. We all sat down at meals together. We had salt pork, beans and pea soup. We did not have much meat. Big Pa raised pigs and butchered one in the fall and kept the meat during the cold weather. They did kill chickens periodically during the year for food.
Big Pa didn’t hunt for food because he didn’t want to touch a gun. My grandmother taught me to hunt, trap and snare rabbits and partridge. We would cut little fir trees, lay them down in a row, then took two stick (saplings), leaving a space between the trees, notch the two sticks, take another stick, (birch) bent it over and tied a piece of rawhide to a cross stick. Then we hooked the cross stick in the notch, made a loop with a skinny brass wire. When an animal came along and saw this fence of fur trees and the nice opening, it walked through and brushed across it knocking the stick off, hanging the animal by the neck up in the air so other animals could not get to it. I would bring the animals I caught home and Big Ma would clean and cook them for meals. We also fished the Nicolet River right in back of our house. It had only small fish but Big Ma would cook them for supper.
Big Ma made soap with the fat from the animals they slaughtered, boiled it down, added lye, and poured it into a wooden box that Big Pa had made for her. The light brown soap was cut off in blocks. They didn’t waste anything. The sheep were sheared and the wool sent away to be washed.
When it came back, they carded it. It was soft wool about the size of your finger, like the size of a cotton ball. Big Ma peddled to spin it, sometimes it would break. You had to have a special feel to feed it through, twisting it as it went through the bobbin; then she would make a ball and from that she would knit and weave with it. A big loom for weaving was borrowed when it was needed. We also had a homemade loom. Sometimes she would buy a roll of cotton thread, feed it through the loom and throw a shuttle through it. She made blankets, plain, not printed or striped, and sometimes-quilted blankets out of old clothes.
Flax (like wheat or oats) was thrashed. It was put in a pile on barn floor. With two sticks twice the size of a broom handle, a piece of leather on both sides tied together like a hinge, you beat it until the outside husk breaks up. The more beaten up, the smoother it got until just the straight fiber remained like a small thread. They saved the seeds to replace the flax for the next year.
Spinning flax hurt your hands because pieces of husk remained, picking the hands. Big Ma weaved towels and sheets that were very rough until washed a million times. Big Ma washed every thing by hand with a washboard and tub. She made candles and made her own bread. There was a flourmill with two big grinding wheels near the river. We would bring the grain there to be ground. Big leather belts turned with waterpower. The big pulleys on the belt ground it up then spilled it into the chutes to be bagged.
They had buckwheat for pancakes. It was crude. Every so often they had to grind with stones and often the flour would have sand in it and it was
gritty and wasn’t very good to eat. We had a glass of molasses and a piece of bread to dip into it for dessert. Often Big Ma made pies with apples, berries, and molasses. She churned butter and cheese from the milk, until what was left was 1% milk. It was thrown away. (They sell it now.) We never drank skim milk.
Freddie taking Harvey for a ride
Living on the farm was tough. I remember stepping in hen droppings. It would get between your toes, worse than cow patty. It was like walking on spikes. We were always barefoot, stubbing our toes. I have no warm fuzzy memories. It was a poor farm, just misery, hard work and cold. There were no kids around, just brothers and sisters. Once I tried to hitch the dog up to a sled to pull Violet. I made a whip to make him pull, but he turned around and bit me. Big Pa wouldn’t help me. He was too busy doing his own work and had nothing to do with the kids. He told the grandchildren stories but not us. He would say go get the axe and chop wood. I cut my knee wide
open once. He said I warned you kids. But he didn’t, I had a big gash on my knee. I wish he told me to be careful.
Big Ma, Vecca, Freddie, Big Pa & Bruno
Big Pa had bought this big tall horse. He wasn’t much good, he wouldn’t work or pull, he was lazy. Pa would slap him on the butt to get him to move into the stall to let him put a bridle on. So I tried it once; walked in and slapped the horse. He turned around, reared up and kicked the side of the stall. Pa said “what did you do?” And I said I did what you did I slapped him on the butt. And he said, "you got to talk to him first". Why didn’t he tell me that? He should have warned me what could have happened. He just missed kicking me in the head. He almost killed me.
Every Christmas I got the same gift (a little rubber horse & wagon). I was allowed to play with it until “Little Christmas” in January, then it was put away to be given to me next Christmas. I loved that little wagon.
I don’t remember Big Ma talking very much. She was never one to talk much. I was never disciplined
very much. That’s why I was strict with my kids. Big Pa never disciplined me or ever raised his voice. Big Ma got mad at me little bit and tried to hit me with a little whip if I was too bad as a kid. I figured I was too ornery so when I grew up I was stricter with my kids.
(As Remembered by: Alice Cloutier)
I remember one day Big Ma & Big Pa were invited to a party in the village. The children were not allowed to attend. Freddie wanted to go, so he ran all the way to the village and went into the party all dirty in his play clothes and Big Ma was horrified, because no other children were there and for everyone to think she did not keep her children clean.
Our final move to Manchester, NH
(As remembered by Fred O’Dowd recorded by Judy Phillipe)
Uncle John lived with us all his life; he wasn’t married and was Big Pa’s brother. He was a nice man but was an alcoholic. He would sometimes go six months without drinking; then he would get a little money and go on a tout. He looked like a twin to Harvey, always smiling, lovable and gentle. He used to hop freight trains and was blind in one eye from an ash from a train.
Uncle John
Katie, his sister, lived with the three old maids next to us until they moved to Drummondville to form a school.
Uncle Jim, Big Pa’s other brother, was in the US for years and that’s why they were able to come to NH. In those days you needed a sponsor and a job to get into the US.
Recruiters came to Canada to find people to work when Uncle Jim came here. We came back to the US when I was about 12 or 13. Someone had to sponsor us to come into the US. You had to show proof you had a job. So Uncle Jimmy had a letter from the mill in Manchester. Big Pa couldn’t stand working inside, being outside all his life, so he went looking for another job at the city yard where he could work outside. I remember Merrimack Common had statues, with restrooms, and there was a big ditch with a brook running through it. It has been covered over for years now.
I had to help support the family until I got married and by then Harvey and Alice were working also. I got 34 cents per hour, bought nothing for myself until I got $21.00 a week, then Big Ma would give me $2.00. I got married on that. I complained to Big Ma once and she sat me down and showed me what she had to spend for potatoes, and how much rent was etc., so I never complained after that.
Big Pa didn’t talk to me or tell me stories like he did the grandchildren. He wasn’t a storyteller until he had grandchildren. He told fairy tales, but he was not much for conversation. He just told us that we had to go to work. He was a good man. One of my father’s brothers lost an arm while coupling two trains together. They moved and jammed his arm
between them and he bled to death on the spot. There were no doctors at the lumber camps. Uncle Jim was married to a German woman, (Martha) she had one eye that was closed all the time. They had Molly, Ruth, Harold, Irene, Hazel, Carl, Freddie & Alice. They were here for years and worked in the mills before we ever arrived in Manchester.
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
I can remember Big Pa’s brother Uncle Jimmy coming over to the house and on summer days they would sit out on the porch and talk. Big Ma of course was knitting or crocheting. If my mother (Beatrice) were there Uncle Jimmy would give her some money and say, “go up to Dr. Green and get us a pint”. Dr. Green was the liquor store at Lake Ave and Hall Streets. She’d come home and they would have a drink, sitting on the porch, passing the time of day.
Big Pa and Big Ma were both very religious. I can remember Big Ma saying her rosary beads and everyday Big Pa would sit by the window in the kitchen and read his prayer book. It was worn with tattered and yellowed pages. He taught me my prayers before I was four.
A visit from Big Pa’s brother
Their Love
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
Big Ma & Big Pa were both phenomenal people. During the thirties, depression days, my mother (Beatrice) had to work and so Big Ma and Big Pa were my baby sitters. I got to eat a lot of Big Ma’s cooking and got to know them really well. A good example of how great Big Ma was; she could have company drop in, and expected or not, would prepare a meal for them. In the mean time she would also bake a couple of pies for dessert, sit and chat with the company and knit or crochet all at the same time.
Long walks on the beach with Big Ma
(As remembered by Vi (Goonan) Sullivan)
When I was little, I remember sitting on Big Ma’s lap and examining her tiny gold earrings. They were like the tiniest of flowers. I was fascinated because she had pierced ears. I wanted to have mine pierced, which at the time was unthinkable! She told me when I was grown up I could do it and she would give me those earrings. I could hardly wait, and bugged my mother for permission, but she
said no. As soon as I was grown up enough (twenty) I walked on a freezing cold day to Dr. Flanagan’s office on North Elm Street and had them pierced. It cost three dollars! By that time Big Ma and the earrings were both long gone!
(As remembered by Richard Goonan)
My special memories begin with how kind, gentle, and loving Big Ma & Big Pa truly were, and how easy it was to love them back. They were a perfect couple, living in the perfect house, perfect for grandchildren to visit (at least in my mind). I loved the school yard next door, a great place for all the games of our time, like baseball, basketball, hop scotch, jump rope and hide & seek.
Papa loves Mama
I don’t ever remember them complaining about the noise or the mess we would drag in at times. I remember the milk and cookies, home made bread, but mostly of all, when I stayed overnight, Big Ma’s crepes smothered in molasses. They were great with maple syrup too, but my favorite was molasses.
And who could ever forget Big Pa’s garden? I’m sure at one time or another he let all of us (his grand-children) feel like big shots, helping him with his prize crop, tobacco. I couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old when he gave me my first pipe full. Of course Big Ma and my Ma, Nan, were not very impressed and they scolded him, but Big Pa just laughed and said, “Aw, it’ll make a man out of him”. God, how I loved them. The attic over the barn (garage); what a great clubroom it made. I must have been 9 or 10 at the time. I think Rocky might remember, he was part of the club along with Billy and Mickey Howe and my brother Mike. It was great of Big Ma & Big Pa to let us use it, but thinking back on it now, how Big Pa must have laughed if he went up to check things out. We had pin ups of our day, Betty Grable, Dorothy Lamoure, Lucille Ball and Veronica Lake among others. We were all love struck, I guess. These are only a few of the many memories, which have been enriched 1000 fold in my heart because of the love of Big Ma & Big Pa.
(As Remembered by: Jill Guild)
I remember sleeping over at their house and listening to them say their “beads” kneeling by their bed, and being lulled to sleep listening to them and the clock that Big Pa always wound with a key before bed. They taught me many songs in French; one was about a purple cow. I only remember parts of it and when I sang it to Harvey, he told me I had a few songs mixed up.
I remember Big Pa telling me never to play under the table or stick anything into the big black 220
outlet under there. Of course the minute they were not looking I crawled under the table and stuck a hairpin into the socket. After that I don’t remember anything until I woke up in Big Ma’s arms and her humming softly into my ear. I had pretty serious burns on my arm that she treated with butter, I think. They never yelled at me or said that they had told me not to do that.
Their House
(As Remembered by: Jill Guild)
I remember going to their house (next to Wilson School) after my first day of kindergarten to show them how fast I could write my name. My brother Tom and I would stop at Big Ma & Pa’s house on our way to and from school to get something to eat. Big Ma always had some of her canned stewed tomatoes for me and potato pancakes rolled up with butter for Tom.
Paul, Albert, Mary, Bruno, Harvey, Alice, Cousin Jimmy & his wife, Big Ma, Big Pa, Georgette, Beatrice, Cousin Freddie, Tommy, Roch, Doris and Jill
(As remembered by Dodie [Howe] Monnelly)
I remember when it was my turn to visit with Big Ma & Big Pa I would get so lonesome for my mother I would just stand at the window and cry. Big Ma always would sit by me and try to sooth my fears, but she always ended up calling Aunt Beatrice to give me a ride home.
Big Ma’s Feather Bed
(As Remembered by: Jill Guild)
The earliest memory I have of Big Ma was being rocked to sleep in her arms on the porch. Then she would carry me into the house and lay me down on her big feather bed for a nap. She could make you feel so loved just by being with her.
About Big Ma
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
Big Ma was truly remarkable; she would knit stocking, gloves, and mittens, sweaters-anything. She would sew and make trousers, shirts and dresses. She would keep peppermint in her dresser drawer and take you in to give you one. She loved chocolates with cherries in them. She always liked to eat Shredded Wheat at breakfast.
Big Ma’s Knitting
(As Remembered by: Jill Guild)
Big Ma knitted all our winter things, like warm socks for skating, mittens, hats, sweaters etc. My favorite was a hat with a ball at the end of a long cord. She sewed a bell in it that jingled every time I moved my head. We would stop by before school and Big Ma would lay you down and trace you on a newspaper or trace your hand or foot. Then after
school what ever she was knitting for you was ready.
(As remembered by Sue (O’Dowd) Perry
I was too young to have many stories to contribute. My memories of Big Ma were her always going into the bedroom and opening her black purse and giving me a peppermint when ever I came to visit. My other memory is of her sitting in her chair on the porch and knitting or crocheting.
(As remembered by Vi (Goonan) Sullivan)
Big Ma was always knitting or crocheting something. I remember the hats with the pompoms at the end. Mine was pink and white and I still have it in a box of keepsakes in the attic.
Big Ma’s Big Help
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
I remember Big Ma would shave Big Pa in the kitchen with a safety razor. She would wrap a towel around his neck, lather him up and shave him. He never shaved himself.
Big Pa’s Stories
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
Big Pa was at a wake for a man who did not have many friends and was not well liked. As they sat around trying to say something nice or good about him, at the wake, no one could think of anything, so Big Pa offered, “he was a good smoker”.
(As Remembered by: Jill Guild)
Big Pa would sit on the porch while the neighborhood children listened to his stories, which all seemed so true, but you could not quite figure out if it made sense or not. He used to tell us that
he was Santa Claus, which I questioned from the beginning because he was too thin to be Santa Claus. One day a boy who lived across the street from them, took me aside and told me that he had lied to us and that he was not the real Santa.
(As Remembered by: Alice Cloutier)
Many of Big Pa’s stories were of the black Irishmen and the Gypsies who stole children when it got dark.
At the Beach with Big Ma & Big Pa, Freddie,
Gette, Tom, Jill & Judy
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
Big Ma and Big Pa would go to Canada in the summer for a week or two. We would stay at Big Ma’s brother’s (Uncle Pete) farm in Ste. Brigette. There was no running water, no electricity and only an out-house with the Sears catalog (for toilet paper). Big Pa liked to tell the story abut how one
day he saw my father go into the out-house. He waited until my father got comfortable. Big Pa then threw a big rock up against the back wall of the out-house and my father came running out with his pants down around his ankles. Big Pa, of course, stood there laughing. He and my dad always got along well and played jokes on one another.
(As remembered by Sue [O’Dowd] Perry)
Big Pa would take me out on the porch and give me a pipe to smoke or a chew of his tobacco and teach me how to spit over the railing. He’d tell me stories about the “little people” and such.
(As remembered by Vi [Goonan] Sullivan)
Big Pa in his cute old way called me “Violet the Toilet” while blowing smoke in my face. I only stood for it because it was Big Pa.
Big Pa’s Big Helper
(As remembered by Mary [Goonan] Jerome)
He often asked me to help him hang the clothes on the clothes line and would say I’ll hang “Maa’s” heavy breastplates and you can do the rest.
(As remembered by Harvey O’Dowd)
Big Pa was a hard working honest man. I remember he took me to the hardware store with him one day. While I was there I saw a plug that Big Ma needed (they were two for nickel) so I picked one up and put it in my pocket. When we got home and I took it out to give to Big Ma. Big Pa asked me where I had gotten it. I told him I took it from the hardware store. He marched me back to the hardware store and made me return it. I was so embarrassed, and I never tried to take anything that did not belong to me again.
(As remembered by Fred O’Dowd)
Big Pa had a watch that was given to him by his father. His father had acquired it in a trade in exchange for a horse. There was a special key he had and he would open the back and wind it up. The face of the watch also opened up and you could use the key to change the time. I wish I knew what happened to it when he died.
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
I remember the ragman and how he would come by the house with his horse and wagon. He would blow his whistle. He would always stop by and talk with Big Ma and Big Pa. I also remember the iceman with his big rubber cape coming in the summer to deliver a huge chunk of ice and carried it on his back with a big hook.
Big Ma & Big Pa at the Beach
Big Pa’s Finger
(As Remembered by: Jill Guild)
Big Pa had a short finger and had told us many different story about how he lost it. One time it was a big black dog that bit it off, another is that Paul Bunion chopped it off. Roch Monchamp told me that it got chopped off while chopping wood. But Aunt Alice says he got it caught while working for the city between two telephone poles. So the mystery continues.
Big Pa’s Gardens
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
Big Pa would grow his own tobacco. We lived in three houses on Summer Street, 596, 622 and one just below Hall when I was 3-6 years old. The latter had a plot of land next to it and Big Pa would farm it. Then when they moved to Auburn Street, he always had a garden. He would grow vegetables and tobacco, which he would then dry in the cellar, cut it up at the kitchen table and put it in an old leather pouch to be smoked in his pipe later. He also had a brass spittoon next to his chair in the kitchen where he usually sat.
Helping Big Pa, Freddie, Alice & Harvey
(As remembered by Alice Cloutier)
I remember Big Pa growing his own tobacco in the yard. He would pick it and put in a small bunches and hang it in the cellar. Then he would sit at the end of the table and crush some for his tobacco pouch, and then he would roll his own cigars.
Big Pa and His Chickens
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
I remember Big Pa going to work for the city before he got sick. I can remember him killing live chickens in the summer kitchen and then having to pluck the feathers. Big Ma would dip them in a large pot of boiling water then quickly hang it up by the feet from the kitchen cupboard door. She would skillfully pull the feathers off with both hands and bag them to be made into pillows.
(As remembered by Mary Jerome)
Big Pa would never buy a chicken from the store; he always bought them live and killed them himself. He would gut them and check the guts for diseases before he would let Big Ma cook it.
(As Remembered by: Jill Guild)
One day Big Pa said that he had to kill a chicken and told my brother Tom and me to stay upstairs while he went into the cellar. But we didn’t… Tom and I snuck to the top of the cellar stairs and watched while he chopped the chicken’s head off. It was gross—the chicken just ran around with his head cut off and then just died.
Miracle by Big Ma
(As Remembered by: Alice Cloutier)
When my youngest son Gerry was born he was fine. The day we left the hospital the Dr. checked him and said he just fine. The nurses dressed him and I took him home. A few hours after we got home he started to cry and was shaking and turned blue. We rushed him back to the hospital. We never found out what happened, but suspected his head was hit while they dressed him. He was in and out of the hospital several times, and his head was growing. They tapped his spine for fluid-he had fluid on the brain. They sent us to the children’s hospital in Boston. They said they would have to operate to remove the fluid but he was too little. He was born Oct. 14, 1954 and they scheduled the surgery Jan. 22, 1955. We went to see Big Ma in Dec. exactly a week before she died and she said to me “Alice don’t worry about your baby, he is going to be fine”. A week later she died, Dec. 20, 1954. When I picked up the baby, his ears had drained-his pillow was all wet. I took him to the Dr’s and he checked him, but said he did not know what happened-but he seemed to be OK. On Jan. 22nd I took him to Boston hospital. They sent me home and said they would operate in the morning. The next day the surgeon called me and said you can come get your baby. He is fine, it is a miracle-we do not have to operate, we can’t find anything wrong with him. We want to keep a close check for a year-but we don’t expect any problems. All we can say is “it’s a Miracle”, we were sure he needed surgery”. In April of the following year, they gave him a clean bill of health.
Passing of Big Ma
(As Remembered by: Jill Guild)
Shortly after Harvey and Mary got married they bought a farmhouse in Goffstown (1 Mast Rd). The summer before Big Ma died I remember visiting them in Goffstown. Big Ma had made up a bed on the couch near her room, but I wanted to sleep upstairs with my cousins Bill and Sally, because our house did not have an upstairs. She died that December and I have always felt bad that I must have disappointed her after she had gone to all that trouble. I never knew that she was sick (adults did not tell kids anything in those days) When she died I was devastated I could not stop crying. It was the first wake I had ever gone to. At the wake Big Pa gave me a red heart candy box and said that Big Ma wanted me to have it. In it were pictures and newspaper clippings she had saved of me in Girl Scouts, etc. She had also left me her watch with the little blue medal of the Blessed Virgin on it. It brings tears to my eyes every time I think of them.
Big Pa after Big Ma’s Death
(As Remembered by: Jill Guild)
Big Pa was never the same after Big Ma died. He had lost the love of his life. He spent about six weeks with us and then went to stay with my other aunts or uncles for a while. While staying with us he would answer the phone. I was dating my husband Jim; Big Pa would always give me the message that “Gravel Neck” called because he thought Jim had such a deep voice.
(As remembered by Vi (Goonan) Sullivan)
After Harvey and Mary moved to New Jersey, Big Pa would come and stay with us for several weeks at a time. Then he would go to Bea and Al’s and
then to his other children too. Every so often he would be back with us. He was always a welcome treat to us. I thought he was the greatest.
We had a TV by then and we would watch it all together at night. He couldn’t quite imagine the whole concept. He’d get up and walk over to the set and look closely and say things like, “there’s no baby in that carriage!” He did enjoy it though. Around eight thirty or so he’d say, “Let’s go to bed said Sleepy Head, we’ve time enough said Slow, put on the pot said Greedy Gut, we’ll eat before we go!” Then we’d go out to the kitchen, where he would have a couple of donuts, (my Dad made the best donuts!) and a glass of milk.
Big Pa
Every morning, he’d do his exercise… reach up as far as he could, then touch his toes…he could put his whole hand down. After a hearty breakfast, he’d sit by the kitchen window and smoke his pipe. He always tried to help my Mum. He’d dry the dishes while I washed. He always called the iron frying pan the bride. When he helped hang the clothes, he’d say. “I may be slow, but I do it well”.
One time when he was staying at Aunt Bea’s (she had gone to a wedding or something) it was my job to walk over and make sure Big Pa had some lunch. When I got there, he was quite upset. Aunt Bea had a parakeet and it had been flying around. It stopped to rest on the floor and Big Pa stepped on its tail feathers. The bird tried to fly away and the feathers stayed on the floor. Poor little “Pettie” (the parakeet) didn’t make it. He felt very bad about that! When I think of how good they really were, and how hard their lives were, I feel so spoiled. Our lives are so much easier, and yet, I envy the simplicity, peace and love of their time. They shared that love with all of us and I feel my life has been blessed by them. I was twelve when Big Ma died, fourteen when Big Pa went to join her. I only wish I had known them longer.
Although they died many years ago their legacy lives on in our hearts. The greatest honor we can pay them is to share the love and joy they brought us with the next generation, so they in turn can pass that love and joy on to the next generation. They persevered through the loss of beloved children, the loss of their farm and many other hardships, yet were still able to teach us the meaning of patience, understanding and unconditional love.
FOOD & RECIPES
Enjoying Big Ma & Big Pa’s 50th Anniversary
Alice, Nan, Dora, Bruno, Big Pa, Big Ma
Vecca, Beatrice, Freddie and Harvey
(As remembered by Alice Cloutier)
Big Ma always used a pinch of this and a pinch of that-so learning to cook from her was not easy, but you know I still cook like that a lot-pinch here & there and don’t follow a recipe like I should.
Pork Pie “Tourtiere” (Alice Cloutier)
3 lbs ground pork (about 70% lean)
1 cup mashed potatoes
Large onion chopped fine
1 ¼ tsp. Allspice
1 ¼ tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. Cloves – salt & pepper
Cook all together in large pan. Put in piecrust. Bake at 375˚ oven for 35 minutes
PS: If too much fat skim off before putting in crust.
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
Big Ma, without a doubt, was the best cook in the world. She did it without effort and I don’t ever remember seeing a cookbook. I got the Gorton recipe from my mother who I am sure got it from Big Ma. The tourtiere comes from a French-Canadian cookbook which tastes like Big Ma’s. I tried it out on Aunt Alice and she agreed. We would have those for the Christmas “reveillon” after Midnight Mass.
(“Reveillon”—Prior to the war, Christmas in 1941, there was a Midnight Mass. The Catholic Church rule at that time made the day before Christmas [i.e. the 24th] a day of fast and abstinence [little food and NO MEAT] so Catholics would go to Midnight Mass and then after Mass around 1-1:30 am, depending on the length of the sermon, would gather at a house for a feast at which time the fast would be broken and meat would be eaten. Somewhere before the beginning of WWII and in 1942 there were blackouts and no midnight Masses were said. Later, however, the church rules changed-no more fasting and abstinence. Talking to Aunt Alice about the old days and what was served, she told me that red things were served so they usually had toutiere, garton, potato pie, with cranberries, pickled beets, olives, with raspberry or strawberry pie. Now I make them before we go to the 5 o’clock Mass the night before Christmas. Then we come home and have the feast. One other thing we have at the reveillon “pote-a potate” (potato pie).
Big Ma made the best fruit and custard pies; you name it she could make it. She also made bread and doughnuts to die for. Other things she made that I don’t have recipes are her bread soup, tomato and milk soup, crepes, potato cakes, pea soup, port ragout and cabbage soup.
Gorton (Alice Cloutier)
3 lbs. ground pork
1 small finely chopped onion
¾ tsp. Cloves
1 tsp. Cinnamon
¾ tsp. Allspice
¾ tsp. Salt – some pepper
Add about ½ cup water – simmer on Med – stir every 15 min. – 45 min. – 1 hour. Skim off fat - add about 1/2 fine crushed saltines. Put on toast or crackers.
(A remembered by Fred O’Dowd-recorded by Judy Phillipe)
Big Pa made home-brew in the cellar in a barrel for visitors. He made it from barley and grains. He always let me taste some. It was good and sweet not bitter. I never saw him drunk; he never drank except for a shot of Irish Whisky before supper.
Big Ma pickled things and canned vegetables and made lots of preserves, pickles and tomatoes etc. Pickled beets, turnip, cabbage would keep. She sealed them with wax. They sometime leaked and got moldy. The top of strawberries could get moldy and then the top was cut off and the rest were good.
We husked the corn by peeling back husks and braided it to make big hangers and used them to hang things to dry in the shed all winter. Then they soaked the corn and hand stripped the kernels off. Then you ground it up to make flour and soaked it into some kind of brine for a long time to soften it, then rinse with water and it made a nice soft hulled corn. Meat was kept with a row of salt and row of meat (mostly pork). It would keep forever.
Poor Man’s Rice Pudding (Jill Guild)
½ cup rice
½ cup sugar
4 cups milk
Put all ingredients into a casserole. Put several pats of butter on top and sprinkle with nutmeg. Bake in slow oven 300˚ for approx. 3 hours.
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
Potate en jaquette is another one which I have not written up, but is simple. It is French-Canadian potatoes or what we call potatoes-in the-oven. Big Ma called them “potate en jaquette” (potatoes in a nightgown).
Potate en jaquette
You take baking potatoes, peel, then cut in fingers about ½ inch thick. Put them on a rack in the oven around 400˚-425˚. Bake until nice and brown. They will develop sort of a crispy skin. Serve with or without butter. (I like them the best slopped with butter.)
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
Big Ma used to take bacon grease, guts and other grease, mix it with lye would make her own soap. Somehow she would melt it all together and then pour it into a wooden box (that Big Pa had made for her to make soap) to let it harden. She would then cut it into bars. It was brown soap like Fels-Napta.
White Beans (Alice Cloutier)
Soak 1 lb. pea beans overnight-drain and put into pot cover with hot water. Add a small onion chopped small-1/2 lb. salt pork-sliced. 1 tsp. ginger-salt & pepper- to taste-put in 300˚ oven about 5 hours add hot water as needed. ¼ cup light brown sugar may be added (optional).
Pea Soup (Alice Cloutier)
Use round yellow peas. Soak 1 lb. peas overnight-drain put in pot-cover with water. Add about ½ lb. salt pork. 1 small onion finely chopped-salt & Pepper to taste. Cook on top of stove-adding hot water as needed. Cook until peas are soft and tender. Stir often.
(As remembered by Norma Begley)
I remember Big Ma making soap one day and I thought it was fudge and I stuck my finger to take a lick when she wasn’t looking. Boy was I surprised that I washed my own mouth out with soap. Big Pa sat me down to tell me about the bear that was told not to go near the bee hive and got stung, and hoped I had learned a lesson. I also remember going to Bellow’s Market with Big Pa and always getting pink peppermints. They also taught me French and I still remember some of the words today.
Cabbage Soup (Alice Cloutier)
Use a small head of Cabbage. Cut up into small pieces-about ¼ lb. Salt pork, small onion chopped fine. Salt & pepper to taste.
1 or 2 carrots grated for a little color (optional) cook till cabbage is cooked. Add more water to cover cabbage if needed.
(As remembered by Fred O’Dowd-recorded by Judy Phillipe)
Big Ma would make Raspberry cobbler, steamed pudding. It was very airy, like a sponge cake. She also made Potato cakes, dry on top of the stove. Ma would take the wrappers from bread or salt pork to rub the top of stove. It was not greasy. Molasses pie was good, like squash or pumpkin pie, same texture, it wasn’t that sweet, pure molasses. The color of molasses was light, which was bought in barrels. It looked like maple syrup.
Crepes (Alice Cloutier)
Mix 2 cups flour, 8 eggs & enough milk to make very thin batter-a little salt. Cook in Crisco oil-turning once.
(As remembered by Vi (Goonan) Sullivan)
Of course, Big Ma’s crepes will go down in history as the best ever…we all know that. I can almost smell them now. I liked them with molasses, but would eat them any way. We only had oleo at home, so I didn’t like her (real) butter. They were so delicious, that you didn’t need anything on them.
Steamed Pudding (Alice Cloutier)
In a large pot-put a bowl-put water in pot. About 1/3 cup up outside of bowl-put berries about ¾ full add about ½ cup sugar & enough water to cover berries-put cover on pot.
For batter—6 Tbl. Crisco, 6 Tbl. Sugar, 1 egg, Pinch of salt, ½ tsp. Vanilla-1 cup flour, 2 tsp. Baking powder, enough milk to make batter (like you would for dumplings) Put around side of bowl over steaming berries. Put cover on pot and cook 35 min. DO NOT OPEN COVER WHILE COOKING.
REMEDIES
(As remembered by Roch Monchamp)
As for home remedies, did you go to school with a little cloth bag containing camphor ties around your neck to ward off colds etc? Did you ever have hot milk with black pepper in it for a cough remedy? Or how about castor oil? We still take a
“ponce” for a cold. Take the juice of a lemon, a teaspoon of honey, about ¼ cup of water and heat to a boil. Then add a jigger or two of brandy, whiskey or whatever you might have.
Put it in a mug drink it down, go to bed and sweat it out. It may not cure your cold but you will feel better and sleep better.
For stomach cramps (Freddie O’Dowd)
Boil rhubarb with a little sugar to a syrup. Cool and take by spoonful.
Bread Soup [For stomach upset] (Jill Guild)
Put 1 slice of bread, in small saucepan and cover with water. Add a pat of butter and salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a boil, then let simmer for 5 minutes. Cool slightly and eat slowly.
Sore Throat (Freddie O’Dowd)
Gargle with vinegar and water.
Spring Cleaning [Body] (Freddie O’Dowd)
2 tsp. Castor Oil, then drink a cup of tea with senna leaves.
Earache (Alice Cloutier)
Big Pa would puff on his pipe and blow the smoke in our ears to ease the pain.
SONGS
An O’Dowd Irish Sing-a-long
Big Pa’s Song’s
(As remembered by Mary (Goonan) Jerome)
Grasshopper Green
Grasshopper green is a comical chap,
Dressed in his tight little britches
And his little top hat
Hippity Hoppity high and low
Summer is gone
and the days grow slow.
A Kiss
When I brought an apple, she let me hold her hand,
When I brought an orange, she kissed to beat the band,
When I brought a grapefruit, she hugged with all her might,
Oh! I’m going to bring a watermelon to my girl tonight.
Sleepy Head
--Let’s go to bed said sleepy head,
It is time enough said slow,
Put on the pot said greedy gut we'll eat before we go.
The Man in the Moon
(As remembered by Alice Cloutier)
My sweetheart is the Man in the Moon,
I am going to visit him there soon,
It would fill me with bliss,
Just to give him one kiss,
And I know for a dozen
he never would miss
And behind those dark clouds,
Where no one is allowed,
I’ll make love to the Man in the Moon
Often times I wonder where,
He spends his time all day,
Perhaps he has another sweetheart,
Many miles away.
Maybe some dark haired maiden,
Daily he must woe,
But as long as I don’t catch him,
I’ll believe him so
Cruiscin Lan (KROOSH-KEEN LAWN)
(Big Pa’s song as remembered by Rich Goonan)
“Cruiscin Lan” means “Little Full Jug”; “grá mo chroí mo cruiscin”; “love of my heart, my little jug” slainte geal mo mhuairnin”; “bright health, my precious one.” Poetically this is one of the better drinking songs. The music of the chorus sounds more German than Irish, but the sentiments are universal to any drinking man.
Let the huntsman praise his hounds,
Let the shepherd praise his dewy scented lawn.
Oh, but I’m more wise than they,
Spend each happy night and day
With my darlin’ little
cruiscin, lan, lan, lan,
(kroosh keen, lawn, lawn,lawn)
My darlin’little
cruiscin lan.
(kroosh keen, lawn)
Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscin
(Ho, graw moh kree moh kroosh keen)
Slainte geal Mauverneen,
(Slawnta gal Mohvorneen)
Gradh mo choride mo cruiscin lan lan lan,
(Graw moh kree moh kroosh keen lawn, lawn, lawn)
Oh, gradh mo chhroide mo cruiscin lan.
(Oh, graw noh kree moh kroosh keen lawn.)
Big Ma’s song
(As remembered by Jane Charpentier)
Elle Est Morte
Elle est morte
La vache a mailhot
Elle est morte et enterre’
Elle est morte
La vache a mailhot
Elle est morte la tete dan’l potte
Elle a manger de la soupe au pois
Ca lui a reste’ sur l’estomae
Elle est morte
La vache a mailhot
Elle est morte et enterre’
A qui la tete c’est a p’tit pierre
A qui la queve c’est a nos deux
Elle est morte
La vache a mailhot
Elle est morte et enterre’
Dans le champ de messieur le cure’
C’est la qu’elle est enterre’
Elle est morte
La vachea mailhot
Elle est morte et enterre’
THE END
This booklet was put together by “the cousins” to share the love and warmth of Big Ma & Big Pa’s kitchen with the next generation. – July 2004