Ina, Alf and Sarah Lever They say our family histories often die with our elders. With this in mind, I have become curious about my long dead biological maternal grandfather’s family. I never knew him. He died in an ammunition factory explosion in Welland, Ontario during WW2. It was a tragedy of immense proportions for my grandmother at the time. She had three little girls under 7 years of age…and he was the great love of her life.
Ina (my grandmother), was working as a waitress in Niagara Falls at The Refectory restaurant overlooking the Horseshoe Falls. Alf (my grandfather) was working as a Cabin Boy on the Maid of the Mist when they met and fell head over heels for one another. She was a petite thing with twinkling brown eyes and scrawny legs that made you wonder how they supported her upper body. This became far more evident in her later years when she might have been described as buxom. Alfred (Alf) was a tall broad shouldered hunk of a man that towered over Ina. I can imagine it was effortless for him to scoop her up in his arms and carry her over mud puddles and thresholds. His broad shoulders developed over his lifetime due to his love of swimming. An old newspaper clipping still remains describing his courageous swim across the Niagara River below the falls in the late 1930’s. He must have been confident and self-assured to attempt such a crossing against the notorious currents of that river. Clearly he had impressed one gal enough for her to say “I do.” Alf’s mother, Sarah (nee Graham) (my great grandmother) was born in England. She married a man named George Lever and after bearing two boys with him, she left him behind (for reasons unknown), and moved to Canada. She lived with her two sons, Alf and Grandville in Paris, Ontario for a few years before moving to St. Catharines. Considering this would have been shortly after the turn of the century, she must have had a good reason to leave. I can’t help but admire her bravery to start all over in a new country with two small children. If she had any money, it wasn’t much. She eventually moved to St. Catharines to become a housekeeper for an Italian widower and lived in a room in his home with her boys. It was never revealed but rumour had it, he eventually became her secret lover and she remained by his side until she died at 65 with bowel cancer. By then, she would have spent a lifetime mourning the loss of her eldest son Alf. She kept in touch with her three grandchildren and Ina despite the fact that Ina eventually remarried. Apparently, I have Gramma Lever’s heavy legs. I would have preferred Ina’s scrawny gams but I guess I drew the short straw. Ina’s new husband must have always known he was never really “the one”. Surely he saw how her eyes lit up whenever she spoke of Alf. I noticed. It was obvious. He also must have known he could never compete with her strapping Cabin Boy but he kept his mouth shut and worked hard and took care of three children he did not sire. She seemed grateful but always a little sad and their relationship seemed dutiful and unromantic. Perhaps she jumped at the first opportunity that came along after Alf died for the sake of her girls. Life would have been full of hardship otherwise. Ina and her new husband Lorne, bought a farm and acreage toward the end of Lundy’s Lane in Niagara Falls and while Lorne worked full time at the paper mill, Ina ran an 8 unit motel called The Homestead that Lorne built himself in his spare time. It was a typical 50’s style motel with a neon light on the lawn in front of the farmhouse that sat adjacent to the white-washed units. There was a red swing set on the lawn for the motel guest’s children and a single colourful fan-backed, mid-century painted metal chair beside the door of each unit. Red. Blue. Yellow, Orange. Green. You get the picture. Each unit had a kitchenette. As a wee lass, I used to love “helping” my grandmother on cleaning days. I was in charge of placing the paper mats on the shower floor and distributing the little mini bars of Ivory soap on the sink and shower shelf. During the busier summer season, they would sometimes rent out the three upstairs bedrooms in the farmhouse when they were “full”. Those three bedrooms shared a bath and a kitchen.The bathtub was turquoise and there was no shower.Three bluish fish plaques of varying sizes (purchased at a plaque party) hung on the wall above the tub. In those days, long before the internet, people would drive all the way along Lundy’s Lane from the falls until they found a “vacancy” sign. Theirs was the last accommodation before Black Horse Corners and pretty much the end of the line. High season cost $6.50 per night and low season was $5.50. (an increase from earlier years of $4.50 and $5.50). Once in awhile, a guest from some exotic foreign land would leave something behind and if it wasn’t claimed by the end of summer, they kept them. A pair of brightly coloured sandals all the way from India and a watch with Sleeping Beauty on the face and metal stretchy strap became mine. The shoes were far too small but I lied and said they were fine just so I could keep them and admire the dazzling colours. I wore the watch for years until I grew out of such fairy tales but I never forgot it. Ina hired a helper in high season to assist her in the cleaning. She had a full size pressing machine in the kitchen where the 100% white cotton sheets were starched and pressed and folded to a silky crisp finish. I can still see my sweet bespectacled grannie standing before that steaming hot machine, a polka-dot handkerchief wrapped around her head and the beads of sweat dripping from her brow and the end of her nose. There was no air conditioning and she kept a glass pitcher of cold sulphur smelling well water in the fridge. Even the foul taste and smell of that water was refreshing on a hot, humid July day. After a day of laundering and cleaning 8 units and 3 bedrooms, her day wasn’t over. Lorne expected a hot dinner on the table every night and she complied. I cannot help but wonder if Alf had lived, if her life might have been a bit easier. They took one holiday in all those years running that motel. They drove to California and toured around. Lorne never tired of telling everyone how amazing the redwoods and Knott’s Berry Farm were. (for years I thought he was saying Knoxberry) I noted Ina never seemed as enthused. She was likely so exhausted, she dozed through most of that journey. Until they retired and sold the place, it was their only adventure. Their years of toil granted them enough savings to spend their winters in Florida and the rest of the year in a house in St. Catharines. A better outcome than many, but they never flew anywhere, ever and those hot dinners landed on the table no matter where they lived. Ina grew old and dementia set in during her mid eighties. Toward the end of her life when she no longer recognized her family, my brother paid her a visit from the west. He did not know what to expect, but it may have been the best visitor Ina ever had in that final year. When Rick walked into the nursing home room, she turned to look at him and her tired eyes lit up as she cried out, “Alf!, you’ve come to see me.” My brother did bear some similarity to Alf in his younger years. How wonderful for her to finally see her long lost love after so many decades. I hope she is with Alf now. It may seem mean to anyone reading this that I have that wish for her but there are stories about Lorne that will remain untold for now. He did indeed step up to the plate when she needed him, but Alf is the man I think she truly loved and deserved. Alf and Ina. Navigating heaven together.
12 Comments
9/4/2022 02:55:43 am
Wow, this was a great story! Imagine your husband being such an a$$hole you up and crossed the Atlantic to get rid of him. Love me an Alf.... someday, maybe. Happy you found yours. Thanks for the morning read. xoxo
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Deb
9/4/2022 04:23:11 am
When I spent a week with my mother in May, I got her to talk about all this. It was stuff I had never heard about our family before. I took notes and came across them yesterday. All our lives might have been different if Alf hadn’t died. And yeah, Sarah sure had balls! I would have liked her.
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Time Traveller
9/4/2022 04:56:53 am
Many years ago when travelling, I kept a daily diary to be able to reflect on when I was where. It might be interesting to record our day to day lives so the small details are not lost. The big events seem to last a few generations but the small details slip through the cracks. Interesting family history with the details being where it's at.
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Deb
9/4/2022 06:04:24 am
Yes, I would love to have the whole story…we’ll never know what happened to Sarah and her boys that made her leave. We can only guess.
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Carla Sandrin
9/4/2022 09:11:17 am
Love this snippet of family history! And I sure admire your grandmother!
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Deb
9/4/2022 10:53:57 am
Thanks Carla. She was brave - that’s for sure.
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Lyn
9/10/2022 05:09:58 pm
Beautiful story, I wished I had of taken notes when my mum was talking about family past, she had an amazing memory, sadly I didn't get that gene.
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Linda
9/10/2022 05:11:46 pm
Loved it Deb...brought back some memories. Lorne was quite the driver! Your Grandmother Ina was a sweetheart.
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Cindy D
9/10/2022 05:13:04 pm
So well written Deb and I really enjoyed this. Thank you ❤
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Judy
9/10/2022 05:14:51 pm
Brings back memories ,the mention of so many N.F. etc. places. Great story.
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Shannon
9/10/2022 05:16:12 pm
A lovely story, work was so hard back then…. So much work!
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Greg
9/10/2022 05:17:24 pm
What a wonderful and inspiring story Deb. You've brought some great memories to life that otherwise would have been forgotten. I hope your extended family will take the time to read it
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DEBunked.I see nature as a metaphor for life. Please join me on this journey down the garden path as I explore life through story - a shovel in one hand and a camera in the other. Archives
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