Newfie June - Aunt Lizzie's Surprise

Those of you who have read my previous stories have been introduced to Uncle Abe and Aunt Lizzie. (Yes, that's Uncle Abe, champion terr-eater). Now, these are not their real names, of course. They still have relatives living and some of the stories refer to Lizzie's less than optimal I.Q. (let's just say that she was not in consideration for a Rhodes Scholarship.)

Uncle Abe was one of my Dad's oldest friends. They were only a couple of years apart in age and grew up almost next door to each other in the small Newfie fishing community where they were born. So, you can imagine that they were as close as brothers. When they grew up and married, their wives were forced together when the men would visit. It's not that they didn't like each other….well, actually, in some ways I guess they didn't like each other, now that I come to think of it. There was some measure of competition and a little bit of jealousy at times.

Beaches in Nfld are, for the most part, rocky. The rocks are smooth from years of the pounding North Atlantic washing over them. There are varying sizes from small "skipping" stones to huge boulders. On the Avalon Peninsula there was only one sandy beach and it was called…..Sandy Beach. Now, one summer, Aunt Lizzie was determined that she wanted to "take a run" down to finally see this Sandy Beach she had heard so much about. The problem was, like most women of her time, she couldn't drive. Abe was a bit of a drinker and didn't like to do much else on his weekends off.

One Sunday afternoon she finally persuaded Abe to take her to see the beach. A week or so later she was visiting my mother, Julie, one night and, over a cup of tea, was relating her impressions of this famed Sandy Beach.

To get the full effect of this story, you have to remember that Aunt Lizzie had a strong Newfie accent. Her personality was what my father used to delicately describe as "high strung." She was quite animated when she talked and her facial expressions made the story that much more enjoyable. I will try to write this account exactly as she would have said it for your maximum benefit.

"My, Julie, 'twas beautiful! The sand was as white as the sugar and just as fine. As far as you could see, there was white sand. My child (everyone got called my child or my maid) you could hardly look at it, 'twas that white. I said to Abe, my I'd love to bring a little bit of that sand back with me for a souvenir. Now, Julie, of all the junk we carries in our purses, you'd t'ink there'd be a empty (pronounced hemty) pill bottle or somet'ing. I couldn't find not one t'ing in dat purse, my child. T'would poison ya. So I looked around and under a bush I spied a lovely clean cocoa can. There wasn't a mark on it, my child, so I picked it up and I tole Abe dis was the proper t'ing now. I'd bring home some sand in the can. Well, my child, I prised off the top of the can and My God Julie, I nearly died! Sure the can was chock full of sh-t! Can you believe it? I never saw the likes in me life!"

You have to understand that the old Fry's cocoa tins did not have a large plastic lid, as they do today. They had a small hole, about three inches diameter, cut in the centre of the top and a small tin lid fit down tight into the hole to cover it.

My poor mother was trying to look all concerned and shocked at Lizzie's tale, but she, of course, was ready to split her sides laughing. Lizzie looked so indignant telling her story!

To top it all off, a look then comes over Lizzie's face. You could she was concentrating and trying to figure something out. All of a sudden she looks at my mother and says, "Sure, Julie, how do you suppose their aim was good enough that they could fill that can and not get a speck anywhere else on it?'

My mother and I cracked up. I thought I would choke from laughing so hard. The combination of her question and the innocence with which it was posed was my undoing. Fortunately, Lizzie didn't take too much offence and she actually chuckled along with us, but I fear she had no idea that she was the biggest part of the joke. God Bless her soul.

Every one of us would like to be remembered for something. Some of us accomplish more than others while on this Earth. I'm sure Lizzie never thought she'd be remembered for the great laughter she provided. But, after all, what better legacy to leave.

If you enjoy this tale of Aunt Lizzie, let me know. There are a few more I would be willing to share with just a little bit of encouragement.

© Newfie June




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