Sara “Sally” Martin, 1960
Here’s a little clip from my past. Once my husband decided immigrating to Canada would be a better idea than going to Vietnam, I sent for a subscription to the Halifax Herald. Looking in the classifieds for job possibilities, I noticed an ad for a high school librarian, to which I applied. At the time I was doing graduate work in library science.
I was surprised to receive a response that more or less said, “How soon can you be here?” We traded my VW bug for a pick-up truck, bought a wooden trailer, packed as much as we could and headed for the northeast. After about 30 minutes at the Canadian border, we entered Canada with “landed immigrant” status, which would allow us to work.
After talking with someone at the Halifax County School Board and getting directions to the high school in Sheet Harbour, we continued driving east alongside the Atlantic Ocean. It was a beautiful, sunny day in August and we were delighted with the scenery.
Found the high school and talked with the principal (Hilary) about my position. Then Hilary began chatting with my husband. When he learned my husband was majoring in English and Creative Writing, Hilary said, “Great. We need a Grade 10 English teacher.” So there we were, landed immigrants with full-time school positions in a very short time. Probably not as likely to happen in such short order today.
Too bad I didn’t take photos of the time when my husband hauled the old pump up out of the cellar to see if he could repair it. He sat it on the dining room floor and began to dismantle it to see if he could figure out what caused the pump to quit working. This was in February, and it seemed to sit on the floor for a long time. I learned how much snow had to be melted for a bit of water. Fortunately, the old outhouse was still up. I remember slipping on my black rubber boots, wearing only my yellow, terrycloth bathrobe and running out to make use of it during something of a blizzard. We ended up getting a new pump.
Those would have been fun pics.
The photo below is a recent piece of art. I call it my teapot birdhouse.
Editor’s Note: Sara and her husband still live in Nova Scotia.
Sara – Great story. Admire your sense of adventure and service in the public schools. Lee
Hi Sara, I love your story of true Kansas grit in the face of an icy outhouse!
Although my husband was fortunately exempt from the military, you and I share a somewhat similar experience. Mine, however was in the western interior, rather than the northeastern side of Canada. In 1966 my husband graduated with a Master of Fine Arts degree at Wichita State University. Although he did not have any education credits, he thought he would try to find a job teaching art (some lack of planning there, I must say). That effort turned up only one possibility – a Junior High School in Kamloops, BC. We, too packed as much as we could into a U-Haul and headed northwest. And like you, we entered Canada as Landed Immigrants, but on a two-year provision. My husband had been hired to teach art, but they needed more teachers, so they also assigned a French class to him. Well, he didn’t know any more French than a hamster, so they also made him a basketball coach and added Canadian History! He was always just one chapter ahead of the students. We were sorry when our time was up. We had enjoyed living there and met many lovely people.
Please write another story, we want to hear more of your “foreign country” experiences or your art projects.
Barbara
Sally, My husband and I were late deciding Viet Nam was not on our agenda after he went into the Air Force and did some graduate engineering work, He paid back the graduate school by being a missile launch officer between Vandenberg AFB and Johnston Island in the Pacific. Then he worked on a PhD at UCSanDiego. We were very lucky not to be assigned to Viet Nam Duty and ended up donating part of our GI Bill to young men slipping to Canada. That was a time period of angry politics and drastic moves. I had three little boys and decided to do a graduate degree in painting. I always had to live with live plants, and the 7 years at UCSD was the most perfect climate for flower gardens. I learned a lot from a Vietnamese neighbor who brought her love of gardening to the states when she immigrated to California. Years later I moved to Texas where my gardening had limited effort. After dealing with a rattle snake in the front garden, a coral snake on the back patio and thousands of fire ants in the yard, I basically retreated to just the peach tree in the front and a Texas Mountain Laurel in the back. Out of an abundance of caution I retreated to house plants and painting. When I lived in Memphis, I had a full time gardener. The landlord had a beautifully designed yard and part time yard help several days a week. I loved the range of plants and became more interested in flower painting. Where I live now in Maryland, the previous owner was a serious plant person who left me with way over a thousand Daffodils, about 15 Rose of Sharon trees, forsythia, azalea bushes, and a host of other delights—like the crocus that are popping up and blooming all over the yard! Currently unable to do any physical yard work, I told my neighbor I was thinking about letting the Dandy-lions take over. I could get used to enjoying bright spots of yellow in the grass. But, I am getting ready to do another painting season! I now appreciate all the people who keep their gardens growing. I am sure your neighbors love those beautiful flower patches you have shared with us! I hope you continue sharing photos with us!