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Early Childhood
I was born at home in our farm house on Christmas Eve (December 24,) 1928, eight miles south east of Killaly, Saskatchewan. My parents were immigrants from Austria and I was the last of eight children.By today's standards, my family was poor as were all other prairie farmer families at the time. To make a living we grew crops of grain and vegetables and raised live stock: chickens, turkeys, geese, pigs, cattle and horses. Making a living was a family enterprise. Each family member contributed to the family welfare. We always had plenty of fresh farm food but lacked many other things that people enjoy today. There was no electricity, no running water, no flush toilets, no central heating, no radio, no TV, no car. All these things came later.
Despite the humble life circumstances, I was a happy and content child. I have pleasant memories of playing with homemade toys, puppies and kittens. Music was a special joy for me. I particularly loved the frolicking and happy old-time polka and waltz music that was part of our culture. Already as a pre-schooler, I began to learn to play a piano accordion, without a teacher - there were no music teachers within reach. My clothes were either hand-me-downs or homemade. Overalls were made of denim material and shirts from bleached flour sack material. Sometimes the bleach didn't succeed in getting all the ink out of the flour sacks, thus leaving the flour brand name still partially visible, often "Robin Hood." Life was simple, but also healthy and good. I did not feel deprived. Life was the same for everyone.
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Family Life
I grew up in a closely knit, warm, and caring family in which God came first and daily prayer was an integral part of life. We did not have Mass every Sunday. So, on Sundays when there was no Mass in Church, we had a para-liturgy at home. We didn't know the term "para-liturgy," but that didn't matter. We had the reality. On such Sundays, we had to dress up in our Sunday best and then gathered around our large kitchen table for our Sunday worship. This consisted of the singing of hymns, the reading of the Sunday Epistle and Gospel, a shared homily in which the Sunday readings were discussed and applied to our life situation and finally the praying of the Rosary.
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| First Holy Communion
A definite and unforgettable highlight in my early childhood years was my first Holy Communion. In the summer of 1935, when I was seven and a half years old and before I went to school, I, together with a group of other children, was prepared for first confession and first Holy Communion at our local country school by a seminarian from Germany. He spoke no English, but that was no problem because we didn't know much English either; instruction in German was just fine. He was a marvelous teacher and convinced me that the day of my first Holy Communion would be the most beautiful day of my life. His handwritten message on a holy picture that he gave me, which I still have, continues to remind me of his teaching. My first confession was somewhat different. It took place in the school washroom. There was no other private space available. The night before my first Holy Communion, I stayed with my grandmother. She spoke to me convincingly and at length about the privilege and joy of receiving Jesus in Holy Communion. She described Holy Communion as a foretaste of heaven. The experience of receiving Jesus in Holy Communion for the first time was everything I had helped it would be - a bit of heaven.
Elementary Education
In September, after my first Holy Communion, I began my elementary school education. I went to a one-room country school, two and a half miles from home. In the summer we walked to school. That was quite challenging for a seven year old youngster. In the winter we drove to school in a horse-drawn cutter, a small sleigh. This cutter ride to school was generally pleasant, but when temperatures dropped to thirty and more degrees below zero, it could become a very hardy experience. At school, we were generally thirty-five to forty children in grades one to eight taught by one teacher. All through elementary school I had only one teacher and a good one. He gave personal attention to pupils and helped me lay a solid foundation for my future education. Not only did our teacher give me a good educational foundation, but he also helped to give me a good faith foundation, affirming and supporting the solid religious formation I received at home and in our parish. My mother couldn't read or write, but she made sure that we knew our Baltimore catechism inside out. By skipping grade seven, I completed grade eight in seven years and then quit school at the age of fourteen. It wasn't unusual for farm children to leave school after grade eight. High School and especially university were not available options for most of us. Besides, I had other plans for my future.
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