Aunts, Uncles and Cousins by John Caverhill
to Windsor to introduce Gay to some of our extended family. Uncle Mac was at his best, which meant Aunt Evelyn was constantly remonstrating “Oh Ma-ac! What will Gay think?” Saturday morning, Dad, Uncle Mac, Gay and I went for a walk along the riverfront. It was a warm, humid morning with a gradually thickening blanket of fog over the city. As we trolled along, Uncle Mac started to limp. No one said anything at first, but Gay became especially concerned as the limp worsened and suggested that we should turn back, but Uncle Mac assured her it was just the damp weather, and he would be all right. Gay took his elbow to help him along. Now, if my uncle had continued this way, he could have enjoyed the assistance and the sympathy of a young, pretty woman, but Mac being Mac, he couldn’t let the situation rest at that point. As the fog thickened to a solid grey, Uncle Mac’s limp had altered so his gimpy leg seemed to rise and drop, giving him an odd sort of up and down, hitch-along gait. Dad and I were puzzled as Uncle Mac had never had any leg problems, but knowing his propensity for a good joke, we figured something was going on. Gay, now really concerned, demanded to know what was wrong. Uncle Mac halted and, leaning heavily on Gay’s arm, gazed soulfully into her eyes and confided that the problem lay with his artificial leg. Gay asked sympathetically if there was pain. Uncle Mac replied, “No, there was no pain. The problem was caused by the choice of material used in the artificial leg”. Gay, by now thoroughly puzzled, asked what material was used. The answer was cork! Uncle Mac then started to explain how the cork leg, because of its natural buoyancy, tended to float in dense fog conditions, causing his leg to rise. At this point, Gay echoed Aunt Evelyn’s “Oh Ma-ac!” Whether visiting them in Windsor or entertaining them here at home, we always had a good time when Uncle Mac was present. Every family should have an Uncle Mac.
Page 12 Hometown Strathroy-Caradoc Page 16 Ilderton and Area Villager • March 2025 He would go to great lengths to set the stage for some fun, as the following story shows. I had just become engaged. Father, Mother, my fiancé, Gay and I made a midsummer weekend visit Malcolm Leitch (Uncle Mac to me) was born and raised on a farm near Glencoe which to this day is still surrounded by many farms whose owners bleed plaid if they cut themselves. He married my mother’s sister, Evelyn, the youngest daughter of Charles and Elizabeth Boyd, who had a farm on the Thames Road north of Appin. My Aunt Evelyn, a gentle, sweet soul, was perfect for Uncle Mac who was always ready for a good joke. He claimed Macksville, a tiny hamlet on Thames Road, north of Appin, was named after him. Like many young lads in the early 20th Century, Uncle Mac felt the pull of the thriving young auto industry in Windsor. He and his young bride moved there, and he joined Chrysler Motors, where he worked until he retired in the late 1960s. Uncle Mac and Aunt Evelyn had one son, Mac Jr. We were the same age and when we were young and unattached, at least once each summer, with a couple of girlfriends we would take the Boblo Island excursion boat on the Detroit River down to Boblo Island, a trip that took about one and a half hours each way. Since Boblo Island is on the American side, we would cross over on the Ambassador Bridge. People then “dressed up” for dances; blue jeans for dances was unheard of, so if young couples gave Boblo Excursion as their destination, they would often be waved through with a cheery “Enjoy yourselves”. The boat’s main deck, which was the dance floor, was covered on top and open on the sides with seating around the perimeter. A very good dance orchestra played a variety of music with emphasis on the big band favourites of that time. During dance breaks, we would lean on the deck railing and watch the city lights of Windsor and Detroit slide by. Music then was at a pleasant background level, allowing one to converse at a normal level, or simply listen to the gurgle of the bow waves rolling away from the boat as it glided through the water. For anyone fortunate enough to have taken the Boblo Excursion Boat, it is a golden memory indeed. Back in the early 50s, if I remember correctly, the news (newspaper and radio) reports were full of the exploits of a notorious outlaw group called the “Boyd Gang” named after their leader. There was no connection between the gang leader Boyd and the Appin Boyds, and anyone less viraginous than my mother and Aunt Evelyn would be hard to imagine, but for Uncle Mac, the temptation was too much to resist. They would be at a social gathering, and from behind his hand, in a tremulous undertone just loud enough for Aunt Evelyn, who would be nearby to hear, he would confide to someone next to him that, yes, his wife was a former member of “that Boyd family”. He would sorrowfully add that he always had to caution the host or hostess of any gathering that they should count the silverware after he and his wife left because old habits die hard. At this point, Aunt Evelyn would become aware that her partner, for better or worse, was up to his usual shenanigans and would exclaim “Oh Ma-ac! Don’t say such things! People might think it is true!” Uncle Mac would solemnly shake his head and then say with a chuckle, “If I lose my job, at least your family can support us”.
John Caverhill is the younger son of the late Ernest Caverhill and Susie Boyd of Lobo Township. John’s writings often reflect his experiences and observations of growing up on the family farm, attending the one room school, S. S. No. 7 Lobo (Bear Creek School), and Vanneck United Church. John’s sense of humour and story-telling skills are legendary. His keen observation skills have augmented his repertoire .
Back in the Day
To advertise here please contact Gloria@villagerpublications.com Denfield General Store and Post Office in its original location, 1903. Photo: London and Middlesex Heritage Museum Archives. To advertise here, please contact Tami@villagerpublications.com
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