
If you look at the picture above one shows Robert and Elsie with my father Don LASHLEY and his sisters, Lois Ann (Craig), Joan (Turnbull) and Joyce (Dulmage, Nicholson). Another has the children with their parents John and Gladys (Powell) LASHLEY. John and Gladys, my grandparents brought their children up on the LASHLEY family farm near Watson’s Corners.
The original house burned October 20th, 1953 (date needs verification) and they moved to Smith’s Falls and ran a chick hatchery for a period and then bought the poultry farm on the 8th line of Ramsey near the school house. Grandpa had a heart attack there, so they sold it and moved to Carleton Place near Lake Ave east in the early 60s. Sadly, he died from heart disease in early 80s.
Grandma LASHLEY’s sisters, Olive and Fern Powell lived together in their parents’ home on Sarah St, a white frame home. The girls never married. There was a story that a well known politician in Ottawa who Fern worked for as a secretary asked her to marry him. She turned him down, but he gave her the ring any way. Olive was the French teacher at the High School, and she taught all her nieces and nephews, along with a grandniece (me) and nephews. Fern loved to travel the world and Aunt Ollie loved to shop. To this day I still want to visit Switzerland and see Lucerne and the Matterhorn because of her stories.
Olive Powell was my French teacher through Grades 9-13. She once told a story about a great saying of Frenchmen if they want to tell you you were “full of s**t” (my words not hers – I can’t imagine Olive ever uttering a profanity). She would say “tu parle comme un pantouffle” and the burst into laughter. So, in grade 9 I’m recruited by Les Cadets Lasalle in Ottawa, a French-speaking Catholic drum and Bugle Corps. Everything happens in French. So I think I’m being entertaining one day and say to one of the French guys : “tu parles comme un pantouffle” and burst into laughter like Olive used to do….. – total silence and the guys are looking at me like I’m unable to tie my shoe laces. Yeah, forgot that Olive’s Parisian French doesn’t necessarily make it to the Outaouais.
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This is hilarious.. I am going to write this up separate tomorrow.:)
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Reblogged this on lindaseccaspina.
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