A gift they gave me long ago

This story involves love, generosity and a big black Underwood typewriter. My  pleasant memory of that gleaming old monster was triggered recently when I saw an antique in a used bookstore in my city neighbourhood. Farmers in town I grew up in St. Benedict, Saskatchewan, a small prairie town with three wooden grain elevators and... Continue Reading →

Snow boating with my dad

I am thinking today of my father Rudy Gruending who would have been 96 years old on November 15. He was born on a farm in Saskatchewan in 1918 several years before the Canadian Pacific Railway built tracks nearby and a small, false-fronted village called St. Benedict was built beside them. My dad was to... Continue Reading →

Hugo Gruending, a time to plant

I want you to meet Hugo Gruending, my father’s younger brother and always my favourite uncle. Unfortunately, neither he nor my dad is with us any longer. I came across this black and white photo of Hugo recently when I was rummaging through boxes in my basement, looking for family photos. I recall taking the... Continue Reading →

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