Downhome,
I am writing in response to a letter that was published in the January 2016 edition pertaining to the story of Roger Judge and his stay in the San. It brought back many memories for me as my father was in the San around the same time.

The picture in the bed was ones like I have of my father. My mother is now passed away and I have no one to get any information from.
My father’s name was Thomas Moores, from Small Point, Conception Bay North. I am now seventy-one years old and I don’t know how my father contracted the TB. But when I was eight years old and my brother was three I know my father went in the San and he was there for five years and also lost a lung.

He didn’t come home during that time and we had many lonely times without him, especially at Christmastime and in the summer when our family members would come home to visit.

I can remember we went into the Dept. of Health on Harvey Road to have our regular x-ray to see if we had contracted the diease. We used to go by taxi but we always got a good bill of health. I know it must have been some worry for my mother and other family members. My grandmother used to say if our mother didn’t look after us good we probably would have come down with the disease.

I can remember walking outside the San grounds. I often thought about how hard it must have been for my father being so sick and away from him family.

My grandfather from Trinity Bay used to come over and stay with my mother for company. I remember when my father went in the San, he got a man to bring a beagle dog home to us so he could be company for my brother, and we had him for fifteen years.

I can remember my father making those wallets and lacing them around with certain designs on them. They lasted a long time. And I can also remember my father making baskets out of foam strips. I know he had to be tormented.

He was home five years before he could go to work doing light duties. I remember he used to have sputum cans and after he used them he had to send them in to get tested. We used to have our own dishes and face pan and towel and face cloth.

My two uncles, his brothers, got TB, but they weren’t in the san for very long. And an aunt, but I can’t remember much about her.

My father was a wonderful man and never ever complained. My father passed away in 1967 at the age of 52 leaving my mother at the age of 45 a widow. When she applied for widow’s allowance they said she was too young and had to go to work.
She took with a stroke at age 84 an was paralyzed and tube-fed for four years in a nursing home until four years ago when she passed.

Enclosed are a couple of pictures that were taken before my father’s time in the Sanatorium. I’m sure it was a very hard time for a lot of people especially those with young children and wives left at home. Some mothers had to go in there as well and leave their children home to be cared for by someone else.
After my father came home, he used to get a Christmas card from a Melvin Mansfield, New Melbourne, Trinity Bay.

I often said I should send in some pictures to see if anybody recognized anyone.

Thank You,

Ida Crummey
Western Bay, NL