In 1961, I was assigned to Argentia Naval Air Station. I met many local residents. We discussed growing up in Newfoundland and my background growing up in South Texas. One long weekend, I was invited to spend the weekend with a coworker and his family in his home village. Why not? I was curious.

On Friday afternoon, we caught the train and jumped off at a junction eight miles from the nearest road. We walked about a mile to a little house above a cobble beach. The house was a two-room clapboard house with one window. Single wall construction insulated with old newspapers. A single window with a shutter. Wood stove for heat and cooking.  Water was from a bucket filled in a nearby stream. One Kerosene lamp. One communal bed. Communal chamber pot with lid. Pretty much like where I grew up.

After introductions, we went out to look at the sunset at about 2100.  Mosquitoes attacked, so back inside and close the shutter. Supper was cod tongues with fries.

The lamp produced a yellowish light as we talked for maybe an hour. Trim the lamp. Bank the fire in the stove so there would be embers the next morning. Then to bed. The guy, his wife, two kids and me. Like the old drinking song about 99 men in a boarding house bed, it was crowded. Reville was about 0500.

Turn up the lamp. Stir up the stove. Open the shutter for the rising sun. Fill the water bucket. Empty the chamber pot. Breakfast was fish and brewis (salt cod and hardtack soaked overnight and fried).

In the morning, we cut firewood and picked berries before the biting flies came out. Then we went fishing.  Launch the dory. Jig cod for a couple hours. Beach the boat. Unload a kille of cod (100 kilos or 220 pounds). Clean, fillet and salt the cod. Hang the fillets to dry. Save cod tongues for supper and livers for making cod liver oil. Inside before the mosquitoes came out. Supper and bed again.

Sunday morning, it was a long walk to church. Then, walk back to the railroad and flag down the train.

This was an interesting weekend looking at old Newfoundland, much like when I grew up. Now, I appreciated how the fishermen lived and worked.

Carl Lahser