Janette Oke (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

That Dog

Terry wanted a dog in the worst way, so the Okes got a little pup that he quickly named Rover. Only later did the family discover just how appropriate a name this was; the growing puppy hated to stay where he was supposed to be.

Edward and Terry built a little doghouse, and Terry was thrilled with his “many-breeds-but-a-lot-terrier” dog. Rover proved himself to be very good with the kids. He loved children. In fact, he hated to be away from them. For that reason, he was always finding some way to slip out of his collar and take off after Terry for the local school.

Janette would receive another call: “Your little dog is here again,” and she would load up the younger children and go to retrieve him. She never could figure out how this ingenious dog got out of his collar or off his chain.

Then Rover developed another bad habit. Perhaps he was simply being the protector, but as soon as Terry was home from school, the puppy chased anything that came along—cars, trucks, or bicycles. Janette was afraid someone would swerve to miss the dog and hit one of the children running after him.

And then Rover went one step further—he started barking ferociously at people. Although he never bit anyone, he did cause a good deal of alarm one day when he went after a dear, elderly neighbor man, giving him quite a scare. For some time, Edward and Janette had talked about Rover's problems, and the last episode was enough to convince them. They could not have Rover running around frightening people or risk the chance that he would actually bite someone.

They talked to Terry about it. Of course, he was devastated. He tried desperately to come up with his own solutions. It was heartbreaking to hear this little boy fighting to save his little dog.

“I'll get a book on training dogs,” he begged, “and I'll teach him not to do it.”

They knew they had already given the little dog too many “chances.” And if he were too aggressive, it would not solve the problem by simply giving him away. So an appointment with the vet was made.

Edward drove the beloved pet the ten miles to the veterinary office. Terry had asked to go along, and held his dog in his lap, loving him for one last time. When they arrived, he relinquished the leash to his dad.

“Bring me back his collar,” he asked through tears.

Janette wasn't sure who grieved more—Terry or her. Watching her son's pain hurt deeply, and she herself had liked the little dog, so she felt rather like a murderer. Often she glanced out the window at the now-empty clothesline where he had been tied, and wept silent tears for her small son and his little dog. She prayed that Terry would quickly heal from his traumatic experience. She also hoped he would not get the erroneous idea that when things in the home became difficult, they were simply disposed of.

In due time, a new puppy was adopted. A funny, shaggy little poodle-terrier cross. Terry watched with delight as the new pup sniffed and searched in his new surroundings. Without a moment's hesitation, he was named Curious George Oke after the storybook monkey. Curious provided many years of fun—plus a few headaches, too—though fortunately not any as serious as his predecessor.

He was a sassy little dog, never growing much bigger than a small terrier but willing to take on anything, be it Great Dane, German shepherd, or alley cat. But he, too, was wonderful with kids. Edward and Janette were confident that their children could do anything with him and he would never become aggressive.

However, one of the favorite games that the Oke kids played with Curious was called “Mad Dog.” They would be in the basement or in the backyard and someone would call, “Let's play Mad Dog,” and Janette would know she was in for a lot of racket.

Each of the kids knew just what to do, and Curious seemed to be aware of his special role too. The children would run around, jumping on furniture or fences, whatever was near, and the furry little scrap would dart to and fro, nipping at their heels and barking furiously.

In a moment, the quiet, compliant dog turned into a beast, flying around and catching pant legs or shoes, whatever he could grab. He growled and chased, barked and nipped, and was dragged along the floor or ground, behind anyone not quick enough to escape his teeth. But he never hurt anyone, and they all loved the game—Curious included. Janette was perhaps the only one who was not completely enthusiastic. There was the dreadful noise—and the possibility of torn pant legs.

Chapter Twenty-nine

New Home

With summer came hopes for building a new house. Grandpa Oke had provided the lot, next door to his own new home, and also the funds for the basic construction. Perhaps there were those who held their breath, wondering if the new house was a bit too close to parents, but Edward and Janette could not feel happier about a chance to own their first home.

Terry was then seven, the twins four, and Laurel three. Edward and Janette held to the theory that “strong fences make good neighbors,” and accordingly planned to build one. They did not want trouble from little people leaving toys or ruining gardens in the yard of these important neighbors—their own grandparents.

Another faculty family would use the college-owned house. The plan was to have the new house ready to move into by the time the previous house was needed. The plan started well, but time worked against it. As often happens in construction schedules, it turned out that the other family wanted to move in long before the new house was ready for occupancy, and soon household goods were packed up and stored in Grandpa Oke's garage. For the summer months the family lived from suitcases, bouncing back and forth between grandparents, Oke and Steeves. It was a lot of traveling for Janette. She would just get situated at the Hoadley farmhouse, two hours away, with her own mom and dad when she would be needed back in Didsbury for some decisions regarding the new house.

It was even more difficult for the kids—Lorne and Lavon in particular. On one occasion Janette took them to Hoadley to leave them with Grandma and Grandpa Steeves. She thought they understood the plan, but it turned out she was wrong.

After putting them to bed and staying until they were sleeping, Janette drove the one-hundred-plus miles back to Didsbury. When the boys awoke the next morning, they were horrified to find Mommy gone. Huddled together on the couch, they refused to eat, refused to play, and even refused to rouse. Grandma Steeves could not coax them to do anything but cling to each other.

Finally she phoned Didsbury. She was concerned about the little fellows and felt that their mother should come and either take them back to Didsbury or else be with them in Hoadley. When someone answered the phone, Amy was told that Janette was not there but that they would give her a message.

Janette never received the message. By the time she did return to Hoadley, her boys had seemingly adjusted, but for several years they did not have the same excitement as before at the chance to go to Grandma Steeves' house. Janette felt sick about it. She had not realized how difficult it had been for them to be bounced back and forth and then left on their own.

A new house simply was not worth that kind of trauma and confusion. So it was decided that the family would move in long before the house was ready. It was just too important to be together. Janette had no kitchen cupboards, the floors were bare, the walls unpainted, and there were daily piles of sawdust, but at least they were all together. And for the children, the unfinished home was extra exciting. Only Janette struggled daily to pull together a home from the chaos.

Edward was preparing for another college term, so he had very little time to be involved in the house project. Janette stained and varnished the wood trim, attempted the painting chores, which she hated, and swept up the sawdust daily. Even blankets needed to be shaken and beds remade before children could be tucked in at night. It seemed like forever, but eventually they had a home to live in. By that time Janette was emotionally and physically exhausted, and she vehemently declared, “Never again!”

Once the essential work on the house was done and Janette had given herself time to forget the frustration of overseeing it and doing much of the work herself, she began the enjoyable task of decorating. Room by room, over time, she worked with what resources she had and carefully created a tasteful, warm atmosphere for her family.

Christmas, 1968, was spent entertaining extended family in the new house. A long table was set up in the basement, and family members from the Steeves' side crowded together, not minding that the room was still unfinished.

After the hustle of the season had passed, Janette began to sell Artex, a popular method of decorating household linens, for a little extra income. The liquid embroidery paint was sold at in-home parties, where Janette would demonstrate the painting techniques and then make the tubes and iron-on patterns available to anyone interested.

Selling the product was not difficult. Here was a way to enjoy the attractiveness of needlework without the hours or skill necessary for such an undertaking. Parties were scheduled often during the few years Janette was involved in this business. But after a while scheduling often became inconvenient, so she decided to give the business up.

When spring arrived, Janette turned some of her efforts to the garden. Raspberry bushes were added, rhubarb planted, and flowers placed carefully to enhance Edward's landscaping.

The long days of summer passed, and Janette began the seasonal bustle to process the harvest. Along with the canned pears and peaches, jars of jams, jellies, and pickles filled the new pantry shelves. Then garden produce was ready to be frozen or stored. Long evenings spent over a dish shelling peas brought aching shoulders and a stiff back. Still, the burden of feeding the growing family was eased by her work.

Laurel soon caught up to her brothers in size, so by the time the twins started off to kindergarten, they looked like triplets. This sometimes bothered the boys—but it was all right with Laurel.

For many years now, Janette had been kept more than busy with her active family. One day at her kitchen sink washing dishes, she noticed a new neighbor lady pass by on the sidewalk.

“Oh, God,” she silently mourned in a short prayer. “I haven't even had her over for coffee. It seems that the kids take all my time.”

She was almost startled by the clear, immediate answer she heard inwardly. “They're supposed to,” God whispered to her troubled heart. With the wonderful release from guilt, and a reaffirming of priorities, she was free to give her time and herself to the children in her home.

Now that three children were in school for at least part of the day, morning routines developed. For the family this meant breakfast, which was all too often porridge, followed by family devotions. This devotional time changed over the years but usually included Scripture reading, singing songs and choruses together, and memorizing Scripture verses. At times family members got to “perform” on one instrument or another. Sometimes they all played together. Then each had a turn praying as well, or expressing words of thankfulness for things God had done. And, even at this early age, the children learned that there was much to be thankful for.

For one thing, there was never a time when the children felt concern or doubt about their home being divided or that their parents would ever separate. True, they had their differences—but these were settled in private. In the children's presence, Edward and Janette presented a solid, united front—two different people with different characteristics and personalities but who loved and respected each other and the security needed for a solid home.

There had already been several stages in Janette's role as a mother. First the struggle to begin the family with its great disappointments, followed by the blur of early days of diapers and bottles. Then came the years of watching over busy toddlers, until each of these had been left behind. The children who now occupied her home were changing. Each day seemed to bring more and more independence, and the familiar calls to “Mommy” became less frequent.

For Janette this meant that less of her time was spent actively “mothering,” though she was certain that she gave no less of herself emotionally to the task. There continued the complexities of raising the family and praying fervently that she was doing so effectively and correctly. And she also prayed for the many times when she could not be near. At those moments anything could happen—and usually did.

The same winter that the twins started kindergarten, Grandmother Oke bought them fuzzy red parkas trimmed with white fur. The pair made quite a sight as they wandered down the street on their way to school, and there were many comments to and about them.

At a small cafe on Main Street, the owner and several of the regular patrons began to watch for them to appear. Aware of the unwanted attention as they passed the window, the boys finally resorted to dropping down and crawling past so no one would see them. This delighted their audience, who always managed to know they were there.

Two years later, just as Laurel was about to start kindergarten, Janette was approached by the local Royal Bank of Canada to see if she was interested in working. They had heard of her banking experience and needed someone who already knew the job. She and Edward talked about it, and Margie agreed to baby-sit after the half day of kindergarten; her own daughter, Janice, was in the same kindergarten class. So Janette decided to give it a try. Certainly the extra paycheck would be useful to help meet the family's needs.

Shortly after, a neighbor stopped Janette on the street and teased her about how “tough things must be” at home. This person joked about Janette even sending her children out to “look for work.” Upon checking out his meaning, Janette discovered that Laurel had gone up and down the streets, knocking on doors and asking if there was any work for which she could be paid.

One dear neighbor told the little girl that she had just swept her kitchen floor, but if Laurel would come back the next day, she could do it for her. The little girl did and was paid a few coins and given a little trinket. All in all she considered herself quite successful in her new occupation and couldn't figure out why her parents discouraged her from “working outside the home” for a few years yet.

Janette was more than willing to let her daughter help out at home, though this didn't seem to be nearly as interesting. When one of the boys was sick and the family doctor phoned a prescription to the drugstore, Janette was not able to pick it up so she asked Laurel to run to the store for her. When she asked about how to pay for the item, Janette told her to ask the clerk to “charge” it. It was not unusual for local stores to carry an account for the town people whom they knew well. Laurel asked for an explanation and Janette's answer was rather vague. “It means we take it now and pay for it later.”

Soon Laurel was back with the medicine and no more was said. But on the first day of grade one, she received a little list of needed school supplies. So Laurel decided on her own that she would immediately begin her shopping at the drugstore and “charge it.”

Happily gathering all the items, and feeling quite independent and proud of herself, she was just about to leave the store when the pharmacist pulled her up short. He took the items and then, to her dismay and bewilderment, turned her over his knee and spanked her “for stealing.” It was many years before Janette heard of the incident and felt terrible about the bad experience. But she couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's interpretation of “charging.”

One day while playing alone in the back alley, Laurel had decided to use a glass jar to carry her growing rock collection. But she fell and the jar broke beneath her. Fortunately she cut only her finger on the broken glass. Edward held her hand under running water in the kitchen sink while blood streamed from it and Janette snatched up her purse and keys, loaded the child into the car, and drove off to the emergency room. The doctor sighed at the prospect of sewing up another screaming child, and Janette was asked to help hold her while he began the process.

To their amazement, Laurel didn't scream or cry. She simply sat on the stool and watched the procedure, her eyes wide as blood ran down the finger and the doctor drew his thread in and out of the cut. Instead, it was Janette who almost ended up on the floor during the ordeal.

The boys were no sissies either. They would often comment about some “hurt,” and then not mention it again. Later, Janette would discover that it was something which really should have received attention. She expected more fuss over an injury. Street hockey, hunting gophers with bow and arrow, shooting pellet guns at one another, riding bikes over carefully constructed hazards, or setting up “track and field events” in the basement. The brothers seemed to have a wish to injure themselves in one way or another, and Janette was frequently unaware of their efforts. So she prayed even more fervently and tried to discourage any senseless activities as she became aware of them.