Imagine yourself at the age of seven, facing an adventure to a brave new world. Not a care in the world, and feeling more excitement than apprehension of leaving my whole family behind. I had no idea of the magnitude of the expedition before me. Born at home in Staffordshire, England during the days of midwifery, I would be pinned with my first identifier – A Ground Hog, arriving precisely at 1:20 am, February 2, 1961.
This adventure I speak of began for me on April 10th, 1968, aboard the Canadian Pacific ship, Empress of England, where my family to include, Mum, Dad, my older brother David and our family dog, Zena, a 2-year-old boxer set sail from Liverpool. I stood on the dock with our relatives all clutching hankies and hugging. I watched a large boom pick up huge nets filled with all manner of cargo. I spotted a familiar wooden trunk I had watched my Dad pack with all sorts of special things we owned. Tugging at my Mum’s skirt, pointing to the sky I shouted with excitement, “Look Mummy there is our….”. My mouth dropped open as I watched the net give way and the contents fall down toward the ship. The trunk neither landed on the ship nor the dock; instead it plummeted straight into the sea creating a huge splash.
After quite a bit of confusion and confirmation our belongings were actually fished out of the sea and safely on the ship we got under way. We were on the ship’s last voyage in her primary function as a European immigrant transport ship. Among our meager possessions were important papers, some precious crystal, china pieces and a few heirlooms not to be left behind: my Teddy (named Teddy and still with me today – although a little thread bare), but more importantly Dad’s Super-8mm movie camera and his Kodak slide & film projectors along with boxes of slides and canisters of film.
Over the first few months in this vast new country, the heirlooms proved to be our only personal and visual connection to our family and homeland. They soothed the acute ‘homesickness’ we all felt. These moments never seemed to fill that void that settled in me for life, from leaving our family behind. While the movies and slides comforted me as I watched them any chance I could, it was the greater concept of picture taking and movie recording that instilled a profound sense of awareness and significance of my surroundings at a young age.
Seven days of sailing across the Atlantic Ocean and the realization for a child that the world we live in was humungous set the stage for my need to travel, or better stated, to be ‘on the road’. My first vision of the land [Canada] that was to be our new home engrained in me an out-of-this-world and totally futuristic sight. A massive silver ball the likes I had never seen ominously sailed by - so it seemed for me looking through the ships starboard rail, feeling the excitement and the most amazing “collywobbles” I had ever experienced. In fact no one had seen this incredible engineering feat until - Expo ‘67 “Man in his World” – targeted for the world to see in Montreal.
My life here began from a simple walk down the gangway, a short line up, a few nods and signatures from Mum and Dad and then I was handed a little yellow card that said – Landed Immigrant.
Photograph: Taken the day of our departure, a final farewell to my Dad's side of the family in Cardiff Wales. Mum and I [left], Dad, David and Zena [Right].
