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Trafik Haftası çerçevesinde stant kuruldu

ESKİŞEHİR’DE 06-12 MAYIS KARAYOLLARI TRAFİK HAFTASI ETKİNLİKLERİ ÇERÇEVESİNDE AÇILAN TRAFİK STANDINDA VATANDAŞLARA BİLGİLENDİRMELER YAPILDI.

As intimate as Boom-n-Boom were with their immediate neighbours, the Woodmors felt a similar closeness with their numerous Jewish neighbours on Countess Avenue. It was not uncommon to borrow a cup of sugar or a new toothbrush. That was interceding. And, fair. Completely.
Many of the kids on Countess Avenue still visit Mrs. Peggy Goodwin in her nearly century-old stone cottage. A good entertainer, Mrs. Goodwin holds all cups ever consumed of her legendary ice cream. She served the law and the law served her. Mrs. Goodwin bought the house and a hundred-plus acres of land in "the twenties" for $4,500 and $488.66, respectively. It was offered in monthly payments. $349 down. $911.48 for 36 months. $100 down. $850 before Christmas 1925. The land was all she needed. She kept the house.
Mrs. Goodwin had storms in her life that could crush one. She had 13 children to raise. Some came early and some came overdue. She left school at 14, something she regretted all her life. She chose to become a live-in housekeeper for a doctor's family who were moving to Chicago. Mrs. Goodwin arrived in with what little she could carry, and she rounded up everything she had ever owned into a few bundles. She was 15 years old. Mrs. Goodwin carried an elusive happiness to Chicago. Some things weren't a choice. But, some things were.
Mrs. Goodwin found happiness later.

Your lawn and your walk was your claim to any of your neighbours and they respected your right to better the look and the depth of your efforts. Your walk was to you, and it was yours to decide how deeply into it you would step.
Anyone could borrow your lawnmower. If they wanted it, they'd ask. It was a freedom which was hold by us and for us, and it was happiness. We didn't know it then. But it was.
It was the time of life where we'd do something that needed doing because it needed doing.

It was lack in us, but also abundance.

It wasn't so much that they scraped together their grocery money and put double Kraft Dinner into the broiler to add meat to their meals three times a day, every day. As much as it was that they didn't know they could do “other”. While their kids were still full from the required servings of Kraft Dinner, they'd put the kids to bed, watch some TV through most of the night, and, before bedtime, they had their breakfast all ready in front of them.
It was all Kraft Dinner.
"You know, we didn't have much when I was growing up," they'd say. "We had to make do with Kraft Dinner."
Sometimes as an adult you get a kick out of it, looking back. Their personal hero was the Box of Kraft Dinner.

St. James Anglican Church, atop Cody Hill, opened its doors in 1879 at the foot of Cody Hill. Twenty years after steps were lain, and its blessing, for Cody Hill residents. St. James experienced a stability for the first eighty-seven years. It was a welcoming church, dedicated to teaching, service, guiding, and marrying. It was a lovely place, gifts giving to everyone, more on Sunday, that was oppose to Sunday Service. Sunday Sermon was conducted through the whole of Sundays celebrated. St. James was the House of God, and it was yours only on Sundays. St. James was a working man's congregation, and it had a place for the working man's future.

It was a connection to eternity and a welcome solitude from eternity, both.

Such elegance and hospitality would remain for over seventy years.

It was a joy added to the joys of life.

A Rambler for children began after one-thirty in the afternoon. At one-thirty in the afternoon and for up to one hour after official school ended, a teacher with a Rambling Lady not only saw to it that students could stop at the corner store for a Baby Ruth or Milk Duds, but also, in later years, saw to it that students had a way to the bus stop on Maxwell Avenue and McBain Street without enduring an embarrassing, embarrassing walk home, be it in a hurry or in a cry, a dash, a run or a wander, whatever.
As late as 1961, there were 35 schools in Hamilton, the first ‘I’. Hamilton Elementary School was closed on May 19, 1969 and the smallest, Harry Spencer Public School, closed on June 30, 1971. Like St. James Anglican Church, Viau Public School released its last graduating class in 1970.
There were others

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