MY HERITAGE
by Kathie E. Nelson
NOTE: Kathie won an award for this poem, submitted for the 1967 Centennial Youth Project. She was presented to Prime Minister Diefenbaker at Elk Point's centennial celebrations.
My heritage is lovely
As all we here can see,
I have the greatest treasures:
A home and family.
A family with a future,
A family that will last,
A family with a mother
To tell things of the past.
She tells me of a gentleman,
Who was in Sweden born,
In eighteen hundred sixty-six,
What a joyous morn.
Later on in his life,
Andrew B. Nilsson,
Travelled to the U.S.
To seek his fortune.
He worked on a railroad
In the state of North Dakota,
So the first cowcatcher
Could travel where it needed to.
The gentleman began a ranch
And changed his name to Nelson,
Since the people of that area
Wanted the English spellin'.
In nineteen hundred and three
My Grandfather Nelson
Sold most of his property
In Devil's Lake, Cheyenne.
He moved north to Canada
To find range for his horses.
Range was found at Holden,
So, he stopped his courses.
The range proved to be good
So Grandad bought the land,
Six sections, they say, in fact, "
Isn't that so grand?"
I asked my mother, dear.
She said, "It is something
We have behind us, dear,
But listen, bells will ring."
From Holden my grandfather
Travelled across the nation,
Selling horses and cattle
After Confederation.
He travelled to Ontario,
And back to Holden station,
Stopping at the Post Office
To send an invitation.
For a pretty young lady
Named Anna Gabrialson,
Was soon to be his bride,
And bear his first-born son.
First came little Leonard,
Then my father, Bill,
Then my Aunty Grace,
Then my young Aunt Lil.
Little baby Alyse
Was the smallest of all,
Today you wouldn't know it,
She's really very tall.
Settled, the area around
Holden came to be,
Then my Grandfather Nelson
Moved his home and family.
North Park, Alberta
Was the chosen location,
Where my grandfather
Changed his old vocation.
There was grass and range
For his horses and cattle,
But my grandfather
Gave up the saddle.
He became a farmer
In a Canadian nation,
But still supplied neighbors
With horse transportation.
The first car in the district
Was owned by Grandad,
And a better M Buick
Couldn't be had.
He wouldn't drive it,
It was up to his wife,
She was chauffeur
Of the car of her life.
The nearest center for getting supplies
Was twenty-five miles away
From my grandfather's farming land -
That isn't far for us, today.
Horses could travel only so far,
Then they'd stop to feed,
But it was the only way
To transport our grain seed.
The picturesque landscape
Of their chosen home,
Took in much beauty
Of the country I roam.
The Saskatchewan River
Nestled at its feet,
The warm little breezes
Made summer complete.
The beautiful hills
That surround the old yard,
The lovely landscape
That with trees is barred.
The crimson leaves
That fall every autumn,
The cower-like deer
When grandfather shot'em.
But the northern areas
Were not all "peaches and cream",
However many advantages
Of a nearby stream.
When Grandpa returned
From being where the cash is,
He found his home
Reduced to ashes.
It was too late to build a house,
So the winter was spent
With the whole family together In one single tent.
The winter was a cold one,
As cold as cold can be,
But grandfather survived
Because he loved this country.
A house was bought
From Olaf Vralston,
Along with some land,
When my Dad was ten.
The house is still standing,
The spirit still alive,
The mice found within,
Still live and survive.
The same old house,
Built in 1911,
Was used by my family
Till before '67.
The depression years
Sure weren't funny, T
he Holden land
Brought not much money.
Grandpa's health was failing,
There seemed no cure,
For what was ailing
The doctor was sure.
In July of '32
My grandpa died,
It was natural
That many people cried.
Dad took over the farm
And on its work he carried.
It wasn't till '49
That he was finally married.
The story goes on
To Duane, Ann, and me,
Kevin and Gladstone,
Who praise and love this country.
The many lakes and rivers
That the ocean fill,
The many mountains
And every parliament hill.
The many types of people,
The many stories told,
But of them all we love the best,
Those of our grandfather, bold.
This is my heritage,
This land strong and free,
This is my heritage,
The love of my country.
This is my heritage,
The stories that are told,
By the many pioneers,
who The country did unfold.
This is my heritage,
Oh, my fair country,
This is my heritage,
Oh, Lord, I thank Thee.
I love the many valleys
That the mountains do unfold,
But most of all the stories
That my grandfather told.
Of all the stories
I love this one best,
It is more important
Than all the rest.
It is my heritage,
My duty to fulfill,
The love of Canada,
The country of my will.
The secrets of my country,
The freedoms of my will,
The longing to learn
Are never to be still.
I've learned this,
Through my heritgage,
Oh, Lord, I thank Thee
For this lovely country.
For this land strong and free,
I thank Thee, especially.
For the love You've given me,
Oh Lord, I thank Thee.
For the country
With its many places,
With its people,
With its varying races.
No mountain, valley, River, or ridge,
Can mean more to me
Than my heritage.
Thus, I say,
In a word of closing,
My heirtage
Is never reposing.
Believe me,
And you will see,
How valuable
Heritage can be.
The inherited learning
Is not what I mean,
The most important
Remains unseen.
Heritage is here -
Heritage is there -
In Canada,
Heritage is everywhere.
Just look for it,
And you will see
The value of heritage
To you and me.
Your heritage is of value,
As mine is to me,
Neither is as important
As a free country.
Let us fight for our country,
Fight to the last man,
Fight for our country,
As only a true man can.
Fight to improve our country,
Fight' to improve our land,
Fight to keep our people
Strongly hand-in-hand.
If we do this,
We can be sure
Of a strong Canada,
With a good future.
We can be sure
Our children inherit a land,
With great power
All things to withstand.
Let's build them a heritage
Stronger than ever before,
So they are prepared
For the future in store.
