As a child and even as a young adult I visited my Rahier grandparents in Carlton, Saskatchewan, Canada . They lived in the same house that my grandfather built before they married in 1915. The picture to the right is of Servais building the house. A one room frame farmhouse, to which he later added a bedroom and a kitchen. Grandma always told me he had promised her a big house when they got married. Sometimes my mother took me to the farm and sometimes I went with my Auntie Letty and Uncle Al. One time by brother Len, took us in his brand new car. I thought we were flying over the roads, and the car was definitely cool. I loved going in to the field and down the dirt roads with crickets jumping out in from of me. I sort of loved collecting eggs from the hen house. I loved picking Saskatoons down near the river. I loved going to the store in Carlton with my grandfather where he would buy us crackerjacks. I loved listening to him play his violin. I loved fresh, warm bread baked by Grandma in her coal fired oven. I think Grandpa's favorite meal was bread and milk. I loved living by lamp light, because they never had electric powered lights in the farmhouse. You got up with the sun and
went to bed with the sun. I loved my grandmother, Isabella's English flower garden behind her house. I still love flower gardens. I didn't love mice. One ran over my covers one night as I slept on a cot. I didn't love warm milk straight from the cows. I didn't love going down the trail to the outhouse. It smelled as all outhouses do, and I didn't love watching my grandmother chasing the chickens so that she could slaughter them. I know it is the food chain, but I would rather buy my chicken cut up and packaged, or from Costco, already roasted. As a teenager I was bored at the farm, but a few more years and an intense interest in history and the farm took on a whole new meaning. My aunt, "Tots," who died after taking cold on a carriage ride is buried behind the house near a large tree. The cellar was fascinating and after they moved I could see large chunks of light between the rocks that formed the foundation. I can't even imagine a cold northern Saskatchewan winter in that house. My great grandparents, Gilles Joseph Rahier and Christine Guillemine Mathilde Bornkessel Rahier immigrated from Belgium in 1895 and with winter approach
ing they built a house from cedar poles, with a sod roof. One wing was for the family and one wing housed the animals. It is said that they almost froze that first winter. That first house is pictured above. Shortly after they built a two story frame home.(Pictured on the bottom left next to the first house) I never saw it painted. Both my great grandparents died before I was born, but I loved to climb the wood steps to the upper floor of their house. My great uncle George Rahier and his wife Annie lived next door. I loved going to their house, because they had horses in a big barn. I thought Uncle George's house was amazing! It was so much bigger than my grandparent's house and they had a hand pump in the kitchen. It was always immaculate, and my uncle was very funny. My great grandfather, Gilles was a carpenter and there were an array of tools in the room to the right as your reached the second floor landing of the old house. Old carpentry tools. I have always loved tools! I have an old "clog" that Gilles made for Minnie with those tools. But in the room to the left was an old trunk. I always wanted to see inside. I was always, for as long as I could remember, intrigued with what may be in the trunk. But it seemed like it was something
you didn't talk about. A subject you didn't broach. I had the feeling that the home was "sacred," and I always thought as long as Uncle George was living the trunk would remain locked. He once told me that we shouldn't live in the past. I hope I don't, but I love it. I think I honor the past and my ancestors whose lives and hard work shaped my own present. On one of the walls of one of the bottom rooms hung an old faded picture of my grandfather's sister Minnie, the younger. The story seems to be that she was hit in the stomach with a baseball and as a result eventually died in that room. The years past and it was unsafe to climb the stairs. I was still curious. After doing a fair amount of Rahier family research I felt like there could be further information, secrets to be unlocked, inside the trunk. I had told numerous people, including my Rahier cousins, that I hoped they could get in the trunk. I live too far away, but I was hoping it's contents wouldn't be destroyed or lost. Within the past year and a half my uncle George got in the trunk. Letters, written in French, pictures (my grandfather Servais to the left), documents, all under lock and key for so many years. Family treasures, not seen by anyone, at least anyone presently alive. I wish I could have been there for the unveiling. When I read the story,
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, I always thought about the trunk. What we
think is my grandparent's wedding picture, was in the trunk (above and to the right). Their own children had never seen it before. The house is gone now. Why do houses have to be destroyed? I know it was condemned and family worried that someone may get hurt. My Uncle George and Aunt Annie's house was sold and moved to the reservation. There are still graves in the yard; Gilles and Minnie and Minnie the younger. The Canadian Rahier family history began in that yard. I haven't been there for years, and I don't think I ever really liked Crackerjacks, but I still try to like them because my grandfather, Servais, bought them for me when he took me to town.
As a child and even as a young adult I visited my Rahier grandparents in Carlton, Saskatchewan, Canada . They lived in the same house that my grandfather built before they married in 1915. The picture to the right is of Servais building the house. A one room frame farmhouse, to which he later added a bedroom and a kitchen. Grandma always told me he had promised her a big house when they got married. Sometimes my mother took me to the farm and sometimes I went with my Auntie Letty and Uncle Al. One time by brother Len, took us in his brand new car. I thought we were flying over the roads, and the car was definitely cool. I loved going in to the field and down the dirt roads with crickets jumping out in from of me. I sort of loved collecting eggs from the hen house. I loved picking Saskatoons down near the river. I loved going to the store in Carlton with my grandfather where he would buy us crackerjacks. I loved listening to him play his violin. I loved fresh, warm bread baked by Grandma in her coal fired oven. I think Grandpa's favorite meal was bread and milk. I loved living by lamp light, because they never had electric powered lights in the farmhouse. You got up with the sun and
went to bed with the sun. I loved my grandmother, Isabella's English flower garden behind her house. I still love flower gardens. I didn't love mice. One ran over my covers one night as I slept on a cot. I didn't love warm milk straight from the cows. I didn't love going down the trail to the outhouse. It smelled as all outhouses do, and I didn't love watching my grandmother chasing the chickens so that she could slaughter them. I know it is the food chain, but I would rather buy my chicken cut up and packaged, or from Costco, already roasted. As a teenager I was bored at the farm, but a few more years and an intense interest in history and the farm took on a whole new meaning. My aunt, "Tots," who died after taking cold on a carriage ride is buried behind the house near a large tree. The cellar was fascinating and after they moved I could see large chunks of light between the rocks that formed the foundation. I can't even imagine a cold northern Saskatchewan winter in that house. My great grandparents, Gilles Joseph Rahier and Christine Guillemine Mathilde Bornkessel Rahier immigrated from Belgium in 1895 and with winter approach
ing they built a house from cedar poles, with a sod roof. One wing was for the family and one wing housed the animals. It is said that they almost froze that first winter. That first house is pictured above. Shortly after they built a two story frame home.(Pictured on the bottom left next to the first house) I never saw it painted. Both my great grandparents died before I was born, but I loved to climb the wood steps to the upper floor of their house. My great uncle George Rahier and his wife Annie lived next door. I loved going to their house, because they had horses in a big barn. I thought Uncle George's house was amazing! It was so much bigger than my grandparent's house and they had a hand pump in the kitchen. It was always immaculate, and my uncle was very funny. My great grandfather, Gilles was a carpenter and there were an array of tools in the room to the right as your reached the second floor landing of the old house. Old carpentry tools. I have always loved tools! I have an old "clog" that Gilles made for Minnie with those tools. But in the room to the left was an old trunk. I always wanted to see inside. I was always, for as long as I could remember, intrigued with what may be in the trunk. But it seemed like it was something 
you didn't talk about. A subject you didn't broach. I had the feeling that the home was "sacred," and I always thought as long as Uncle George was living the trunk would remain locked. He once told me that we shouldn't live in the past. I hope I don't, but I love it. I think I honor the past and my ancestors whose lives and hard work shaped my own present. On one of the walls of one of the bottom rooms hung an old faded picture of my grandfather's sister Minnie, the younger. The story seems to be that she was hit in the stomach with a baseball and as a result eventually died in that room. The years past and it was unsafe to climb the stairs. I was still curious. After doing a fair amount of Rahier family research I felt like there could be further information, secrets to be unlocked, inside the trunk. I had told numerous people, including my Rahier cousins, that I hoped they could get in the trunk. I live too far away, but I was hoping it's contents wouldn't be destroyed or lost. Within the past year and a half my uncle George got in the trunk. Letters, written in French, pictures (my grandfather Servais to the left), documents, all under lock and key for so many years. Family treasures, not seen by anyone, at least anyone presently alive. I wish I could have been there for the unveiling. When I read the story, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, I always thought about the trunk. What we 
think is my grandparent's wedding picture, was in the trunk (above and to the right). Their own children had never seen it before. The house is gone now. Why do houses have to be destroyed? I know it was condemned and family worried that someone may get hurt. My Uncle George and Aunt Annie's house was sold and moved to the reservation. There are still graves in the yard; Gilles and Minnie and Minnie the younger. The Canadian Rahier family history began in that yard. I haven't been there for years, and I don't think I ever really liked Crackerjacks, but I still try to like them because my grandfather, Servais, bought them for me when he took me to town.
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