I would like to tell you a bit about Joyce’s early life growing up in Northern Ontario.

Before Joyce was born, we lived on a small island at a place called Grassy Narrows – 50 miles north (as the crow flies) north of Kenora, Ontario. It was only accessible at that time by air, or a very long canoe trip. Our father, Peter Hughes, worked for the Hudson’s Bay Company as post manager. He ran the post with a general store selling supplies to the local Indian settlement and buying furs for the Hudson’s Bay – he was a fur trader in the true sense as the natives brought their furs to the post and traded them for provisions.

The Manager’s house was located a short distance from the store and offered all the comforts of home – with the exception of running water, electricity or a central heating system. My mother did have an automatic washer though – it was gas powered, very noisy and I can remember her chasing it around the room when it was washing. We had coal oil lanterns and a nice wood stove for cooking and heat – too much in the summer and not enough in the winter.

When it was time for Joyce to be born, Mom and I flew out to Winnipeg while Dad remained behind to mind the store. I remember these trips out as I got to stay with my grand parents in St. James, Manitoba (a suburb of Winnipeg). Ironically they lived on the same street as Cam’s grandmother – at 222 Ferry Road and Cam’s grandmother was at 229 – just two blocks apart.

A short time after the birth we flew back to Grassy Narrows – we had to get in before the freeze up – otherwise it might have been a month before the ice was thick enough to land there. We stayed at Grassy two more years.

When Joyce was 14 months old and I was five, we moved to Montreal for three months – Dad took a Fur Grading Course, I got to go to Kindergarten and Joyce got a bad case of the mumps (along with the rest of us) – after living in the north I guess we were more susceptible to childhood diseases.

After our time in Montreal, Dad was posted to Lansdowne House – now we were really in the bush – on Lake Attawapiskat which flows into James Bay, 250 miles north of Sioux Lookout. Again, there were no modern conveniences.

While I do not remember too much from our time in the North, I know we had a wild rabbits as pets and a baby muskrat that Joyce was very afraid of. I remember getting myself into trouble a few times, but Joyce was always the quiet one. Mom always said she could leave Joyce on a blanket with a few toys and she would amuse herself for hours. When I was that age they put me in the playpen – upside down – with a weight on it.

After another two years at Lansdowne House, the decision was made to move back to “civilization” so the Hughes family moved to Kenora Ontario in 1950.

The first house we lived in Kenora had central heating – literally – there were four rooms (plus bathroom) with a central hallway. The furnace was located under a large grate in the hallway. Joyce and I shared a bedroom and in the winter we had to jump from our room to the bathroom because the hallway grate was too hot to step on with bare feet. Joyce being smaller and not able to jump as far suffered more burns than me.

Growing up, Joyce had to endure being my little sister. I guess I did not help matters sometimes thinking that older brothers were expected to torment your younger sister and her friends. It wasn’t until we got to be teenagers that I learned the error of my ways. Joyce’s friends had grown from annoying little kids to attractive young girls and now would not talk to me.

However, I found that I was more popular as my friends wanted to “hang out” at our house, especially when my sister and her friends were there!

As I said earlier, Joyce was my little sister – following me through school, but taking her own path. Joyce was always the quiet one, studious and hardworking but popular with lots of friends. She always had her homework done – on time and correct – always at the top of her class and never got into any trouble.

She went on to Waterloo University with a full scholarship.

My mother told of one parent/teacher interview where she walked in to meet Joyce’s teacher for the first time and she looked up in horror and said, “You do not have another child in this school do you? …. Joyce is Roy’s sister? …. I can’t believe it!”

As we got older we finally become friends as well as brother and sister. I looked forward to our visits. I was fortunate to travel back east on company business every few months. As I result I got to visit Joyce and Cam and see Rob and Arliegh grow up.

As my parents got older, and needed help, it fell on Joyce to respond – being closer by. She took this added responsibility in stride, never complaining.

In our family we were never good at sharing our inner feelings, but we had a very strong family bond that I feel lives on in the remaining family.

Joyce we already miss you I know you are at peace and reunited with Mom and Dad. You live on in our thoughts.

Goodbye little sister!