Home

This is my home.

My Grandparents home in Gambo, Newfoundland.

I am now 33 years old and have spent a good chunk of my lifetime here.

Growing up, I didn’t live in Gambo, but I spent every summer here. School would be finished in June and it would only be a few days after, and this is where I would be.

We would go fishing, or play out in the backyard, or down to the swimming pool. If on the odd chance we were in the house, you can guarantee that The Toronto Blue Jays game was on. My Grandparents and I would sit down and watch the game, or at the very least it would be on in the background while we sat down to eat.

9 pm was lunchtime. Nan would be sure to have the table laid out with cookies and crackers, and anything else you wanted. There would be company showing up, and we would all be laughing and singing, or watch the Blue Jays game.

This home has always been a source of happiness and love.

Sunday Mornings was for Church. I would get ready with Nan every Sunday morning and head down to the Salvation Army Church for Sunday Service, and in the afternoon she would bring me back after lunch for Sunday School. At night I would be left with my Grandfather, so that Nan could go to the night service, which was usually an outdoor service in the summer.

As the season have come and gone, serious changes have happened, good and bad.

I have grown up and married and have had children of my own, my Grandfather has passed away, and sickness has come knocking.

My Grandmother is the matriarch for my mothers family and I can only hope I can be half as amazing with my 3 children as she has done with her 8. She is a beautiful bright soul who doesn’t let anything get her down. She is always there with open arms.

This house is my home. For as long as I can remember this house ( and my Aunts house up the road) have been a proverbial security blanket for me and I’ve always felt safest here.

Have a beautiful Sunday everyone, I know I will because I am home🧡💜

Gambo, NL

You know I think I have found a new term to describe something that happens a lot it seems in my family. Some people would just call it home sick, I’m going to start calling it Gamboitis. Well maybe not, that would just be a weird name.

My mother is from a small community in central Newfoundland called Gambo. It is a beautiful town, that I would recommend everyone to visit in their lifetime. I was lucky enough to grow up there as well and be able to spend immense amounts of time with my aunts and uncles and grandparents in my younger years. I lived there for several years growing up, but before and after that time, I would spend every summer at my grandparents or my Aunts house.

However since growing up and moving out of my family home and starting a family of my own, time is pretty hard to come by, and it rare when I get the chance to visit, same thing goes for my Mother. She hardly gets a chance to go visit my grandmother and her sisters( my aunts).

This is where the “Gamboitis” sinks in. For mom, it happens a lot around holidays and birthdays. We remember the fond memories and people we miss that live there. For me it happens whenever I get a moment to pause and think of the “old days”. The simpler time when I truly had no worries except if I was going to go swimming or laze around the backyard. I’m sure mom thinks about home more too, she just doesn’t say anything.

I guess where I’m trying to go with this post is well I don’t know. If you are ever in Newfoundland, don’t pass by Gambo without a stop in, and if you are looking for something to eat, Vonnie Lee Chicken is the best place. There are great walking trails everywhere, and beautiful scenery. During the summer months if you go up to Joeys Lookout on the highway, a lovely man Harold Penny has a hotdog cart with the best sausage dogs you could ever imagine. You really don’t want to miss out on those.

Teacher Appreciation Post

When I was younger, I lived in a small town in Newfoundland called Gambo. It’s 30 mins east of Gander, and the best small town you could ever want to come across.

In my younger years, I struggled with math a lot, but I had one teacher who never gave up on me, Mr. Paul Maloney. He commuted from Gander everyday for years to teach at Bayview Heights( SmallWood Academy). He was my grade 4 homeroom teacher and taught me math and science in grade 7. While in grade 7, he spent countless lunch hours missing out on his lunch, or rushing through his lunch, just so he could take the time to tutor me in math. He wanted to make sure I passed with the rest of my class.

In the middle of grade 8, my family moved from Gambo to Gander because my father found a job. In the spring of grade 9, Mr. Maloney took the time every week in the evenings after supper to help me study to pass my grade 9 finals. I wasn’t even in his school anymore, and he made sure I got the help I deserved, taking away his free time yet again. He never once asked for anything, except for me to work my hardest and get the grades he believed I could.

If I could ever get the chance to speak to this man again, I would want to say thank you for believing in me, when I didn’t believe in myself. Thank you for your constant care and attention so that I could make it through school. I was so privileged to have known you and you are most definitely the best teacher that anyone could ever ask for. Thank you Sir for everything and anyone who had the opportunity to call you their teacher, truly were blessed as I was, because you were made for the job.

I don’t know where he is now, but I hope his days are filled with beauty and blessing beyond. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️