The Grants conveyed ‘kindness and decency’
Perhaps the best remembered of Sam Walter Foss’s poems is “The House by The Side of The Road.” I thought of it when I learned recently of the passing of Lloyd Grant of Boularderie Centre.
Lloyd Grant and his brother Robert, who predeceased him by approximately six years, were gentlemen in the sense of that word that conveys kindness and decency, friendliness and selflessness.
I came to know both, approximately 20 years ago, when I delivered bread and pastry items to Grant’s General Store in Boulardarie.
“You’ll like the Grants,” as this duo were referred to, Robert McFadgen told me. “They’re nice people.”
No truer words could be spoken.
McFadgen had personally served them for many years and was fond of telling stories of going to their store and talking with them on all manner of subjects
One occasion stands out. On a late stormy winter afternoon, with night coming on, his last delivery for the day was to “the Grants.” As he was preparing to leave, the weather worsened with a cold wind blowing snow in what appeared to be every direction. We all know such days very well.
Lloyd Grant said to him, “It’s bad out Robert (McFadgen); you should spend the night here; we’ll put you up in the spare room and after breakfast tomorrow, the roads will be better, and you can get on your way.”
It had been a long day and McFadgen, after thanking both brothers, declined, anxious to get home and not wanting to impose on them. They both continued to encourage him otherwise but to no avail.
Out he started and after going for a couple of miles things looked good. That was soon to change. He attempted to get his truck up a hilly part of the road but had no success in his several efforts. It kept sliding back. By now it was pitch dark and no one could be seen to ask for help. Then, he could hear the inescapable sound of a tractor’s motor. It grew louder and soon appeared Robert Grant with his farm tractor and a set of good chains.
In an inescapable rural Cape Breton brogue his first words were, “I thought you’d have trouble on this hill, so, just in case, I came out for you.” There was no telephone call for help. No one stopping at the store to say they witnessed a stuck and sliding truck, no, none of that.
The Grants just couldn’t rest at the thought that Robert McFadgen might be stuck for the night on that hill and that was that; time to get the tractor and go check things out, just in case.
The Grants had a policy, should either or both of them be absent, their customers could turn on the gas pump, get their fuel and put the money representing the cost of the gas in a bottle or some such container.
There are many other like accounts.
Their store, in appearance and in the manner of how they operated it, took one back to another time.
It was a time when things were neither rushed, nor hurried; when people did not come there merely to buy this or that, but to check in and have a chat.
The store operated for upwards of 60 years, closing in 2008 and a bridge to the better aspects of our past was then gone.
Now both Grants are also gone, but we can take comfort in the examples and memories they have left us.
In these difficult times we now face we can also find solace from that old country store where friends and neighbours gathered in a spirit of community togetherness that helped overcome their fears and foes alike.
This is why Sam Foss’s poem rings so true to those who knew both these men and those who have an appreciation even for the type of people they represent. It’s opening stanza speaks volumes:
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content There are souls like stars that dwell apart.
In a fellow less firmament There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths Where highways never ran But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
So to should we remember the Grants, Lloyd and Robert.