Hello to
cousins, from Allan Derges. I am the second eldest of the Grandchildren of Ottilie
and Henry Ursaki.
(b. May 28, 1947 d. not in the near future)
My Mom is
Helen Ursaki Derges. My Dad is David George Derges. I have two younger sisters, Ruth and Lois. I
have many memories of Grandpa Henry Ursaki and, of course Grandma ‘Saki.
Grandpa
‘Saki and advice on buying cars.
When I
was 18, it occurred to me that it was time to buy my first car and I didn’t
know much about cars, of course. I knew everything else one needs to know at 18
years old but the automobile was new to me. It only occurred to me later on in life that
my Mom and Dad were way more intelligent than I thought they were at the time.
My perspective was from the smartest teenager alive. At the time, though, I was pretty sure that
just four adults were way smarter than me and all four were Grandparents.
I had
the blessing to know and love two sets of grandparents. Grandpa ‘Saki and
Grandma ‘Saki and my other Grandparents George and Anna Derges were a big part
of my life. Grandpa George Derges didn’t know the first thing about the
automobile since he never bothered to get a permit to drive and he lived a good
life without the burden, or convenience, of owning a car. Grandpa Henry Ursaki,
on the other hand, knew everything about cars and he was my best source of
information about cars. He was a mechanic at the time for a local Regina
company called Bowman Brothers Limited and worked for a living by travelling
around in rural Saskatchewan fixing and repairing various things about cars.
In spite
of my Dad’s protests, I was determined to own a car and I went to Grandpa Henry
for advice. I recall my Dad’s admonition
“you’ll be in debt for the rest of your life” or something equally prophetic. I
was sure that my Dad was wrong.
I ended
up with a 1953 Chevrolet. It was a Belair model, 4-door sedan with a 3 speed
manual transmission. Grandpa found this beauty through an acquaintance and the
$225 price was within my budget. Hoser comes to mind when I search my files for
the name of the seller and I think it was Mr. Most or Mr. Moser who sold me
this beauty. I think about how much that car meant to me as I write these
words.
Just for
fun, let’s put in perspective the purchase of a 12-year-old car for $225 in 1965.
You could by a brand new Chevy for about $2,000 but that amount of money was just
a bit less than I could make for an entire year. I was in my first year of
University for the second time and my summer jobs at Federated Co-op and then
the Co-op Refinery paid about $190 per month. Don’t read it again if you
thought that I spent two University years to get one. It’s true. As a 17 year
old in the first year of university I wasn’t nearly ready or mature enough for the
challenge but I got better at being a student later on. I’m still working on
the maturity part but I’m getting there.
The
price of a loaf of bread was 21 cents, as was the price of an 8 oz glass of beer
at the pub or so I was told, as the legal drinking age was 21 at the time. The
price of a gallon of gas was 45 cents or 9.9 cents per liter in the summer of
1965. The Regina price of gas today (November 30th, 2012) is $1.10 per liter or
almost exactly $5.00 per gallon if I’ve done the conversion correctly.
Buying a
used Chev on Grandpa ‘Saki’s advice was no accident as he had a life long bias
in favour of GM cars. The only car to drive, according to Grandpa, was either a
Chev or a Pontiac and he never drove anything but, for his entire life.
The only
thing I knew for a fact that he didn’t know was about gas. He always said, and
my Dad also said the same, that the best gas was Texaco or BA from Moose Jaw
where Uncle Harold worked some years previously as I recall. I knew that the Texaco-labeled tankard filled
up at the Co-op Refinery and the only reason why I knew that is that I worked
there. Uncle Harold might want to comment and prove my case as he worked, for
years, in the industry. This is totally an aside but you might want to question
the price of gas when I tell you that all, or at least most, of the gasoline
sold in Regina comes from the distribution center of the Co-op Refinery in
Regina and the price of gas in Alberta and Ontario is lower every day in
comparison to Regina.
I drove
that ’53 Chev proudly for a year or so and then about five years later bought
Grandpa’s ’58 Pontiac. I would have driven that ’53 Chev for a lot longer than
I did except for a bit of an accident.
The
demise of that first of my many cars is a story all by itself. I came home from
a Rider game after entrusting my darling Chevy to my little sister Ruth. It was
a beautiful summer night in 1966. The Riders lost as I recall but I’m not sure
why that loss would stand out since being a Rider fan brings its own bad memories.
Grandpa Henry always said that the Riders were not good at football.
I
entered through the front door and I was greeted by some of the saddest and
longest faces one could imagine. Sitting there was Mom and Dad with Ruthie.
Before anyone could say anything, Ruth burst out crying and I immediately
thought that it might have something to do with my car since I noticed on the
way in that it wasn’t parked in the driveway or on the street in front of the
house. Sure enough, this was about my car and the good news was that nobody was
hurt.
As it
turned out, Ruthie had taken the car for a little drive and then had this great
idea to let one of her friends drive it. Ruth had driven my car previously and
I was more than happy to give her the keys once in awhile as she was really
quite a good driver having been trained well by Dad. The mistake she made was
letting her friend behind the wheel. I guess it seemed innocent enough except
for a little detail in that her friend didn’t have a driver’s licence. They
thought that driving in a pretty well empty parking lot at the Golden Mile
Plaza was a good place to start. Unfortunately, they didn’t get out of the
parking lot as a light standard got in the way and the damage was enough that
my poor old ’53 Chev was written off and towed to its final resting place.
Ruthie took all the blame by telling the police that she was the driver. I have
always thought that my ’53 Chev was my best car. I’ve had other cars.
Suddenly
without a car, I made a quick, and not a very bright, decision without
consulting Grandpa ‘Saki. I bought a brutal ’55 Plymouth. This thing had a push
button automatic transmission instead of a gearshift and in spite of this wonderfully
unique feature it was easily the worst car I have ever owned. It didn’t last
long before it just quit running one day and I went back to Grandpa ‘Saki for
some advice. This time Grandpa knew about a ’57 Ford Fairlane 500 that was
owned by a friend of Uncle Frank’s. Even though Grandpa was a Chevy or Pontiac
guy, through and through, he checked out this Ford and advised that it was a
good buy.
I was
lucky enough to drive that Ford for about three more years. It must be
convenient and selective memory but I cannot remember what happened to that
car. It’s likely that I crashed it but I can’t recall with any detail. I
remember driving through a stop sign at the end of a grid road through a ditch
near Saskatchewan Beach and I also recall an incident at the corner of Victoria
Avenue and Broad Street and then, later on, ending up in a snow pile on Grant
Road. I might have died along the way and this is possibly just some evidence
that the spirit lives through writing about stuff.
All I
know for sure about that car is that along the way I had a conversation with
Grandpa Henry about smoking.
This is
for all those who have never smoked a cigar or a cigarette.
Grandpa
Henry Ursaki and my Grandpa George Derges were committed smokers. One day,
Grandpa ‘Saki noticed cigarettes in my pocket and decided to intervene. He
didn’t advise me to quit but merely told me that I was smoking the wrong brand.
His advice was that if I switched to his brand, I would never have a smoker’s
cough. He went on to say that his brand, Rothman’s, was made by a Jewish
company and that his cigarettes were kosher. No kidding! You can’t make up this
kind of stuff. This advice was from the same guy who would make a special
effort to cut the “fattiest” piece from a bone-in ham. All I know is that
Grandpa ‘Saki lived to 81 and it likely wasn’t smoking his kosher cigarettes or
the fat from the ham that got him in the end. He also loved cigars.
We have
been told, for just about ever, to avoid the fatty part of meat. I think that
it is reasonable, however, to believe that the people in our Grandparents era
did not have the bombardment of chemicals in their food. Their food was pure
and they believed that a bit of fat was not only NOT bad for you but the most
enjoyable part of a cut of meat. At least Grandpa ‘Saki thought so.
Not many
reading this had the pleasure of driving with Grandpa ‘Saki or golfing with
him, for that matter. My very first ever time on a real golf course was with my
two Grandpas. I was 11 years old, 1958, when Grandpa ‘Saki and Grandpa Derges
took me golfing to Boggy Creek #2 which came to be known in later years as the
Murray Golf Course. Some memories are more indelible than others. I can
remember standing on the first tee and hitting my first shot ever on a real
golf course. It was a big deal for me and quite intimidating, actually. Grandpa
Derges was a very good player and was known to play golf at around par quite
regularly. Grandpa ‘Saki was not nearly as good a player but loved the game
just the same. Those two old guys were regular golf partners and, to be sure,
they each had a “flask” in the golf bag. I was absolutely thrilled and honoured
that they would allow me to golf with them. I loved those two old
Grandpas.
Cars,
smoking and golfing are just some of my memories of my Grandpa Henry Ursaki.
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