written by Margaret Heacock in April 1930, for the Kettleby Branch of the North York Women's Institute.

Mr. Wilford Heacock, now residing at Kettleby, one of the most picturesque little hamlets in the province of Ontario, Canada, is the person whom we wish to centre around in this article. Mr Heacock, is now in his eighty-fourth year, enjoys good health, has an exceptionally good memory, a keen sense of humour, but is sorry to say, his eyesight is failing rapidly.
Jonathan Heacocok, great grandfather of Wilford, emigrated first, from a little village called Slydon in Eccelshall Parish, Staffordshire, England, to Pennsylvania. He made the voyage on the good ship "Three Sisters".
One night about the year 1790, he had a dream, and dreamed that he came to Canada and purchased land. His dream was so real to him, that on awakening, and for some time after, he could draw a diagram of the property.
On first coming to Canada, Jonathan lived near St. Catherines, Ont; later moving to a farm north of Aurora, Ont. But still, he was not satisfied. He had not yet found his dream farm.
In March 1808, he purchased a farm of 400 acres from John and Sarah MacDougal (who had bought it from the Crown for ). This is the land situated between the 3rd and 4th concessions of King. On looking over his farm, Jonathan realized that his dream had come true---that he had indeed purchased the farm of his dream.
Jonathan had six sons and five daughters: Edward, Nathan, John, Amos, Roland and Levi, Jane, Mary, Catharine, Sarah, and Nancy.
At the time Jonathan purchased the property, it was practically all bush, in which bears and other wild animals lived. Mr. Heacock was later killed by falling into a deadfall he had made to catch bears.
But let us go back for a moment, and take a glimpse of Jonathan on his journey from the States. We are told the journey was made by oxcart over the mountains of Pennsylvania and through the wilderness. At times they were forced to lower th loaded oxcarts by improvised windlasses down the steeper hills. They crossed the rushing Niagara on a raft, just a few miles below the falls.
After Jonathan Heacock died, the farm was divided; his son John receiving the western portion, (this being Tilson). But his son John was not fond of work, and neglected his farm until 35 acres were later sold to pay taxes on the whole. John never married. When he was growing old, he gave the farm to his brother Nathan's son, John and his wife Delilah, and they were to keep him as long as he lived.
John and Delilah worked hard, clearing and improving the land, and working as coopers in their spare time. They had five children; Ruth, Rachel, Emeline, Wilford, and Mary. This John Heacock died at the age of 35. Then for a few years, Delilah with the help of her family, carried on the farm work until the son Wilford was old enough to take charge.
In 1869, Wilford married Eleanor Hollingshead, who is still living, and enjoying good health, although in her 85th year. They have six children; Ellsworth of Duluth, Franklin of Toronto, Oscar of Kettleby, Silas of Kettleby, Elizabeth or Oran, Washington, and Louise Williams of Kettleby. One son, Emmerson, died in eary childhood. The six children were all born, and spent their childhood on the above mentioned farm.
Mr. and Mrs. Heacock have 14 grandchildren and two great grandchildren. Mrs. J. W. Tilson now residing on the farm, and co-owner with her husband, is a niece of Mr. Wilford Heacock.

By the time I met my grandmother, she was a 71 year old widow. She lived in her bedroom confined to a high-backed wheelchair, having suffered a stroke many years before. She lived with us in Kettleby, or should I say, we lived with her, as it was the Heacock family home. When she needed or wanted something, she would bang on the bedroom floor with her cane. I would run up the stairs with her mail and newspaper. I would always be rewarded with a tasty striped peppermint candy. I would try to find a reason to go back and forth as often as possible, but she caught on fairly quickly.
On family occassions, such as Christmas, my father and uncle would carry her in her chair, down the steep stairs to join us in the dining room. All her meals were generally taken in her room. She must have been very lonely. I know my mother was very tired.

Grandma had a bright yellow canary, which she named Dickie. She would talk to it, and it would sing all day. The cage was placed near the window, and many birds would stop by outside the window, for a visit. She loved that bird, and that bird loved her. I loved the striped peppermint candy!

On summer days before I started school, my mother and I would have picnic lunches on the side lawn. I would swim in my wading pool, and play with my dolls. It wasn't until years later that my mother told me, I had been "positioned", so that grandma could watch me play, from her bedroom window.

Grandma Fanny died in 1962 at the age of 77 years. I was 6 years old. Her canary Dickie never sang another note. And since then,I have never been able to tolerate the taste of mint in any form.

SILAS AND FANNY HEACOCK
Visit and read a story my mother wrote about her parents in 1980.

As a child growing up in Kettleby, I absolutely loved it! It seemed to me that relatives lived in every other house; and those in-between, were family friends. I knew I could go door-to-door, and always be welcomed with a smile and a cookie. On Hallowe'en night, the best treats were saved for me. I never had to perform a trick.

The United Church manse was only a few doors away, and I would often run errands for my mother. Reverand & Mrs. Graham would always sweep me up into open arms, and feed me delicious, soft fruit centered candies. I think Mrs. Graham, whose name was Eleanor, believed that I was named after her. When I understood that, my visits became more frequent! There was also two elderly widows, Mrs. Archibald and Mrs. Creighton, who lived across the street from the manse. I would skip across and visit with them too. Even at a young age, I seemed to understand they were lonely. I was often lonely too, as there were not many female playmates my age. So I guess we helped each other. Mrs Archibald was a great friend of my grandmother, and my mother loved her too. The day she died, both my mother and I cried.

At Christmas time, concerts were held in the old Sons of Temperance Hall. I swear that Santa Claus landed on the roof. All the children would perform skits or musical selections, and then we would receive our gifts. The snow always seemed to be floating down slowly from the sky, catching the moonlight just so, and making our walk home magical.

Summertime was the best. Hot, humid days found me learning to swim in the creek that meandered past my house. I would build forts in the woods, and fish for minnows in the river. Birds sang; breezes whispered. Never was there such a perfect place. Life was grand.

As a teenager, I loathed living in Kettleby. Relatives lived in practically every house! I had no privacy, and always felt that eyes were always following me, reporting on my actions. There were so many old people! The water in the creek was only ankle deep, and the minnows looked sick. The winter days dragged by, and snow never stopped. The summers were intolerable. There was absolutely nothing to do. Life stunk!

As an adult, I miss Kettleby. I miss the peace and quiet, and the smell of fresh cut grass. I miss living in a place where everybody knows your name; where you feel safe and secure. I miss standing on the bridge and gazing into the creek. I miss the sound of the melting snow, trickling down the hill past my home. I miss being able to clearly see the stars at night, and clearly hearing the crickets chirping. I miss the slow walks, stopping to chat on a neighbour's verandah. But I mostly miss, not being able to give "that feeling" to any other children. For now, I am one of the old people. Life is ironic.