Written by Neil Collishaw, in memory of his cousin Glendon Steeves in July 2022

In the mid 1950s the received wisdom in Ontario was that people in Ontario were rich and people in New Brunswick were poor.  Many in Ontario still believe that to this day.  The received wisdom was incorrect.  It was incorrect then and it is incorrect now.  And I can prove it.

During the 1950s, when I was not yet a teenager, every year our family, or some of us, travelled to New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island to visit my mother’s close and extended family.  Without fail, we would stop for a few days at the Steeves’ farm in Plumweseep, New Brunswick.  It was there that I met the richest man I ever knew, my first cousin, Glendon Steeves.  And he was just a teenager, just six years older than me.  In fact, his whole family was rich.

The first indication of family wealth was where the train stopped.  On request, the CNR passenger train stopped right in the Steeves’ front yard to let the Collishaw tribe off.  No one else got on or off, just us.  I had never heard of such a thing in Ontario.  The train never did that in London, Ontario.  Only rich people could have a train stop in their front yard. (Later, Sheila Mackinnon, now Sheila Steeves, and Barbara Varty, now Barbara Collishaw, had a less than happy experiences with the CNR train. In their turn, each would be frightened out of a deep sleep by the CNR train barrelling through their bedrooms in the middle of the night, but that is another story.)

Then there was the gun.  A real gun, a 22 calibre rifle.  I had never seen a gun.  Only rich people could have a gun.  Glendon and his brothers explained to me that it was needed to shoot the groundhogs that were raiding the corn field.  But first I had to practice shooting bottles and cans lined up on the fence.  I don’t think I ever hit any bottles or cans or any groundhogs, but I can still remember the sharp pain in my shoulder from the recoil for failing to follow instructions and not holding the rifle correctly.  Glendon, as always, accepted the failings of his poor city cousin with humour and good grace.

A swimming hole!  Glendon and his brothers had their own swimming hole in the Kennebecasis River and their own beach on their own land.

A covered bridge!  They had a covered bridge and the covered bridge had a missing board (Perhaps Glendon had removed it.)  The hole where the board used to be was kid-sized and was just above the swimming hole.  Perfect for daring jumping.  These were riches beyond the wildest dreams of this poor kid from London, Ontario.

In addition to the riches he shared with his family, Glendon had riches of his own.  He had his own ox! And his own ox cart!  No such things existed on the city streets of London, Ontario.  Not even in the richest neighbourhoods.  Glendon was happiest when making others happy.  And in those days, nothing made him happier than driving an ox-cart full of happy cousins around the back roads of rural New Brunswick. 

Well, perhaps the Irvings have more money.  I prefer to measure riches in happiness and happiness created in others.  And in this Glendon Steeves knew no equal.  We who knew him are all the richer for it.  With his passing, these riches are sustained by our memories of Glendon Steeves, the richest man in New Brunswick.