Last night on our way to Gonzales, the radio in Dad's car stopped working. So, I learned some of my grandfather's life story. The brief version I got goes something like this:
Born in 1897, Eric Pace was the son of a butcher in Nova Scotia, Canada. He dropped out of school in 8th grade to help with the family business. He would drive cattle, run meat to the city, and all the other stuff involved in meat. Sometime in his twenties, he moved to Boston and got a job as a meat cutter for a hospital in Waltham, MA, a Boston suburb.
In the hospital's freezer, he got pneumonia, so he returned to Nova Scotia to die. Then he got better.
Using saved money from the Boston days, he bought a grocery store in Hackett's Cove in the early 1930's, where he worked for many years, with his sister Rae helping run the business. He was dating someone for many years, but he dumped her when my grandmother, Louise ("Grammy") Ayers, from Newfoundland came to visit her sister, Elizabeth.
Years and a couple kids later, he sold the grocery store in Hacketts Cove (6 miles from famous Peggys Cove) and bought another one in nearby Seabright. Then, in the early 1950's, after a couple heart attacks, Eric sold that store and moved to a house on MacDonald Street in Halifax, the big city.
He got a job as a government inspector, checking immigrants to ensure they did not illegally import merchandise. He rented out the lower part of the house.
Then, he sold that house and bought a house on Walnut Street in Halifax, where they lived at least until my father graduated college and got married in 1962.
Eric was also, at various times, an alderman and a coroner. He did not drink or smoke, and wouldn't play cards.
He passed away in 1994, at the age of 97.
Please add comments to correct or add to this post, people who know. Yes, this means you.
Thanks to GMP for his corrections.
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