Driving Milton Little

 I have been cleaning out a lot of old files and papers recently since we returned from selling our cottage and unpacking the many things we moved back to our house here in Parkhill.  In the process I came across a clipping from an old newspaper article about a church in New Westminster celebrating its one hundredth anniversary.  Sixth Avenue United Church congregation was 100 years old in 1990.  The article noted that my father, Rev. Milton Little, was minister from 1954 to 1960.  I was young and impressionable at that time being born in 1949 – so it was part of my formative years.

The article had an insert about my father and his time while he was the minister there which I have reproduced here:

DRIVEN?

Rev. Milton Little was in charge of Sixth Avenue United Church from 1954 to 1960.  According to a collection of memories put out by the church, Little was “a very unostentatious person”.  He also was an amateur automobile mechanic, and he drove and old pre-war vehicle that some members of the congregation felt reflected negatively on the church.

One evening, while at a church meeting, a runaway truck smashed into Little’s car.  The insurance company wrote it off as being totaled.  “Ahah” said the church people, “Now he’ll have to buy a new car, and he certainly can’t find one as old as he’s been driving.”

But Little did.  The insurance company made a cash settlement with him and let Milton keep his old, smashed-up, jalopy.  With it and with the other vehicle of the same make, model and vintage that he had found, he was able to create one car that he could drive and which was just as “disreputable” as before.

I remember much about these events and looking back, I think that my sympathies were with the congregation members.  The “pre-war vehicle” was a 1936 Chev which I remember well.  It was an embarrassment to me, and I presume my older brother and sister – although I haven’t checked this out with them.  I don’t specifically remember my reaction to the car being demolished but I think it was probably along the same lines as the congregation – now Dad will have to get a more up to date vehicle which is not an embarrassment to be seen riding in. I was realistic enough to know that there was no way my father would get a new car, but it was probably my deep secret desire.  However, a more up to date one was a realistic hope.

Of course, my hope and dream along with those of the congregation, were dashed when, true to form, my father came up with a replacement which was, for all intents and purposes, a clone of the demolished one.  I must admit that one feature of the old car which I enjoyed was the running boards.  I do have fond memories as a young child riding on the running boards for short distances when my father allowed it.  I’m not sure if my mother approved but I imagine it may have caused some friction.

My father and I were not much alike in personality.  We did share a great interest in theology, and we connected on that basis.  However, I have never been a mechanic of any kind – amateur or otherwise and I have always had a preference for new cars which, perhaps I can blame on my embarrassment of that 1936 Chev in my formative years – that new car smell is hard to beat. I won’t say that my prayers and those of the congregation members were answered when that beloved car was demolished - I don’t remember actually praying for that to happen.  However, I think, on some level, it was a case of unconscious prayers of a seven- or eight-year-old child being answered at least for a few days until they were dashed with the reality of my father’s love of that car and of being frugal, which, I must say, stayed with him all his life.

To close on a positive note, I am able to see my father as a complex person with strengths and weaknesses who loved his family in his own way which I did not always appreciate.  Hindsight, if not always 20-20, can be clearer as time goes by as it was in this case.