For many years there was an orphanage in Brookside, which is a residential neighbourhood within the Greater Truro area of Colchester County, Nova Scotia, often associated with the adjacent village of Bible Hill. During the 1950s, the facility, later known as the Nova Scotia Youth Training Centre was located in Brookside, near Truro, opened in 1929, was used to house children deemed “mentally defective,” neglected, or homeless, functioning more as an institution than a standard orphanage However, I only knew it as the Bible Hill orphanage.
 During the 50s, Mr. and Mrs. Delbert Rushton worked at the training school. They lived in Great Village, not far from us. One day, they talked to Mother and Dad about a young 14-year-old lad at the school who was very fond of animals. Since we had the farm, they wondered if Mom and Dad would be interested in having the young fellow come for a visit. Mother and Dad immediately agreed to bring this young, orphaned boy into our home, not knowing much about him. The mere fact that Mr. and Mrs. Rushton vouched for him was enough for them. His name was Harvey.
 During the 50s, Mr. and Mrs. Delbert Rushton worked at the training school. They lived in Great Village, not far from us. One day, they talked to Mother and Dad about a young 14-year-old lad at the school who was very fond of animals. Since we had the farm, they wondered if Mom and Dad would be interested in having the young fellow come for a visit. Mother and Dad immediately agreed to bring this young, orphaned boy into our home, not knowing much about him. The mere fact that Mr. and Mrs. Rushton vouched for him was enough for them. His name was Harvey.
They thought it would do Harvey good to get away from the orphanage, even if only for a short period of time. Arrangements were made for Dad to pick up Harvey and bring him to our home the following weekend. That visit went so well that there were many more weekend visits and even holiday visits. We always looked forward to seeing him, and Harvey eagerly helped Dad with the farm chores, especially when it came to the livestock. Harvey became more and more a part of our family over the following weeks and months.
 I remember the Christmas of 1954. Santa had brought me my first doll who could walk, with my help of course, plus doll clothes
for her to wear, and my first ever little ironing board and iron that gave off a wee bit of heat when plugged in. After breakfast, we opened our presents, then Father left to pick up Harvey, as arrangements had been made for him to spend Christmas Day with us. While Father was gone, I ironed everything so my doll would look nice for Harvey’s arrival. He treated my brother and me as if he was our older brother, taking time during his visit to interact with my brother and his new toy trucks, and me with my new doll. Even though he was not our biological brother, he connected with us in the same way I could only assume older natural siblings would.
 I wish Mother and Dad were alive today so I could get the entire story, but if I remember correctly, they even tried to adopt him at one point, but because of a difference in religion, the adoption was denied. Still, he was a large part of our family, and his visits to our home continued. I remember a few trips to the picturesque community of Little Harbour in Pictou County, N.S. where we took Harvey to visit an old lady, Mrs. Marie Chisholm, who had cared for him when he was very young. The Rushtons shared that information once they knew Harvey fit in well with our family. Those visits to see Marie meant a lot to Harvey, and he never forgot the love and kindness my parents showed him. To my knowledge, Harvey never shared with Mom and Dad if he was ever mistreated at the Training School, and he never told us kids what life was like in the orphanage. The building was torn down in the 1980s.
 I hadn’t planned on doing any follow-ups, but this story I feel warrants one. Harvey never married. He studied and became a chef and got a job on a ship. On one birthday many years later when my husband and I and our three sons were living in Alberta, he got our phone number from Mother, and surprised me with a happy birthday phone call, not from Halifax, his home port but from a port in Norway. We didn’t talk very long, but that call meant the world to me. In 1987, we moved back to Nova Scotia and got in contact with Harvey, who my parents knew was now living in an apartment in Halifax. He explained that because of health issues, he no longer worked on the ship. He didn’t explain, and I never asked when we talked on the phone. Later that summer we made a trip to Halifax to see him, so he could meet my husband and our three sons.
 I remember the Christmas of 1954. Santa had brought me my first doll who could walk, with my help of course, plus doll clothes
for her to wear, and my first ever little ironing board and iron that gave off a wee bit of heat when plugged in. After breakfast, we opened our presents, then Father left to pick up Harvey, as arrangements had been made for him to spend Christmas Day with us. While Father was gone, I ironed everything so my doll would look nice for Harvey’s arrival. He treated my brother and me as if he was our older brother, taking time during his visit to interact with my brother and his new toy trucks, and me with my new doll. Even though he was not our biological brother, he connected with us in the same way I could only assume older natural siblings would. I wish Mother and Dad were alive today so I could get the entire story, but if I remember correctly, they even tried to adopt him at one point, but because of a difference in religion, the adoption was denied. Still, he was a large part of our family, and his visits to our home continued. I remember a few trips to the picturesque community of Little Harbour in Pictou County, N.S. where we took Harvey to visit an old lady, Mrs. Marie Chisholm, who had cared for him when he was very young. The Rushtons shared that information once they knew Harvey fit in well with our family. Those visits to see Marie meant a lot to Harvey, and he never forgot the love and kindness my parents showed him. To my knowledge, Harvey never shared with Mom and Dad if he was ever mistreated at the Training School, and he never told us kids what life was like in the orphanage. The building was torn down in the 1980s.
 I hadn’t planned on doing any follow-ups, but this story I feel warrants one. Harvey never married. He studied and became a chef and got a job on a ship. On one birthday many years later when my husband and I and our three sons were living in Alberta, he got our phone number from Mother, and surprised me with a happy birthday phone call, not from Halifax, his home port but from a port in Norway. We didn’t talk very long, but that call meant the world to me. In 1987, we moved back to Nova Scotia and got in contact with Harvey, who my parents knew was now living in an apartment in Halifax. He explained that because of health issues, he no longer worked on the ship. He didn’t explain, and I never asked when we talked on the phone. Later that summer we made a trip to Halifax to see him, so he could meet my husband and our three sons.
That’s when we learned Harvey was a whizz with the sewing machine and spent much of his time making fur teddy bears. Not long after, unfortunately I can’t recall the month or the day, we received a phone call that he had passed away that morning. Bill and I attended his funeral, where we learned he had been silently living with cancer for the past couple of years. While our hearts were saddened, I took some comfort in knowing he was no longer suffering and was finally at peace. Harvey was laid to rest in the Gate of Heaven Cemetery in Sackville, N.S.
Born and raised in Nova Scotia, Marilyn and Bill met and married in 1972. Having raised 3 boys and accumulated a respectable number of grand-children and great-grand-children, she wrote her first book and published it in 2024. A collection of short stories titled The Kendricks of Glasgow Junction. She is contributing short stories about growing up in Nova Scotia to this website and will be publishing a collection of them in the near future.