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Uncle Ren and one of his Cats

Reynell Taylor married my grandfather’s sister Katherine (aka Kay Campbell.)

In the late 40’s and early 50’s I spent many summers in Weymouth North at my grandparents home called “Riverside”. Uncle Ren lived in his own section of this large house and I spent many happy hours with him in what would today be called, his “Man Cave”. He was a woodsman, a lumberman and a great storyteller. He took me fishing and taught me how to shoot a rifle. We used to go down behind the old barn and he would set up some tin cans to shoot at with his 22 rifle. Great fun for a young boy!

His voice was very deep and rich and he always had some interesting stories to tell.

When he was a young boy he broke is right arm. The Doctor only put a cast on his arm up to his wrist and his hand hung over the end of the cast in an “L” shape. After the cast was remover his wrist was frozen in this position for the rest of his life. However, he learned to use his hand in various innovative ways. He played the harmonica quite well and it fitted perfectly in his hand and looked as if it was designed to do this. It also looked very natural when draped over the top of a steering wheel.

He used to take me on his rounds to check on his saw mill in Weymouth and to supervise the loading of lumber on ships tied up at the dock. These experiences gave me a lifelong love of the sea. Unfortunally his son Ken also had the same love and sailed on the Nova Queen which was lost with all hands in 1934.

One of his stories was about mushrooms. He told me about a field nearby that was “White with mushrooms”. Being very fond of mushrooms but didn’t know they grew wild I coaxed him to take me on a search for wild mushrooms. We trudged up the hill very near to Riverside until we came to a cow pasture. It wasn’t exactly “White with mushrooms”, but I saw quite a few mushrooms of various sizes and shapes. I asked Uncle Ren how to tell the good ones from the poisonous ones. He told me to watch the cows. In the field there were a number of cows and we observed one eating some mushrooms. We then picked a mushroom just before it was consumed by the cow to use as a sample to guide us for others.

When we got home we had a nice basket full. My grandmother, being a nurse, was a bit cautious about us eating them. As further proof Uncle Ren put a silver spoon in the frying pan and said if it turned black they were poisonous . The spoon didn’t turn black and were all fried up and on the dining room table when we looked at him and said, “You be the First to eat them”. He took a large spoon full and started eating when suddenly – he grabbed at his throat and let out a groan. This gave me quite a start until I saw a grin on his face and then a roar of laughter. Needless to say I waited until he had eaten a few more mouthfuls before I started. They were delicious and to this day I have always enjoyed wild mushrooms and the fond memory of my uncle.

I’m sure there are some of you who remember Uncle Ren Taylor and might have a story to tell Beechwood Tales about this extraordinary man.