My father was born on June 23, 1880 in Ramgate, Kent, England, one of seven children of John and Sophia (Edwards) Merrall. When Dad was three, his mother died. His father and the three youngest children went to live at the Isle of Thanet Union (often referred to as a Poor House), where John Merrall worked as a baker. When Dad was 13, he was sent to Canada to work as an indentured servant.
Dad returned to England when he was 21 to see his father and his brother, Frank, who was on leave from the Navy. Although he didn't want to leave his father again, he was homesick for the life in Canada. So once again, he bid his father goodbye. This was the last time Dad saw his father. He never went to England again.
Dad was a happy, loving person with a great deal of empathy for all people. Consequently, he was always helping the other poor fellows, often when his own family had to do without. Mother would complain. Then he'd say, "Now, Lindy, those people might have more things than we do, but they don't have what we have. Just look at our family! See what we've done! The Good Lord looks after us. We always have enough to eat, clothes to wear, and a roof over our heads. We're fortunate. Lots of people don't have what we've got. So let's thank God we're all healthy and be happy, hey!"
Dad had a happy disposition. I don't remember ever seeing him really angry. He was mild and obliging. He never asked for anything more than a roof over his head, clean patched overalls, and a bit to eat. He was kind and patient with us kids, although when need be, he could be stern and strict. He taught us manners, to be kind and helpful, especially to older people, and to appreciate what was done for us.
He often told mother that he'd never truly had a family of his own until he married her. Now nothing else mattered but his family. We were his life. He had a unique sense of humor. He could easily relate to all ages and was like by everyone, especially the children.
He was a grand person.
