"My mother told me to be a lady. And for her, that meant to be your own person, to be independent." -Ruth Bader Ginsburg
My Mother, Nessie, married my dad, Davey, Nov 21 1936. She made a simple satin dress bound at the neck with binding, and net veil with orange blossoms. I found that dress, all tattered and worn, in an old trunk. But I still have that silk net ribbon that kept her flowers together. Most of it survived the years. I used it in a quilt that incorporated items from that era. Lace doilies, Grouse foot claw for a kilt ( it belonged to my grandfather)
A portion of a crochet tablecloth that I made with my mother. Hours of lace work. It never did become a tablecloth. But it became part or a wall quilt of antiques, including the net lace ribbon from her bridal bouquet, some 80 years later, in 2016.
My dad died in 1967. My mother in 1988. Both on the same day: March 26, some 21 years apart. They adored each other. He always reminded me of Desi Arnaz. Years after he died, my mother and I would watch I Love Lucy reruns. And every time she would mention that my dad looked like Desi. I thought he did too.
My mother grew up in Bethune, Saskatchewan.
With her parents: Isabella Glen and Robert Shiels.
In a simple cabin, And her greatest friends on the basketball team.
And two brothers and a sister, dogs, horses, hay, snow, and open spaces to roam. Horses to ride bareback. Long Lake to swim in and summers of picnics and basketball and helping her mother put up preserves. But she didn't want to stay on the farm.
In 1936 she married my dad. They went for a cruise on the "Nora" as a honeymoon. My dad worked for the CPR. Mum loved ships. It was such a change from the prairies.
Then there was the Wallis Windsor dress she made. She loved to sew. Could sew stitches around anyone. Made the Wallis Windsor dress without a pattern. Out of soft blue satin.She passed it down to me one year.
And driving. She loved to drive.
Especially coming home to the farm in the 30's and 40's.
In the snow . To spend Christmas with the family. And stand in the freezing cold to take snaps.
Years later, in the 50's my mother and father brought Isabella and Robert Shiels to live in Victoria. My dad would set up a spot for my blind grandmother to sit and enjoy the outdoors. He would read poetry to her in the shade of the trees.A dog always by her side. Her rocking chair still exists. Upstairs. The edges worn from her hands. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Many times there were fashionable walks on government street and Easter Bonnet parades every year. They had not much money, but somehow they managed to make ends meet.My mother taught me how to make things work.
Family gatherings became different in the 50's. Instead of going to the farm, seen over by mum's brother now, there were small parties at 1425 Fairfield, with a simple tree draped with a few strands of tinsel, balls of gold and elves peeking out from the tree branches.
Over the years I have been able to find some of these vintage elves. They remind me of my mother and my father. They would carefully place each little pixie inside the xmas tree , every year, and tell me they were looking for their way home through the forest by following xmas tree lights. After my dad died, mum continued the tradition.
My mother loved to have her picture taken in fields of flowers. She was very shy, for the most part, but adored a photo with the daffodils. Every spring, she would bring dad to Beacon Hill Park, and plunk herself down with the daffodils. This is one of my favourite photos.
She was not a world traveller. Her world consisted of Saskatchewan, and Victoria . She had two elderly parents to look after and a job . But they did manage road trips into the mountains. Dressed to the nines, of course, for every trip.
And years later, at our house at 1425 Fairfield. Victoria,B.C., the daffodils still grew and flourished long after my grandparents passed on. That Christmas mum and dad adopted me. It must have been quite the xmas present. My father died some 7 years later. I had 7 years with him and that was just about right, even though it was not long enough. Every mother's day, as I got older, I would give mum daffodils in a pot with a home made card, and she would think that was the best gift of all. It alwyas reminded her of those happy days when they would sit in the daffodils on the hills .
"My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it." Mark Twain
