My Mom

 

I didn't really get to know my mom until she was no longer with me. She  came from a generation when personal things were private, the private hurts, disappointments or sorrows were not openly discussed. People raised more recently, in a time when every thought and event is posted on a public forum, will not understand this kind of reticence. They may also not understand that when I was growing up, your parent was not a pal, but your parent; you did not question or dispute, you obeyed and respected. Even when I was older and had children of my own, even when I became more the caregiver than the child, my mother maintained a reserve preventing me from knowing her more deeply.

At that time, I knew very little about her, her parents and how she grew up. I knew that she and her older sister did not grow up with their parents. My grandfather died in the Great War, WW1, and Mom never knew him, only his name. She spoke little of her mother, but I knew Mom had been 'fostered', and I met some of these lovely folks that she lived with, and Mom wrote to them regularly, considering them family. I didn't know if she  had been in an orphanage for a time or at what age or for what length of time, she lived in foster homes.

Visiting Madeline and Bern Foster in Dartmouth (front left) with my parents (front right)  The Fosters were foster parents to my mom. C1970s (I am behind and between my parents)

My parents marriage was based on very specific roles; Dad provided for the family, Mom ran the home and raised the children. I was the 'caboose' in the family train, the 'Amen! in the Yea & Amen, or more probably, the 'Whew!'. I was the 6th of 6 children; a big family. Mom took what Dad provided and fed, clothed us, and the home. Not only that, she was a busy member of the church, involved in the activities and social life that this entailed. She entertained often, housed visiting missionaries and was a good neighbour and friend. When I lived it, it was just normal; as I evaluate it now, she was pretty amazing.

Yet, in the way of mothers and daughters of a certain age, many times we did not get along. While so capable in so many ways, communicating her feelings was a struggle. She couldn't express her emotions to me, and I in turn couldn't make sense of her. What I wouldn't give now to be able to sit with her for a few moments of quiet conversation. 'Too soon old, too late wise' 

Some years after my parents' deaths, I decided to look into my mother's family history. While she was alive, this was not something that interested her so I had never pushed her on the subject or made any efforts myself to know more. Now though, it became important to me. All I had to work with were the names of her parents and where Mom was born. Mom had at one time made an enquiry to the army about the death of her father. They sent a medal with his name which they still had for some reason, and added the additional fact that he was born in Brigus, NFLD. This enabled me to find his attestation form online, and gave me sufficient information to obtain his service file. 

This was the start of a journey to discover my grandparents and the family that my mother never knew that she had. Over the course of the following years, these facts came to light;

My mom's mother was Elma Blanche Rudolph, who was born in 1894 in Bridgeville, NS.. Her parents were Abner Rudolph and Margaret Nauffts.  Johann Peter Rudolph, Mom's 4th great-grandfather, arrived by ship in 1752 and settled in Lunenburg in 1753. He married Susanna Catherine Gretteau, whose father was born 1717 in Montbeliard, France. These early ancestors were 'Foreign Protestants' or Huguenots, who had fled Europe for freedom of worship and freedom from persecution. 

Monument in Lunenburg -The Gretteaus arrived in the Sally 1752

Mother's father was Patrick Downey, born in Brigus, Newfoundland according to his attestation form, 2 June 1889. Patrick sailed to Nova Scotia to find work in the mines at Sydney Mines. He and Elma were married there in 1912. The marriage record shows that his parents were Mark Downey, fisherman, and Alice. In all the years that I have been searching, I have found no further information about Patrick's family. There is a key to unlock this mystery, but I don't yet possess it. 

My mother never knew that she had an older brother Allison Theodore, born in 1913, who died very young. She did not know that Elma had 3 brothers and 6 sisters, or that these aunts and uncles knew about Mom and her sister, and thought of them as the 'lost girls'. Elma's brother Charles, and Patrick Downey, signed up to serve together in the 193rd Battalion CEF, but were separated overseas. Charles returned home from the war but Patrick is buried in the Drummond Cemetery, Raillencourt, France, having died of wounds he sustained being caught in unforeseen barbed wire, in the last 100 days of the war. This event changed the course of my mother's life forever.

Elma had the meager pension accorded to war widows, and I'm not sure how long it took for her to receive this. She took her girls home with her to her mother, however Margaret died 13 months after the death of Patrick, leaving Abner with 3 teenage children plus Elma and her 2, and very limited resources. Mom never knew that her grandparents had cared for her. I don't know how long it took for Elma to be desperate enough to part with the girls so that she could find a way to support them, but on the 1921 census, Mom and Aunt Mickey are living with a farmer, James Weatherby, and his 6 children in another part of Nova Scotia. Mom was 4 and Aunt Mickey, 7. I cannot imagine how terrifying this was and I don't know how long this placement as 'boarders' lasted.

Marguerite and Mom c1917

 I know from records, that Elma married again, twice; once in 1920 and then again in 1925. On the 1921 census Elma is listed as widowed, and is living in a rented apartment with her father, 3 of her younger siblings and her sister, her husband and 2 children. The apartment is on Lower Water St. in Halifax, next to the harbour and a dubious address that no longer exists. The family was clearly struggling too. 

When Elma married again in 1925, she finally had a stable relationship but was denied custody of the girls. I found something that my mother write later in life stating that she remembered her mother visiting her, but that she was a stranger and she had no feelings for her. My aunt, being that little bit older, felt what she considered, and surely felt, as a rejection by her mother. 

When my aunt became of age she left to become a nurse, as the system would no longer support her, leaving my mom behind.  My mom, when she became of age, went to business school so that she could get a job to support herself and lived in a boarding house in Saint John which is where she met my dad. My mother then became a wife, without having seen the love her mother and father shared in their marriage. She became a mother to 6 without having the lessons learned at her own mother's side of how to raise a family and run a household.

Mom c 1938 colourized

I was later able to correspond for just a short time, with 2 of Mom's first cousins via email. From these dear ladies I received a few treasured photos , but equally important, family remembrances; that the aunties were petite; that Grandpa Abner built furniture; that Uncle Peech was musical; that Uncle Charles had looked for Patrick overseas; that Patrick was known as Paddy, was greatly loved, and that the family had deeply and sincerely loved and mourned him. I was told that Elma had mourned her girls and tried hard to regain their custody and had later stepped in to raise her niece Ruth. 

Elma and Ruth

My grandmother Elma died in 1947, aged 53, of Rheumatic carditis, due to rheumatic fever. I have confirmed that she is buried in Mount Hermon Cemetery in Dartmouth, but has no stone to mark her grave. Grandfather Abner died in 1941 in Halifax; Mom was in Saint John until 1943, a heart-breaking proximity.

Abner is buried in Camp Hill Cemetery, Halifax

To me my mother's story has such a background of grief. Instead of thinking that she was 'given up' and therefore feeling that she had been abandoned, given away, she would have known that her mother acted out of desperation with the intent of it being only a temporary parting. She would have known an extended family had thought of her always and mourned her loss. She may have understood their straightened circumstances and perhaps forgiven. 

Abner Rudolph and Margaret Nauffts Rudolph, Mom's grandparents

I think my Aunt Mickey, Mom's sister, held more bitterness. She was old enough to have more memories perhaps and feel the loss more acutely. But she never knew that she was named for her grandmothers, Margaret and Alice.  I think my mother just thought of herself as without family, closed that door, and went about the business of establishing relationships that built into family; her foster family members, her friends when she started to work, the church relationships she formed, and finally the family she built with my dad.

Margie Douglas, Mom, Aunt Mickey, a male friend, Eleanor Douglas.

The Douglas family in Annapolis Royal fostered Mom and Aunt Mickey and Mom remained in touch for her whole life.

My brother Robert and I in Annapolis Royal with the Douglases, c mid 1960s

I think Mom became private and independent very young. I am grateful that the foster families that she was placed with were kind and loving people. Perhaps the possible threat of being moved at the mercy of the system prevented her from feeling free to express how she felt, so she locked the door on those feelings. My father due to being raised in an age where men did not express emotion, was kind but not at all demonstrative, my mom probably didn't have the luxury of sharing that part of herself with him either. She knew how to survive being uprooted. My father brought the family back to his home, Toronto, Ontario in 1943, a place a whole world away from the Maritimes. She shared these skills with my Aunt Heather when she arrived in Toronto as a war bride from England. She survived the loss of her oldest daughter, my sister Margaret and the near loss of her youngest, me, due to a serious accident. Mom and Dad were married 61 years and later, when my father became less able, my mother showed him loving care and respect. I never saw her afraid until it became apparent that she was quite ill and losing her ability to control her life. 

On summer vacation

1998 Mom and Dad's 60th Wedding Anniversary

I have come to see how remarkable my mother was. She was flawed and our relationship not perfect, but I now have a context for her flaws I think; a different lens with which to view her. It gives me a much greater appreciation for her struggles and what she achieved despite those handicaps.  When Mom passed I received many letters from people whose lives she had touched in her quiet way. I thought it such a lovely tribute.

I wish I could tell her that I love and respect her, that I had a wonderful example in her; that she taught me so much. I would love to tell her about her family that she never knew, and about my family that she didn't get to meet. 

Love you Mom. If you are not reading this this, I hope you just knew how much.

The Front Porch

The Front Porch

The front porch is my coffee place. It is just big enough for two gliders, which are comfy, (although someday I dream of a rocker), and a little table for my coffee cup and the book I never get around to reading. I always intend to read my book, but too many other things distract me. 

The porch is far enough from the street that I can just wave and exchange a 'Good Morning', but not engage in conversation if I don't feel sociable, (which is most often, l won't lie). I can watch a little slice of life unfold before me and enjoy it in peace with my coffee... well mostly.

The garden before me, is not at its best in late August and this year it is especially dry and worn, and a bit bald in some places due to the yard work of the resident bunnies. (Not a real fan of their work)

However, it is a place of endless activity with something new each day. If I take a bowl of peanuts out with me, I will be entertained by the chipmunks, squirrels and blue jays, that will immediately home in on the yard. The same ones seem to visit and become familiar to, and with me. It is amazing to interact so closely with them; I consider it a privilege.

As I sit here I see the changes in the garden and the seasons. There is a late daylily clump blooming down near the road. It is a beautiful rust colour, deep and rich.

The hostas are in flower and I see snapdragons that have popped up in the big tub, a renewal and surprise from last year. I see that I will get a ripe heritage tomato shortly.

When I add water to freshen the bird bath, I see that the patient mama mourning dove, who seems to have been sitting on her nest in the blue spruce tree for so long, has at least one young dove finally.

I see that the climbing rose is blooming again, late alliums will soon have flowers, and the heuchera, with their lovely deep purple leaves, are still blooming. 

I can see that some of the holes in the bee house are filled, and that there is a profusion of seed pods on the orange butterfly weed. Hopefully both mean good things for the spring.

While I do not see Monarchs in the garden this morning, there are many Cloud butterflies.  There is also a new bird; small and brown, with no wing markings. I think it may be a female Common Yellowthroat, who has graced us with a visit.

This porch is not perfect perhaps, but it is a perfect place for me. While the world changes at a pace that is hard and sometimes frightening to me, my little world here, changes at a pace pre-ordained, slowly with the seasons. It is a pace that suits me and feeds my soul. 

Life with Squirrels

Life with Squirrels

When you decide to hang bird feeders you soon find that squirrels become a part of your life. Urban squirrels are curious, devious and opportunistic and you have to be clever to co-exist without warfare.

Being able to jump vast distances and leap tall buildings means that any feed that you do not want to share with them must be at a height and protected by a baffle.

no baffle...

still no baffle...

nope, no baffle...

yippee, no baffle!

What is this thing??

A baffle!!

So this works 99% of the time as long as there are no close branches, or the humans forget and place a chair too close, in which case we advance to 'there might as well not be a baffle'! 

'I will figure it out!!!'

If you are going to be precious about your lawn or flower beds it might be best to just admire the birds in your yard and not feed them. Squirrels are gardeners and lawn excavation experts and you may find changes to your yard that are unexpected; bulbs that bloom in unexpected places next spring, or perhaps not at all, being that bulbs are rather tasty things; beddings plants upended because there could be a peanut hidden under there; small divots in the lawn etc..

'What tulips?'

'Who me?'

'There's a spot for a peanut there, or maybe I'll just move that plant over there'

When squirrels become regular visitors to your landscape you can either ignore them or begin to enjoy their company. You can tolerate their presence or invite them to their own feeders in the hope that they will be distracted from the ones for the birds, which also has the side benefit of being highly entertaining. 

'I can eat hanging upside down'

'a chair with handy snacks'

'the last one's mine!'

Being as they are all dressed alike, either in grey or black, one has to be observant to tell them apart; whose tail is longer or bushier, whose ear has a tear, who is shy and who is cheeky. So much fun. 

 Occasionally there is one that is more noticeably different.

Squirrels have a common behaviour in warm weather that is called 'splooting'. It is like someone has let all their air out and they collapse on their bellies with arms and legs splayed. I guess this is something other animals do as well but it sure is comical in squirrels.

Squirrels are very observant. They know the sound of our doors, both house and car, and the sound of our voices, and because all of these things could mean impending peanuts it is clear they are paying attention.

'I see you moving in there'

'Kinda hungry and wet here!'

'did you bring peanuts?'

'I saw you come home'

'I can hear you in there'

I know there is a pecking order but I have not figured it out yet. It is hard to tell who might be older so I can't tell if it's age or perhaps sex. There is certainly language involved by times, like sitting in a higher vantage and squawking, or sometimes growling. They don't seem to fight one another like the chipmunks who launch themselves at each other, roll around, then give chase. Although there can be a lot of chasing with squirrels but that has to do with a different appetite than the one for peanuts.

PG-13 not a peanut related encounter on the kitchen steps

We have come to really enjoy our squirrels. They are a part of our daily life and it is a pleasure to see them on our property year round.