Story Archive

11 Oct Judi Fletcher and Lucidea Moore’s story of Raj-Kaur Poran

Writing our mother’s story was a wonderful opportunity for us to reflect upon her life.  And what a life she had.  Our mother was born in the small village of Mehta,in the Punjab in India.  The year would be a guess because no one kept birth or death records in her village, probably sometime around 1910.
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10 Oct Florence Nicholson’s story of Pauline

Pauline Olivia Verigin was born on Dec. 11, 1904 on a homestead in south eastern Saskatchewan, near Tisdale and Star City. She was the first child of newly immigrated Russian peasants Anna and Peter Verigan. Her father was truly disappointed she was not a boy to help with the harsh farm existence they were facing. So five years later when her brother John arrived on the scene , followed in 2 more years by brother Peter, she was virtually relegated to the dictates of the three men in her world. Pauline was the maid, chief kitchen and household servant for the family from an extremely young age. She also worked in the garden and looked after the animals, including cleaning out barns and coops and milking cows.
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08 Oct Beate Sigriddaughter’s story of Sigrid

My mother, Sigrid Herta Rausch, maiden name Pietrzyk, was born on July 1, 1914, the fifth of nine children born to a chain of three consecutive married couples. Her mother had remarried when her first husband died. My mother was the first child of her mother's second marriage. They were landowners, raised horses, poultry, pigs, and owned a brick factory.
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08 Oct Anonymous story of Elisabeth

There is a photo of mother Elisabeth, my favourite photo, taken in 1954, she looks so happy and as I have always remembered, beautiful. It was the most special event of her life; she was to be presented to the newly crowned Queen of England in Ceylon.
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22 Aug Herb Norry’s story of Mildred

My mother died on a bright sunny Easter Sunday morning when I was six years old... It was April 5th, 1931. My brother Bob was four and my sister Kathleen was eight. That was the worst day of my life until my daughter Maryann died when she was 42 years old. She was taken to the hospital on April 5th and died six days later leaving a 12 year old daughter, Kylie, and a nine year old son Matthew. That was worse. Mother and Maryann were two of a kind.
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28 May Peggy Trendell-Jensen’s story of Chris

It’s fortunate for our family that when the Rev. Alick Trendell of London, England, applied to work as an Anglican missionary, he was given a bulky beaverskin coat and sent to Alberta, Canada. For there he met Etta Wood – artist, schoolteacher, and one of this country’s first female hockey players. Three days after they were introduced, Alick proposed; four years after that, in 1936, my mother was born in Wetaskiwin.
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22 May Jhaleh K. Zaraweh’s story of Beaulah

My Mother was born to a Christian family on May 25, 1912 in Rangoon, Burma and was fifth in a family of six boys and six girls.  Her name was Beaulah, Muriel, Edna, May  Andrews.  Her Mother was from South India and  dark and her Father was from England and white with red hair. Even though he was the only child he was ostracized by his family for marrying an Indian whereupon he changed his last name, we think from Bean to Andrews which was his Mother’s maiden name.  We never knew anything about my grandfather’s family, except that his father was supposed to have been an Admiral in the Navy.  Her Dad worked as a rice mill Engineer and they lived in a house built over a graveyard. As we were growing up we heard many a ghost story from my Mum about that old graveyard!
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21 Mar Anonymous

With few facts and fewer memories, it is not easy to paint a comprehensive picture of the totality, the gestalt of a person. Be that as it may, the following is an attempt to present, as clearly as is possible, a straightforward, honest depiction of my mother, unclouded by sentimentality and bias. These are the facts, as I know them, as pertain to my mother’s life. Let the facts, few though they may be, speak for themselves. Note: as this is not my story, but my mother’s, I use the pseudonyms Dor for my mother, and Demo to denote my father out of respect for their anonymity. As far as I know, they are both still alive and would prefer this. That my father is being as forthcoming as he now is about mother and the details of our lives together is a truly wonderful thing, and I thank him for that. After a life of denial, it can't be easy, and is testament to his good character.
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10 Feb Margaret Florczak’s story of Pat

Patricia Simons was a prairie Girl.  From 1922 when she was born in her Aunt Mary’s house in Wawota Saskatchewan, until 2008 when she passed on in the Alpine town of Revelstoke, B.C.,  Mom held that vast prairie sky dear to her heart.  She loved the soul-searching, body drenching heat of the summers and the chest-numbing, breath-freezing cold in the winter.  She loved big open blue skies.  She felt hemmed in by the mountains and the sea.  Hemmed in by Dad and his mother and possibly even all five of us kids.  She loved the rough and tumble wide-open for anything sense of the prairie.
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09 Feb Marcella’s story of Terry

My influence.  My inspiration.  My Mother. My mother was born on November 20 1955 in Whitehorse, Yukon Territories.  Her parents met in Summerside, PEI, in the late 1940’s as members of the Royal Canadian Air Force.  He was a pilot and she was a radar technician.  The Commanding Officer disapproved, and transferred her father across the country to Whitehorse to prevent the marriage.  Her mother demanded a transfer to follow him, and when denied, she quit the RCAF.  Eventually she was given an honourable discharge, and moved to Whitehorse.
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