Lori Bell’s story of Judy
Judy is petite and fair, with a dimpled smile, straight hair, and hazel eyes. In 1943 in Regina, Saskatchewan, she was born Judith Diane Robertson to Kenneth Robertson and Ruby Merle McInnis.
Ruby was the last born of six girls; Jennie and Alice died from the Spanish influenza in 1918, sparing Edith, Margaret (Marg), Mary (Bun), and Ruby. Judy’s Gram, born Louise Regina Undrider, had come from Odessa, Russia to marry Edward Bruce McInnis of Prince Edward Island in 1903. Read the rest of this entry »
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. Read the rest of this entry »
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! Read the rest of this entry »
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. Read the rest of this entry »
Eileen Barrett’s story of Betty
Elizabeth Howison – “Betty”, was born in Deadwater, England on October 17, 1927. Born a twin, she had a brother, Donald George, who died at the age of six weeks. On his death certificate it claimed “failure to thrive”. I think my mother always felt guilty for being the strong one. Read the rest of this entry »
Jenn Griffin’s story of Hilda
How do I know my mother’s life? From memory? Perhaps from anecdotes she relayed during our long walks to and from the grocery store. Still other parts feel sewn into me, as if she deposited them into my imagination for safe keeping.
My mother, Hilda Margaret Hardie (née Salter) was born May 24, 1914, in Manchester, England. She was the first born of Maggie and Alfred Salter. Maggie was a housewife and Alfred a leather artisan who specialized in violin cases. She grew up in a row house on Milton Street, in the area of Manchester captured by the long running soap opera, Coronation Street. Read the rest of this entry »
Dolores Drake’s story of Margerite
She wore hats, hats with veils, whenever she went to church or visiting neighbours.
They made her look mysterious and she was and indeed still is a mystery to me.
Her maiden name was Margerite Turpin. Read the rest of this entry »
Bonnie Hay’s story of Anne
My Mother was 37 years old when she died on Friday July 13, 1973. That makes her birth year 1936. I do not know the birth month, it has been so long and I was so young when she passed.
Susanna Uchatius story of Maria
Marilyn… I got your notice at a very synchronistic moment… and so I decided to splat on the page and send it off to you. It did cross my mind that my mother might not like the idea of her world being splatted on the page and sent off for someone to read… but then again I thought… to bear witness is to validate in some way and I think my mother has in so many ways not been validated… and so… dot, dot, dot… I will validate away. Read the rest of this entry »
Ann Warn Pegg’s story of Phyllis
When she was a young girl, my mother, Phyllis Kathleen Vine dreamed of becoming a dancer. In rare moments my normally reserved mother would extend her arms and pose in the most graceful of ways. Whenever she did this, I couldn’t help but smile, picturing her as a young girl in the exact same pose. Being one of a large family, this never happened for her. Read the rest of this entry »