Two Grandmothers

My kids never knew my Grandmother Davidson--it was at her funeral that my father asked me to write a family tree while unknown to my family my wife was pregnant with Heather.  As young children they both knew my other Grandmother Coakwell from occasional visits.

Ironically they both lived to be 96, but my father's mother was born many years earlier.  My Grandmother Coakwell lived long enough  (and in relatively good health) to see her youngest daughter, my mother die.  They both lived through the Depression and were concerned about wasting things.

Both were a big part of my life, but they were different from one another.

My Grandmother Davidson was the older as she had her only successful birth, my father when she was 44.  Within two years of my birth, my grandfather had a stroke and needed more attention.  My father moved the three of us (it might have been four as my oldest sister was born around the same time).  

My mother was the youngest of 3, but married first and had children first.  I was the first grandchild for both my Grandmothers.

I probably took her for granted as she was always there.  She avoided meddling as much as practical and was generally supportive of her grandchildren.  Her behavior, affected by the Depression made her avoid wasting things .

I learned a bit about my Grandmother Davidson's youth in little bits.  Apparently she and my Grandfather had been courting for many years, but he was not willing to pop the question.  She moved out to Manitou, Manitoba where two of her brothers farmed.  After that experience my Grandfather realized what he was missing and they did get married later in life.  One of the brothers married and had a son, Bruce who eventually moved to Oshawa during the Depression and worked for my Grandfather in his coal business.  The other brother, Billy was a bachelor and when he knew his health was failing moved in with my family, but I only knew him as a grumpy old man.  He knew he was dying and wanted to be closer to his sister.  I learned later he had fallen from a church steeple during construction of what became Simcoe Street United Church where I was baptized.

 My Grandmother sat with her grandchildren watching what tv.shows we chose.  My father commented that he had not been allowed to watch Tarzan which was a regular thing with me (including the yells) but she seemed interested.  She had her own programs--Carol Burnett (both grandmothers) soap operas in afternoon.  In high school my cool friends liked to say we were "depressed" when we really meant we were bored.  I learned this bothered my Grandmother who had known people who really were depressed and I tried to restrain myself most of the time.

I never thought it was unusual for a grandmother to live in the family home.  It was a surprise to hear one of her friends call her "Beanie" as it was unimaginable to think such an old person would have a nickname, but learned it was a contraction from her middle name of Robenia.  Another surprise came when we were eating apple pie, she laughed and said it used to be said  that "apple pie without cheese was like a kiss without a squeeze."

My Grandfather received attention from a live in nurse, but one year when I was five or six on Boxing Day he was taken to the hospital and died.  I didn't really understand.  Then Grandma seemed a regular part of the family and didn't meddle too much in my upbringing, but there probably were a few differences with my mother.  To my shame I remember being stuck outdoors in uncomfortable weather and knocking on the door to be let in.  My Grandmother opened the door and like a spoiled brat I said.  "I don't want you.  I want my mummy."  I think she forgave me.

My Grandfather Davidson had a coal business part of which was our family home run with a double corner lot.  As a youngster, perhaps around 8 I was expected to shovel the sidewalk which was a double lot on a corner.  This has carried forth to my current residence:  http://www.therealjohndavidson.com/2013/12/living-on-corner-during-canadian-winter.html

While I was fairly young the coal business was sold.   Part of the yard was used as outdoors rink my father set up every year.  My grandmother had a fairly frequent visitor, Bruce Clark who was a nephew.  He had been born in Manitoba, but when the Depression came about he was sent to Oshawa to help with the coal business.  He was a few years older than my father, but the two of them bought cemetery plots for the family.  Bruce continued to visit my grandmother when we all moved to Haliburton.

 I ruined some of my Grandmother's flowers with a high jump pit; at the time it didn't seem a big deal as my parents didn't kick up too big a fuss as I was a pretty active, even hyper active and it helped keep me out of other mischief.

Even though neither she nor my Grandfather drank alcohol she made a Christmas cake that contained rum and I was allowed to eat it--a favorite.  She also made a mixture of honey and butter that I still crave.  Also what we called bread and butter pickles.  I remember she grew chives as well as flowers in Oshawa and later in Haliburton.  

When we moved to Haliburton she went with us.  I remember that Bruce Clark regularly drove up (a two hour drive) to chat with my Grandmother.  Later she ended up in a nursing home in Lindsay and eventually was brought back to Haliburton where my mother got involved as a volunteer in the new facility and then was hired although she didn't apply.

When she died I was surprised to learn that her six grandchildren inherited her shares in General Motors (there had been some sort of family connection).  Part of my share was set aside for my newborn daughter.  My youngest sister was too young to legally own them and when she was old enough the price had gone down, but my father (who detested General Motors) made up the difference so she would get as much money as the rest of us.  As I understand it my father had been given home ownership beforehand.  I actually inherited a small amount of money from my Grandmother Coakwell, but it was because my mother had already died and her children split her share.

One habit explained to me when I was older was my Grandmother always stayed up until my father returned from a truck delivery run, often late at night.  This interfered with his wanting to go to our one bathroom.  My mother who handled my father's office work would want to talk over the day, but sometimes had to wait.

In my university days I grew a mustache and I remember my father mocking me, but my grandmother thought it normal as her husband had one most of his adult  life.

When I was in university I used to write long letters to home--in fact my parents liked them enough they gave me a portable typewriter so they could read them better.  My topics were about social events, interesting things I was learning, and new opinions I was forming.  My mother said they were a little concerned about my grandmother, but I insisted and my mother agreed to let her read them.  I didn't want to offend anyone, but felt my grandmother who I had lived with most of my life should be entitled to know what I was up to.

When I got married, my wife instead of throwing the bouquet to unmarried women put it aside for my Grandmother Davidson who was not able to attend the wedding. 

For awhile my grandmother stayed in a nursing home in Lindsay, about an hour from Haliburton--my mother visited her everyday.  It was about two thirds of the way home from Burlington and I remember dropping by for what I assumed was an unexpected visit.  As I was walking up the stairs something made me laugh and from another room she reacted, "John must be here."

When my Grandmother Davidson died my mother called me first as I was the oldest grandson and asked me to phone my siblings.  It gave me something to do and most had been expecting it, but one sister burst out in tears and a few months later named her daughter, Emilie after her grandmother.   

My father had the idea that sons should not be pall bearers at their mother's funeral because they were too emotionally involved.   I have since been made aware of that when my mother died and I asked a friend, Tom Ogle who didn't hesitate.  Dad also felt it was the duty of sons-in-law to stay with their wives.  I considered it an honor to be a pall bearer for both of my Grandmothers and for one of my wife's.

My Grandmother kept photos and documents that inspired my dad to get me started on the family tree.  She was born a Clark which originally indicated someone who could write.  As far as I could trace  the Clarks came from Cornwall and Devon in England and I got back to the 1500's.  I was able to follow through records kept by the Mormon Church.  Spurred me to follow other branches.

My Grandmother Coakwell lived a few miles away in the north part of Oshawa.  My Grandfather had an award winning green house, but he died in his 50's from a freak car accident.  I remembered he is the only one to have taken me fishing.  He had been president of the Oddfellows and I learned later well regarded.

My grandmother sold property and moved the family house up the hill.  They had owned land that ended up being a large grocery store and another  section that became a toboggan hill for me, some of my siblings and some of my cousins.  My Uncle Harold lived across the road which wasn't always to the advantage of my two cousins.

My Grandmother Coakwell was a central meeting place for my cousins and I was part of that.  Also when we had some renovations done on our home we all moved in with my Grandmother.  This led to some long walks of about two miles from school after doing my paper route.  When my family moved to Haliburton I often stayed at my grandmother's after hitch hiking to Oshawa so I could visit friends.  From university I also spent a lot of time with my Grandmothers, looking for a job, keeping in touch with friends, including a girl friend.  My grandmother didn't always get  a warning, but was always glad to see me and my siblings. 

Four generations, running from right to left:  My Grandmother Anne Coakwell, my mother Dorothy and my sister Susan holding my niece Emilie.

 

 

 

 

During one summer 1968 I was a volunteer later paid for working on the Liberal campaign. in the Oshawa-Whitby riding.  My Grandmother had a long history of voting for the Conservatives and admired the local member, Cabinet Minister, Michael Starr.  I talked quite a bit about my beliefs and was surprised that not only she, but also my Aunt Flo voted for my candidate and were part of the reason I helped elect Ed Broadbent who went on to be leader of the NDP.   Read more about my political adventure of 1968:  http://www.therealjohndavidson.com/2014/04/my-short-but-educational-political.html

She attended my university (and think my high school) graduation and went along when I called on my professor for Chinese history to pick up an essay.  

My Grandmother Coakwell introduced me and my wife to lamb as she realized my parents never ate it. When I stayed with her she catered to my food preferences.  One time she asked me my favorite flavor of ice cream and then filled the freezer part of her refrigerator with strawberry ice cream.

My Grandmother Coakwell began to noticeably forget things.  On one visit we turned off the stove in time to prevent further boiling over of part of our dinner.  Eventually she went to a nursing home and I vividly remember one visit.  She smiled all the time and said she felt she should know me, but didn't know who I was.  Her room mate retained her memory and in contrast seemed very unhappy.  I had heard about a South Pacific island where it was felt that the dementia sufferers should be happy and the burden fall on their family.

I knew a bit of my Grandmother's siblings.  They were I believe born in Sonya, Ontario.  Apparently at one time she was the only one selected to go to a special school in New York state.  Her father had been approached by (Sir) Sam Hughes to run for elected office, but he turned it down.   During Depression my Grandfather went away to find work.  After one visit home she put her foot down and told him he must get a job nearby and thus he found a job on the line at General Motors and became part of a famous strike--my father commented that his father in law was probably a calming influence.  The Coakwells were very much a union family (my father was not).  She was very proud and once chased away a welfare worker that my grandfather had sent.

She had one sister, Florence that lived with her.  I always felt she was just another grumpy old woman.  Later I learned that she had had a boyfriend who died in the war (I think WW I).   Later when I spent a lot of time with my Grandmother, another sister I had never met moved in.  Aunt Wynne was a very unique person who married late in life--she married at noon hour and returned to work so her employer would not know. and automatically fire her.  I learned later that she had gone on a car trip to Mexico with her husband and another couple when it was considered very risky.  Ironically I later met the other wife in Hamilton at a course I took.  Later my aunt moved in with her.  I remember Aunt Wynne was a hockey fan and was quite upset when my Grandmother allowed me to watch a basketball game when it conflicted with a Maple Leaf game.

My sister Rebecca became close to Winnie as we called her.  My wife and I visited her fairly often when she lived in Hamilton and later  to a nursing home in Whitby she had moved to for health reasons .  We were not notified when she died.  Still another sister, Gert visited fairly often.  A brother Jay, had been mayor of Port Perry and later Reeve for Ontario county and also had one of the largest chicken operations in Ontario.  Still another brother, Howard entered my life as he had been using contact lens when I first started and occasionally gave some advice and encouragement.  

I vaguely remembered when I had my tonsils out and it turned out my brother was being born in the same hospital it fell to my Coakwell grandparents to take care of me.  I remember getting ice cream and getting sick over it (most unusual for me).

Unlike most parents my Grandmother Coakwell lived longer than one of her children.  My mother definitely was who she was because of how she was raised.    Read more:  http://www.therealjohndavidson.com/2012/05/remembering-my-mother.html

My Grandfather Coakwell had been very prominent with Oddfellows and my Grandmother became prominent with the Rebekah Lodge.  She attended regular monthly meetings, but she had to travel to different cities, sometimes even the States, including the west coast.  Never got too inquisitive about it, but I did know that they gave out scholarships.

My Grandmother Coakwell was born a Gibson.  I learned of relatives in the States some of whom were involved in an invention to do with the Hoover Vacuum Company.  I ran into a road block as part had lived generations in Ireland where I was unable to work through records  (perhaps it would be easier today).  They were among the Scots settled in Ireland to help keep the Catholics under control

Most of us are close to our parents, but whether we knew them or not our grandparents were critical.  I am grateful I got to know both of my grandmothers and now realize I wouldn't be me without them.  The biggest contrast with my wife's grandparents is that  I do not recall any hugs or kisses from my two grandmothers although they both doted on me and my siblings and that turned out to be an adjustment I made to my benefit.

The Biggest Surprise in my Family Tree Search

My father originally assigned me to check out our family tree at the time of my paternal grandmother's funeral, catching me off guard.  I accepted the challenge and later became obsessed by it.  With a few lucky breaks and a lot of effort I uncovered over 10 generations of some branches including some celebrity connections.

A satisfying outcome for sure, but along the way there was a shock that came from an unexpected revelation.  My shock was not unpleasant, just totally unexpected.  Watching "Finding Your Roots" on PBS I am conscious that many people have a past they are totally unaware of so it started me reflecting on my own past.

There were a lot of fluky incidents that led to the surprising information.  Job and residential changes were critical.  I grew up in Oshawa, finished high school in Haliburton, went to university in Guelph, got my first job in Barrie and then settled in Burlington where I met my wife's family.   For a brief time three of us lived in Kitchener and then came back to the Burlington area  and now live in Hamilton.  For a few years I worked in Toronto where I first went through Mormon records and census information.  A little later I got to talking to a fellow worker, Diane Houston who lived on the far side of Toronto.  She recognized a name I had mentioned and pointed out that the Markham museum had a lot of records regarding that name.

I phoned the museum and arranged to spend a few hours one afternoon.  The name was Raymer and before too long a curator brought out long lists of charts that were organized on clothing hangers. She had a lot of them and I went through many of them.  I was amazed at the size of the families and of the ages attained.  I was able to extend the family tree back a few generations.  I learned later that most of these records had been done by a dental patient where my wife worked in Burlington.

At some point the curator brought out a book of local history she had edited and started to show me some photos and the official stories.  I noticed something odd.  Around where she was directing me were some references to Mennonites.  She then informed me that all the charts I had been looking at were for Mennonite settlers in the area.

I was stunned.  When I had first accepted a job in Kitchener on an impulse I had driven north to watch the horses and buggies and the quaintly dressed occupants that were common there.  I have to admit to being very amused and shamefully even laughed.  It wasn't that I looked down on them so much as they were so obviously different from what I was familiar with.  When my wife and daughter (not quite one year old) moved in we enjoyed visiting St Jacob's and going to the Stone Crock, a well known Mennonite restaurant. We enjoyed it, especially with our daughter Heather who developed a liking for the apple cider (definitely non alcoholic).  I think this is where I developed a fondness for shoo-fly pie.  We bought an art book by Peter Etril Snyder with heavy emphasis on Mennonite life style.  We also bought a print of his which still hangs on our wall.  At this point we respected and were interested in Mennonite culture.

There were some repercussions from this new knowledge.  My Grandmother Coakwell was aware of the connection, but had never brought it up to me (she married into it rather than was a blood relation).  My Uncle Harold came across an old photograph that he thought would be interesting for me.  It was of the 200th anniversary of the Raymers in North America (around 1938).  Several of my already known relatives in the photo were pointed out to me. My mother was about 8 years old with a wide brimmed hat on in the front row.  My Aunt Ruth was in there, and my Uncle Harold.  Also my Grandmother and Grandfather Marshall Coakwell.  I can still easily find my mother, but the rest are more difficult. When I visited the museum again the same photo was there.

I learned a little Mennonite history.  After the American Revolution, Mennonites in Pennsylvania were concerned about being forced into the American army.  They sent out some of their members to scout possible new locations to farm.  Some went to the Waterloo area where they prospered.  Others went to the Markham area, but not nearly enough.  Within a few generations they found many of their members marrying outside their religion.  Mennonites can be very strict in their religion, but they have one belief that I respect.  They do not baptize their children until they reach a maturity enough to decide for themselves.  They do have a high tolerance for outsiders.

I made contact with a genealogical group in Pennsylvania and filled a few more spots on my lineage. It was common in Waterloo and elsewhere to refer to Mennonites as Pennsylvania Dutch, but in fact most of them were German or Swiss.  Americans found it easier to think of Deutsch speakers as Dutch.

Earliest known Mennonite ancestor was a Johann Michael Rohmer.  He was father to Abraham Rohmer who married Magdalena Groff who was sister to the second Mennonite Bishop sent to Upper Canada to Markham.  Abraham and most of his family left in 1807 in a Conestoga wagon, but were held up in Buffalo, New York before reaching Markham (a section named Mount Joy in honour of their home base in Pennsylvania) in 1809.  They changed the spelling of their last names to Raymer and Grove.  A son, John married Esther Hoover (previously Huber).  In 1836 their son, Martin married Sussanah Noble (herself descended from Americans who had fought in the American Revolution and thus outside the Mennonite church).

In a visit back to Waterloo with my young son, Michael who might have been somewhere between 5 and 10 I visited a Mennonite information site.  All this time I had felt a bit sorry for them thinking us outsiders looked at them as some sort of historical freaks.  I was surprised to learn they don't see it that way.  They have made a choice and are happy to let everyone know and recognize that choice.

In a later job I worked with horse people.  At different points I talked with Mennonite horse business people.  They were respected as tough business people and realistic evaluators of horses.  They were very computer literate, but did not drive cars.  They would befriend non members for rides.  I remember approaching one Mennonite in particular with no warning and his back was turned to me. When he turned around he immediately addressed me by name even though he had last met me briefly several months previous.

At another point I was dealing with Home Hardware and was able to visit a few of their annual supplier sales.  Home Hardware had its roots among Mennonites and still very naturally had ties to the members.

I hope to tell more stories of my ancestors.  It is important to remember that all our stories of ancestors reveal our commonalities as well as our uniqueness.

Remembering my Mother

There is no danger of me forgetting my mother, but unfortunately my two kids, Heather and Michael  never really knew her, although they very definitely have a little bit of her in them.  Dorothy Coakwell grew up in the north end of Oshawa and my father lived very near downtown (in fact on the site of the now current GM Centre).  They met roller skating at age 14 and both went to the same high school

My mother was the youngest of three, but married first. She also had a child first, me having that honour.  She turned 21 on January 27th and was so nervous about her first born that she went to the hospital on a false alarm, but stayed for two days until I was born on the 29th.

When my parents first married they lived in their own house, not too far from my grandparents.  Shortly after I was born my Grandfather Davidson had a stroke and my parents moved into the household.  My Grandfather died a few years later.  So for the next few decades my mother lived in the same house as her mother in law.

I don't really remember much before the age of 5, but I do remember having stories read to me.  I remember going to teacher parent nights with my mother.  Fortunately for me they were not painful experiences, partly because I was reading at higher levels than most of my classmates.  I won two costume contests at school ice carnivals due to my mother's sewing efforts.

When I was in grade two I was told I would have to have an eye operation (I had inherited cross eyes).  I was given a choice of going to Toronto (where the doctor lived) or Oshawa (where our family lived) or Bowmanville, (the furthest for the doctor).  I chose Bowmanville.  My mother visited each day.  I was blindfolded for a week and pretty bored.  She used to give me coins to feel and if I could get it right I would get to keep them.  An example perhaps of how blind people compensate by developing other senses.  She read to me a series of children's book by Thornton W Burgess that I soon became addicted to.  More on how this affected me:  http://www.therealjohndavidson.com/2020/08/cross-eyed.html 

 One time we were having poor delivery of our newspaper and my mother was very annoyed.  She told the circulation manager that she had a young son who could do a better job.  I was actually about two years younger than the usual starting age and had no thoughts of doing it.  She went around with me that first day and it was a good thing as I was at the butt end of a lot of dissatisfied customers including one deaf mute who had trouble expressing himself.  I had a route altogether for about four years.  I later became a circulation manager (for over 15 years) and could relate to my earlier experiences.  My experiences weren't all positive, but very helpful in understanding what paper carriers were up against.  My circulation career in many ways related to my experiences with my mother;  http://www.therealjohndavidson.com/2012/08/my-career-in-newspaper-circulation-part.html

P.S. An insert from a Filipino movie review was another reminder: As a young newspaper boy I went with my mother for my first day of delivering newspapers.  What wasn't appreciated at first was that my predecessor had done a poor job and upset a lot of the customers.  It really came to a head when I pushed the door bell that activated a light.  The man who came to the door saw my red Telegram bag and actually started shaking his fist.  My mother was with me so he restrained himself, but he was obviously frustrated.  He calmed down, but I dreaded future visits to collect money for the paper, however he was a lot friendlier after that.  It was my first encounter with a deaf person and I was reminded of it when in the film the leading lady decided to solve her not yet boy friend's inability to hear the door being knocked on by setting up a light that would go off when someone rang the buzzer.  I can't really say I went on to better understand the plight of deaf people, as other than watching a few other movies such as "Children of a Lesser God" I hadn't really had any contact. 

At the end of the first week of high school was initiation day.  It was fun, but really it was humiliating by design.  I was very adamant I didn't want to attend the dance that night.  I had not had very much experience with dances and felt this was a bad time to start.  My mother was determined I would have a better social life than she had had.  I am not sure my mother actually stomped her feet, but it was pretty close.  I ended up going and having a wonderful time in a major ice breaking way.  Ironically I recounted this story in another city many years later just after my mother had died to the wife of the minister who as it turns out had been one of my tormentors.  I don't mean that in a vindictive way as he was actually very school oriented.  I would also add that the minister's brother had been one of the earliest to encourage my basketball enthusiasm.  Another irony, their father had married my parents.

Most people would be surprised to learn that I sang loudly and often at home  A few people have even commented that I had a very good voice, however I was very sensitive about singing in public.  My mother confided in one of my teachers who recruited me for a small singing role in a school play. I quite enjoyed it, but unfortunately when we moved for the next grade that ended my musical career.

We moved from Oshawa to Haliburton just before I was to enter grade 12.  My Grandmother Davidson moved with us, but increasingly required difficult personal care from my mother.  In a few years she moved to a nursing home an hour's drive away in Lindsay. My mother drove every day to keep her mother-in law company.  Later my grandmother was able to move to a nursing home in Haliburton.  My mother not only visited her every day, she ended up doing favours for the patients and staff.  She was recognized as a volunteer and then to her surprise she was hired on a regular basis. Not all of us get paid for doing what we like to do.

I remember we didn't really have a lot of family traditions, but when I felt I was too old for a birthday party, my mother made a big fuss.  When I protested she said it wasn't just for me but for my younger sisters.

My Grandmother Davidson died and my mother phoned me first and asked me to phone my siblings. Her death was not a surprise, but it wasn't pleasant calling my brother and sisters.  It was an honour to be given the responsibility.  A little on both my grandmothers:  http://www.therealjohndavidson.com/2020/12/two-grandmothers.html

When I got married there was a minor clash of cultures.  My family was more traditional Canadian, whereas my new bride's family was very family oriented.  At our wedding there was something like 200 from my wife's side and less than 50 from my side.  I remember pleading with my mother to help even up things a bit, but she felt everyone who should be, had been invited.  My father was called upon for a toast and said something to the effect that I was a very lucky guy to have such a bride and he was amazed she saw something in me.  Unexpectedly my mother got asked to say a few words and she said Sharon, my wife was also lucky.  I agreed with my father. but it was nice to hear my mother's words.

My parents moved to Cambridge and my mother was hired at another nursing home.  A little closer to my Hamilton home and visits were a little more common.

I had learned about a special Junior Shareholders club put on by Irwin Toy.  I thought that a great idea to get my kids introduced to the world of investments.  Really it was just a gimmick to get more people to buy stocks, but my two kids made a profit on it that helped pay their way through university.  I remember trying to persuade my wife to take a day off work to attend one of these meetings (where the junior shareholders got to play with new toys) and shamefully became very stubborn about it.  My parents overheard part of the discussion and quietly decided my mother would help.  For her it was an especially long day as she had to drive from Cambridge to Hamilton and then get driven to Toronto and then back.

Not too long after we learned my mother, a lifelong non-smoker had emphysema, but we were told she would live at least another ten years.  Only a few weeks later she had to put on an oxygen mask. She did not want her grand-children to remember her this way.  My oldest nephew, Steven insisted and I am grateful that he did visit his grandmother.

I remember my dad and her went to visit old friends recognizing there wasn't much time left.  They traveled to Georgetown, Oshawa, Cornwall and Haliburton amongst other places.  My mother mostly laid in bed in an RV my dad had bought to make it more comfortable for her to travel.

On one of my visits my mother confided to me she wasn't able to relax.  I gave a musical tape (instrumentals of Puccini) that she and later my father agreed helped a lot.  Around this time I went to our local library with my daughter Heather and came across a tape with the sound of ocean waves.   I hesitated and started to put it back.  For some reason Heather insisted that I get it, and after a few minutes worth of arguing I gave in.  Afterwards I decided to give a copy to my mother and again learned that she found it very effective in relaxing.  I am very grateful for what Heather did.

Things started to happen much faster.  The ten years compressed to about six months.  The week before, not realizing how close it was and not feeling comfortable I made other plans, but my sister Susan shamed me into visiting and I am grateful for that.  I found it very hard looking at my mother suffering.  I didn't know what to say.  At one point she asked me to give her some water.  I ended up spilling as much as she was able to drink.  I tried again and was a little bit more successful.  It was an effort for her to speak, but she reassured me "you did fine."  Very shortly afterwards her last words to me expressed a concern she had about one of my siblings and I tried to reassure her I would take care of it.

She died the next day after being in a coma with her sister Ruth Stewart who had driven in from Cornwall at her bedside.  Mom was only 58.  Ruth's husband, Cam gave some good advice about keeping the family together and they both did their part to help.  My cousin Donna Stewart gave me some reassurances on a promise I made to my mother.

Like many youngsters I know I disappointed my mother countless times, but she always encouraged me to do almost anything I wanted to do.  Sports, music, hanging out with my friends.  She was very accepting of my friends and girl friends over the years. 

Memories keep creeping back (May 7, 2021).  My mother was with me when I got my first speeding ticket.  My youngest sister was in a hospital in Peterborough about 1 1/2 hours away and my mother went every day and to encourage her oldest son to visit her youngest child in trying circumstances she suggested I drive.  Coming home I got carried away and probably drove about 10 miles an hour above the speed limit and was stopped by a police office who had been following us.  My reprimand was really very mild and I was allowed to finish getting home (a little more slowly).

Sometimes I feel cheated especially for my kids, but I try to focus on the good things.  Mothers are very special people.  I am lucky to have a mother in law and have my wife, the mother of my two children.

to learn about my father:  http://www.therealjohndavidson.com/2012/06/remembering-my-father.html

to learn about my mother's close relation to her sister:  http://www.therealjohndavidson.com/2014/11/my-aunt-ruth.html

Photo taken by Miriam Barnes.

P.S.   Recently (Dec. 10, 2020) had my memory jolted when someone asked my favourite cookie.  My mother used to bake "date cookies" and I gobbled them whenever I could.  She gave the recipe to Sharon and she made one batch which I loved, but it turned out a key ingredient was lard which is considered unhealthy and I have not had any since.

Another late memory.  My mother went to the same public school class as Wren Blair who at one time coached the Whitby Dunlops (who won a world championship) and thus was often photographed by my father.  Wren went onto to coach the Minnesota team when the NHL expanded.