The fact that it has almost been two months since I last
blogged is shameful.
September start up for me has always been hectic. As a
teacher so many things are going on in so many areas in all different
directions. Then suddenly it’s October. Then it’s almost November.
The bottom line is quite simple: I must make the time to
blog if this is going to continue. I find the time when I am on the road, which
can be challenging, so I can find it when I am at home. It’s ironic that I have
finally made the time while away from home yet again.
Eric and I are in Hamilton to celebrate the life of Veronica
Marchildon. The mother of Eric’s step-mother, I was introduced to Roni along
with all of my other in-laws when I was first introduced to the Héberts
those many years ago. I cannot claim to have known her intimately, but I have
spent many hours in conversation with her and have watched her live out her
life with quiet dignity that suggested an impish humour that I enjoyed
witnessing every once in a while.
When I attend visitations at the funeral home, I have always
enjoyed the photos that the family spreads out for all to see. This is a focus
on the life lived rather than the life left. For Roni I recognised many of the
photos and the people in them. Moments of my in-laws frozen in time during
celebrations and visiting, youthful versions of those I know smiling at me from
the past, and people who I met once and have left us all behind. These photos,
this evidence of a life, create a narrative you can spin on your own as you
eavesdrop on those who knew her longer than you did, or better.
When I met Roni she was in her seventies. She was the older
generation of this new family into which I was beginning to insert myself. She,
and her husband Bernie, were always kind and respectful to me. I didn’t know a
lot about her, but I liked her a lot.
I knew that she had met her husband when performing for the
troops in WWII. Tonight I found pictures of her as one of the ‘beauties’ of the
“Carry On Dance Troupe” that toured and entertained Canadian soldiers in a song
and dance revue. Seeing her glamour shots and examples of the posters and
flyers gave me a glimpse of this vibrant young woman who was born to perform.
She was beautiful, she oozed confidence, and she had the most amazing gams!
This was not the Roni I was privy to. But in those
photographs of her posing, smiling, holding her husband, presenting her
children, and hamming it up I saw the same
impish humour sparkling in her eyes that I saw when we had many of our
conversations. I wish I had asked her about her dancing. She was right there at
my convenience for just over twenty years. But I didn’t and it is my loss.
We return home after the funeral tomorrow and I am hoping
that Tropical Storm Sandy has had her way with us and will have moved on. The
trip out here last night was the most harrowing 401 yet! The fierce winds laced
with blowing rain as we drove among sliding transport trailers and idiot SUVs
made for a tense few hours. From Kingston to Toronto is seemed like we were driving
the car Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and would be swept off to Baffin Island at any
moment.
I hate the 401.
I am looking forward to getting back to routine by the end
of the week. I brought some marking with me but getting it done while attending
to things in Hamilton was a very silly fantasy. It will be hectic upon my
return, but it will also be comfortable.
In the meantime, I am off to bed so that we can start early
on a day of memorial, family and the trip
home.
