THROUGH A DAUGHTER’S EYES
Today’s date is August 9, 2026. If my mother were alive today, she would be
120 years old. My mother is not alive
today on this planet, but she is alive and well in my memories, in my thoughts,
and always in my heart.
I never called her mother. When I was a little child, she was
Mommy. As I matured, she became Mom, and
Mom was always my best friend. She was
always there for me, always. Throughout my life I could depend on her being
there for me, whether I needed her to be or not.
Mom was born in the tiny Village of Tryon,
which is in Prince County, Prince Edward Island, Canada, August 9, 1906. She was baptised Eva Ruby McNeil, but from
her earliest years everyone called her Ruby.
Curiosity led me to discover what was
happening in Canada in 1906. What kind
of a world was my mother born into.
In 1906 Canada’s first movie theatre
opened. It was in Montreal and called
Ouimetoscope. The SS Valencia struck a
reef off Vancouver Island, killing 136 people in the ensuing disaster. Ontario Hydro was created. The Ottawa Public Library opened. Regina was
decreed the capital of Alberta.
King Edward V11 was Canada’s Monarch.
During the day women wore tailored
button-down blouses with high collars, often featuring lace or embroidery. They
wore long, trumpet-shaped skirts that fit smoothly over the hips and flared at
the floor. They wore tailored suits of
wool, linen, or cotton for walking or working.
Women wore their hair swept up and puffed
out widely around the face. The
hairstyle was called the Gibson Girl pompadour.
Those with means wore evening or formal
wear including tea gowns that were soft and flowing. Low-cut evening dresses decorated with
chiffon, silk, satin or lace were worn with long elbow-length white gloves.
The average hourly wage for unskilled
workers was 15 to 20 cents per hour which was roughly nine to ten dollars for a
60-hour work week while the skilled trades people earned between 25 and 60
cents per hour. Women and children
earned significantly less than adult men, frequently half or less for the same
hours.
A typical suburban house cost roughly
$1,500 to $3,000 Canadian. A rural home
was less expensive. The average yearly
income of a Canadian worker was between $500 and $700.
These things I learned through Dr. Google.
My mother’s father in 1906 owned his own
business. He was a blacksmith and his
business premises were on the same property as their large country home. Tryon sits
near the south shore of P.E.I., roughly 15 minutes from today’s Confederation
Bridge and 5 minutes from Victoria-by-the-Sea.
I don’t know my grandfather’s income, but
I have been told they owned a comfortable home with two staircases, several
bedrooms, a living-room and a dining-room.
I was told they ate their meals together as a family at the kitchen
table. I believe they were possibly an
average working-class family in 1906.
This is the home and the lifestyle that
Mom was born into.
When my grandfather lost his business because
of a fire, this family’s life changed. Mom was still a very young girl
when she moved with her family from this familiar, quiet rural life to a busier
one in the City of Summerside.
The loss of his business sent her father
south to Maine, U.S.A, in search of employment. He did return but not until many years later
when Mom was already a young wife and mother.
During these early years in Summerside,
Mom lived with her sisters and brother in the house which, in the absence of a
father’s income, became a boarding house run by her mother. Life was not so
easy.
But Mom was intelligent. She was smart but practical. After high school Mom attended a business college, learned new skills, and soon began working as a legal secretary. The lawyer’s office was on Queen Street in
downtown Summerside. This is where Mom
was working when she met Dad.
When she was 21 years old, Mom married
Dad. This was in the year 1927. Soon their son was born, and a year later,
their first daughter. But in 1929 the
economic crash, the Great Depression was devastating. Mom’s husband, during depression years, was
forced to move to Toronto to find employment.
Poor Mom, feeling abandoned, broke out in
hives and suffered from nervous exhaustion.
But the day arrived when Mom received the
letter from Dad. He had found a job, and
all was well. Mom was soon on the train with
her two children.
Life was not easy for Mom in Toronto. They needed to rent a house, and the house
was small. In no way did it compare to
the house she had grown up in and become used to. Life was tough, but somehow, they
managed. They faced and overcame many
challenges.
Mom lived in Toronto with her husband and
two children. Soon there were three,
four, five, and then six children. Eight
people now lived in the little house; twice as many and there was little room
for privacy for family members.
And this was Mom’s life for several
years. Unfortunately, her husband, my
father, passed away when I was 13 years old.
Dad’s passing left her a single Mom with three dependent children.
Often physically weak, she was always
spiritually strong and, on her own, she raised the three children, me being one
of them, as a single mother. From 1956
she lived alone with her children who grew up quickly. Soon all children had
left home, and Mom lived alone in her little house in Toronto.
I didn’t enter Mom’s world until 1942 when
she was thirty-six years old. Dad died
when both he and Mom were 49 years old.
This means that for thirteen years since my birth I lived with both
parents. When I was 13 Mom became a
single Mom raising me and my little brother and sister who were, at that time, 10
and 11 years old.
From my earliest days, always, I loved my
mother. As a little girl, I had curly,
auburn hair and she loved to form my curls into little ringlets which, I guess,
were popular in those long-ago days. Mom
loved my hair. She loved to brush and
train my hair. I did not like ringlets
and could hardly wait until I was old enough to have my hair cut short.
No matter how tired she might be, Mom
always kept our home clean and, even with six children, organized.
She was always home for us – for me.
She cooked and served all our meals.
She washed our clothes in the wringer machine in the cellar, and in all
kinds of weather, she hung the clothes on the backyard clothesline. She kept us all well-dressed and sent us to
school and, with nickel in our hand for collection, to Sunday School in the
Salvation Army church every Sunday afternoon.
She was a devoted, caring mother.
Dad was only 49 years old when he passed
away. Mom became a single mom with three
of her children, including me, in her care.
But eventually, one by one, all the children grew up, married, and left
home leaving Mom to live alone in her house.
Living alone, she loved to write poetry,
to do crossword puzzles, to embroider runners and doilies. She watched T.V., attended church on Sundays,
home-league through the week, and walked up the road to Eglinton with her
bundle buggy to do her shopping. She kept busy but often felt lonely.
Living apart from Mom, I called her several
times in a week and usually visited at least once a week. She was always there to listen.
When, with my own family, we moved away
from Toronto, my visits were less frequent, but the phone calls were not;
always we were in touch. Whenever I
needed her, no matter how old I became, no matter how busy I was, no matter
what was happening in my life, Mom was always there for me.
My adult years were not always smooth
years. Whenever I needed a place to be,
her door and her heart were open to me. Even
when I lived on another continent, she and I stayed in touch by recording and sharing
cassette tapes and writing letters.
She was a wonderful, giving, caring mother
to me. Throughout her many years of
raising six children, she always put her needs and wants on the back burner,
making sure we all had what we needed.
Hers was not an easy life, but she did all that was within her power to
give her children a good life.
All my mother’s children grew up, held good positions, and had stable, lasting
marriages. I was the only exception; the
only child of my mother challenged by serious relationship issues.
Yet, during those most difficult times of
my life, it was Mom who was my best friend, my greatest support.
And now I am 84 years old. I am thinking of my mother on her birthday,
August 9th, remembering that Mom was 84 years old when she passed
away.
Mom passed away when I was 49 years old, thirty-five
years ago. Thirty-five years! Yet
throughout all these years, although I miss being able to visit or to call her
up, I feel that she is still near. I
don’t feel that she has left me, because whenever I feel troubled or challenged
in any way, somehow, she is still there for me.
I can still hear her saying, “Don’t worry,
it will all come out in the wash.”
She is, and always will be, my best
friend.
Happy birthday in heaven, Mom. xoxoxox
No comments:
Post a Comment