Go Betty

Birthdays

It was the best birthday in recent memory. Some of the others were:

- the blackout 5 years ago, having a bbq with Kevin and Mary; drinking a lot of wine and eating everyone's popsicles and ice cream!
- last year, having a bbq with an amazing group of friends; Toni was the funniest thing ever
- attending Jen's wedding, karaoke'ing, dancing; sitting at the "cool" table; lucking out that day at Holt Renfrew with a great dress

Bravery and Trust: That Communication Thing


I've been backing and forthing with a new friend about a recently ended relationship. The end of that relationship has in parts mad me happy and sad. It's so tough, so hard, it hurts so much and it usually comes down to this (which I said to her, and I really like it, so I'm saying it here):


Communication is key. To communicate honestly takes bravery. What gets in my way of communicating honestly and freely is when the other person uses a bully tactic to shut me down (interrupting, defensiveness, anger). That makes me fearful and then I'm not brave. And then I shut down a little bit, and I'm afraid to say what's on my mind, and then I get resentful because I can't express myself, and then it gets into a cycle of fear of communicating honestly...


To keep it flowing the communicators needs trust and bravery. Trust me that I won't hurt you with what I'm saying. I'll trust you that you'll commit to listening to me (that's your bravery coming through). I'll be brave and keep communicating.

So when you put your balls out there and be brave enough to trust, the communication because awesome, simply awesome.


There were times when I communicated so poorly or not at all because I just didn't care where the relationship was going. I think in one case I was sabotaging the friendship so that I could get out of it. That was a wrong move. I didn't even give her the courtesy of a why and a goodbye.


And recently at work, I had to communicate the issues of my crazy-making project like 7 hours a day, everyday, so that I could help people understand what I was going through, and I think that's the only thing that saved it, me and my job (phew!).

Love, Jean

[Note: this letter, written by my mom to Sister Louise, is obviously written on paper taken from one of my school notebooks. Sister Louise has written, in impossibly tiny, perfect handwriting all kinds of anagram words on the entire backs of each sheet of paper. She writes: "Excuse the word game Boggle, I played on the back of each page. When I did that I never though I might be sending it to you."]

Sept-8/86
73 Chatsworth Dr

Dear Sister Louise.

It was good of you to write to have Peter's interest at heart. Peter was with the understudy school of the Famous People Players . The permanent cast had the opportunity to go to Broadway in October. Several helpers left. All effort was put on the permanent cast and the understudy school was dropped. We were very disappointed. Pray that Peter will find his place.

I am writing this on nights. As a rule I do not work nights. But I am relieving the nurse who is relieving the night nurse who is on holidays in Ireland [I suspect there was only one nurse being relieved here, not two]. I now work at the Basilian Fathers Residence looking after the old priests. I enjoy it very much. Sister Irene is my superior + I like her. She is just great.

Patricia is planning a trip around the world leaving in October. Peter is starting a new job next week in one of the White Rose stores. Will start by working two days a week + hopefully it will be increased [she wrote "incrested"].

Beth is starting grade 13. This time next year she will probably be away to university. I will miss her very much.

Daddie is now in Marion Hill in Pembroke. He is in his 90th year. Aunt Mildred is there. It's a lovely place. I will try and go see them before the snow comes.

Patrick + his family come quite often + so does Douglas. Lawrence came last fall for a visit. I miss Joan [my mom's twin].

I will close now Sister. It was so good to hear from you. Keep well.
Love, Jean.

The Lord God Made Them All



[Note: undated Christmas card from my mom to Sister Louise, but I figure it is 1987 if I am in first year uni.]


Dear Sister,

I do hope you are well. We are "Thank God". Patricia is in the Biology Dept. + Guidance in one of the Catholic schools here in Toronto + is living at home [Note: I remember that Patricia-living-at-home situation being really fractious between her and my mom]. Peter J is working full time at White Rose Nurseries. Beth is in her first year at Dalhousie University (Halifax). So I have Patricia and Peter at home. I am still working with the Basilian Fathers. My father is quite well at 90. Douglas is with the Marriage Tribunal in Ottawa. Look for a little parcel. I am always asking for prayers. But please pray for Patricia, Peter and Beth. Peter is a good boy but I do worry a great deal about him. He is childlike. Does not save [? not sure what that word is] + I wonder what will happen to him when I am not here. [scratched out - sorry to worry] Love Jean. [written twice] Love Jean - Patricia - Peter J + Beth


All things
bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God
made them all.


Wishing you a bright and beautiful Christmas season.

Your Loving Cousin

[Note: undated letter from Sister Louise to me]

Dear Mary Beth,

Your mother and I wrote to each other at least every Christmas and Easter. The enclosed letters or notes were saved from destruction when I moved here. I thought you might enjoy reading. They show your mother's concern for each one. On every Christmas card (I don't have any of these) she used to write Patricia is ______ years old and is in grade _____. Mary Beth is _____ years old and in grade _____. Peter Joe is _____.



As you can gather, they show her love and interest for each one of you.

I hope this finds you healthy and in good cheer.

Your loving cousin who prays for you,

Louise Mageau, C.N.D.

Please fill in the blanks, or, I do not know which one I am on

Spring Flowers in Vase


[Note: undated card from my mom to Sister Louise; card is "from an Original, mouth painted by J. Sikora; could this have been one of mom's oft-promised "long letters"?]


Dear Sister Louise.
I thought you might enjoy this little book. Written by Dr. Mahoney [? or Dr. Maloney?]. He is in the Infirmary where I work. So I get to do little things for him him (sic) like take his blood pressure - fix his hearing aid - take him to mass etc - he is a dear old man - (93) - quite bright - He worked with Banting & Best in the discovery of Insulin - I hope you can use the little notes I have made.

Much Love
Jean.

May the Lord bless you and Nicholas

[Note: a not too religious, though somewhat religious card received within the last 10 years or so]

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR.


May the Lord bless you and Nicholas with, Health, Peace and Joy!
May both of you reflect the Kindness and Love or God by the Joy you spread around you, by comforting those who are sad, by helping those who are in need of a smile, an encouragement and...
Love and prayers,
Sister Louise

Blessed Christmas

[Note: undated, although I'm guessing 1985 Christmas card from my mom to Sister Louise, based on the back that I am said to be in grade 12]

As we celebrate
The gift of new life
This Christmas
May God's love fill
our hearts
And bring us peace
Throughout the new year.



Dear Sister.

Christmas again - We are all well - Patricia is a teacher in Guidance and Religion and Biology. Peter is in the understudy school of the Famous People Players. Beth is in grade 12 - I do hope you are well - I visited Mary Downey Lapier (sic) this is, is doing well in spite of all her heartaches. In the new year I am going to write you a long letter -
Love
Jean.



[Note about this card. We went through a real William Kurelek phase in our house for several years. A Northern Nativity was one of my most treasured books. This Christmas card is published by the For Right to Life Association of Toronto and Area]

softly, ever so gently, He comes


[Note: Christmas card from my mom to Sister Louise.]



May His silent coming
touch you with love
enfold you in peace
and fill you with hope
~ Christmas Blessings




1986 [is written across the top of the second side of the card]



Dear Sister Louise.

I do hope this finds you well. I will be writing a longer letter after Christmas. All are home: Patricia is teaching in Toronto - Peter J has a job ('White Rose Nurseries'). We are happy about that - + Beth is in grade 13. She will be going to university next Sept - & I will miss her very much. I shall be writing in Feb. I still nurse the old priests.

Love
Jean - Patricia - Peter J + Beth

The Chronicles of Me, Jean and Sister Louise

My mother, and more so my father, revered our religious relatives which included two uncles who were priests and two cousins who were nuns. To my dad it was important and I think a bit status-y to have immediate relatives who served in religious orders. For holiday dinners we always had a couple of priests and nuns around.

My mother's brother Douglas (currently my only living uncle) is a retired priest. He would visit us in Toronto occasionally. He lived around the Ottawa Valley, depending on which parish he was serving. After my father died and Uncle Douglas was working for the Marriage Tribunal he would visit us more regularly, a few times a year, usually staying two nights. These visits became so regular that we would eat and do the same things time after time. For the first night supper we would have steak, potatoes, some kind of pie, red wine and scotch. For the second night we would have homemade spaghetti, red sauce, garlic bread, some kind of pie, red wine and scotch. My mom and Uncle Douglas would sit and drink and talk a lot, often late into the night. In the mornings though they up early enough. We would all troop over to 7:30am mass and then Uncle Doug would send me to the corner store to get a paper (The Globe and Mail). Then he would sit in the family room rocking chair, doing meditative things and (I assume) saying prayers, etc. I grew up thinking that being a priest meant that in your off time you were just quiet a lot. Uncle Doug always drove a huge boat of an old person's car and took annual vacations with his priest friends to either Hawaii, Victoria BC or Mexico.

My uncle Pat, another brother of my mom's, wasn't a priest for very long. I don't know the ins and outs of it, but he left the priesthood and married my Aunt Carolyn, who became a Catholic. I don't know if he left FOR her, or if she became a Catholic FOR him. My earliest memories of him are in our kitchen at 73 Chatsworth Drive, and him introducing us to Carolyn and soon after they were married and then my cousin Erin came along (I'm sure all within the appropriate timelines).

I think for my mother's brothers the priesthood was a way up and out of a tiny place with not much going on. In my Uncle Doug's case I don't think he had much chance of getting a good job after finishing high school. He described to me helping in the autumn chores on the farm: getting all the crops in, slaughtering the hogs and preparing everything for the long, boring winter. Then he would leave home to work in a logging camp or do other itinerant jobs. I got the sense that although these jobs were backbreaking and boring, they were better than being under the thumb of his father. I'm unclear as to whether he got "a calling". I suspect the religious life for him might have been a shot at a free higher education and a set-for-life kind of job. If you want to do it and are great at it, does it really matter if God called you, personally? What is a "calling" anyway, if not the need or desire to pursue this job. I also ponder whether or not he was (is?) gay, and this was seen as a way of atoning for or living with that. Who knows. In Uncle Pat's case I know that he was genius-smart and very close to his mother and she definitely influenced him to seek religious life. And then he was smart enough to leave and keep pursuing academia. I think at the time of his death he had something like 23 degrees, including a PhD in Psychology, a private practice, teaching stints at Western University, and finally achieving a doctorate of canon law, and becoming a world authority on the subject of alcoholism and consent in marriage.

Our nuns were much more low key. Sister Saint Theresa lived up at St. Joe's Morrow Park. We would collect her on the afternoons when we would be hosting our family holiday suppers. She was a cousin of my father's, and he was very proud of this. He also somewhat collected strays at family gatherings, people who didn't have families. We would be packed in like sardines at our dining room table, with not an inch to spare. The night before the big meal when I would help my mother set the table she would be counting, counting, whispering and counting under her breath to ensure that all the place settings were correct. The kitchen would be steaming hot with the stove going full force, the counters covered with side dishes ready to be served, and the wonderful game-y smells of a turkey and all the trimmings filled the house.

I loved going to get Sister at St. Joseph's. We would approach those massive, towering wooden doors which looked like something out of The Wizard of Oz. I would be allowed to ring the bell. One door would magically, slowly swing inward. A sister would greet us and ask us our business. That smell! furniture polish, incense, oldness. We would be shown into one of about four grand, connected sitting rooms and wait for Sister. I used to like to run the length of the rooms. One time I stepped on a straight pin and it hurt me. I guess I was running around in stocking feet. Sister Saint Theresa was my favourite visiting religious guest. She was funny, she told good stories, and she always talked to me.

Our final revered religious was Sister Louise. My first time meeting her was in Montreal, where she lived. My father was doing a lot of work in Montreal at the time, and we had a couple of family vacations there in and around the time of the Olympics, and in the years following. Sister Louise was a follower of Marie-Marguerite d'Youville, but belonged to the Congregation of Notre Dame. She had grown up in Sheenborough and was one of my mother's first cousins, although she was probably 20+ years older than my mother.

She showed us all around her community and my dad was absolutely smitten with her. She was a truly charming person. She was an excellent conversationalist, and spoke beautiful French too. She had been a school teacher as a young nun. My dad took us all to the Magic Pan for lunch. Everyone ordered savoury crepes, but I ordered strawberry cream. When the meals were served Peter (who would have been about 11 years old at the time) took one look at my food and told the server to bring him one as well. Sister Louise thought that was the funniest thing ever.

When we left Sister Louise she gave me a piece of paper with her address written in her particular faux-calligraphic style, and she said, "Would you write to me Bethie?" Thus began my epic pen pal phase. We wrote to one another faithfully for the next 30+ years.

Sister Louise would visit us in Toronto, usually at the time when my mother's Pembroke cousins and my Uncle Doug would come to town. Sister Louise had to have been in her 80's. She would come to Toronto on the bus. She wore a white brace to support her tiny, frail, bird-like neck. She wore her full-habit, and carried a white purse which also served as her only luggage. She wore old, black orthopedic shoes and support hose on her impossibly skinny legs.

I learned during this time that the lives of priests and nuns were vastly different. My Uncle Doug earned money doing his job. His car, gas, house and housekeeper were paid for. He didn't pay taxes. He took fabulous trips with his friends every year. But his job was often 24 hours a day, or at least it could be. He had to drive all over the Ottawa Valley, manage a huge parish, say mass several times a day, perform weddings, funerals, baptisms and preside over all kinds of other things, including people who are dying, AA meetings, church business, marriage prep courses, marriage annulment meetings and on and on. After a while he stopped performing weddings. He said they made him depressed, because inevitably the couple would come to him for counselling, and he felt lost in their problems, and he despaired when they would break up. He said the last marriage he would ever perform would be mine (and it was)!

Sister Louise had no money. She was never paid for any work she performed. Throughout her whole life she never had a bank account. Her only ID was a birth certificate. When she wrote to me she used old pieces of paper, often writing back to me on the unused portions of my letters. She would have to ask someone for an envelope and a stamp. After I started working I used to send her cash, stamps, writing paper and envelopes. She would respond, "Thank you for the stationary and money. I am so grateful for the stamps, I shared them with all the Sisters. With the money I made a donation in your name to Marie-Marguerite d'Youville..." I stopped sending the cash.

She was so tiny. It was hard to imagine her playing hockey with the young Sheenborough toughs on the rink beside the schoolhouse. One of the last times I saw her was in Sheenborough. We were wandering around the cemetery looking at our ancestor's graves. She showed me her parent's graves. Suddenly it started to rain. We hurried back to the car. She had to have been in her 90's by this time. I am not exaggerating when I say that she was running through the cemetery and laughing in the rain.

Sister Louise died in her sleep. When she didn't come down for breakfast, her fellow community members thought she was feeling ill. When she didn't come down for lunch, they sent someone to check on her, and she was discovered dead in bed. When Sister Louise died my Uncle Doug and I coordinated some visiting and messages from our family. I spoke on the phone to some of the nuns where she was living. No one in the community spoke English, Sister Louise had been their only link to the outside English-speaking world. In my poor grade school French I wrote them a letter about her impressions on me, and our friendship. In response some well-meaning nun sent me her "papiers": a large envelope filled with various cards and letters my mother and I had sent her over the years.

It was a shock to see my mother's illegible, almost unintelligible handwriting. And Sister Louise's rich letters full of stories and descriptions in her pretty, delicate script.

What will follow are some of these correspondences transcribed, and more pictures.