My life in a Poem
I was born in Ottawa; I was one of two,
Anything my sister had, I got when she was through.
Since we weren’t rich or spoiled, luxury I never knew,
But life has taught me plenty, as we moved each year or two.
Best thing the air force ever did, it did when I was seven;
We stayed four years in sunny France, came back, I was eleven.
When we crossed the ocean, t’was four our family
When we came back to Canada, we two sisters now were three.
When we left France, I left behind, the first true love I had.
He was my real life darling, to leave him now, how sad.
I never would forget him, and there is no turning back,
I never would forget him, that cute little guy named Mac.
So it was to school in Ottawa, north, south, east and west,
But it was Woodroffe high school, that was the very best.
Friends and teachers, clubs and books, the memories are cool,
But it was Art, who stole my heart, for five years in that school.
Then the ring made my heart sing, the wedding it drew nigh.
My father’s voice said “it won’t be, you must first get your degree”
And Art he passed me by.
I spent three years at Carleton, then back to France I went,
This time with sister Karen, hitch hiking, Spain to Kent.
We came back home in seventy full of new found knowledge
But it was not enough for me; I went to Teachers’ College.
There were no jobs on graduation, much to my distress,
What was I to do? I know! I’ll be a stewardess.
It was rather unexpected, while I was flying high,
Came an offer to teach French, I bid my job goodbye.
I met a handsome man named Tom, not a doctor or a preacher;
Just found him looking rather pale, next to my French teacher.
I was in the city and it became a drag,
So it was that time again, time to pack my bag.
Look out Europe, here I come, this time, no destination.
Decided it’d be Champery, saw a sign in a train station.
Switzerland is really pretty, the Alps are tops you see,
Got a job, as luck would have it, in the Hotel Champery.
A year later I returned, to the city of Montreal.
I met anew Don the pilot, he was my all and all.
We were married six months later, but with a wedding couldn’t cope.
So in our enthusiasm, we decided to elope.
We had three sons, ages one to five, in that city of Pointe Claire,
Damon, Tyson, Brandon, three boys we loved so dear.
In environmental issues, I had found my niche.
Passion flowed to save the world, I worked with ‘Greenpeace’
Fourteen years of Cadillacs, Mary Kay and this and that;
Time to move to Glengarry, a new place to hang our hat.
Through all the world that I did roam,
When I found Glengarry, I found my home.
Teaching, strategic planning, Property Standards, to name a few,
Investment Club, chair, secretary, t’was so much I did do.
Took a course in facilitation, they called it ‘Open Space’,
Tried it on my baseball team, and we came in first place!
I liked taking photos, and writing stories too,
Was a photograph-reporter for the Gleangarry News.
Ah! Time to move, another chance, to go back to Paris, France.
In ’89 a time sublime, we packed our bags one more time.
We stayed three years and traveled, saw the best of Europe then.
The kids learned French, we all made friends, and we’d do it all again!
Were ten more years in Glengarry, what precious years but few.
They were the last Tyson was with us, there was nothing we could do.
Physics, math, computer science, you could say he was a brain;
But it was for his spirit that the “Award’ was in his name.
The other boys went off, to chase their visions and their dreams.
For Damon it was flying, for Brandon, movie themes.
Now the house was empty, there was left but me;
The boys were gone and so was Don, so I was fancy free.
Life gave me a new beginning, for the stars now I could reach.
And what do I do, between me and you? I move to Wasaga Beach!
For my Mom and sisters, I left my Glengarry.
Life is full of surprises, of that I was going to see.
With the loss of Tyson, my step brother thought it’d be,
Nice for me to go to France, France across the sea.
So I spent the next spring season, in Provence and Italy,
With Ian teaching artists, me feeding them pate and Brie
‘’Twas July when I came back, to buy a house so wee.
An apartment in the basement to supplement my fees.
The first thing I accomplished, in that house thats not a ‘looker’,
Was end the writing of my book, called ‘The Happy Cooker’.
Although the book was finished with lots of vim and vex,
I was not prepared at all, for what was to happen next.
My father lived in Spain, you see, for 35 years or more.
Now he wanted to return, to this far-off, forgotten shore.
He sold his house and bought a ticket, for his wife and he to fly
To Montreal or Toronto, how was he to know she’d die?
So I went over to retrieve him, a sadder sight was never seen.
He came back with me to my house; the basement was for me.
The two of us were doing fine taking care of one another;
Then my mother’s husband died. Where was she to go? Oh Brother!
Ever not to be out done, fate had yet more in store.
Her husband died, although she cried, she asked Dad to move over.
So our family was together, after all these years gone by.
Mom and Dad in my house; how life can be so wry!
Dad could not remember what a coffee or a toast is;
My Mother couldn’t move as she had osteoporosis.
They meant well, and they tried hard, but work was not their ‘fortay'
After several months of this, I knew we had to ‘abortay’
A move was necessary, a house or two I bought.
Became a property manager, a new home for them I sought.
Now every one is happy, at least that’s what they claim.
Each of them in their own home, and me alone again.
Damon married Tyson’s nurse, and when they got together,
They had three fine wee children, made me a grandmother.
I moved back to Montreal, after 6 years over there,
To help my friend Jay Jansons fix his home up in Pointe Claire.
When that was done and finished, I was ready to move on;
I went to my apartment, from Montreal I was gone.
I was back in Glengarry, the home I hoped to find.
I was to see its not the same, as the place I left behind.
I couldn’t see my grandkids, because of their mother’s wish.
This broke my heart, and then some, as they were sorely missed.
I didn’t think, I could take more, of life’s cruel blows to me.
When Damon drowned I really thought, ‘I can’t even be.’
Alone in my apartment, life’s burden was too heavy,
For me to carry by myself, then Damon sent me Peppie.
Now we are together, and the earth we often roam.
We take cruises go to Florida, and write when we are home.
Between home, the cottage, Tampa, we are pretty happy;
We take life’s hardships and make something like kersnappy.
