I’ve known for many years that my grandfather Ernest’s brother, Arthur Elvin Burch, left his wife Elizabeth and their young son behind in Winnipeg for parts unknown. He was living with them and his mother- and sister-in-law in 1901, according to the census of that year, but by about 1904-5 was there no longer. A brief note in the Personals column of the Manitoba Morning Free Press  (4 July 1904 p. 5) reads:

“Mrs. Burch left Thursday evening for the east, where she will spend the next year.” 

On her return, she and her son Herbert were listed as boarders on the 1906 Prairie Provinces census. Clearly, something happened around that time to change her circumstances.

My dad met that son, Herbert Burch, during their retirement years in Victoria, BC, eventually overcoming his cousin’s understandable aversion to the Burch family to become good friends. As far as I know, Herbert did not know where or why his father had gone from their lives. Back in Winnipeg, Elizabeth continued her career as a teacher, Herbert grew up and attended the University of Manitoba, becoming an accountant. In 1906 she is listed as married, and in 1911 as widowed.

Some years later, I found a 1910 death record for Great-Uncle Arthur; he died in the Oregon State insane asylum in Salem, Oregon.  That’s a long way from Winnipeg, and although it does provide an explanation for Elizabeth’s “widowed” status, it was a sad end for Arthur. I still didn’t know anything about his intervening years between 1904 and 1910.

But! this week I came across something quite unexpected on Ancestry.ca – the record of a male child born in Portland, Oregon on 26 April 1909 to Arthur Elvin Burch (of Toronto) and his wife (!!) Lonnie Mabel Huls of Kansas. What?!  Further searches revealed a little news article about a marriage in Kansas in September 1906 as well as another, earlier child, sadly a stillborn daughter, in June 1907.  Well, that certainly fills some of the gap! But why Kansas? Why Oregon?

Not only did Arthur marry again without the benefit of a divorce from his Winnipeg wife, but his second wife, young Lonnie, remarried after his death with some haste, only nine months later. Her second husband was William Edgar Smith, a dentist; their 1911 marriage registration in Portland indicates erroneously (or purposely?) that it was a first marriage for both parties – I’m not sure how Lonnie could account for her infant son at that point. In the space for “full maiden name” she entered “Lonnie Burch,” and the newspaper refers to “Miss Lonnie Burch.”  Perhaps it’s understandable that she was economical with the truth of a first husband who died of syphilis in an insane asylum!

Fast forward a few years and we find this family on the 1920 census, William, Lonnie and “their” son Robert E. Smith, now almost eleven years old. In 1930, Lonnie’s mother, 73-year-old Bettie Huls is living with them, as she is in 1940 too. Bettie died before 1950, dentist William in 1958 and Lonnie herself in 1961. 

I’m not yet sure what happened to Robert Burch/Smith, who would be my first cousin once removed, the same as his half-brother, Herbert. I wonder if Lonnie ever told Robert that Dr. Smith, the dentist, was not his biological father? He is mentioned in his step-father’s obituary as “Dr. Robert Smith, Brookings, Ore.,” and I think he died in December 1980. Did Robert have any children? So many questions still, but at least I know how Great-Uncle Arthur spent his last years, living up to the reputation of many a travelling salesman.

Tags: Burch, newspaper, Winnipeg

No, not recipes! But the actual dishes used to serve and eat our celebration meals such as the recent Thanksgiving feast.

When we were married, we received, among our wedding gifts, a few place settings and single pieces of our chosen tableware pattern, Wedgewood “Doric Platinum” – plain white with no rim and a narrow platinum stripe around the edge.  However, there were certainly not enough to use for a dinner party, even a very small one!

Over the next seven or eight years, my mother-in-law, Muriel Hubbard, gave me more pieces and settings for each birthday and Christmas. Her mother, Rob’s Grandma, (Eliza Kerr Neale) also gifted me with pieces until she died in 1972.

I must admit that my younger self was not terribly excited with such birthday gifts at the time!

But for many, many years now, I have felt such gratitude to these two thoughtful and generous women who ensured that I could set a lovely table for eight with three sizes of plate, not to mention a platter, covered veggie dishes and even a gravy boat. The only pieces I don’t use are the cups and saucers.

When Muriel died in 1978, a further thoughtful gesture contributed to my Thanksgiving table setting – she left me her silver chest and silverware for eight settings. And as she had inherited her own mother’s set in the same pattern, she left me that, too; I now have silverware for sixteen and use it whenever there is a special birthday or other celebration here.

As I take each plate out, or put it back into its protective cotton quilt-batting sleeve, or arrange the silver forks and knives, I think of them both with fondness and wish that we had had more time together. I was too young and too busy to really appreciate their life experience and wisdom at the time. In a way, they join us at the table now, if only in memory and love.

Another gift makes its way onto our feast table too – Rob’s three-piece carving set, which he rests on the crystal “knuckles” from my great-grandparents. The handles are made from antler and the blades are of Sheffield steel, excellent quality.  He told us this story last weekend as he set to carving the turkey:

“When I was courting Granny, I was invited to help out at a big dinner at her parent’s place. They were holding a reception for clergy and wives, I believe, perhaps at New Years’ and her mum set a turkey down in front of me in the kitchen, and said, “Could you please cut this up for serving” – which I did. She was pretty impressed with how well I did it (I learned from my own dad) and I felt as if I’d passed some sort of test! The next summer Liz and I got married, and her parents travelled to England. When they returned, they brought me a gift – this very set of carving knife and fork, sharpening steel and case. I’ve happily used them with gratitude for the last 55 years.”

[Jacob’s response to Grandpa’s story was, “Dibs!” Duly noted…]

Tags: celebrations, dishes, Hubbard

Early in my genealogical endeavours, I was attempting to do as all the experts advised – start with what you know, and work backwards, one generation at a time. With my dad’s help, it was easy to record his grandparents’ details and to identify his great-grandparents. But filling out life details for that generation proved to be challenging and I continue to hunt for tidbits and facts about them to this day.

Census records (as mentioned in my very first post on this blog) were easily found for Edward Burch and his wife, Harriet (Thorp) and their family in Toronto – for 1871, 1881, and eventually 1891, with various family members appearing in and leaving the household over the decades of family life. However, in 1901 there was no sign of either Edward or Harriet at all.

There was an interesting 1894 passenger record when they travelled to Kingston, Jamaica for their daughter Eva’s wedding (my 13-year-old grandfather, Ernest travelled with them), and I found a mention in a newspaper article of Edward attending his nephew Reginald Burch’s wedding in Toronto in 1906. But not Harriet; she had vanished from the records after 1894. One obvious possibility was that she had died, but a thorough search of Ontario death registrations did not reveal even a possible one.

On my visits to see my dad in Victoria, I offered to help clean out various closets, drawers, etc. that he was no longer using. One day, I tackled the little desk in his study, one he had used for writing sermons and paying bills. He no longer even used the room the desk was in, and had no clue what might be contained in its drawers, untouched for years as they were. What I discovered was a mixed bag: bank statements dating back to the 1970s, warrantees and operating instructions for various gadgets and appliances no longer to be found in the house and so on. My sister said I should just bag it all up for recycling and be done with it, but I preferred to look at each bit of paper to see if it was important.

And one day my vigilance (or obsession?) was rewarded. I opened an ordinary and apparently empty business-letter-sized envelope, and out drifted a tiny, yellowed newspaper clipping! Imagine my excitement (as only another genealogist can!) when I saw the following:

Of course, I would have loved to know what newspaper it was from, with a date and a page number, but at least some kind soul had written “1898” on it. With the many clues contained in this article, I set off to look for a Nova Scotia death registration–but alas, I soon found that they do not exist at all for this time period, so no joy there.

On a subsequent trip to Ontario to visit our kids, we travelled to Peterborough. While there, I acquired the cemetery burial record for my great-grandmother Harriet, though her name is not on the large stone. She is in a plot belonging to her niece and husband, Mr. and Mrs. William Meldrum. That record gave me the date of death, and a visit to the public library’s microfilm room at last revealed the origin of the clipping.

Although full of clues about the rest of the family, it raised lots of new questions, too: why was Ernest in New York? Where was her husband, Edward? Why was she buried in Peterborough and not in Toronto?

I’m so glad I didn’t inadvertently throw out that envelope! I don’t think I would have ever considered Peterborough for either newspaper or cemetery research, as all other life events for Harriet had been in Guelph and Toronto, but Dad saved that little clipping. Wouldn’t it be nice to know who wrote “1898”?  Maybe someday!  

Tags: cemetery, memorabilia, newspaper

When I was younger, I thought the table, chairs, buffet and china cabinet in our family’s dining room had always been there and I simply took them for granted. But I later learned they had come to us at some unknown-to-me time and place from a cousin of our dad’s, whom he called “Cousin Sybil.” As I scanned old family photos last year, I spotted interior shots of our various homes, usually taken at family celebrations. Looking carefully at these first two, I noticed that at Christmas dinner in 1952 in Windsor, we were sitting on quite different chairs from those I know now. Then, in 1954, the furniture in the picture is that which is familiar to my sisters and me. The two photos have been taken from opposite ends of the table. So, clearly, this furniture came to our family at that time.

A Christmas card received in 1960 from Cousin Sybil says, in part:

“…imagining you in your beautiful cathedral on the Sunday and in your new home at the dinner table on Monday. How thankful I am that my treasured belongings found a good and worthy home and the story could be repeated over and over again.”

Further research has revealed that Sybil was a first cousin of Ernest Burch, our dad’s father, as her mother, Fanny Thorp and Ernest’s mother, Harriet Thorp, were sisters. (If you’re interested, that makes Sybil my second cousin once removed, or a second cousin three times removed to my grandchildren.)

Sybil never married, but remained in the family home at 31 Oxford Street in Guelph, Ontario, caring for her parents. Ten or so years after her mother’s 1942 death, she downsized and moved into a senior’s residence, Preston Spring Gardens, living there until her own death in 1974. That is how our parents came to own these pieces which had been commissioned in Guelph by Sybil’s father, an architect. The same furniture appears in family photos in each of our homes in Edmonton.

When our parents moved to Victoria in 1976, the first home they lived in did not have room for this set, and I don’t at the moment recall exactly how they solved that problem. I believe they placed the china cabinet in the living room and the buffet in the basement. About a year later, they sold that small house and bought the one on Richmond Avenue, where the dining room once again housed the Guelph suite. The upper section of the buffet was removed to allow for that large round decorative plate to hang above, and Peggy used it for a headboard in her bedroom for many years.

After our Dad’s death in 2003, I brought all the pieces back to Alberta, as part of my share of our parents’ estate. The large dining room on the farm had plenty of room to show these pieces to good advantage, especially after Rob lovingly refinished the “headboard” portion of the sideboard — who knows, maybe it still bore traces of a certain glass of milk once hurled at it!– and reattached it to the heavy base. He always intended to refinish the table, too, as it had suffered some sun damage over the years in Dad’s bright and cheerful dining room, but he only managed to complete one leaf. I filled the china cabinet with treasures old and new, from both sides of our family.

To me, although these pieces are definitely “treasured belongings” as they were to Sybil, they also seemed to be simply old, second or even third-hand used family furniture. I was surprised one day when a visitor to our home asked where we had acquired so many beautiful antiques! Considering that they were probably created in the 1890s, they are indeed exactly that, and I am grateful for the attitude adjustment!

In 2013 it was all on the move again. The dining room furniture has once again returned to Ontario, where it was crafted, and soon after our arrival here, we found an excellent craftsman who refinished the table to its former burnish. It has been the scene of many happy family celebrations at 27 Quinpool since 2013. Long may the tradition continue!

Tags: Burch

I wish I could have known you! Oh, the stories you could tell – you flit in and out of the records like the traveller you always were, turning up in so many unexpected places.

John was the younger brother of our great-grandfather, Edward Burch, (the merchant living in Toronto and father of Ernest). John and Edward were the sons of another Edward, the London fireman, about whom I have written, and his wife, Mary Elvin. (A side note about the name John – this John Burch about whom I write, also had an uncle John, a first cousin John who was the same age, a son John who died in infancy, and a grandson John. Keeping them all straight has been challenging.)

Both were born in London, England, as were their three sisters. At the time of John’s birth in 1846, the family lived at 27 ½ Farringdon Street, an area on the north side of the Thames, now overbuilt. By the time John was five, the family had moved across the river to live near the Tooley Street Fire Station.

He came to Canada as a young boy; initially, he lived near Guelph, but in 1871 (age 25), he was living with Edward and family in Toronto. He married Louisa Ellis in 1872 and they had three children in the next three years: Reginald and Ada born in Stratford and John in Hamilton. Sadly, baby John died of cholera at the age of nine months. In 1877 in Hamilton, John had a dry goods store, John Burch & Co. but he did not stay there long.

By 1880 John and Louisa and their surviving children had moved to Pembina County in what is now North Dakota, and then bought land in Walsh County, ND in 1883. Farming doesn’t seem to have worked out either, as the next location I found for the family was Calgary, where John had established a men’s wear business and built the Union Hotel. Here is an advertisement published on November 5, 1886 in the Calgary Tribune:

Just two days after this optimistic ad appeared, a devastating fire destroyed 18 buildings in the commercial district of then-tiny Calgary, including John’s business and hotel. His insurance of $700 did not begin to cover the nearly $4000 loss.  He re-opened his store the following spring but then sold the business.

In 1888, Louisa was appointed as a teacher in the rapidly growing town of Gleichen, southeast of Calgary. However, by 1889, they were living at Red Deer Crossing in the Alberta District of the Northwest Territories. John had bought the trading post there where he found his customers were mostly Indigenous people and freighters. Historic Fort Normandeau is located close to the original spot, southwest of the present city of Red Deer.

The following story taken from The Park Country (by Annie L. Gaetz) reminds us that this was still a pretty wild and unsettled part of the country:

“It was in the late summer of 1889 that a grizzly bear was shot on the homestead of Wilbert Smith, in the Waskasoo district. The cow failed to turn up for milking one morning and the reason was quite apparent when tracks of a grizzly bear were found nearby. Men quickly gathered with rifles to corner the bear before he had time to get away. Besides Wilbert Smith there were his brothers, Joe and Jim, who had homesteads close by, John Burch, Tom Ellis [John’s brother-in-law] and perhaps others, all young men except Burch who was an experienced big game hunter.

It was Tom Ellis who first sighted the bear, which had downed his prey in a small draw on the farm, and after eating his fill, had dropped down beside the carcass of the cow and was having a nap, when Ellis stepped through the bushes and saw him. He stepped back from the bushes and in his excitement shouted “Here he is!” to the men who were close behind, and bruin was asleep no longer, but up on his haunches, ready for battle. All the young men had a shot at bruin, or in his direction; but it was John Burch, who, in his quiet, unhurried way, stepped through the bushes and sent home the telling shot. Mrs. G. W.  Smith still has the hide which her husband had made into a rug for her.”

When the railway route was finalized, John moved his store north to the new townsite. He put up a new building in 1891, known for many years thereafter as “The Old Burch Store.”

A local history has this to say about our John:

“In the spring of 1889, John Burch bought the Trading Post from Jas. Healey and brought out his wife and daughter, Annie [sic], and son, Reg, who was killed in the First Great War. They were kindly, hospitable people and their home soon became the social center of the community. Parties and dances were held in their big dining room as well as Anglican church services when a travelling bishop happened along.”

I find it quite interesting that our Burch relatives were running a store in Red Deer at the same time as our Borrowman ancestor, Adam, was homesteading some miles to the east of the settlement. The 1892 letter written by Lily Borrowman makes reference to a trip into Red Deer for supplies – could they have acquired the new boots needed by Edith and Wilson at the Burch Store? I like to think so.

In 1899, a meeting was held in the Burch home to plan for the building of an Anglican Church in Red Deer. Work on the church commenced in August 1899 and a church social was held at the Burch residence to raise funds for its completion.

The April 1901 census shows the family still living in Red Deer, but a newspaper notes in September 1904 that John had been “spending the last year in Victoria, BC and California.” In December 1904, he reportedly travelled to Cuba via Toronto and New York. In July 1906 he and Louisa attended their son Reginald’s wedding in Winnipeg, and the following year sees them travelling home from Cuba.

In February, 1910 John crossed into the USA to join his wife who was already living in Seattle. They moved once again, as the 1920 census shows them living in San Diego, California, where Louisa died in 1928, aged 80.

I have been unsuccessful in locating details of John’s death or burial in California, but in 1929 (age 83) he was issued a British passport by the British Consul in Los Angeles. This document describes him as 5’ 7”, grey hair, hazel eyes and a dark spot on the left temple. The passport was noted as valid for “the British Empire, United States of America and Cuba.”  Since his daughter Ada lived in Cuba at that time, I have speculated that he acquired the passport intending to visit her, and may have ended his days there.

Tags: John Burch, Red Deer, travels

When my dad was just a boy, he and his parents lived with his maternal grandparents in Ottawa, at 336 Metcalfe Street. His grandpa, William John Gerald, had been retired from his position as deputy minister of Inland Revenue for some time in 1920 when young Gerry sent him a note with good wishes for his 70th birthday. Grandpa Gerald wrote back from their summer place in Deep River. Nine-year-old Gerry so treasured this letter that he saved it his whole life in this carefully-marked envelope:

Inside the envelope, I found two fragile pieces of birchbark chosen by Grandpa Gerald for his reply. The handwriting on the bark is faded and difficult to read, but modern digital photo editing can bring out most of the lettering. He used a nibbed pen for the first bit, with the ink flowing quite well at first, then failing, leaving only indentations in the bark. The last bit is in pencil, which has survived much better!

This is what the letter says:

Deep River Aug 3/20

My dear Gerald
Your very welcome letter of the 25th July conveying your good wishes for my birthday reached me to-day and I thank you for kind expressions. Glad to learn that you are all well. Uncle John, Aunt Addie and cousin Gerald came up by auto Saturday afternoon and returned by same means yesterday forenoon. Grandma and I are now all alone but enjoying ourselves. Today is bright

(2nd piece)

and hot and no indication of rain. Sorry about your train but you will have a much better one by waiting until the new ones come in. We expect to leave here Friday morning and will be home in the near future. With love to everybody great and small in which Grandma joins me, I am
Your affectionate Grandpa,
WJG

NB Your letter reached Mattawa, Chalk River and Point Alexander before it was brought here.
WJG

Here’s a map clip to show the route taken by the letter, a long way up the Ottawa River and then partway back down again:

It’s a privilege to be the custodian of a little treasure like this, and I hope it lasts at least another 103 years. No wonder young Gerry kept it safe for so long, such a unique message from his beloved grandfather.

Tags: Gerald, letters, memorabilia

My Granny, Edith Borrowman, came back to St Catharines, Ontario with her family, when she was about fourteen or fifteen, after their homesteading years in Alberta. Although she mentioned to me that she had taken French lessons from Father Lacombe, I don’t think there were a lot of educational opportunities for her and her brothers in her small Alberta community in the late 1890s. Perhaps that was one of the reasons for the family’s return to Ontario after getting title to their land. I do know that Edith attended St. Catharines Collegiate Institute for three years (likely 1897-1900), which was similar to what we’d call High School, but concentrating on the arts, classics and humanities.

Here is a letter of reference from one of her former teachers at the Institute:

It reads as follows:

St. Catharines, Ont., Nov 20th, 1901

I have much pleasure in stating that Miss Edith Barrowman was a Student in my classes for three years, during which period, her work, especially in English Literature, Grammar and Composition — perhaps the most important subjects upon the Public School Course – gave me entire satisfaction.

  Her manner is pleasing, her knowledge accurate and general information far beyond that of the average Model Student.

  She has, I feel assured, the tact and originality necessary to interest pupils and impart knowledge successfully as well as the force of character to make a good disciplinarian.

  I can strongly recommend her to any Board of Trustees as one who, I am sure, will prove an excellent Teacher.

S. Louise Cloney, M. A.

Specialist in Engl. & Moderns

St. Cath Coll Inst

Edith had graduated from the Toronto Normal School (teacher training) in 1901 and was seeking a teaching position when she acquired the above letter. (She and her classmates called themselves “the noughty-one,” a pun on the date.) I don’t have information on where she taught or lived between 1902 and 1905, but she did, in fact, find a position in 1906 at the Norway Public School in the small village of that name, east of Toronto. She is listed in the Toronto city directory in 1906 and 1907 as a teacher at the Norway Public School, living first in Toronto, then at the Norway Hotel. It seems she later wanted to search out a new position and acquired the following letter of reference from her school principal:

It reads as follows:

Norway, Ontario, August 10, 1907

To Whom It May Concern,

This is to certify that the Bearer, Miss Edith Borrowman, was a successful teacher in the Norway Public School for the past two years.

I have found her a thorough teacher, who excelled in discipline, and her bright, genial disposition has won for her the highest esteem of fellow-teachers and pupils.

I have, therefore, no hesitation in highly recommending Miss E. Borrowman to any Board of Trustees requiring the services of an earnest, faithful teacher.

Yours very truly,

J. E. Fawcett,

Principal Norway School

Edith’s Uncle Harper Wilson (her mother Lily’s brother) had moved with his family to Winnipeg in about 1879. Winnipeg had developed rapidly after the arrival of the Canadian Pacific Railway in 1881, and was Canada’s third-largest city in 1911, after Montreal and Toronto and was regarded as the financial centre of the West. No doubt it held great attractions for a young woman striking out on her own from sleepy St. Catharines or the suburban village of Norway, Ontario!

[Edited to add: ] Before moving to Winnipeg, however, it seems that Edith found employment in a small town in southern Alberta — news to me! This little clipping from the St. Catharines Standard of 3 September, 1907 (p.4), says she left “the city” for Sterling [sic] Alberta.

Stirling was even then a small town and remains so today (pop. 1112 in 2022), but it did have a substantial-looking school. The town was settled mainly by members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and residents were awarded land in return for working on the St, Mary’s irrigation canal project. I don’t know how long Edith remained in Stirling before arriving in Winnipeg.

The following letter was no doubt very helpful to her in securing work in Winnipeg, coming from the principal of Toronto Normal School, and providing such encouragement. Indeed, she is listed in the 1909 and 1910 editions of the Winnipeg city directory as a teacher at Norquay School. Although she initially lived with her aunt and uncle at 232 Vaughan Street, by 1910 she is living on her own at 578 Langside. In 1911, she is teaching at Aberdeen School and living at 120 Spence Street.

Miss Borrowman’s name does not appear on the staff list for 1912-13, because she had recently met my Grandpa, Leroy Borrowman. He had arrived in busy Winnipeg from Minnesota in early 1911 and wanted to know if there were any Borrowmans living there. When he found Edith, they were able to determine they were not, in fact, related in any way, and romance soon blossomed. They were married on July 31, 1912, and Edith’s formal teaching days came to an end. I think she’d be pleased to know that three of her “grandies” had a teaching career and that one great-great-granddaughter is headed that way, too!

Tags: Edith Borrowman, letters, Winnipeg

Our great-grandmother, Lily Wilson Borrowman, was our Granny Borrowman’s mother. Born in Ireland, she lived most of her life in St. Catharines’ Ontario, except for a period of time in Toronto and four years homesteading in Alberta. Her husband, Adam’s family had settled in Whitby upon arriving in Canada, and it seems she was a fairly frequent visitor there. She was part of a large family and had many nieces and nephews.

Between 1878 and 1897, she collected autographs and sentiments in an album, somewhat sporadically, to be sure, but the collection reflects her various homes, friends and relatives.

About a dozen of the fifty-five entries are undated; among the others, the earliest is from December 1877, written by her sister-in-law Lizzie (Elizabeth Borrowman) in Whitby, Ontario. It reads:

 “A Wish

I wish that happiness may fling

Her golden sunbeams round thy path

And hide thee ‘neath her downy wing

Till life’s rough storms away have passed.”

Some of the entries include sketches, either in black and white or coloured.  Lily’s other sister-in-law, Louisa, was an artist and an art teacher – her pencil sketch of fuchsia blossoms is quite lovely. It is dated September 1^st, 1880, in Whitby.

Lily’s husband wrote in her book, adapting a poem by Alaric A. Watts, “Home,” sharing his sentiments about their happy and blessed home. I find it bittersweet, as it is dated between the death of their first-born child, John, in 1879 and the birth of our Granny in 1881.

Adam may have misremembered some of the words, but he didn’t have Mr. Google to remind him, as I do, and those he did include are a lovely message for his “dear wife,” Lily.

Nearly ten years later, as the family prepared to depart Toronto for the West, Lily’s pastor Alex Macgillivray, (serving at Bonar Presbyterian Church, and also a close neighbour on Brock St.) wrote an encouraging and apt message for her, mere weeks before they arrived on their land near Red Deer:

Although many of the entries are religious in nature, or feature quotations of inspiring poetry, her younger brother claimed the back page of her book early on, writing in a more humorous vein:

 “Last but not least

“Tis always my fate

Below you will find

My name and the date.

February 17/79

Harper Wilson

It is something quite special to hold this book, obviously treasured for many years by Lily, knowing all these different relatives of ours also held it. To read their words, to see their signatures and drawings, is to reach lightly into the past to meet each of them, if only for a moment.

Tags: autographs, memorabilia

I’m a day late, (mostly because of being treated so well by my children and grandchildren on Mother’s Day) but feeling no less admiration and love for my own mother, Carroll Burch. I know my sisters are the principal readers of these stories, and they need no extra information, but here are a few details for other readers:

Margaret Edith Carroll Borrowman was born in Winnipeg, Manitoba, July 3, 1921. She had two protective older brothers but still managed to enjoy swimming, diving, tennis and cycling, and was an excellent student.

She was educated at public schools in Winnipeg, then studied Physiotherapy at the University of Toronto, graduating at the head of her class in 1942.

She met our Dad while at university — he came to Georgina House, the women’s residence where she was staying, to speak to the young women there. They were engaged six weeks later and married in August 1942. Carroll’s parents didn’t even meet him until he arrived in Winnipeg for the wedding!

Then followed decades of loving her husband, her daughters, and her church; of helping others, of hospitality and creativity, of gardening, travelling, knitting, sewing, singing and caring.

Mum was able to refresh her physiotherapy studies after Dad retired and enjoyed many years working in her chosen field. They had been married for nearly fifty-three years when Carroll died in 1995. There is so much more I could say of the wonderful woman our Mum was, and I still miss her so much.

Best mother one could ever hope to have and a great blessing in my life–I wish I could give her a big Mother’s Day hug.

Tags: Borrowman, person, photo