When I rooted around in my memories of Peace River, for clarification I accessed the Record Gazette archives, the local newspaper of the region. While searching I was shocked to find the obituary of one of my friends. Marilyn had come into our lives when our second child was an infant and she was very pregnant with their first.
We were in Peace River the better part of 12 years. I’m not sure when Marilyn and Harry had arrived. Rob had been drawn to their shop, Renaissance Goldsmiths. He had his mother’s love of good quality jewelry and crystal, pottery and all things lovely.
Harry crafted much of his own jewelry and was teaching Marilyn in the art. After their two children arrived she stayed at home.
Rob started a cleaning company and had time during the day. He often went to the shop and worked the counter while he watched in fascination as the artistry took shape. Sometimes his payment took the form of jewelry for me.
Our children grew up together. We were both homebodies, although I always worked, first at a local bank and then at the public library. For a time Marilyn worked for Rob. He had a contract for the cleaning of a daycare, situated in a former elementary school. It had two large classrooms, bathrooms, an office and an entry.
Marilyn didn’t drive at the time so we often took her to work. She, being a dedicated night owl, loved to be there well into the late evening, all alone. Alone time seemed to be her solace. That meant that her taxi sometimes couldn’t pick her up until midnight or later. I am not a night person, but Marilyn was so enthusiastic that we made it work for her, taking turns as chauffeur.
After a time she opened a day home, giving her time with her own two and still exposing them to other children and the skills that required. She was artistic and thought up many intriguing activities for her charges.
One late afternoon we arrived at her door to find her cleaning, yet again. The residue of a painting project spelled a successful day. She used Jell-O puddings for fingerpainting projects and was excited with the results.
She had picked up some of her ideas from her months of cleaning at the daycare. There in the entry-play area the staff had constructed a large, square table with six-inch-high protective edges. The play station acted as a construction site or sand dunes. The sand was cornmeal. They had learned that everything had to be edible. No matter how many staff supervised, all things went into the mouth.
Marilyn used her small dining space and kitchen for her paying charges. She had removed all the carpet in the area and installed serviceable linoleum for easier cleaning. She still often got on hands and knees to scrub her living room carpet with a damp towel soaked in vinegar. Her own girls had severe allergies and she was careful with what chemicals she allowed in her home.
When her girls were older, she closed the day home. She learned to drive and took up her passion for art. She enjoyed sketching and was experimenting with metal when we moved away.
Marilyn, in her early working career, had been the assistant to a government employee in Parliament. Her duties were varied but she was required to spend a lot of time scouring the newspapers for articles relevant to her boss’s department. She remained addicted to news, devouring the Calgary Herald cover to cover daily. She was a voracious reader with an eclectic taste. She occasionally loaned me books that she was excited about; I was left with glassy eyes and a numbness of thought after reading only a few chapters.
I learned much from her style of child rearing; she was patient and flexible. She was interested in all things, always learning. Many people were drawn to her door. She developed friendships with other artists, other moms, other knowledge seekers.
I read somewhere that we have friends who come into our lives just for a moment in time. Marilyn was such a friend. We were close while we lived in near proximity. I tried to keep in touch but she lived very much in the present.
Her passing has left a hole in my memories. I am thankful for Marilyn, friend and fellow sojourner.
– Joyce Hoey is a longtime Gazette columnist.
