vol.28.5: special mother's day edition for my granny's birthday
As it was just Mother’s Day and today is my granny Ann’s birthday—the first since she died in November—I’m sharing a little piece I wrote in memorial of her. It’s somewhat formal in tone as I had thought of having it published but for now, this newsletter will have to do. It’s sort of a companion to one I wrote for Opera Canada when my grandfather Ezra died a few years ago. I hope you enjoy. 🌸
Ann Schabas (née Fairley): Matriarch, feminist, academic, Scrabble-whiz.
Born in Toronto, May 14, 1926. Died peacefully in Toronto on November 8th, 2023 at the age of 97.
My Granny Ann never wrinkled. Even when she was 97 years old, her skin remained fresh and supple. Soft-spoken and patient, she’d take in everything while observing her surroundings. A brilliant physicist and librarian with a sharp wit, she loved to throw her head back and laugh at family dinners (especially when teasing my dominating grandfather Ezra).
As a child, I remember her sitting perfectly upright when we’d watch TV, her hands interlaced and her thumbs encircling one another. She helped me learn to knit, and made each of her twelve grandchildren beautiful sweaters. A scrabble master all her life (my grandfather refused to take her on), she specialized in multi-word plays at our family cottage on Lake of Bays. When I was seven, Granny took me to visit my cousins in England. She clipped my teddy bear and blanket to me so I wouldn’t lose them on the journey home. From then on, she called me her pal.
Granny never showed much overt emotion. She had a very Canadian, tactful comportment. Yet her emotions came out in unexpected ways. I was surprised when she’d weep at my singing recitals in my late teens and twenties. At my wedding, she didn’t want to leave early when my Grandpa got tired, saying to her friends through happy tears, “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”
My Granny also had a strong social conscience underneath her quiet exterior. At my book-themed bridal shower in 2017, she gave me the Palestinian doctor Izzeldin Abuelaish’s memoir I Shall Not Hate: A Gaza Doctor’s Journey on the Road to Peace and Human Dignity. As a student at the University of Toronto, she thrived despite being one of the only women in her class. Her support for women in academia continued when she became U of T’s Dean of Library Sciences, as well as after her retirement. I remember once at a family dinner, Granny inquired after my brother’s friend Piyal’s profession. When Piyal told her she was a scientist, Granny beamed. “Congratulations,” she said.
Granny’s life wasn’t always easy. Her academic parents suffered fears and blacklisting during the McCarthy era due to their progressive beliefs. Granny also watched all her beloved siblings die far before their times, as well as three of her nieces. She told my mother Alison that she thought about her own late mother every day.
Granny very rarely discussed the hardships of her early life. But perhaps all of this pain inspired her to live her life so fully. Once her five children were old enough for school, she completed an additional three university degrees (adding to her previous two). During her retirement, she and my grandfather loved to attend afternoon (and occasionally double header) movies at the Manulife theatre at Bay and Bloor. On numerous trips they visited their children in Ireland, England and British Columbia, marvelled at penguins in Antarctica, and wandered the Grand Canyon.
This weekend, I packed my suitcase to attend my Granny’s celebration of life in Toronto. When picking my outfit, I remembered when my maternal grandmother Zoë (as we addressed her) died of pancreatic cancer more than twenty years ago. Still a little girl, my mother dressed me in a bright orange dress for her funeral. I asked Granny if it was right to wear something so cheerful to such a sad event.
“Zoë would have been proud of how lovely you look,” I remember her saying.
As I stepped up to the piano to sing at Granny’s own celebration this weekend, I kept my orange scarf on over my more sombre outfit. My vibrant, strong Granny would have liked the pop of colour.
What sweet photographs and memories! Thank you for openly sharing this heart-warming piece, Sara-
Such a lovely memory, Sara! Thank you