My Nanny's Eulogy

A tribute to a gem of a woman

Alo dear reader, it’s been a while.

I’ve not been able to write.

The next piece had to come out first.

Here’s the text from my Nanny’s eulogy that I delivered yesterday in the little white church on the hill in the best part of the best part of the world:

I’m Jimmy - Ruby’s oldest grandson.

Ruby?

Nanny.

She took that name when she was still young.

I was born when she was only 42.

She said, I’m too young to be called ‘granny’. Call me ‘nanny’.

That name stuck for decades, until Mya arrived.

Ruby was born a Russell in family home at the end of the Russell Road in Clam Harbour.

She was a special woman, a gem really.

In a lot of ways he life is like her namesake: precious, brilliant and timeless.

Her life is a bridge to a different time.

Or as she put it, “It was a different world back then.”

As a youngster, she grew up poor.

Her summers were spent running around barefoot.

They couldn’t afford to waste money on summer shoes in those days.

Ruby no shoes - as no one ever called her, helped her mother around the house with chores and eventually collected and delivered mail for a nickel a week.

Most summers, she’d travel with her mother to visit her mother’s family in Upper Lakeville.

They’d pile into one of the three cars in the whole community - likely the cab driven by old Bob Cook.

Nanny would say: ”You could walk darn near faster than he’d drive”.

It was a different world.

Electricity never arrived at the family home until she was nine.

She spoke with a wide eyed wonder at the miracle of getting an electric pump in the house.

“Before then, the boys would have to put a stone in the bucket to break the ice out of the well in the winter”.

To use her words, and join in if you know them - the cow was in the barn, the pig was in the pen and the chickens were in the henhouse.

Outback, was the outhouse - pretty deluxe for its time - a two seater - the original Eastern Shore side by side.

When the war came, Nanny moved to Eastern Passage. Those were golden years.

She’d say ”There was a rec hall and there were kids everywhere to play with.”

Nanny loved it there. She was none too pleased to move back to Clam Harbour.

It is what it is.

It wasn’t long though before Ruby outgrown that little village.

The school there only went to grade ten. She wanted her grade eleven.

So off she moved to live with Mrs Jennex in Oyster Pond through the week.

Around then when her brother introduced her to a fella a few years her senior.

Ellis was home from serving in Newfoundland and he had himself a car.

He’d frequently drive her from home in Clam Harbour to Mrs. Jennex’s place in Oyster Pond.

I’m not going to speculate what happened on those long car rides.

I’ll leave that to your imagination.

But to light a fire under your imaination, I will say that Granddad had a girlfriend when he first met Nanny.

She didn’t last long after they met though.

They dated for three years then were married.

Six months after the wedding, my mother was born.

When I teased Nanny about her gestational efficiency, she gave me a wink and said: “You don’t think it was your generation that invented parking do ya?”

It is what it is.

Ruby and Ellis moved to town and ran an oil business.

Ellis delivered the oil.

Ruby kept everything running on time.

Supper hit the table every night at five - whether the potatoes were cooked or not.

In town, they lived on Farquarson Street.

At first, they lived in the basement while the rest of the house was built.

Nanny, Grandad, my mom, Al on one side of the basement and Sheila, Percy and the boys living on the other.

Robin seemed to have the good sense to wait until the rest of the house was built before he showed up.

Smart man.

It was a different world.

Nanny loved life in Woodlawn. She made lifelong friends there including the Weeks’.

Bernice was like a sister, Denise and Debbie - she loved you like daughters.

Nanny loved living in town. She even went and got her drivers license all on her own.

That was a big deal back then.

Grandad was not impressed:

”You mean they’re going to let you drive?”

She told this story regularly, bubbling with pride.

Ruby was a woman of fire and an independent spirit.

And that made it even more outrageous when Grandad sold the house out from under her.

“We’re moving home. Building a campground.”

That was that.

Luckily, they led and a lot of their friends from town followed.

Eventually they moved into the big yellow house on the hill.

That’s where I always picture Nanny.

When I spoke to my cousins about this eu goog ley, they talked about the food - the creamed corn in particular.

But mostly?

They describe her as a constant presence.

She’s just always been there in that big yellow house at the end of the road.

Keeping watch,

A silent sentinel peering down from her big bay window.

Her steady presence has always been a comfort.

I lived with her for two summers after Grandad died.

While I flailed with early adulthood, she seemed amused by my antics.

When Laura was sick and no one was sure how long she’d be around, Nanny and I talked about cancer, loss, living, dying and ‘what comes next’.

She seemed to be the only one who could ‘get me’.

Her presence was the ultimate comfort.

And now?

It is what it is.

One thing was always true: She loved her family.

She would always tell me how lucky she was to have such a wonderful family.

Wonderful children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

With God as my witness, she told me regularly how proud she was of each and every one of us.

Ruby no shoes was a woman with a hell of a soul.

And though she grew up with no shoes, her eldest great granddaughter - Mya - gave her the moniker that I think she loved the most:

Two shoes.

In one of our last conversations, Nanny was expressing doubt.

“What does it matter? What is this all for?”

I told her the truth.

”While Grandad was up the lake drinking whisky, you were the glue that kept everything going. He may of started it, but without you, it have fallen apart.

You made a place of joy that’s touched thousands of lives.

I keep meeting people whose best memories are of the campground.

You have no idea of just how impactful and important you’ve been.”

She may be gone, but her steady, enduring presence continues.

So as we gather here in the best part of the best part of the world to celebrate that gem of a woman - Ruby

Nanny

Mother

Sis

Two shoes

She’s always got eyes on all of us.

She’s looking down from her swing on the porch of the big yellow house in the sky

So remember,

Be good.

And if you can’t be good, be careful.

Thank you.