A Woman of Salt Lake

In 2019, Mom accompanied Aunt Jean and Uncle John on what would ultimately be her last trip to Manitoba. I can't ask her now, so I don't know if this is Mom or Aunt Jean in the image. This is most likely Salt Lake, but I can't be sure. 
 

One Year Later . . .

A friend of mine came back to work today after the recent loss of her mother, and we chatted for a bit before I realized that today is July 8...one year to the day after Mom passed away in the early hours of that morning 365 days ago. In the moment, I found it almost impossible to believe that it had been an entire year, because subjectively it feels like it all happened about three months ago. 

Here's a nice photo of Sean and Mom back in Leduc in 1986. Whatever happens next, whatever happened last year--I still feel lucky to have had moments like this. 

 

First-Grade Outfit

 

This is my official grade one class photo, taken at the Leaf Rapids Education Centre. Mom made the vest and the pants that went with it. Nice job, Mom! 

The Memory Pool

As Sean and I continue to manage Mom's estate, we inevitably come upon connections to our family's past. I took this framed certificate down from the rec room wall today, and I don't know what to do with it. As a senior member of Manitoba Pool, Mom's dad would have been involved in governing the cooperative. I wonder what issues he might have voted on or advocated for. I don't remember Mom ever mentioning it. And unfortunately, I barely remember Granddad; he died not longer after this certificate was issued, and because we lived in northern Manitoba and Mom's parents in southern Manitoba, I probably only interacted with the man five or six times over the course of my life. 

I don't want to recycle it. But on the other hand, I have no heirs, so when I'm gone, whatever poor soul has to dispense with my estate will have to deal with it (along with all my other stuff). So keeping this only delays the inevitable. And creates more work for someone in the future. 

Sean and I have had to make some hard choices when it comes to Mom and Dad's stuff. We're trying to find good homes for anything useful. But for things like this, that only had meaning for Mom or Dad or maybe tangentially to Sean or me . . . I feel such guilt. On the other hand, I like to think that somehow our ancestors understand, and that they've moved beyond concerns like this. 




 

A Manitoba Curler

 Among Mom's effects, we found some of her curling mementos from the 1960s. She was a good curler, and she rocked. 

Farewell to Aunt Marjorie

We just heard from our cousin Dianne that her mother, my Aunt Marjorie Jones, passed away today. She was the last Etsell sister, at far left, beside Mom. As far as I know, the unveiling of the cairn at Salt Lake, on the former property of our grandparents, was the last time all four sisters were together in the same place. I'm glad Sean and Dad and I were there for it. 

Three sisters gone in the space of less than half a year. Time can be cruel. 

Rest in peace, Aunt Marjorie, with your sisters and Uncle Arnold. 


 

Three Sisters

Mom, Aunt Jean, and sitting down, Aunt Margaret, the eldest of the four Etsell sisters. All three of these remarkable women have passed on now. They are missed. 

Shadows cast through an upstairs window
Moonlight broken by a cross and black branches
And fluttering wings
But for an instant
 

Farewell, Aunt Jean

We found out late tonight that Aunt Jean, Mom's sister, passed away on Tuesday. I'm grateful we got to see her one last time at Mom's celebration of life this summer. Aunt Jean is on the right in this image with Mom from 1950 or so. 

Aunt Jean was fun to be around. She was a genuine character and a wonderful painter. She was closest to Mom in age and, I always suspected, closest overall. 

Our thoughts are with Uncle John, my cousins Keith and Kevin, and their partners, Heather and Carolyn, and with Aunt Marjorie. We'll all miss Aunt Jean, but none more than these who were closest to her. 

 

Mom and Me at the Etsell Farm

Here's another new-to-me image from Aunt Jean and Uncle John's collection. I'm back at the Etsell farm with Mom and Smokey the "don't pull his tail, he'll put your eye out" cat. This image brings me peace. 
 

50 Years Ago...

Mom, me, her parents, my grandparents; the summer of 1975. I need to go back there again, just to smell the grass and the trees. I hope there will be sunflowers. 

Six year old Earl has a cute, jaunty hat. Looks kind of like one of the Little Rascals. 

Short Pants

Here I am with Mom sometime in the early 1970s. Green short pants and a yellow shirt--a juvenile supervillain in the making. 
 

Bozo Can't Come to the Phone Right Now

Mom looks on as I pretend to answer a phone call at her parents' place. We had that crokinole board for years, and I still have one red disc from the set. Bozo got popped a couple of years after this. Stupid clown. 
 

Mom's Smile

Here's another photo from David--a great shot of Mom, while I look like a dork, particularly with my eyes closed. This would have been sometime in the 80s. 
 

Mark Lenard: The Lost Conversation

Today Sylvia and I went to Leduc to check on Mom's house and take care of some estate matters. On the way home, perhaps because my mind was already occupied by loss and regret, I told Sylvia the story of my conversation with Mark Lenard, a well-regarded character actor best known for playing Sarek, father of Spock, in one episode of Star Trek, two of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and three of the feature films. 

Except there is no story--at least, no story I remember. 

In the late 80s and early 90s, I attended a number of science fiction conventions in Edmonton and Calgary. On one such occasion, Mark Lenard was a guest. I definitely attended one of his panels, but it was in between convention events that I had a laid-back conversation with the man. 

The conversation took place in a niche with a couple of tables and chairs on one of the middle floors of Edmonton's Chateau Lacombe--or so I believe. The conversation took place in the late afternoon; the niche was dimly lit, but the sun shot beams of radiance through the windows, casting stark shadows. 

Mr. Lenard and I weren't the only ones present; I believe there were at least one or two acquaintances from the Edmonton Star Trek Society (now known as the Edmonton Speculative Fiction Society). 
 
Mr. Lenard was charming, soft-spoken, and self-effacing, and the conversation wasn't about Star Trek or acting, but friends, family, work, and the like. 

And that's all I remember. As a student of film and television and a huge fan of Star Trek, you'd think I'd have that day fixed in my head with all the clarity of an IMAX film, but . . . 

Mark Lenard is gone now, like Mom. And now I wonder how many things I'll forget about her, and curse myself for it. 

A Present from Mom

Mom was in the habit of giving Sean and me cash for expenses incurred while helping her. We protested, but she was persistent. 

Some of that cash was left over since her passing, so while Sean and I were in Leduc to settle some affairs of her estate this morning, we stopped at Habaneros and shared a meal and this delicious deep fried ice cream. Mom enjoyed this place and we'd eaten there together a few times before, so we think she would have approved. 
 

Celebrating a Life

On this night, we gathered to celebrate the life and times of our mother, sister, colleague, neighbour, friend, Elizabeth Woods. About sixty people came--not just her family and friends, but colleagues and neighbours and some delightful surprises. 

Despite our shared melancholy, it was a healing event. Sean served as our master of ceremonies and shared stories from Uncle Gordon and Aunt Jean; I performed the eulogy. 

On behalf of the Woods family, I want to thank the many people who came and also the many more who phoned, texted, emailed, and mailed their thoughts and condolences. Every word helped. 
 

Breadalbane Church Model

While reviewing some of the photos stored on Mom's iPad, I found this image of a scale model of the Breadalbane Church . . . clearly shot inside Breadalbane Church. Church-ception! I wonder who built it, when Mom took the photo (or who sent it to her), and where the model is now. It's charming. 
 

Mom's Celebration of Life

Mom wanted something simple for a memorial, so we'll be hosting a celebration of life in the chalet at the Devon Lions Campground from 6 to 8 PM on Thursday, July 24. Mom and Dad really loved this campground and Sean and I have happy memories of times spent there with family. 

The campground is located at 1140 Saskatchewan Avenue East, Devon, Alberta, just a short drive southwest of Edmonton. We've planned an informal gathering focused on sharing memories of Mom; light snacks and non-alcoholic beverages will be served. 

Sean crafted a very nice obituary for Mom, which will soon appear in the Leduc Representative. 

The Birthday That Might Have Been

Today would have been Mom's 83rd birthday. I'm still a bit shocked that just weeks ago we were discussing how to celebrate. Mom initially thought it would be nice to go to La Ronde. I wish it could have happened. 

But maybe she's celebrating with Dad. I'd like to believe that. 

Here's Mom in 1960, the year she turned 18. Looking beautiful, Mom, as always. 
 

Elizabeth Blanche Woods, 1942 - 2025

Mom passed away very early yesterday morning. Up until the beginning of April, Mom was enjoying her retirement with full independence. But she was hospitalized with pneumonia in April and again in May; in June, she enjoyed a short return to health with in-home support before another infection hospitalized her again--for the last time. 

While we've always loved her, Sean, Sylvia and I got even closer to Mom following Dad's death in 2018. We're all grateful for that strengthened connection. 

Mom was tough. She was resilient. Strong. Principled. Generous. And compassionate. She was a fantastic partner for Dad and a great mother to Sean and me, as well as a great aunt to her many nieces and nephews. 

She loved to read. She loved to garden. She worked hard and took things in stride. She loved her family and the outdoors. She was an excellent curler. She was a teacher, though she left that career behind to raise Sean and me. 

We did our best to help Mom through the stress and worry of the last few months. Even in her hardest moments, Mom was most worried about me, Sean, Sylvia, and her sisters. 

I hope, in some way, that she's with Dad now. 

Good travels, Mom. Thank you for everything.