A Personal Centennial

Brett Hudson Matthews
Nov 6 · 4 min read
Lynne Kathleen Matthews, self-portrait (1970s).

It is 100 years to the day since the girl who would become my mother, Lynne Kathleen Matthews, was born in Winnipeg, Manitoba to Sarah and William Doolan. She has been a defining influence in my life, due to her grace, grounding and grit. I wrote this reflection on her life shortly after she died, and it appeared in The Globe and Mail on May 5, 2005.

Lynne Kathleen Matthews

Wife, mother, teacher, community organizer, artist, wise woman. Born Nov. 5, 1919 in Winnipeg, Manitoba. Died February 12, 2005 in St. Catharines, Ontario of pneumonia, aged 85.

Lynne grew up in Winnipeg in the depths of the Great Depression. She earned a secure life there, then risked all by throwing herself into a love (that would prove life-long) for a British soldier she scarcely knew. She raised two boys in St. Catharines, Ontario and when her life and home there were threatened, took on city hall and won. She exemplified toughness and quality in all she did, and gracefully inspired it in others.

As a girl, Lynne got through school with her closest sister Marjorie by putting facts into duets which they sang together while doing the dishes. When high school ended, she faced a jobless world. “You’re a gifted artist”, her older brother said, “you should attend university.” But her father had recently lost his job as the Depression deepened. Acutely aware of the family’s money worries, she set aside her sketchbook and went to secretarial college.

Her outstanding volunteer work at the college office after graduating caught the principal’s attention, and he passed her one of the few job opportunities available. So, in 1938 she became a legal secretary. Her employers valued her sense of humour and discriminating alertness to detail; so much so that Mr. Filmore of the law firm Filmore, Riley & Watson presented her with the first IBM electric typewriter in Winnipeg.

Lynne met her future husband Jim Matthews, then serving with the British air force, in 1943 at a dance hall on a moonlit night at Winnipeg Beach. She loved his British accent, his old world charm and his assured dancing. When he was suddenly ordered to Yemen they quickly arranged their engagement. Many passionate letters and five long years later, Lynne secured passage on the first ship carrying civilians to England. England was still under rationing, so she brought her wedding dress and wedding cake with her.

Shortly after the wedding, August 1948.

In 1965, after Lynne’s two sons were born, the family returned to Canada, settling at the foot of the Niagara Escarpment in St. Catharines, Ontario. Lynne became a high school teacher. Her colleague Brian Smith says she was often sought out by students for advice, not just about commercial arts but also about their lives. She rediscovered her creative side, from sketching to gardening to entertaining with a sparkle.

Then, a landfill opened in the old quarry above our home. Compacted into fractured limestone, the waste seeped out and down the hillside. By 1984 it was flooding neighbourhood basements and rising out of toilets during sewer backups.

Lynne left the toxic soil of her beloved garden to become president of the neighbourhood group formed to fight back. We all knocked on doors. She made dramatic presentations to city council. David Smith, a city engineer hired in the mid-1980s to keep the landfill open for 40–50 years, says that Lynne didn’t fear “municipal politicians and staff or their consultants. She carefully reviewed all information, asked insightful questions and did not suffer fools lightly.” He credits Lynne with enabling a collaborative approach and a “made in St. Catharines” solution.

My cousins Kerry and Adaire at the memorial to Lynne at the Glenridge Quarry Naturalization Site in St. Catharines, Ontario

In 1998 she suffered intense pain in her left side, and couldn’t walk. “The bone is mush”, said her doctor, prescribing a hip replacement. Before it could be done she danced with Jim at their 50th anniversary. The pain must be have incredible, but no one saw it.

The landfill is now closed. At the north end, above our old home, is a wildflower meadow dedicated to Lynne’s “community service, outstanding leadership and significant contribution to environmental awareness.”

Lynne was never really able to pursue her passion for the arts, but I doubt she regretted it. As she liked to say, nothing is ever really lost. Sometimes, it just takes an unexpected shape.

Brett Hudson Matthews

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Fighting poverty on the oral-digital frontier.

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