It happened during my first great adventure as a writer. It was in the spring of 1973. Jayne and I packed up an orange VW bug with all our travel and camping gear and headed west on a 20,000-kilometre odyssey. We were beginning our summer-long journey to gather research and personal accounts for my first book of popular history. Two friends – brothers Hal and Jim Sorrenti – suggested when we arrived in Winnipeg that we drop in on a relative.
“Be sure to stop and see our Auntie Marg,” they said. “She’ll help you out.”
They were right. Marg Wright, then in her early 50s, and with three children of her own, took us in. She offered us free lodging in her furnished basement. She supplied directions around Winnipeg and area as Jayne and I dove into stacks of files and documents at the provincial archives and conducted interviews with elderly residents who had witnessed the era of steam navigation on the lakes and rivers of southern and central Manitoba. And when we returned each evening, Marg listened to our day’s adventures over one of her home-cooked meals. She was truly a guardian angel for my first book.
Last weekend – almost 37 years later – Jayne and I hopped on a plane for Winnipeg and surprised Auntie Marg as her family gathered to celebrate her 90th birthday. Was it ever a party. Her three children – Bill, Doreen and Marilyn – managed to assemble scores of family members and friends from all over the country. And at a fabulous Italian dinner on Saturday night, we feted a grand lady who had grown up in Winnipeg, lost a brother in the Second World War, raised her family in a modest bungalow on the southeast side of the city, survived the infamous Red River flood of 1950, outlived two husbands, and reveled in the arrival of six grandchildren and one great grandchild. Jayne and I were simply folded into the extended family in 1973 and during dozens of visits since.
I think I have my parents to thank for having the privilege of knowing and enjoying a number of aunts and uncles who weren’t. You see, in 1948, after Kay and Alex were married in the U.S., they left close family and friends in New York City and emigrated to Toronto. Consequently, my sister and I didn’t have any blood relations nearby the way other families did. So, we were adopted by a whole network of pseudo aunts and uncles, who were really working colleagues and neighbours of our expatriate parents.
There was Uncle Herb Whittaker (theatre critic at the Globe and Mail), a lifelong bachelor who often visited our home overnight and each visit gave my sister and me a new book, some of the first books we ever owned. Next door neighbours in Scarborough – Anne and Eldon Stonehouse – became Auntie Anne and Uncle Stoney, who taught me how to bait a fishing hook and sparked my love of dogs by taking me to field trials with their beloved retriever, Cookie. My sister and I were never at a loss for family members when all these proxy aunts and uncles periodically popped up in our lives to offer hugs, extra attention and a few life lessons along the way.
In addition to the big birthday bash for Auntie Marg last Saturday night, her family also arranged a drop-in reception at Marg’s church in St. Vital on the south side of Winnipeg. All Sunday afternoon long, Marg’s extended family of friends, fellow parishioners, bridge partners and south-side neighbours visited the church to wish her well. Always modest and even slightly embarrassed by the fuss we all made, Marg exhibited a trait I’m sure has served her well over nine decades. She embraced the two-day birthday party and took the excitement in stride. She just chalked it up as one of life’s unexpected gifts.
“I never would have thought I’d live to be 90,” she said as part of her short thank-you speech Saturday night. “But I’m very glad I did. I love you all.”
Then, as she was about to sit down (her face still twinkling with the pleasure of the moment), she smiled at me and added, “And if anybody ever needs a place to stay, you’re always welcome.”
At 90, she’s still eager to offer her unique hospitality and be Auntie Marg for any and all family, and nearly family, loved-ones.
