Diane

Content note: This story includes mention of parental alcoholism.

I was born in Timmins, Ontario, a city in Northern Ontario near Sault Ste. Marie. When I was three and a half years old, my mother contracted tuberculosis, and that broke up our whole family because in those days there was no cure for tuberculosis. When you had it, you went away to what was called a sanatorium, a place where everyone there had tuberculosis, as they thought it was contagious. I vividly remember that a big truck came and took my mom away. That truck was an ambulance, but I was three and a half — how could you explain that? She was the first one in Canada to have this special surgery where they took one of her lungs and put part of it in the damaged one, but she was too ill, so they were trying to prepare her for surgery. My mother was there for almost five years.

In those years, my dad had to place his two children in places so he could work. He was a milkman and delivered milk and bread to your home. In those days, there was nothing to help fathers raise children, so he had to place us in different homes. He tried relatives, but that did not last very long because they all had many children and couldn’t take on more. So eventually we were placed with strangers. My brother was one and a half, so he fit better with people because I was so young, but I could not accept living with whoever, so my dad had to keep finding me new places to live. It affected me because he kept on leaving me and kept leaving me, and I never knew when or if he was coming back. But he did the best he could. From his background, he could have just walked away. His parents were alcoholics and bootleggers who made whiskey and stuff. When the stock market crashed with the war, they lost their source of income, and my dad had to go work at eight years old and look after his siblings. He had no foundation of family, and that’s why I tell people not to blame your past. You choose the way you are, and he chose to go forward.

When I was around eight years old, we got back together as a family. Of course, we didn’t know each other very well anymore. But there’s a bond, especially between my first brother and me. Even today, we’re still very close and talk about those days and the memories.

My mom put me in ballet because I was shy and thought that it would help me come out of my shell. It didn’t for quite a few years until I started to teach ballet and would take my students to perform and had to introduce them. I always knew that I wanted to teach, ever since I was eight years old. Even in recess, I was teaching ballet for 10 cents a lesson. I taught ballet in Chatham, Ontario, and then Windsor, and then I moved to Kingston. I didn’t want to do expensive costumes and everything, so I used to take groups of dancers into nursing homes. The residents just loved them because it’s like their grandchildren visiting, and the kids loved it too because they got treats. It's a win-win. I never made any money, but it didn’t matter because I was happy and was making other people happy.

My husband got custody of two kids with many problems, and we got married because we thought it would give them security after having been through foster care and abuse. But over the years, we’ve never really had a marriage. We haven’t been together as a couple for years, but he has Alzheimer’s and is blind, so I’m looking after him. I’m not obligated, but somebody needs to care for him. Some people take advantage of me because they know if they have problems, they can come to me and I’m going to help them. I’ve learned over the years that you can’t give in to everything, but I think it’s important to help others. When I help someone, I don’t want anything. I just want them to go ahead and pay it forward. Think of others before yourself.

One thing my parents taught us is to always look out for the underdog. We were always taking people in when they were having a hard time. At school, I always chose the children who were by themselves to be my friends. Also, never give up on anything. In the hospital, when my mother had tuberculosis, they told her that she would not have any more children. Well, she had two more. They told her she would never work outside of her home, and she worked 30 years at Kmart. They said she wouldn’t live past 60, and she lived until 98. That’s one thing about my parents — my dad’s childhood, my mom’s childhood, so different, but they didn’t give up on anything. They kept going. They don’t believe in the word can’t. I don’t believe in that word either.