Anne Yanchyshyn

Movin’ On fulfills dreams at Dakota House

Eleanor Roosevelt once wrote: “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”

Remembering days of plentiful game

It was the dinner menu at our Assisted Living place that prompted me to ask tenant Lorraine about the tourtiere she had ordered. I knew that to French-Canadians like her this meat dish was a staple.

Memories from the last century

A rabbit hopped across our lawn this morning. In another world, another era, I would be looking for its path through the bushes for a suitable spot to secure my snare to catch the “beastie.” If successful, I’d consider it another notch in my piggy bank (a sock) towards a warm Melton wool snow suit for my two-and-a-half mile trek to and from school each winter day. I remember getting my first outfit from Eaton’s catalogue — a deep maroon color, with piping and buttons in contrasting paddy green. It smelled so rich, so divine. I felt I was the luckiest student at our school — and the world, for my world did not yet extend beyond our community.

Lucien Loh — proudly unafraid

We have a most congenial tenant at Dakota House who knows how to turn lemons into lemonade, thanks to a keen sense of humour. Who knew he’d been a Manitoba French teacher for over 33 years and substituting for four more across the road at Collège Jeanne-Sauvé?

My 95th August birthday

I turned 95 at the end of August, which precipitated a round of celebrations I can only call unforgettable.

More centenarians at Dakota House

Meet Louise Garbutt, an inspiring centenarian now in her ninth year at Dakota House.

She was born Louise Studham at Dugald, Man., on Feb. 6, 1922. After high school she worked at Eaton’s in the old building as a switchboard operator. One event seared into her memory bank is that of the Sept. 1, 1947, train accident at Dugald, labelled by Wikipedia as “the Minaki train crash.” (Interesting read.)

In 1942, Louise married a man in the air force, Arthur Garbutt. They lived in Brandon, followed by Winnipeg, where they raised two children. Their daughter, Sharon, became a junior high teacher in St. James, and their son, George, worked at Great-West Life. Both are now retired. Husband Arthur died in 2000.

When I asked what has been most important to her in her lifetime, Louise simply said “family”. She is proud to reveal that all four of her grandchildren are university grads, as celebrated in beautiful photos in her living room. I loved the amazing, enlarged portrait of birthday-girl Louise alone as well as with the many guests at her 100th birthday celebrations at her church. Her son-in-law, David McInnis, was the skillful photographer.

My thoughts on Ukraine

“There but for the grace of God go I.”

Since Feb. 24, as I’ve watched the daily news about Ukraine unfolding, I’ve cringed, teared up, and thanked the heavens for having been born in Canada. How excruciating it is to see Russia’s unprovoked, barbaric invasiona and destruction of that country.

I am a proud first-generation Polish/Ukrainian Canadian. Ukraine is my parents’ country of birth. Mother emigrated as a five-year-old with her Ukrainian parents in 1905 and Father, Polish/Ukrainian by birth, arrived in Canada at age 20 around 1910.

My cousin Lorraine and I visited this land of our ancestors in 2001, the 10th anniversary of Ukraine gaining freedom from the yoke of the USSR.

Meet our friend, Robert Boni

Let me introduce another tenant at Dakota House, Robert Boni. His legs don’t co-operate or match his smile and affable nature as he joins other guests at the dinner table. I found myself sitting beside him once and was amazed at his social graces – conversing, cracking jokes, having fun, and making other guests feel comfortable.

I have also been impressed watching him assist in running our movies. He has even written instructions on how to fix things during breakdowns.

“He is so kind and helpful, especially to one visually impaired viewer, Mary Jane Smith. He has a good heart,” noted fellow tenant Irene Young.

Robert also runs our Wii bowling program and participates in our weekly art classes. Friend Bernice (Bunny) Vanderelst emphasizes that “his handicap doesn’t stop him from doing things.”

Dakota House honours centenarians

I’ll begin with a final tribute to our unforgettable centenarian Irene Milne, who passed away peacefully on Dec. 20 at age 102. She served as pianist for the Dakota House Dazzlers choir for 12 happy years and will be remembered by many Manitobans for her phenomenal skills on the piano. May she rest in peace…Our new centenarian, Frank Singer, was honoured at a birthday tea at Dakota House on Dec. 2. The head table included Frank and Margaret, another Dakota resident; and from the Czecho-Slovak Benevolent Association, Mr. and Mrs. Vilemm  Kun and another woman who read out a congratulatory letter from Petr Burianek, consul general of Czechia in Toronto, who eloquently expressed admiration for Frank’s “dedicated work within the expatriate community,” and thanked him for not forgetting his homeland.Later, Mr. Kun gave me a written account explaining why the consul sent congratulations to “such an ordinary honest hard-working person who was not a doctor, artist or politician — (it’s because) Frank has lived his life as a good hard-working person without any trouble with people or the law.” Frank expanded on Mr. Kun’s account of the traumas he experienced in Europe which became an overpowering influence on his life.Soon after his birth on Dec. 2, 1921, and his father’s early death, Frank’s German mother, who had to work to support herself, handed him over to his paternal grandmother.“I loved her as my mom — she was my caring mom,” he said. However, when he was eight, Frank’s remarried mother took the boy back to help look after his three half-siblings. In 1938, Frank was drafted by the Czechoslovakian army when the country was mobilizing against Hitler. After the subsequent German occupation, he was deployed as a drafted German soldier to the Russian front, captured, and spent three years as a prisoner of war.Upon returning to Czechoslovakia in 1946 and learning the upholstery trade, he could not find employment because he’d been a German soldier, so he fled to Austria. Within six years there he met and married an Austrian girl named Charlotte and got a job as a hydro lineman. But life was not easy so they emigrated to Canada.In Winnipeg they improvised as school caretakers and as butler and cook for a car company manager, until Frank became chef on a CN dining car, mainly on the Winnipeg-Banff line, until retirement. Interested in new experiences, Frank skated with his wife until 80 and learned to play the piano in his 90s, a carry-over from singing and playing on his Hawaiian guitar at the Czecho-Slovak Association. Compatriots from the association remember him fondly from picnics where, chef-like, he’d portion a roasted pig.Nowadays, at Dakota House, Frank participates in Wii bowling, where he once scored 298 points out of 300. In cribbage, his partner for two years, Sylvia, remembers him as a “kind person scrupulously fair and honest, with a mind as sharp as a tack.” At present he plays cribbage with Margaret, who doubles as his piano partner. “I’m not afraid of dying,” Frank said. “My wife was cremated and her ashes sent to Austria as she’d requested. But I like Canada. Our son lives here, and I will be buried here.”Congratulations on your 100th, Frank. Stay safe.Anne Yanchyshyn is a community correspondent for St. Vital. Email her at acy@mymts.net

I’ll begin with a final tribute to our unforgettable centenarian Irene Milne, who passed away peacefully on Dec. 20 at age 102. She served as pianist for the Dakota House Dazzlers choir for 12 happy years and will be remembered by many Manitobans for her phenomenal skills on the piano. May she rest in peace…

Our new centenarian, Frank Singer, was honoured at a birthday tea at Dakota House on Dec. 2. The head table included Frank and Margaret, another Dakota resident; and from the Czecho-Slovak Benevolent Association, Mr. and Mrs. Vilemm  Kun and another woman who read out a congratulatory letter from Petr Burianek, consul general of Czechia in Toronto, who eloquently expressed admiration for Frank’s “dedicated work within the expatriate community,” and thanked him for not forgetting his homeland.

Later, Mr. Kun gave me a written account explaining why the consul sent congratulations to “such an ordinary honest hard-working person who was not a doctor, artist or politician — (it’s because) Frank has lived his life as a good hard-working person without any trouble with people or the law.” 

Pickleball – the ‘new kid on the block’

Last summer a member of our Dakota Community Centre, Kevin Brown, suggested I write a column in The Lance about a popular game called pickleball.

“It’s universal,” he said, “and Snowbirds play it down south.”

Pickleball is reputed to be the fastest-growing sport in North America. Take a bow, pickleball – you’re the “new kid on the block.” The Internet offers a great explanation about its origin and name but no, there is no pickle in Pickleball!

Briefly: three golfers in the northwestern United States devised this hybrid sport using simple materials on hand just to have some relaxing fun with family and friends. It is based on elements of tennis, ping pong, and badminton. The court is medium-sized and the game can be played by young and old and those between. A large paddle or bat and a plastic ball the size of a tennis ball — with larger holes for indoors and smaller holes for outdoors to counteract winds —completes the equipment list.

They don’t know how to quit

Count that day lost whose low descending sun

Views from thy hand no worthy action done.

                                                                                                                              — Baltazar Gracian The handicrafters at Christ the King Church in St. Vital must have taken Baltazar Gracian to heart. Co-ordinator Brian Dawson has for years passed on their knitted or crocheted lap blankets to our seniors at Dakota House, to CancerCare, and to anyone else needing the feel of warmth and care in their hour of need. I have thankfully been blessed with one to keep my injured knee cozy during theevening news.

It reminds me of one seniors poetry-writing class. To motivate us, our instructor brought in a beloved memento of his late grandma — a faded, hand-knitted shawl he called a babushka. In the Jewish tradition it might have been called a prayer shawl, spelling comfort and loving arms and security back in his childhood days. I believe that today’s lap blankets serve a similar purpose.

Qaumajuq dazzles and inspires

Qaumajuq means “It is bright. It is lit,” in Inuktitut. Pronounced “kah-mah’-yerk”, it is the name of the new Inuit Art Centre in downtown Winnipeg.

As you proceed north of the Legislative Building down Memorial Boulevard your attention is drawn to the white undulating extension to our Winnipeg Art Gallery’s south end — conjuring up expansive snow sculptures of the Arctic. How fitting that Qaumajuq opened the year we observed on a statutory National Day of Truth and Reconciliation on Sept. 30, dedicated to Canada’s Indigenous peoples.

We have watched this centre being born step by step. Where once there was a low protective wall next to the sidewalk, our eyes can now gaze at the plaza in front of the new building with its beds of greenery and the warning not to trample on their space — they have just been planted. A fine metaphor for the state of our new appreciation of and respect for Indigenous culture.

One striking feature of this gallery is that the walls separating the outside from the treasures inside are made of glass. It indicates a kind of trust — that citizens can now look beyond the surface to see inside the culture and customs of the Inuit and admire them for what they are when left to flourish.

A seasonal pot-pourri

The seasons come and go — in nature as in our lives.

After not being in close contact with fellow tenants at our assisted living quarters for well over a year because of COVID-19 restrictions, we now look anxiously around us to see if we can spot the friends we’d made through our years of mutual fellowship.

Have they survived? Have they moved on to a nursing home? Or have they passed on, as we’re all destined to do eventually?

We feel blessed to meet new people outside our building, now that summer is here. They are trying to fit in and be accepted as we ourselves once had to do.

Looking forward to seeing The Leaf

Assiniboine Park in Winnipeg with its Conservatory has always been a place of refuge for me - and for thousands of other people.

I remember a walk a group of us seniors once went on to see the Leo Mol Gardens -  we ended up at the conservatory to rest our weary legs in the cool comfort of the lush greenery.

And I recall going there with my friend Lila to say goodbye to the place, for we had been notified that the conservatory was to be razed and replaced by Diversity Gardens - a one-of-a-kind colossal structure like none other in North America.

It wasn’t long before our conservatory disappeared. Always wanting to stay on top of things, I went to the internet for information. What was shown there was beyond belief. A variety of gardens would form what they called The Leaf. There would be sky-high trees, tropical, with a transparent roof above that would withstand our frigid/torrid Manitoba seasons. There were other features, all too futuristic to have credibility at the time. In fact, some people looked at me quizzically when I tried to describe what we were being told to expect in the future.

A royalist’s rant

Where do I fit in?

A monarchist is one who believes in the institution of the monarchy, regardless of who sits on the throne, whereas a royalist is one who shows and feels deference for a particular monarch.

Call me a royalist. Queen Elizabeth has been my idol from the time I became aware of the young princess.

When I was around age 10 we used a history book in Grade 5 or 6 called Pages from Canada’s Story. Does anyone remember that book? I looked for and found its picture on the Internet – the very book that had a picture of the Royal Family that I gloated over in my younger years.

Here’s my pandemic project – a new book

There’s nothing but positives all around me:

As I write,  the sun is shining warmly to indicate our long-awaited spring season is here, and the mid-April snow that was so annoying has yielded much-needed moisture for nature so that we and our farmers can be happy. And...

My new book, Lance MUSINGS et al & Word Weavers, is ready.

It’s a combination of items: primarily all 100 of my 2013 to 2020 Lance newspaper columns. I did interviews with various people, I wrote about current newsworthy events, and I described my own reaction to past and current experiences. The many pictures, mostly in colour, add another eye-catching dimension. I also made room for reminiscences by a 1990s seniors writers’ group called Word Weavers.

My parents were 20th century heroes

Having my meals delivered daily to my suite during the COVID-19 pandemic takes my mind back to the farm where I was raised.

I suddenly, poignantly, think of my mother and ask myself, “How did she ever manage to raise four children, with no electricity or running water, especially during the Great Depression of the 1930s when we children were small? And what did she feed us?”

We did lose my 18-year-old sister to meningitis in 1937, I remember. At a bit over age nine I  truly did not realize its finality nor the guilt my parents felt. But they stoically carried on, never talking about it, and three of us survived.

Today’s delivered meals smack of pampering, unlike those of my childhood years. We fed off the land - pioneer land ‘bought’ for 10 hard-earned dollars in the rocky, swampy interlake, south of Arborg.

“We’ve got you covered, COVID-19”

I sat there, eyes moist, throat a bit tight - one among several well-distanced and masked tenants, with caring organizers milling about.

This was the day we’d been waiting for - Fri., Feb. 26, 2021, the day we’d receive our coronavirus pandemic vaccination at Dakota House Assisted Living quarters.

How small our planet has suddenly become. Good ol’ emotional me - it hit me that this procedure was happening all over the glove  

A moment of truth, a “sudden realization” - an epiphany, if you will. I don’t think I’d ever thought of our planet that way before: a mere ball, with all people our neighbours, no matter where they lived. I don’t think I’d ever felt this close to people around the globe before.

Craft makers help people the world over

One story begets another. My December column about the generosity of fabulous knitter Pat Dodd prompted Linda Sidorow of Sage Creek to alert me about her cousin, Shelby Sturby. Shelby has crocheted over 1,900 Izzy dolls for children afflicted with poverty and hunger in war-torn countries and areas of natural disasters.

Izzy dolls? What are those?

It’s quite a story. Both the idea and pattern for these dolls were created by Carol Isfeld, the mother of Canadian Armed Forces soldier Master Cpl. Mark Isfeld.

During the first UN peacekeeping mission in Croatia, Mark noticed a child’s doll lying on a pile of rubble from a bombed house and thought of the need to reconnect a child with the joy that can come from a doll.

Dakota CC — a true gem in our midst

There’s a relatively new, bustling venue in our block — the Jonathan Toews Sportsplex/Dakota Fieldhouse at the Dakota Community Centre.

Thinking that an article about it would make a great ending for my eight-year series of Lance columns in my next book, Musings, I arranged an interview with Dakota CEO, Michele Augert, to learn more about their services.

(COVID-19, however, has destroyed any plans to launch the book in January.)

I have made peace with myself over the electronic billboard that got me writing to The Lance in the first place. In short, I’ve learned to live with it. May the 40-plus-year-old kangaroo fern I set in my window to block the sight of that billboard flourish for a few more years, as I hope to do.