Sister, mother, nana, wife, gourmet cook, bridge player, world traveller, civil servant. Born in Brampton, Ontario on April 22, 1941.  Died on August 19^th, 2012 in Mississauga, of cancer, age 71.

Karen was the beloved second sister, in a close-knit family of seven daughters. She was born to Jack and Jeanne Calvert, greenhouse farmers, in “Flower Town”, Brampton, Ontario. It was in the family greenhouses where Karen started working, at age nine, beginning a lifetime of industry and purpose, forever determined to earn her own money and make a difference in the world.

The loss of her mother when Karen was 18 and about to leave home for university left an indelible mark on her life.  The sisterly bond that formed as the sisters supported each other in the years following their mother’s death and throughout their lives was extraordinary.

Karen woke-up each day with a smile on her face and a plan. Always able to manage many things at a time, Karen juggled motherhood and a career as a civil servant. As a young mother, she sewed her children’s clothes and Halloween costumes, developed her skills as a gourmet cook and sang silly songs while driving. Her enthusiastic cheering and her phrase, “Dig deep!” made us feel special. She read to her children each night, instilling a love of reading. Karen’s authentic character always shone through, no matter what she was doing.

Three children, Miriam, Lianne and Derek were born to Karen and her first husband Colin Freel.  We were all proud of our hard-working and spirited mom, yet in her early forties, she was unhappy and needed to move away. We were devastated, and profoundly felt her loss in our home.

Karen found a loving life partner and kindred spirit, John Roe. Her career included 11 years on the Ontario Board of Parole, and time as president of the Canadian Hearing Society. She completed her career as a Human Rights trainer for the Ontario Government. Karen loved to cook for family and friends, reveled in planning menus, baked birthday cakes, turned her handiwork to knitting and cross-stitching and following retirement, took up Duplicate Bridge with a passion.

It was in the last twenty years of her life, the stars aligned for Karen, and she experienced the happiness and success that she had been striving for her entire life. Karen led her own busy and fulfilling life, yet if one of her children needed her, she would drop everything and help out. She would always arrive with recipes in hand, a game to play, a song to sing, and with her sleeves rolled up. She would often call on a Friday morning, as she was heading to the grocery store, wondering if we had plans on Sunday evening. If not, could she bring dinner?

Karen and John loved to travel the world and went everywhere! It was on her first trip to Africa years ago, that Karen proclaimed that as her legacy, she would like to take her grandchildren travelling. Six of the grandchildren lived this dream with trips to Egypt, India and Thailand, forming lifelong memories with their Nana and instilling in each of them, a love of travel and respect for other cultures. These adventures included spending three nights on a felucca on the Nile, travelling by houseboat in India’s backwaters and cooking lessons on the beach in Phuket. One grandson recalls how, “Wherever Nana went, she always treated people with respect. I liked that about her.” She made a difference in the world and is dearly missed.

KAREN HONOR CALVERT- Obituary

It is with great sorrow we announce the passing of Karen Calvert, a much-loved wife, mother, grandmother, sister and friend. Karen died peacefully on August 19th, 2012, following a courageous and swift battle with cancer.

Cherished wife of John Roe. Loving Mom to Miriam Wells (David), Lianne Hill (Paul) and Derek Freel (Robyn). Eternally proud Nana to Fraser, Lexi, Adam, Jack, Darcy, Ross, Jemma, Kate and Rusty. Dear stepmother to Peter Roe (Kim), David Roe (Nicole), Michael Roe (Karny), and Nana Karen to their children Marcus, Austin, Libby, and Kayla. Devoted sister to Linda, Miriam, Delia, Victoria, Laurie and Corinne and their husbands. Sadly, missed by her stepmother Ruth Calvert and countless cousins and friends.

Born on April 22^nd, 1941, in Brampton, Karen was the beloved second daughter of Jack and Jeanne Calvert. Karen lived a life full of exciting world travel, philanthropy, passion, and dedication to her well-respected career as a public servant. Her husband of 27 years, her children, grandchildren and sisters meant the world to her. Her friends, and there were many, are a testament to her strong, generous and authentic character. Karen was a mentor to many women.

She played a mean hand of bridge. Karen revelled in planning a menu, cooking for her family and making cakes for family and friends. Karen’s beautiful cross-stitches, lovingly made for all her family members, will adorn our homes and remind us of her. She loved meandering dog walks with her family. Karen was a vocal cheerleader to all her grandchildren: “Dig deep” was her anthem. “Kids, Cakes and Bridge”, was her slogan. Karen and John always had a trip to look forward to and especially treasured the adventurous travel they shared with the older grandchildren. The Sisters Weekends at The Farm, were legendary. She will be sorely missed, her life’s lessons never forgotten.

There will be a celebration of Karen’s life at Toronto Golf Club in Mississauga on Friday, September 14th at 3:00 pm. Indication of your attendance would be appreciated at celebratekaren@outlook.com. We would like to send a special thank you to all the members of Credit Valley’s Palliative Care Team, who brought kindness, comfort and dignity to Karen’s last days. In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to the Canadian Cancer Society or the Canadian Hearing Society.

Eulogy

Delivered by John Roe

At the Celebration of her Life later this afternoon we will, of course, get a much fuller picture of the remarkable woman we are honouring today. This is just an overview.

American novelist Leo Rosten (1908-1997) once wrote:

“I cannot believe that the purpose of life is (merely) to be happy. I think the purpose of life is to be useful, to be responsible, to be compassionate. It is, above all, to matter: to count, to stand for something, to have made a difference that you lived.”

That was Karen Honor Calvert. Her identity was important to her. She loved her names: Karen (Danish meaning pure), Honor (after a grandmother), and Calvert (the second daughter of a strong, loving female sibling-hood). She relished being a woman—her femininity, dignity, and personal privacy—but was never afraid to stand up for what she believed. Indeed, her tenacity led to her once being called “a pitbull with lipstick.”

Karen loved being a mother and grandmother, acknowledging that in Miriam, Lianne, Derek, and their nine children she had “won the lottery in life.” As for her children’s three spouses, she always said that she couldn’t have chosen better herself. And then there was “The Sisterhood.” She was always proud to say that she had SIX sisters—always including her two younger half-sisters—not to mention upwards of 50 cousins!

Despite the family’s prominence in then small “Flower Town” Brampton, she always considered herself first and foremost a worker, starting as a child in the family’s greenhouses. She was determined to earn her own living. “I never want to have to hold out my hand for money,” she would say. Karen was also a real saver, right until the day she took sick. I was amused, therefore, to hear just a few days ago that in a “discussion” about budgeting with her university-bound daughter, Lianne said: “I had to pull out the Nana card.”

Karen always talked about belonging to the “Pill Generation”—a feminist but not a bra-burner, rather a pioneer of today’s career women. Indeed, she had very strong views regarding social justice and liberal values.

• As president of the Canadian Hearing Society from 1982-84, she spearheaded the organization’s move from rented quarters to its own multi-story headquarters. To quote the then Executive Director, she “skillfully stick-handled the concerns of staff and volunteers” (no mean feat since they included such redoubtable figures as feminist firebrand Judy Rebick and John Eaton).
• For 11 years Karen was a full-time member on the Ontario Board of Parole.
• But her public service career ended abruptly in 1996 when the Employment Equity Program was chopped by the Mike Harris government.

Twenty-four years ago, Karen and I moved to Mississauga, the first residents of a new townhouse complex where she served as president for its first two years, deliberately setting an elegant tone that has made it a distinctly different townhouse community than the larger one across the road.

Initially disappointed to lose her job, she very quickly embraced the then London Life ad: “Freedom at 55,” earning the nickname from son Derek: KCB. Namely: Kids (grandchildren), Cakes (cooking), and last but not least, Bridge! And let’s not forget adventurous travel with me and the older grandchildren.

So, when people refer to the retirement years as the “Golden Years,” in Karen’s case this was indeed so. She was a hands-on grandmother when she was needed, travelling to New Brunswick, Ottawa, Quebec, and even out of the country—to Minnesota and the UK. At the same time, she was a presence in the lives of all the adults with whom she came into contact, hence the universal shock at her passing.

“But she was so vibrant, her smile always so welcoming… she always demonstrated such a presence… so gracious… she was so inclusive…” The tributes continue to pour in, only reinforcing the loss we all feel.

So perhaps it is appropriate to remind ourselves: “People will forget what you say. People will forget what you do. But people will never forget how you made them feel.”

I am sure you will agree, Karen Honor Calvert made a difference in all our lives… especially mine.

Tribute by Lianne Hill

Over the years, my Mom has taught my family and me many life lessons. We have brainstormed and created a top ten list of Mom’s Life Lessons and we would like to share these with you today.

Karen’s Life Lessons

Pick up the Phone

Travel the World

Roll up your Sleeves

Brush your Teeth

Stand up Straight

Dig Deep

Pay Yourself First

Take the High Road

Make Lemonade

Think of the Queen

Life Lesson #1

Pick up the Phone

My Mom taught me that if you want to talk to someone, don’t wait for them to call you- just pick up the phone. Life gets busy and sometimes days or a week would go by and I would not chat with my Mom. Friday morning, at 8 am would come and the phone would ring. She was on her way to the grocery store and wondering if we had plans for dinner on Sunday. If not, could she bring dinner to us? Of course! The usual plan- Mom, John and Zoe would arrive around 4, and whoever was around would go on a meandering neighbourhood walk, with dogs in tow- she would chose the route. A delicious dinner would follow, usually with a debate around the dining room table. That was our routine. My Mom did not wait for her kids to call. If she wanted to speak to us or see us, she picked up the phone. This is an important life lesson to parents and grandparents- if you want to speak to your children and spend time with them and their families, quite simply, pick up the phone! Offering to make dinner is icing on the cake.

Life Lesson #2

Travel the World

My Mom loved to travel and experience the world. She shared this passion with her grandchildren and has instilled in all of us a love of travel. This past summer, Paul, Ross and I had the trip of a lifetime planned- three weeks in Tanzania. My Mom found out that she had cancer, two days before we left. She so generously and bravely kept the news to herself, not wanting us to worry about her and cancel our trip. It was the best trip of our lives, and my Mom was thrilled that we could experience the joy of going on safari and seeing giraffes, elephants and lions in the wild. It was on her first trip to Africa years ago, that she proclaimed that as her legacy, she would like to take her grandchildren travelling- this dream was even before she had any grandchildren. As she would say, “Wish it, dream it, do it”.

Life Lesson #3

Roll up Your Sleeves

My Mom was not afraid to get her hands dirty and roll-up her sleeves. Whether it was stuffing a turkey, changing a diaper, or volunteering on a school field trip, Mom was always there to help us out. She was there when each of our children was born and she was there at all of the important celebrations in their lives, including Lexi’s graduation from high school at the end of May, where Mom looked like a million bucks and couldn’t have been prouder. Mom led her own busy and fulfilling life, yet if we needed her, she was willing to drop everything and fly to wherever her family was living at the time- New Brunswick, Ottawa, Minneapolis, London, Mont Tremblant… she would arrive, recipes in hand, ready to help, with her sleeves rolled up.

Life Lesson #4

Brush Your Teeth

For those who knew my Mom well, you would know that teeth were very important to her. While growing up, brushing your teeth was as important as breathing in our house. Flossing was a must and regular trips to the dentist, a biannual ritual. Thanks to her diligence I did not have a filling until I was forty. Mom’s obsession with teeth continued with the grandchildren. You can imagine her horror when one of her grandsons came home from camp one year, having lost his toothbrush on day one, and did not brush his teeth for a month. So many people have remarked to me about my Mom’s brilliant and memorable smile. All those years of taking care of her teeth left a lasting impression. Brush your teeth.

Life Lesson #5

Stand up Straight

After teeth, posture was a close second in importance to Mom, in terms of physical appearance. Standing up straight did not only make you look better, but made you feel better and radiate confidence. My brother Derek’s perfect posture was her benchmark. Whenever one of the grandchildren dared to slouch in front of Nana, all she needed to say was, “Derek Freel” and shoulders were thrown back, and the chest was pressed up and out into the perfect stance. “Derek Freel”.

Life Lesson #6

Dig Deep

You have heard the saying, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going”. My Mom was tough and she could dig deep. At the same time, she was a wonderful cheerleader and always encouraged all of us to dig deep and be the best we could be. She attended countless hockey and soccer games, skiing and running races, and the grandchildren were always thrilled to have her in the stands. Mom’s enthusiastic cheering could be heard by all- it was sometimes embarrassing, yet at the same time always appreciated.  “Dig Deep” was her anthem. That final stretch of a running race somehow was easier, knowing that Nana was at the finish line, cheering the loudest.

Life Lesson #7

Pay Yourself First

Pay yourself first, was another of Mom’s mottos. She carefully managed her money, never over-spending, and always making sure to put money away to invest for her future. She wanted her savings to be working hard for her, as she hated “lazy money”. Mom made an effort to coach her grandchildren into saving their money and paying themselves first. I know that at the back of their minds when they feel their money burning a hole in their pockets, they will remember Nana and think twice about over-spending.

Life Lesson #8

Take the High Road

My Mom had a strong character and high ambitions and she did not have time for people who tried to stand in her way. If she did have differences with people, Mom would strive to take the high road, and not lower herself to their level. She did not have time for pettiness and nonsense. She strongly believed that eggs needed to be broken to make an omelette. She always took the high road and taught all of us to do the same.

Life Lesson #9

Make Lemonade

Another one of Mom’s sayings was, “When given lemons, make lemonade”. She was a positive person, who woke up most days with a smile on her face. She was thankful for that and in recent years remarked with some regularity how lucky she was to be such a happy person. Her cup was always half full, never half empty. No matter how many lemons were put in her path, she always found a way to make lemonade.

Life Lesson #10

Think of the Queen

This saying became famous with the grandchildren while on their big adventures with Mom and John.  Mom told the story about the time she was in a remote village in Nepal, and she had a massage that made her feel quite uncomfortable. Somehow a vision of the Queen, all regal and proper, gave her the fortitude to get through it. From then onwards, if Mom or any of us ever felt uncomfortable in a difficult or awkward situation, we always try to, “Think of the Queen”.

Tribute by Miriam Wells

In 1965 at the age of 23, Karen became a mom… my mom. My name is Miriam Wells, and I am the eldest of Karen’s three children. I want to thank you all for coming here today to honour my mom and the wonderful life she led for 71 years.

In May two years ago, my mom sent me a poem she had come across called The Dash that I have kept in the inbox of my computer ever since. I would like to share it with you:

The Dash by Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of his friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that she spent alive on earth…
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;
the cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard…
are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left.
That can still be rearranged

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real,
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
and more often wear a smile…
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy’s being read
with your life’s actions to rehash…
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent your dash?

I truly believe my mom can be proud of the way she spent her dash. As you will hear from others, she was a wonderful wife, sister, friend, co-worker, travelling companion, and bridge partner. For my sister, brother, and I, she was an incredible mother who lived her life to the fullest, setting an example for us to follow.

I have many happy memories from my childhood that shaped me into the adult I am today. My parents were avid and adventurous travellers. While we were not invited on their European jaunts with their friends, we loved hearing about their adventures. We were taken on trips across Canada because my parents felt it was important we see our own country before venturing further afield.

When I was 14, my parents found a family in France with a daughter my age with whom we could do an exchange. They bravely put me on an airplane to France to stay with a family we had never met for a month. Two years later, Lianne and I went to Holland and Germany for a month to stay with a family we had met on our trip to Western Canada. These experiences opened my eyes to other ways of life and began my lifelong love of travelling.

Years later, once I had children of my own, my mom was on a trip to Kenya. She was so moved by her experiences there that she decided that once her grandchildren were old enough, she would take them to Africa. Subsequently, my mom and John went on many trips around the world, and by the time the kids were old enough for their adventures, new destinations were chosen.

• My eldest son, Fraser, went with his cousin Lexi to Egypt.
• My son, Adam, went with his cousin Jack to India.
• And a few years ago, my daughter, Darcy, went with her cousin Ross to Thailand.

My children are so lucky not only to have visited these incredible countries and to have had their eyes opened to other ways of life, but to have spent this time with their Nana and Poppa. They all have so many special memories of this time together. I hope someday that Dave and I can do the same with our grandchildren.

Another huge part of my life growing up was spending time with my family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were a big part of our life. We had so many fun times together! Also special was the time just the five of us spent together, whether at Caledon every Saturday and Sunday all winter skiing, at a cottage in Sundridge every summer for two weeks, or just in my parents’ king-size bed watching The Waltons.

My Mom continued to be dedicated to her family once we were grown and married with children of our own. Despite the fact that I have spent the last 20 years in New Brunswick, my mom has made every effort to be as involved in our lives as possible. She spent every other Christmas with us, helping Dave fine-tune his turkey roasting skills. My Mom came for as many birthdays as she could, always making the kids extra special cakes. My Mom and John came to Rothesay to give Dave and me a week every spring to go on a holiday. She deserved a special prize for the May that she was here when our street flooded due to the high waters of the Kennebecasis and Saint John rivers. They sandbagged around the house, and my mom even went to Sobeys to borrow milk crates to put our furniture on in the basement. Her reward was being interviewed for CBC’s National news—my mom always loved to public speak!

Food has always been an important part of our life. I might not have appreciated all the special meals growing up, but I certainly did as an adult. Going to visit my mom always meant an incredible meal. When my mom visited me in New Brunswick, she always brought recipes so that she could cook for us. While I like to cook, it was such a treat to have dinner made for us. Living in New Brunswick, I had to learn to become a better cook because most often people entertain in their homes rather than go out for dinner. I always knew I had my cooking coach only a phone call away if I wasn’t sure what to do.

Like my mom, I tear recipes out of magazines—I even helped her organize all of hers one year! We always laughed when we had torn out the same recipe. This happened just this summer when I visited my mom in July. She had made these delicious butter pecan squares. John printed out the recipe for me, but I discovered that I had cut out the same one already. So many of my recipes have my mom’s comments on them. I will miss her guidance in the kitchen.

The world has lost a happy, vibrant, adventurous, interesting, and interested person. Thank you for coming today to help us honour her dash—a well-lived and well-loved life.

Tribute by Lexi Hill

Nana was our biggest cheerleader. Through good and bad times, she was by our side with words of encouragement. Thinking back to my first year of high school, I remember stressing about making new friends and not doing well in my classes. Nana was by my side every Sunday dinner with words of encouragement, no matter how upset or angry I was. Nana was always there to tell me she loved and always believed in me.

No matter where we were, she was always cheering us on with her “dig deep” chant. Any time we were feeling down during a match or race, we would look up at Nana cheering us on, and this motivated us to keep fighting.

A message still resonating with me is when she told me, “People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” She would say this to me as friends came in and out of my life as they do in adolescent years. If I could tell her one thing now, it would be that she will be with me for my entire life. She was there when we were born and will remain in our hearts forever. Because of Nana, we are all better people, and we will never forget her.

Tribute by Ross Hill

My name is Ross Hill and I want to talk to you about my grandmother. My Nana.

My Nana came to the hospital in Ottawa, just after I was born. She brought Lexi and Jack with her, and they sang Happy Birthday all the way to the hospital. She liked to tell me that story every year on my birthday.

When I was six, Nana asked me what kind of birthday cake I would like. I replied, “May I have a chocolate cake, with vanilla icing, in the shape of a molecule?” She responded by saying, “I’ll see what I can do.” She did love cooking, especially birthday cakes.

I was at camp this year when Nana was sick. She wanted me to stay at camp, rather than come home for her final days. Before she went into the hospital she purchased my birthday gift, a book about Hyenas, which she had read about in the Globe and Mail. She was so happy that I got to go to Africa and go on a safari. She loved to travel and she passed this love onto me.

When I was eleven, Nana brought my cousin Darcy and me to Thailand. We had so much fun, just Nana, Poppa, Darcy and me. It was a great experience and I wouldn’t have had it without my grandparents’ benevolence. Wherever Nana went, she always treated people with respect. I liked that about her.

The thing that I will miss most about Nana is how she cheered for me at races. She’d yell, “Woo hoo, dig deep!!” It is safe to say that she was a little crazy!

In the end, it will be the little things that we all remember. Whether it be her phrases, such as “Dig deep”, or “Think of the Queen”, her skills at playing bridge, her smile or her birthday cakes… it is these little things that make her so hard to lose.

The Sisters’ Tribute

Delivered on behalf of the Calvert sisters by Miriam Rogers

Karen was our cherished and beloved sister. It is my honour to speak today about Karen and the sisters’ early years, the “Growing Up in Brampton Years”- the formative years that set the stage for life after Brampton.

Childhood for us was an idyllic experience. We were part of two clans: the second-generation Calverts with five siblings (two sons and three daughters) and their first -generation parents who had migrated from England to Brampton; and the Swintons, a fourth-generation family of mixed British ancestry. Our mother was one of nine girls raised in Caledon East. The Swinton grandparents moved to the rolling hills of their summer cattle farm in Hockley Valley with their main home in small-town Stayner. Whichever venue, we loved family events hosted by our gregarious Grandpa Swinton and the opportunity to get together with this huge branch of our family.

Imagine our earliest years in the Calvert embrace… We lived in a kind of enclave—a compound of sorts at the north end of town, right on Hwy 10 with grandparents at the top of the hill. Our family was one door away, separated by the northern block of greenhouses. My dad Jack’s siblings’ homes were all within the block: next door was Aunt Mabel’s family; beside them, Aunt Eileen’s family; diagonally across the road in the big farmhouse was Uncle Jim’s family; then finally sandwiching it off was our Aunt Floss and her husband, a whole block to the south.

Talk about safety and security but also talk about fun for children. We had the farm out behind Uncle Jim’s place, the sawmill, the river and the flatlands, and the barn with a great hayloft. We had Clydesdale horse teams with teamsters and their open wagons to ride. We explored the upper and lower greenhouses with their countless long aisles and green space between the greenhouses kept tidy by grazing sheep. It was an oversize family garden to scavenge. There was the ritual of going to our Grandpa Calvert’s cool basement to select a dozen fresh eggs collected from the family’s henhouse, or the shelling-bees of bushels of peas at the big house supervised by our aunts. These were all part of the summer and fall preserving rituals—though nothing was so scary as the first time Karen and I opened our fridge only to be looking into the eye sockets of a bloodied sheep’s skull waiting for cooking.

Yes, we were part of a self-sustaining agricultural family with an expansive, on-site playground. Our best friends were our cousins, and when they deserted the compound for homes a distant 3 to 6 blocks away, we had the good fortune of new neighbours, the Simpsons and the Hays, who moved into those homes and became our lifelong friends. Sisters, cousins, and neighbours, we had the most exciting, challenging games of hide-and-seek or skill-testing scavenger hunts that only ended when the summer sun went down.

Our Calvert aunts were our second mothers; they baked and cooked for us and encouraged us to join them for outdoor afternoon tea in one or the other’s backyard. Aunt Mabel was known for her beautiful summer readings of chapter books. Could Black Beauty ever be more alive!

Karen through this period was our “Dutchie,” affectionately named so by our dad for her golden braids and big, forthright personality. She was not the oldest—that was Linda, who was responsible and reserved—while Karen was the one who automatically took charge and set the bar high for our fun. More than the rest of us, Karen went outside the family for friendship; she needed lots of people. She did still play with and try to lead her female cousins in ever-challenging activities. Once, she dared a couple of us to enter the greenhouse men’s washroom, clearly a private out-of-bounds place. When we didn’t take her up on it, she investigated herself and reported back on the strange little showers; we just had to see. We girls now knew about urinals.

Timeless, blissful summers didn’t go on forever. We were part of a working family, and we seriously identified with the family business. Some of us shadowed our dads at work; we could go to the office and listen, talk to the men in the shipping room, or do the rounds of the greenhouses or farms with our dad while the day’s orders were given. There was always mealtime to talk about the Calvert business—who did what and how, and the dynamics of our grandparents’ roles, brothers Jack and Jim, and the three brothers-in-law. We loved talking to the men and women who were employed in the business, intrigued by their various European backgrounds.

Pretty soon we were carving out our own relationships and interests with these adults. My recollection is that Karen began punching the time clock for a couple of weeks during the summer when she was nine. That summer she and I also had a day camp experience, and it was then I began to realize how very different she was from me. Karen couldn’t get enough of camp; she loved everybody. She wanted to win the contest for the kid who could tread water the longest in the muddy Etobicoke Creek. She loved every activity offered: crafts, art, singing. As for me, on the second day, I talked the milkman into letting me ride back into town with him so I could get back home to the familiar territory I loved.

From camp, Karen expanded her world to Brownies and Guides, making new friends and contacts with adults who would help her earn more badges. Then there was our aunt who taught her how to make desserts. Karen’s love of baking started young and lasted a lifetime. That was Karen: eager to learn, eager to socialize, but something more…

I recall her forming a friendship with a rather precocious, slightly older girl from a disadvantaged neighbourhood family. Maybe Karen was turning eleven; in any case, she was planning her birthday party and wanted to invite this girl. Our dad gave her a flat “NO.” Karen quickly retorted that he was being unfair and, with an accusative flair, suggested he didn’t feel her friend was good enough. Karen held her ground. Let me tell you, that was not an era when a child challenged the authority of her father, especially in a household of girls and a wife dominated by said authoritarian man. Ah, the beginning of Karen’s sensitivity to those with less, to the biases of others, and to social justice.

Karen began to blossom in other ways. With the onset of puberty, she became another species in my eyes. She cut off those golden braids and stored them away in a drawer for the next 20 or 30 years. It wasn’t only the braids that changed; she became a beautiful, shapely blond teenager with a real woman’s body while, to my chagrin, I remained a skinny-legged, flat-chested, 90-pound 12-year-old. How could such different creatures be sisters, let alone friends? Well, for a few years, we knew it was best if we simply kept out of each other’s way.

Throughout the early period, there was always our mother’s Swinton side of the family. Sunday dinners in Caledon East, Orangeville, Brampton, or Stayner made us feel so worldly. It was my mother and her eight sisters who modelled their sisterly devotion for us. These Swinton aunts, their husbands, and all their children had a once-a-year Niagara Falls reunion when our grandparents would return from their annual winter months in St. Augustine, Florida. Grandpa would rent suites in the Sheraton Brock Hotel—oh, the magic of it all. Our grandfather was enormously big-hearted and generous, a shopper who returned with a new Easter outfit for each of his daughters and each of his grandchildren.

By Brampton High School grade 13 for Karen, our secure world was falling apart. Our mother was ill and dying of cancer. That Fall, days after our mother’s death, Karen was off to McMaster, never to live with her sisters or in Brampton again. In her first year, she floundered. She repeated her year, got back to work, and successfully completed her undergraduate program. She blitzed in and out of our lives, not so unusual for a young, gregarious person seeking her identity.

Magically, by her final year of university, Karen and I rediscovered each other. The first time she visited me at my university, I vividly remember experiencing her as quite worldly, self-assured, and newly, quietly thoughtful. I, too, was finding myself, and we were at a new stage: the beginning of our lifelong, loving, adult relationship.

In early adulthood, Karen became the helpmate and mentor to each of her younger sisters.

• For Victoria, as an 8 or 9-year-old when Karen was home for a visit, she matter-of-factly showed her little sister how to make a favourite dessert. Another time, when Vicki told Karen about a rather mean classmate, there was a lesson on quiet self-assertion—a lesson never forgotten.
• For me, there was joining Karen and living with her in Hamilton after my third year of university. We worked together at the Family and Juvenile Court as Probation Officers. My first important summer job was thanks to my sister who was already there and made sure I was offered the job.
• For Delia, short on money after four years at Western and needing a new wardrobe for her first job as a high school teacher, Karen had the solution. By then, Karen was a mother of two young children and had taught herself how to make her own clothing. She suggested Delia save money and make herself an outfit or two. Karen happily passed her new skills to Delia.
• For Linda, our most serious and studious sister, Karen was always the counterpart who demonstrated there was time for play.

As we each grew and moved on, Brampton was in the distance, but wonderful memories were in our hearts. We were still guided along by our proud father, and his wife, our stepmother Ruth.

In adulthood, you may remember Karen mostly referred to me as “Sister Miriam.” Those who didn’t know of the familial relationship wondered if I was part of a religious order. No, ours was a shared sisterhood, a different kind of order: one of friendship, motherhood, grandparenting, and our early days as youthful seniors.

Dear sister Karen, you were so competent, so caring, so loving. You were counted upon to entertain us and especially behave with me in over-the-top, outrageous ways. We—all your sisters, our families, our cousins, dear Brampton friends, and your many circles of friends—are all richer for knowing you. You will forever be present in our hearts.

Tribute by Morag Kinchlea (Friend – Travel)

Hi, I’m Morag Kinchlea.

The first major trip that my late husband, Dennis, and I took after our retirement was in 1988 to China, along with our friends Bill and Barb Laws. During the long flight, there was time for John and Karen to become acquainted with Bill and Barb and, on arrival in China, with Dennis and me. Our first meal in China almost meant the end of our friendship before it began, as Dennis and John fought over the meat as it floated in the greasy boiling water in the fondue dish. Why they fought over it is still a mystery to me.

The six of us quickly became a group within the group, and we started referring to ourselves as the “Gang of Six”—not very original, I admit, but one that we have hung on to over the years.

Our lunch the next day cemented our new friendship. Everyone managed to get enough to eat—and drink. As you know, we mustn’t drink the water in many countries. Our hosts, the Chinese, obviously had heard about our weak stomachs and provided us with beer at each meal, but not always enough. When it was obvious we hadn’t quite slaked our thirst, Karen went off to reconnoitre. Our fellow travellers were not as thirsty as we, and back Karen came with a number of half-empty bottles from the adjoining tables. There were three busloads in our group so there was lots of scope for Karen to ply her trade. Henceforth Karen was known as “Flossie the Barmaid,” and she took her duties seriously; we never went thirsty for very long.

Mention of “plying her trade”—does anyone here remember Karen without a project? Whether it was knitting in 3-ply or cross-stitching, her fingers were always busy, and those items she did for her grandchildren were of particular importance to her.

We took a number of trips with Karen and John and could always be assured that no matter what fate threw at us we would have a grand time. We always managed to find the funny side of things—what with the Chinese toilets, the chicken soup complete with feet, or the head with the staring eyes.

It was in India that, for the only time I can recall, Karen lost her equilibrium. Most hotels we stayed in were quite acceptable for the spoilt westerners that we all are. However, this particular day we drove up to our accommodation and there was a collective groan. We climbed the steps to the reception area and were duly given the keys to our rooms. To say we were disappointed is putting it mildly; the whole place was filthy and run down. As you can imagine, that completely threw Karen and she demanded a room change, and when that was no better, called for the room to be cleaned. The staff duly arrived with brooms which looked like the old corn curling brooms. They set to, and soon the dust was flying everywhere, leaving things worse than when they started. I’m not sure who had it worse, Karen and John with the dust or Dennis and I with pigeons in our bathroom. The solution to all this of course—you guessed it—beer, lots of it, to give the dust time to settle and to clear our throats.

Another experience in India was Karen and I sitting on the floor of a fabric shop while the assistant displayed materials for our examination. Karen was looking for material for an outfit to wear at her daughter’s wedding and she was indeed successful, leaving the store with a beautiful selection.

In Kenya, Karen was surrounded by children of the Massai. Karen loved her children and grandchildren dearly, but she also had love left over to bring a little joy into the lives of the less fortunate. It was in Kenya also that during a cruise on the river, we were plied with beer, wine, etc. It’s a good job that some of us stayed sober because a certain twosome needed help getting back to our accommodation. That twosome being Karen and Dennis.

South America: a game of bridge on Machu Picchu. Dennis and Karen outdoing themselves at the dessert trolley at Lake Titicaca.

These are a few light-hearted memories of some wonderful travel experiences with John and Karen, and there are many more of the good times together here at home in Canada. It is when you are faced with adversity that you know the full worth of friendship. When Dennis and I were both dealing with cancer, Karen and/or John would call to see how things were going. A number of times when it was Karen calling, she would announce “John and I are coming down on such and such a day and we’re bringing lunch.” “Coming down” wasn’t just around the corner; it was to London. To me, that speaks volumes about the Karen I knew and the Karen I dearly miss.

I do have the consolation of knowing that out there somewhere Karen and Dennis are up to some devilment and being good buddies just as they were during the twenty-odd years since our China adventure. Goodbye, dear friend, and God Bless.

Tribute by Leslie McMullen (Friend – Bridge)

“To Karen, Our Queen of Hearts”

I met Karen before I knew her. As fate would have it, we met at our farm property as she and her sister and their husbands wandered up our laneway, inquiring if we wished to sell our property. We chatted and years later, after meeting during bridge lessons, discovered that we had had that earlier encounter. Kismet? Fate? I call it good fortune as I would soon discover I now had a wonderful bridge partner, mentor, and friend.

Karen was a celebrity at John Rayner’s bridge club. She seemed to know everyone and partnered with diverse and discerning players. She was very much a lady, but if there were ever unbecoming behaviour at the bridge table, she was never afraid to speak up and remind people that manners came first.

My mother often said that alcohol and bridge bring out the true personality of a person. Bridge is more than a game; it is a reflection of one’s character. Karen was competitive but compassionate. She played with intensity but never aggression. Confident in her own abilities, she never belittled a partner or an opponent. After a hand gone wrong, there would always be the reminder that this, after all, was only a game.

Karen was an expert at artificial bids but there was nothing artificial about her. She was focused, competitive, keen, and ALWAYS supportive. Quick to help us with the rules and to understand a better bid, we all learned so much from her.

Away from the bridge club, our monthly duplicate bridge games, started six years ago by Candy Forster, became a beloved ritual. Her famous ‘Shall we play bridge?’ kept us on time and her discipline regarding treats on the table kept us in shape. However, if we were at her house, and if we were lucky, we might just be treated to some of her delectable baking.

We always had a summer celebration of lunch and bridge. For some reason, years ago, we decided to have a potluck lunch where every item had to start with the same letter. As soon as the lunch was planned, Karen would go to bed that night with her cookbooks, mulling over what delicacy she would bring this year. This year, the letter was “A” and, despite not feeling well, Karen baked us an Armenian Orange Cake. We are so grateful that she was able to join us in July for what, sadly, would be the last time.

Karen always made me feel special. She was an attentive listener, always interested in me and my family. She encouraged me to attempt a cross-stitch project for my new grandson, Adrien… just as she had done for each of her beloved grandchildren. I think, in her honour, I might just do that.

If there is a bridge game in heaven, we know Karen will be checking the time and letting everyone know that it’s time to get started!

Tribute by Carolyn Passmore (Neighbour – The Chase)

(Introduction by John: Twenty-four years ago, we moved to Mississauga, the first residents of a new townhouse complex where Karen served as president for its first two years. Later she headed for 14 years a committee of hard-working women who raised thousands of dollars and volunteered countless hours to make 1724 The Chase a very special community. Here to tell us more is her very good friend and neighbour for the last 17 years, Carolyn Passmore.)

I am Carolyn Passmore. I live at The Chase, where John and Karen became original owners some 24 years ago. I am so honoured today to present a tribute to a great lady, from the perspective of both a neighbour and, I am proud to say, a close friend of 17 years. Thank you, John, for inviting me to tell the important role that Karen played in our community.

Karen became the first President of our condo at The Chase some 24 years ago and set the tone for years to come, leading others through those first tough steps, resolving developer issues, setting up and enforcing the Rules, and carrying out multiple projects like the perimeter iron fence, always with a focus on elegance.

I came to the Chase in ’95 and was delighted to share a central garden with John and Karen, backing right onto their unit. When I retired a couple of years later, Jack Smith, the Chase Condo President, invited me onto the board. At the same time, he asked Karen to establish an Exterior Improvements Advisory Committee to be the liaison from the community to the board, to raise funds to enhance the 7-year-old property, and overall to improve condo life in the Chase.

I was very fortunate to be the Board Director assigned to work with that Committee. Karen as the chairperson, and I, worked closely in harmony together for 14 years, with almost daily contact. Lots of work and lots of rewards!

Karen formed a group of wonderful, hardworking volunteers (many of whom are here today). As well, social events were ongoing: community ones like the Harvest Festivals in the Meadow complete with Auctions, Christmas “Light the Lights” parties, a Millenium Street party, and lots of committee get-togethers. Even the Annual Garage Sales were fun.

Under her determined leadership for 14 years, they raised thousands of dollars to convert our community into an elegant showpiece, one garden and one project at a time, even a progressive colour scheme changes from the 1980s greens to the current taupe. There were always seasonal decorations that earned admiration. She earned the respect and appreciation of everyone at the Chase.

Even more importantly, because of her approach, it became a village unto itself, where people cared about each other. Who else do you know who would have a house party for a departing property manager, and dare to invite all 46 units to their home without batting an eye? Her home was open to all, and so was her heart. Small footnote here: fortunately, she had a hubby who supported her philosophy. He was a great bartender and so much more!

Karen was an unforgettable lady and a tremendous leader with so many positive traits; I knew I could not talk about all of them today. I chose as the most outstanding one to me besides her positive attitude: her integrity. She put herself on the line to fight for the rights of others, time and time again, insisting on fair treatment for all. Someone once commented, “…she is like a Pit Bull with Lipstick.” We laughed heartily and decided that was such a very nice compliment.

Tribute by Mary Louise (Friend – Work)

Hi, I am Mary Louise and I am one of Karen’s friends.

In 1984 while working at Metro West Detention Centre, I first met Karen. I was bringing an inmate up to his parole hearing. The “West” was a maximum-security detention centre where the atmosphere is grim and where threats and violence rule. What I found odd about meeting Karen was that she was smiling. Yes, that big smile with those twinkling eyes—her trademark.

A few years later, when I started to work as a training officer at Bell Cairn Training Centre, we met again and became fast friends. Her office was across from mine. Karen was responsible for training Correctional Officers in Human Rights, Discrimination, and Harassment. At that time, from personal experience, the Ontario jails were rife with racism and sexism. Training human rights was a very tough job. Despite the adversarial environment, Karen always maintained her positive attitude, stayed true to her moral and ethical beliefs, and sincerely promoted equality, fairness, and tolerance; values by which she lived her life. As her co-trainer and colleague, she treated me with respect, showed patience while mentoring me, and valued my contributions despite my lesser years of experience.

In 1995, Karen was offered an early retirement package. Still dedicated to public service and feeling too young to retire, she decided to continue working in a training position in Orillia. Her dedication saw her commuting in rain, snow, sleet, and hail. After a particularly long week, having returned from Thunder Bay late on a Thursday night, her manager unreasonably demanded that Karen make the long snowy drive back to Orillia early the next morning. I remember her calling me in distress. Shortly thereafter, Karen decided to take some time off to re-assess her career. Just before her 55th birthday, she decided to retire.

Karen used to call me “My Friend” and she was a wonderful friend for over 26 years. I could always rely on her warm friendship, sage advice, shared laughter, and a good recipe! Karen was always in my corner, cheering me on in many of my life endeavours. She always showed interest in my family. Once when John and Karen had come over for dinner, Karen made a deal with my 3 daughters: if they turned 21 years old and did not have a tattoo, she would give them a cash gift. In honour of Karen, my daughters Avalon, Madeleine, and Sydney have agreed to honour their deal.

There are so many wonderful memories and shared moments with My Friend, but the one that hits home the closest is this act of love she gave me every year. Karen’s birthday was in April and mine is in May, so we always met in between to celebrate our birthdays. Often during these get-togethers, we talked about both growing up in large families. Once I told her that in my family during the month of May, there were 4 birthdays. My mom thought having 4 cakes so close together was not right. My mother decided that because our birthdays were two days apart, she would join them together. We would have one cake—her choice and on her day. On my big day, I would get a bowl of fresh pineapple. Even on my 16th birthday, I did not get my own birthday cake.

When Karen heard this, she announced that from now on as long as she was living, she would make me a birthday cake. And each year when we had our birthday dinner, she would arrive with a chocolate birthday cake in the trunk of her car ready to be transported into mine so that on my day, I would have my own birthday cake. Her actions were a prime example of the love she gave to her friends.

Like many of you, I will miss Karen very much, but I feel very blessed to have had her friendship and love over the past many years. Recently, I heard the following quote from Helen Keller:

“What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes a part of us.”

Tribute by Dave Forster (Friend – Food)

I warned Karen many times that she was flirting with danger. As a food chemist, I had several dietary suggestions that would surely improve her health, John’s health, and the health of her family and friends—anyone who was lucky enough to eat some of her desserts!

She continually used the wrong yellow fat spread! She used butter and not a healthy margarine! And especially for her baking and desserts! More mega errors! Where she surely could have made beautiful desserts with shortening, margarine, and non-dairy whip topping, she still used butter and cream! And wouldn’t you know it; she never would buy coffee whitener for me! I had to use that cream stuff!

It was always so funny when I suggested that she could do a little better by using substitutes for butter and dairy products. She would shudder from her head to her toes at the thought of using anything other than butter.

John’s Final Reflections

And so, this brings us to the final Chapter in Karen’s life—27 years in which I have been privileged to be with her… a time in which, from my obviously biased perspective, I really feel she came into her own. Indeed, for the last 16 years, she has enjoyed the freedom of retirement, and we have often said that for both of us, this has been the happiest phase of our lives and just how lucky we both felt.

So whereas initially disappointed to lose her job, Karen very quickly embraced the then London Life ad: “Freedom at 55” earning the nickname from son Derek: “KCB.”Namely: Kids (grandchildren), Cakes (cooking), and last but not least, Bridge!

She revelled in her nine grandchildren, making intricate cross-stitches for each at birth, and then Christmas cross-stitches for each of them. She completed the last for 4-year-old Rusty little more than a month ago. She also made cross-stitches for her four step-grandchildren. The last pictures taken of her—on August 2 (the day of her last radiation treatment)—show the absolute joy she was having from a visit with her youngest grandchildren.

In addition to being a gourmet cook, Karen was renowned for her baking—especially her Cakes. To this day people rave about her particularly moist Carrot cake (the secret ingredient: pineapple! with its basket-weave icing—People always asked: “How do you do that?!”) and her oh-so-rich double chocolate cake. The latter often resulted in heated bidding wars at 1724 The Chase fund-raising activities. Clarke Kane can especially attest to this! She made wedding cakes for all three of my sons and neighbour Marg Race commissioned her to make the cakes for the weddings for her two daughters… such that I remember us delivering the ones for a wedding at The Windsor Arms which charged the bride and groom more for cutting and serving than the cost of the cake itself!

As husbands of the Sisters will confirm, playing Bridge is a passion with the Calvert women. For many years now Karen has been playing duplicate bridge and was 3.18 points shy in her Gold points to become a Life Master. Ironically the Mississauga team that she was scheduled to play with in the London Regional finals (this while she was undergoing radiation) won 7+ Gold points…. Go figure! Karen’s sharp mind combined with innate teaching skills led to her being nick-named Audrey—after Audrey Grant, the author of the American Contract Bridge League’s authorized teaching texts.

Over the years, #10 at 1724 The Chase underwent many changes, Karen invariably announcing: “I know what our next project will be…” “Uh huh”, was my reply.

But one thing that was never in dispute was her need for a dog, starting with:

• Tuppence, a black-and-white cocker spaniel, who she got as a puppy;
• Dylan, a red-and-creamy white Welsh Springer Spaniel, who went missing while we were travelling in South Africa, found after 39 days and subsequently “immortalized” in the book: Dylan’s Endeavour; and now
• Zoe, an almost totally black Cocker Spaniel/poodle cross (OK – a Cocker-Poo) who burns energy until it is going out of style.

But while she always loved being at home, she also enjoyed travel. Now whereas Karen had travelled quite extensively in the past, starting in 1988 shortly after moving to 1724 The Chase, we began our big travels—less luxurious and more adventurous than she was previously used to!

For example:

• Travelling by dug-out canoe in teeming tropical rains to spend a night with former head-hunters in North Borneo.
• With two other couples (who we originally met on our first trip to China), spending a night in a bamboo hut north of Hanoi with pigs quartered below.
• Driving for two days in Tibet and staying in roadhouses, one an absolute firetrap such that came the next day she was actually brushing her teeth outside in the street!
• Spending three nights with two grandchildren on a felucca (that’s a small Egyptian sailboat—so no bathroom) and wondering why when we landed and visited a temple all the other tourists smelled so good!
• With two more grandchildren, hiking in Northern Thailand, riding elephants, and bamboo-rafting (also spending a day with them at a Thai Cooking School!).
• Our travels also included a three-week safari in Kenya, visiting Machu Picchu, the Galapagos, Easter Island, and the Marquesas in Polynesia via a cargo/passenger ship. In all, we travelled to more than 50 countries together…

And then there were our trips in the U.S. In April, following a wonderful family time with Karen’s Swinton cousins in North Carolina, on June 11 we set off to Rothesay, New Brunswick to see grandson Adam give the valedictorian speech. Yet we only got as far as Edmundston, when the wheels fell off. Karen spent two nights in the Regional Hospital there before we turned round, came back to Mississauga, and went to Credit Valley Emergency the next day, where an MRI was ordered for herniated discs… only to learn the dreadful news about the cancer that was to take her life.

Finally, I would like to say this:

The outpouring of sympathy to me and the family has been incredible. But the one card that especially got the tear ducts going depicted a bemused elderly woman performing the splits on the promenade at Blackpool, England in 1955 with the words (a quotation from Abraham Lincoln): “It’s not the years in your life that count, it’s the LIFE in your years.”

Inside it read:

“John,

I thought this card sums up the way Karen lived her life – full. She lived simply, yet passionately in what she believed in and that spirit will live on in her children and grandchildren.

I feel really fortunate that we were able to spend the time we did with you and Karen. The many visits over the years, the lunches and dinners at 1724 The Chase and most recently the week I had with Karen. We had a really enjoyable time, cooking, reading in the evenings, taking kids to school and chatting quite a bit of love, life and loss.

Karen’s baking (Lazy Date Cake, brownies just to name a few favourites) will continue to be part of our lives on a regular basis, as will working on our posture (!), reading and enjoying a good meal with special people.

Know that whenever you need to feel close to Karen there will always be a part of her with us… We will all miss her immensely.”