I've completed my self-portrait as my contribution to the 'Missing You Monday' art journal project for which there will be an exhibit held at Loft 112 in Calgary this fall. More information about this project can be seen here. Though this COVID-19 time in our world has been extremely challenging, there have been positive aspects for me, such as unlimited time to paint and study. While I was painting the song 'Missing You' by John Waite kept running through my mind...it was released on my 18th birthday, also the day of my high school graduation
Missing You by John Waite Every time I think of you I always catch my breath And I'm still standing here And you're miles away And I'm wondering why you left And there's a storm that's raging Through my frozen heart tonight I hear your name in certain circles And it always makes me smile I spend my time Thinking about you And it's almost driving me wild And there's a heart that's breaking Down this long distance line tonight I ain't missing you at all Since you've been gone Away I ain't missing you No matter What I might say There's a message In the wire And I'm sending you this signal tonight You don't know How desperate I've become And it looks like I'm losing this fight In your world I have no meaning Though I'm trying hard to understand And it's my heart that's breaking Down this long distance line tonight I ain't missing you at all Since you've been gone Away I ain't missing you No matter What my friends say And there's a message that I'm sending out Like a telegraph to your soul And if I can't bridge this distance Stop this heartbreak overload I ain't missing you at all Since you've been gone Away I ain't missing you No matter What my friends say I ain't missing you I ain't missing you I keep lying to myself And there's a storm that's raging Through my frozen heart tonight I ain't missing you at all Since you've been gone Away I ain't missing you No matter What my friends say Ain't missing you I ain't missing you I ain't missing you I keep lying to myself Ain't missing you I ain't missing you I ain't missing you I ain't missing you I ain't missing you I ain't missing you Ain't missing you Oh no No matter what my friends might say I ain't missing you My grandmother came to Canada (from Genoa) on the Conte di Savoia. The Italian ocean liner’s maiden voyage between Genoa and New York was in the fall of 1932. My grandmother arrived in the winter of 1934 with their first child who was by then, 9 years old. During the seven years that her husband has been in Canada scrimping and saving for her to immigrate, my nonna has lived with her in-laws in the home I visited several times in Pozzo di Codroipo. This was a fairly common practice back then.
She hasn’t seen her husband since 1927 when he came to Canada to find a home and establish his business. After working in Coniston digging ditches and saving every penny he could earn, her husband has enough money to bring his wife and child to Sturgeon Falls, Ontario where he is renting space for his shoemaking shop and has an apartment for his family. Amalia is leaving her immediate family and everything she knows for an unknown land so far away.She will be at sea for several weeks on an ocean liner, the Conte di Savoia, an entirely new experience for her.Her 9 year old daughter will be her only companion. Will she be able to communicate with people she meets in America? She only speaks and understands Italian. How will she find her way to Canada from New York? It is easy for me to imagine all the doubts, the worries swirling in her head. Even much later, when she became my grandmother, my Nonna (Nonni) was a worrier. The family reunited. My mother is a baby so this was taken in early 1935. Second child born in Canada. The family is now complete. Probably 1938 or 39. By the end of the year in which she arrives in Canada, her second child, my mother, will be born. And then, she will be blessed with a third daughter later in her life. Her husband, a hard worker with a gentle soul loves their children with all his heart. He tells them stories and sings to them at night. He brings them skiing on nearby hills at the dock. By 1947, the family will own the building in which they live and in which my grandfather has his shoe shop. Business is booming after the war, and the young couple has dreams for their future. All those plans will be dashed. Amalia will be widowed in June 1947 while she herself, is in a Toronto hospital for surgery. The news is kept from her until she has recovered and returned home. The girls will clean and paint the two shops that the family owns on the main floor below their apartment. Mr. Fosty will rent and have his own shoe shop in their father's store. Next, a florist will rent from the family, and finally, Mr, Higgins will have his Canadian Tire store in the newly expanded space now including both shops. Amalia will have a comfortable life although she will work very hard. Her many friends will include some from Italy and Greece. They will help her and the family through the difficult times. She will encourage her girls to speak English to each other at home although she will always speak Furlan with them herself. On her own, she will learn to read and write English, and to understand some French. In the 60's, Amalia will move one more time to North Bay, only 20 minutes away from Sturgeon Falls. Her daughters will stay close by and look after her during her life. Her 6 grandchildren will write, call her, and visit often. She will meet her oldest great-grandchild and have many opportunities to get to know him before her death in 1987. She will lack for nothing although at times, she will be lonely. She will tell stories of regret...of not seeing her mother one more time, of not being by her mother’s bedside when she died, of not seeing her sisters, one who moved to France, and the other who remained in Italy. Her stories of war, recorded by me, her eldest granddaughter, will describe a frightening train ride during her girlhood to escape the bombing of northern Italy, leaving behind the men of the family. She will tell me of the loss of a young brother whose gravesite I visited in her village in 2006, 2008 and 2010. And from my mother and aunt, I will learn more about Nonni even years after she has left us. Hers is the story of many immigrants to Canada. It is the story of being welcomed and accepted, of making a new life for herself while keeping her Italian heritage in her home that is Canada. ~ Louise Primeau I'm thrilled to share that 'Agatha' is on her way to Vancouver for the 'Small Artwork Exhibition' which will be held August 17-30, 2020. The pieces will be available online through the Federation Gallery here.
My latest mini-eCourse is now available in my Etsy shop here. In college many, many years ago I was often referred to as ‘the flower painter’…it wasn’t because my work was necessarily the best, but rather because I enjoyed the process so much. My family has allergies which doesn’t allow me to bring flowers into my home, but I can enjoy them in my garden and in my artwork. I really like the fact that there is no perfection in them, and in fact, the imperfections just seem to add to their beauty.
This is Doris Alberta Howell, nee Gray. Doris (Do) was born February 8, 1910, to US immigrant parents, who had come to Taber, Alberta to take up a homestead just after the province was formed. She was the eldest of seven children, four born in Taber and three after the family relocated to Calgary in about 1917. Her mother, Lucy, was disappointed that her little baby girl wasn’t born “under the Stars and Stripes”, according to a letter her husband sent to their folks in Indiana when she was born.
She was a very vivacious, friendly young woman who formed lifelong friendships when a young girl in Calgary. At an Olivet Baptist church event, she met a handsome young man, Orville Howell (Bud), who also lived close to that church. Three years later she chose him to be her lifelong partner. They were married in her parents’ home at 1711-12 Avenue S.W. in Calgary, where the family gathered for many years afterward. The home is still standing. Bud and Do’s fantasy was to have a nice little family of two boys and a girl. After their sixth son was born, with no daughters, they decided ENOUGH! It became a family richly endowed with parental love, using a philosophy of “controlled chaos”. Every child in the neighbourhood was always welcomed into their home and loved to raid her cookie jar. Tragedy struck in 1945 when their third son, Jimmy, was drowned in the Bow River. Gram never really got over that tragedy – what mother could? She went on to welcome 5 very special daughters-in-law that she loved dearly, and become “Gram” to 12 grandchildren and several great-grandchildren, all of whom she loved and doted upon. She was a great listener and loved to spend hours talking on the phone. Her kitchen table was the center of her home where anyone was welcome to come and sit, talk, or join in a game of crib or bridge. Family meant everything to her. She died at age 91, three weeks after a great family birthday held at her home, where she still lived. She was an amazing person – much loved by family and friends! ~ Kathleen Howell |
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