“A mother holds her children’s hands for a while, their hearts forever”. ~Author Unknown

I usually post on Sunday evenings, but today’s post is special.  It’s a tribute to my mom, Pauline Mary Schaub, who would have turned 100 years old today. 

The stork brought a bundle of joy to Minnie and Omer Godard on Valentine’s Day 1926. 

I have mentioned in countless blog posts that I am fortunate to be the keeper of all the maternal family albums.  Most of these vintage photos are in great shape – only a few are tattered or stained.   This treasure trove of family photos makes it easy to substantiate my written memories of Mom and Nanny (my grandmother) in my blog posts.  Many years ago Mom and I pored over each page in the old family album.  Each photo had been tucked into black photo corners by Nanny and Mom, but there were also loose family photos we placed into a brand-new album while Mom recounted her memories about long-gone family members I’d never met.

So, let’s start with the backstory.

My grandmother, born November 19, 1906, was known by the moniker “Minnie” (short for “Wilhemina”) her entire life.  She had eight siblings.  The Klein family owned a farm in Ariss, Ontario, Canada.  Minnie (left) and her sister Loretta, …

… not enamored with farm life, traveled to “The Big City” a/k/a Toronto, where the pair obtained factory jobs, then met their respective husbands soon thereafter.

Minnie married Omer Godard, who hailed from Saint-Jérôme, Quebec.  The expression “opposites attract” applies here.  Omer was argumentative, a bully, wherein Minnie was more of a gentle soul.   Perhaps Minnie was enamored by Omer’s dashing and debonair style, as you see him here, dressed up and posing near his “wheels”, a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, but his true demeanor belied that positive description, a tale I’ve told before in this very forum. 

I have often pondered over this photo.  Did Nanny ride behind Omer, her arms hanging on tightly to his torso, a glimpse of her bloomers peeking out as the pair zipped down the road?  I sure wish I’d asked Nanny that question, but now it’s too late of course – she passed away 40 years ago, on January 29, 1986. 

Minnie and Omer married in 1925 and soon a baby was on the way.

The year was 1926 ….

Once it was warm enough, Baby Pauline was wheeled outside in her carriage …

… and/or placed onto a blanket on the grass.

Note:  The above two vintage photographs did not age well – they were loose in a box, but I decided to use them anyway.  I think the rest of the photos are in good shape considering their age.

Minnie and Omer posed with their bundle of joy in this photo.

A camera was handy to capture these images of toddler Pauline.

During her first Winter, she was bundled up in this furry coat …

Then Spring arrived and a few photos were taken near a tulip garden, including a tender moment between father and daughter. (Check out the old car in the background in the second photo.)

Here was another bonding moment between Omer and young Pauline.

Looking at this photograph reminds me of my childhood, as my parents had several professional portraits taken through the years.

I don’t remember where this photo was taken – interesting dress though.

Soon young Pauline was attending school.

There were several school photos taken at St. Helen’s Parish School, like the featured image and these two below.

Then there was First Communion at St. Helen’s Church.

These photos were from Pauline’s First Communion, two by herself …

… then, after the veil was removed, Pauline posed again, along with her parents.

A few years ago I wrote a post about Mom wherein I mentioned her prayer book and prayer cards …

St. Helen’s Catholic Church, at the top of St. Claren’s Avenue, my grandparents’ longtime residence, was where Nanny worshipped, Pauline was baptized and attended the Parish school and was married, where I was baptized and funeral services were held for my grandmother.

But I’m getting ahead of myself a little here.

In a heartbeat, an accident changed Pauline’s life forever.

In July 1937, in a careless childish moment, Pauline ran between two parked cars.  The driver, a soldier home on leave, didn’t see her, put his car in gear, hitting her.  The car’s high front grille broke a few of Pauline’s ribs and tore her stockings.  She was rushed to the doctor’s office where her broken ribs were taped up and young Pauline was scolded by her mother for tearing her stockings.  The soldier’s insurance company representative went to my grandparents’ house, asking them to sign off on the paperwork that Pauline was fine and they did so.

Fast forward a few months ….

Pauline had a minor ear infection at the time of the accident, but suddenly she became very sick and spiking a fever, so she went back to the doctor’s office, then to Toronto’s Hospital for Sick Children. The ear infection, combined with the broken ribs, caused osteomyelitis, an infection of the bone.  Pauline was hospitalized for the next four years, sometimes in a full body cast.    

During her stay at the Hospital for Sick Children, in the Summer months, Pauline was transferred to Thistletown, a satellite branch of the hospital, where long-term patients could convalesce outside, weather permitting.  This a picture of Pauline in her hospital bed outside.

At the hospital, the rest of the time, she was placed in a ward with other children, some with polio.  Pauline’s parents were on the hook for all medical bills/expenses since they had waived any liability for the soldier that injured her.  Her father often complained bitterly how expensive Pauline’s moment of foolishness had cost the family.  My grandparents were on a payment plan to the hospital for years:  $0.25 weekly to pay off that four-year hospital stay.

Pauline would have a total of 42 operations in her lifetime, all but one (a C-section for me) were orthopedic related.

Pauline decided on a business career.

The young patients had visiting teachers and excellent schooling during their hospital stay.

After settling in at home after her release from the hospital, pictured here with my grandmother and their beloved dog “Bozo” …

… Pauline decided she would forego further traditional schooling and proceed right to business school.  She had a benefactor, a businesswoman named Mrs. Firby from a local Soroptimist’s Club, an international organization in which their credo is to “provide women and girls with access to the education and training they need to achieve economic empowerment.”  Mrs. Firby took Pauline under her wing, sponsored her business school studies, travel expenses to/from home to Shaw’s Business College and bought her a wardrobe of business clothing after graduation for her first job.  Mrs. Firby was generous to her, providing little gifts of jewelry, or scarves and also was my mom’s confidante.  When Mrs. Firby met Max Schaub in 1950, she told Pauline “I don’t like him and you can do better.”

Pauline had another faithful friend – his name was Harry.

Harry, like Mrs. Firby, was kind and thoughtful and looked out for Pauline.  He painted this painting her first day of her first job.

In this blog post from 2022, I told how Harry gifted Pauline with a beautiful silver locket which you see in this painting.

You may recall I was given the silver locket to wear for Valentine’s Day many years ago and it fell off my neck into the snow, never to be found, even after the snow melted.  I was heartsick about it.  Years later I was given Mom’s birthstone ring, an amethyst, in a silver setting.  I was twisting the ring around on my finger at the movie theatre and lost it.  When the movie was over, we asked that the cleaning crew be on the lookout for the ring, but it was never found. 

While I could never replace the silver locket, I did try to replicate the amethyst ring and bought one when I began working. I gave it to Mom who said that was unnecessary and told me to wear it.

The wedding.

My parents met in 1950 when Pauline was sitting on the front porch of her home and Max walked over and asked for directions.  He had just moved here from Germany.  They were married in 1953 in St. Helen’s Church.

I arrived three years later.  I was only 4 pounds 11 ounces (2.126 kilograms) and was in an incubator until I gained some weight and could leave the hospital.

This is Mom and me – our first photo together.

This photo of Mom and me was taken a month later, in May 1956, in my grandparents’ backyard.

Mom’s 50^th birthday.

Nanny and my Aunt Frances, (adopted at birth after 11 years of Minnie trying to get pregnant), lived together for decades.  After we moved to the U.S. in 1966, in between visits to Toronto, Mom phoned them every Wednesday night at 7:00 p.m.. 

I decided that Mom’s 50^th birthday should be a special celebration, so I wrote a letter to Nanny and Frances to ask if they would come over on the Greyhound bus on February 13^th to surprise Mom.  We communicated our plans by phone at the diner where I worked through college so Mom would not find out.  I did not tell my father as I didn’t want him to blab the secret.  We were excited about this surprise and I arranged to meet them at the Greyhound Terminal and, when I would normally return from school, they would walk up into the kitchen instead of me.  My boss, Erdie, picked up the birthday cake as the bakery closed before we could get there, so we made a pit stop for flowers and to pick up the cake and so they could meet Erdie. 

I don’t know why I didn’t have the pocket camera handy to capture Mom’s surprise at seeing Nanny and Frances.  Nanny walked in first, holding a small vase of flowers, followed by Frances holding the birthday cake.  Tears trickled down Mom’s cheeks.

But I did have the camera handy the next day, Saturday, February 14^th, when Mom posed with the flowers and cake …

… and when we went out to dinner at Hungarian Village in Detroit.  They had a gypsy band and a strolling violinist who serenaded Mom. 

Once again, Mom was moved to tears. I misted up a little while preparing this post recalling her birthday celebration weekend.  It really doesn’t seem possible this was a half-century ago.

My father abandoned our family.

I was an only child, doted on by my parents, especially my father when I was young, just as my mom appeared to be Daddy’s little princess. 

But, on Christmas Day 1983, six months after their 30^th wedding anniversary, amid unwrapping presents, my father announced he no longer wanted to be part of the family. However, he failed to disclose these details:  he had stopped at the bank and removed all the money from their joint account and did likewise in a joint annuity account. We later learned he had written to the insurance company that held the annuity, pleading hardship and telling them his wife was out of the country tending to her sick mother, citing this as the reason she could not provide her signature.  Then he left the county to return to his homeland, Germany. 

Mom could not go to work at this point.  She didn’t drive and time had taken its toll, exacerbating her existing orthopedic and mobility issues.  She was on the cusp of turning 58 years old, thus she was too young to collect Social Security or receive Medicare and was told after an independent medical exam that she WAS fit to work, so could not have medical expenses/medications paid by Medicaid.  Thankfully the house was paid for long before, so we soldiered on together, none the worse for the havoc my father had wreaked.  I became the breadwinner in the house and took over all the tasks previously done by my father. 

Mom and me.

Yes, we were very close – I wrote one of my favorite posts ever, on Mother’s Day 2019, when it was 10 years since I had celebrated Mother’s Day with her.

I have written posts about my fond memories, taken a few strolls down Memory Lane and wrote about her “Momisms” a word I coined for all the wisdom she gave me through the years.

This was the last photo of us taken in the Summer of 2003. We each had a dental appointment and our dental hygienist, Barbara, pulled up next to us in her new shiny red Corvette, a birthday present to herself. She asked me to take photos of her posing next to it, which I did, then she told Mom and I to stand near the car and she sent us this photo afterward. I was grateful for that as we rarely, if ever, had photos of the two of us taken.

We had our occasional spats – two people living under the same roof, no matter how much they love one another, will never agree, nor share the same opinions on everything 100% of the time, especially when there is a 30-year age gap.  My mother kept the house immaculate until she got older and more and more of her tasks were shouldered by me.  I was content to let things slide since I was always busy at work, sometimes worked weekends, was dealing with the outside chores, etc.  I even wrote a tongue-in-cheek post about housecleaning.

When we returned to Canada to visit my grandmother and then my Aunt Frances (who passed away from kidney cancer in 1990), we always stopped in Amherstburg, a picturesque town not far from the Canada/USA border, before heading home.  We went there sometimes for a Sunday drive as well.  There was a little pond where we fed the ducks and a great restaurant called “Ducks on the Roof” so named because the restaurant had originally been a hunting club and had duck decoys everywhere.  The new owner took many of the duck decoys and put them on the roof – thus the restaurant’s name. 

My mom collected duck decoys as well and that love of ducks played a part in Mom’s final resting place.  She wished to have her ashes scattered in Canada and had told me this long ago.  This was problematic as I no longer had a passport, nor a special driver’s license permitting me to cross the border to accomplish this sad task.  It was serendipity that I met an American woman, married to a Canadian, who lived in Windsor, Ontario.  She crossed the border three times a week as she worked in the area.  She was a little nervous about doing this, but discussed it with her prayer group first – they urged her to help me out. So, it was Sue who granted Mom’s wish and she scattered Mom’s cremains at sunset in Amherstburg.

She sent me photos of Mom’s final resting place – two of them are below.

I was very grateful for her doing this for me.  I am still in touch with Sue every Christmas when I thank her again for this kindness.

I couldn’t resist including one of my favorite nature photos, this Mama Duck and her one and only duckling.

My mom had a hard life and often said I was the best thing that happened to her.  She passed away on January 31, 2010, two weeks before her 84^th birthday, after a bout with sepsis due to a perforated bowel.

Thank you for reading this post if you are still here.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you!