When Ninety looks Seventy-Nine

birthdaycuttingsmallI spent the past weekend on Salt Spring spending part of that acknowledging the 90th birthday of my former landlady and friend, Marjorie.

She first came to Salt Spring when she was 19, to visit her grandparents who had bought property on Walker’s Hook Road, four acres on the corner of Hedger where she has lived full time since 1979. She lives  in a house that her husband built, a little ways in front of the cabin that has been used for decades by friends, relatives and for those in need of a small but decent retreat.  My retreat lasted 15 months, or was it 18? I can’t recall.


I found Marjorie because I put an ad on the Salt Spring Exchange that read something along these lines: Where art thou my housing Robin Hood, one who is house rich and who would like to share that abundance with one who is house poor and doesn’t need much in the way of architectural uniqueness to be thrilled? It wasn’t exactly those words but it was similar and it worked.


No sooner had I put that ad out on the list of all lists than Robin Hood, dressed a little like  Marion, responded to me saying that her next door neighbour was interested in speaking to me.  If you want something, just ask for it. Fling your wishes about like confetti after a wedding, way back, when that sort of thing was allowed, in the old days, the sixties and seventies, when attire was loud and crazy and life was way more fun, although I was only a child so I suppose it’s not really a fair comparison.Marjoriebestonesmall

When I showed up and met Marjorie, no more than 5 feet one inches tall, she was direct and spunky. A smart cookie.   I have a history of older land ladies with chutzpah, foreshadowing, I hope. The chutzpah part, not the landlady part.


It’s not as if they were the late Emily Carr or anything, they weren’t that funky, but they had their strengths and uniqueness about them.sueandmarjoriesmall

Women. Got to love them. We all just get better with age because we come into our own, give a lot fewer hoots about what others think and the sooner we can all get there, get to that point of so what, love me or piss off, waving our freak flags a lot more proudly, right on. I’m working on it, intensely. Yahoooooo! And, really, it’s not even that much work.

Anyway, this is Marjorie. Here she is. She makes 90 look like the new 79. Happy Birthday Madam. Again. The actual illustrious date? April 16th.

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