Breaking into the Quaker Cemetery

February 19, 2016

And Noting My Thread of Quakers

The first thing I tried to write for real was an interview assignment for a U. of T. writing course. My subject was Louise Wolfenden, the woman who lived in the flat downstairs from me. Louise was a Quaker and family friend of my friend Sue. At that time, Louise was really old — maybe 68 — and had gone from being a pampered rich wife to a divorced in-your-face political firebrand, speaking out — no, shouting out — about the injustices heaped on Japanese Canadians during WWII. Louise was a candid and forthright Quaker. No thees and thous for her.

Louise loved to name drop. Her one and only husband was related to Lord Wolfenden who chaired the committee that published the British Wolfenden Report. It recommended the decriminalization of homosexuality. That was in 1957. But Louise continued to make use of the connection as a conversational gambit.

The older Louise was almost deaf and played everything loud. And at once. CBC radio put up a deafening fight with CBC TV. A former journalist edited my writing assignment and Louise came out as an over-active, deaf nut-bar, never settling anywhere. That was not Louise. It was fiction and it demeaned Louise. I protested but the editor said his ending was better. It wasn’t better. It wasn’t true. But I didn’t protest too loudly because the piece got me work and the editor was a man with a famous author father. So, wasn’t the editor entitled to make changes? For me it was a guilt-inducing lesson in morality. Don’t give in when you know it’s wrong.

Louise is still part of my daily life. She gave me a hand embroidered black silk crepe kimono she acquired on her honeymoon to Hong Kong in the 1920s. It hangs on the wall overlooking my bed — a glamorous headboard – thanks Louise.

Now, here it is years later and I’ve taken on the duty of scattering Edith Patterson’s ashes. Edith was my friend Anne’s mother. Anne died a few years ago and we’d scattered her ashes in New York and Texas and kept a cup of Anne to rest with Edith. I chose the Quaker cemetery in Newmarket, Ontario because that’s where they’d lived. And Edith and Anne were Quakers. The original Quaker Meeting House overlooks the cemetery. No one was around which was a good thing because I had to break into the cemetery. The gate was locked but with a little heavy-handed fiddling, I managed to pry it open.

La-la-la-la-la. Canvas bag loaded with Edith and Anne’s ashes over my shoulder, I casually walked around the cemetery looking for the perfect scattering spot. Not next to Olde Yonge street — too much loud traffic. I meandered toward the back fence line and stopped to read a more recent gravestone. Yup. I was standing on Louise Wolfenden’s grave. She died Sept. 3, 1994.

The same grave-thing had happened to me about 20 years ago when Anne was alive and staying with me. I went to Mount Pleasant cemetery to photograph historical stones and found myself standing still. I looked down, scraped fallen leaves off a flat marker in the ground, and found myself on the grave of Mercedes (Mercy) Canassaras. Mercy was another elderly neighbour I’d photographed and interviewed. She’d regaled me with stories of her childhood riding around Brazil in a coach – with horses. That’s how old Mercy was. That particular standing-on-a-grave was really creepy — goose bumps on a sweltering 38-degree day. I’m sort of getting used to it.

But back to Newmarket, Ontario, to spread Edith and Anne’s ashes in the Quaker Cemetery. My other-worldly cemetery events may connect Anne and Louise but that didn’t mean they should rest together. And what about Edith? She’d had a white birch in her front garden — so when I spotted a birch way down at the back of the cemetery, I took it as a sign. That’s where I scattered one box and one cup of ashes, and rearranged the autumn leaves. This time, I only got a bit of ash on my jeans and purse.

I’ve made my amends, said my goodbyes, and can now attend a Quaker Meeting again — and when the appropriate time comes, I will speak out. The deed is done.

Addendum to Some

I did go to a Quaker Meeting for Worship and I did speak out. This time I went to the Toronto Meeting House with my friend Carole who is also partial to Quakers. I was nervous about the speaking part as the first half hour of a Quaker Meeting for Worship is always silent. Absolutely silent — except for the odd cough or mini noise made by a child. Children attend that first half hour too.

When an Elder broke the silence, I stood to speak. “I’m a long time friend of Sue Fielding who used to attend Toronto Meeting for Worship with her mother Jean, and sister Linda. You may have known them. They now live in England. Jean died this week and a memorial took place at the Wandsworth Meeting for Worship in London…England. I couldn’t attend but I had to do something. So I’m here. Jean was a wonderful, outgoing woman and I will miss her very much.” Or words to that effect.

And then I sat down. The silence continued. A man, probably in his 60s stood and said, “I feel there is a lot of sadness in this room.” Yes, he said that. And beside me, Carole whose son had died the year before, began sobbing. Then someone else sobbed and the Meeting was awash with tears.

Eventually, a woman stood and spoke to the death of Jean Fielding and linked it to a death in her family. Many others spoke profoundly of death and grief although the details were washed away in all our tears. The woman spoke dignified sense, and calm returned to the room.

After, an elderly Jamaican lady came and spoke to me. She was the last of the Jamaican Quakers who’d arrived in Toronto in the 1950s and 60s. We talked of the elder Quakers we had both known from that time.

Quakers don’t walk around in funny clothes as many people think. But they also don’t have big fancy weddings. Sue sort of did and I was one of the bridesmaids – still have the dress but I haven’t hung it over my bed with Louise’s kimono.

When Jon and I visited Sue in London, we all went to Wandsworth Meeting for Worship. Here’s information from the Wandsworth website.

“Quakers have worshipped together in Wandsworth for well over three hundred years. Our Meeting for Worship House in the High Street dates from 1778 and is the oldest in the London Area.
An all-age group of about 60 people is typical for our hour-long Sunday Meeting for Worship. We wait together in stillness for the Spirit to reach out to us. Silence prevails, deepening as wandering minds are stilled. Spontaneous spoken ministry may be offered by anyone present – these are the only words spoken during Meeting for Worship. Spiritual insights vary so uniformity is not expected.
The Meeting for Worship ends when two designated Quakers shake hands. Refreshments and warm fellowship follow. Worshippers have been strengthened for the week ahead.”

Wandsworth Meeting, London, England