International Women's Day, and my thoughts turn to my Mum, and the Virgin Mary - two of the most unlikely feminists! My French Canadian mother had a statue of the Virgin on her dresser for as long as I can remember. Her head has been glued back on, her plaster is chipped, she's lost layers of paint. Even the serpent, being crushed at her feet, has been chipped away over time. Yet, she is so precious to me, that she'd be saved in a fire!
A shy and gentle soul, my Mum had great inner strength. At the height of the Womens' Liberation movement, I didn't see my homemaker Mum as the strong role model that she truly was. When I was a young teenager, she had a near-fatal brain aneurism. After spending all Summer in hospital, she came home blind.
In the months that followed, she cooked our meals, and worked hard to do all the things she had done before. One day, I arrived home from school, and my Grandmother was at the stove. I asked her where Mum was, and I'll never forget her response. "She's gone downtown. She took the bus."
My blind mother took the bus to Kootenay Loop, and transferred to the Hastings Express, got off on a downtown Vancouver street, went shopping, turned around and came home - all on her own! Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Every time I think that I can't possibly do something, I think of her.
Photographs Copyright of: Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.
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