Marion Wyllie’s latest publication, Blossoms on An Aged Tree, was launched at Ginger Press in Owen Sound on her 103rd birthday, October 26, 2009, where several of her friends gathered to celebrate with her. The poems and stories in the book were penned since her 100th birthday, adding to her body of work. This includes several publications as well as My Nine Lives, a memoir based on the first nine decades of her life, and a supplement covering the decade since. Here is her speech requested by Publisher Maryann Thomas.
“First, thank you to all of you for being here, and to Maryann for being my publisher extraordinaire; and for all the people, past and present, who have encouraged and helped me in my writing efforts. My only regret is that I haven’t achieved as much as they seemed to hope for me.
“When Maryann asked me to speak a few words she gave me one word for a topic — longevity. Now, I have two dictionaries but both of them are large, cumbersome volumes to handle. So I looked into my pocket thesaurus; it doesn’t give the meanings, just synonyms
“The only synonym for longevity was survival! I’m a survivor. Hallelujah! If we have lived a life of any length we have survived a number of things — some of us have survived cancer or heart attacks or all of the childhood diseases.
“People often ask me what is my secret. If there is a secret it hasn’t been revealed to me. I put people off by saying – it’s all in the genes. But genes are not the whole answer. Children of the same parents can have very different life spans. One would suppose them to have the same genes. It seems to me the most important thing is not the length of a life but the quality of life. There are so many things to enjoy, so many good causes to espouse, so many interesting people to meet.
“Of course life is uncertain. I look around me where I live and see so many people whose lives have sadly changed with age. If they had once envisioned how they are now, they would have been appalled. It is a constant reminder that I do not know what a stroke or the onset of Alzheimer’s disease might do to me by next year — or by tomorrow. So it behooves me to enjoy small pleasures, to emulate the patience and kindness of our caregivers, to look kindly on all my fellow humans. It’s not that hard to smile, to wave or say good morning, or laugh at someone’s stale joke.
“The more I think of longevity the less I think of it. I mean the length of a life is not as important as the quality of it. It’s what we do with the time allotted to us that matters. I have not studied comparative religions, though it must be a fascinating study, but from the little I know of others, I believe the Christian religion is the one that best meets my spiritual needs. It’s like an anchor. By that I don’t mean to keep me stuck in one place. I can hoist anchor and move on. But like a ship, I don’t leave the anchor behind. It goes with me to steady me for whatever may be coming next.
“As I looked up longevity in the thesaurus, my eye strayed down a line or two. The next word I saw was Longwinded. Thus endeth the sermon”.
Marion Fields Wylllie

Getting a breath of fresh air today cheered me up no end after several days nursing a cold that had a nasty cough in tow. Once around the block blew away many cobwebs allowing fresh thoughts. Not much was stirring except a squirrel or two, perhaps searching for nuts buried in forgotten places. Sun shining on the whiteness adding a lift to the snow laden trees. Returning home it seemed easier for good memories to help lift the sadness we all feel at losing dear Doug as we move into the new year without him.

It’s more than a year since I have visited England but I hope to travel there sometime in 2009. The last time I was there it was a marathon trip around the country with#1 Daughter driving. We stayed at B & B’s as well as with relatives. An awesome trip and I will savour all the memories we gathered.
Another set of memories came back to me when I read an article in Globe & Mail travel pages recently, Merry olde Christmas when the writer visited several places in West Sussex with which I am familiar.
After I emigrated to Canada I enjoyed one Christmas visit to England some 45 years later. I planned to be with my mother’s only living siblings, two aunts each of whom lived in towns on the south coast. The Portsmouth aunt planned to be in Sussex that year with her daughter and not far from the Hastings aunt. This made a relatively short stopover to see them as well as several cousins easy to plan.
If I was expecting a respite from Ontario snow, I didn’t get it. The weather was awful, heavy wet white stuff blanketed the county and wild winds make excursions, even by car, quite an ordeal. I remember having to borrow a warm hat to wear on a brief trek exploring a walking trail near Tenterden. The welcome at my cousin’s house was warm, however, and three generations enjoyed the festivities around a big fire – yes with chestnuts roasted the old fashioned way, like my Dad used to do on the fireplace hob
I will always be grateful for my cousin’s husband who braved some nasty roads to deliver me to Gatwick airport for the next leg of my journey – Zimbabwe for New Years. And that’s another story.