Joan Coyne was born on the 19th of April, 1931 in Heworth, a residential area in Gateshead, located around 3 miles from Newcastle upon Tyne, in England. Unlike most family members, she wasn’t named after anyone, signifying from her first day that she would be something different.

 She grew up in a warm and loving home in Northern England; however, her father, a foreman for the steel erection company Wright-Anderson, was gone for long periods of time on construction projects. This was especially true in the late 30s with the threat of War coming from Germany, as he was away working on building aerodromes around the country that would be essential in the upcoming Battle of Britain.

To make up for his absence, Joan, along with her brothers, Maurice and John, were doted upon by their Mother and aunties, Rose, Veronica and Nellie. In 1934, the family moved to 467 Sunderland Road, Gateshead, with a big bay window in the front room with a view of “The Bankies”, a hill stretching off to the horizon.

Sunderland Road was busy with trams, trucks, horses and carts and made travelling around Gateshead and Newcastle very easy to visit relatives or to go to St Wilfred’s Church. Joan also went to school at St Wilfred’s as the parish had an academy. Her mother, Jane, was frightened that her daughter would not actually attend school, as she wouldn’t tolerate being left with babysitters at home, but her mother took her to school as a “test,” and after a short trial run, Joan announced, “Okay, I’ll stay!” and she did.

She was four.

 Her brothers would walk with her to school every morning, take her hand, and hold on tight and they made sure she stood in the right line. She was an excellent student; she did get into occasional trouble for talking during class, but mostly for asking her teachers, like Mrs. Hughes and Miss Donnelly, too many questions. After school, she would walk back home with her friends, Sheila Birney and Cecily Simblett, who lived just four houses down, and they would play with what they had – in my Mom’s case, her prized button collection and their homemade dolls.

Most Newcastle men were away preparing for the war, leaving the women behind. Her brothers, who were still just boys, and she shared a room, and when they would fall asleep, Joan would get up, join her mother and aunts, and listen to the radio as they knit, and she would snuggle with them on the couch and listen to them talk.

She especially admired Nellie, who was so young and glamorous. When she dreamed about growing up, she decided she wanted to be a teacher so that she could look after herself and not be dependent on being married.

She also secretly promised herself that she would not live in Gateshead when she grew up!

World War II began when she was eight years old, and she and her brothers were evacuated to the country in “Operation Pied Piper“, as Newcastle and Gateshead were targeted due to their industrial contributions to the English defence. She would spend nearly two years away from her family and separated from her brothers, living in a wealthy country estate. She insisted that when she was set to leave, the estate owners wanted her to stay as they loved her so much, but she wanted to get home. Once she got home, the war continued, and so did the bombing. A house near hers on Sunderland Road was hit, killing the family inside. She also loved to tell a story about a shot-down pilot who parachuted in their schoolyard and how she thought he looked very glamorous “for a German.”

After the War and suffering through years of post-war privation, which affected her outlook on food (minimal quantities) and how it should be prepared (blandly) for her early parenting life (much to her children’s displeasure), she graduated from St Wilfred’s school and then the University of Hull with a degree in Education. After graduation, she and her best friend, Veronica, hitchhiked through Europe. Over the years, more and more details of this trip would leak out, with her feeling comfortable or finally not caring about sharing some of the more lurid details, but from her telling, both she and Veron had a truly excellent time.

After that, however, real life settled in. Her first job was teaching classes at her old school, St Wilfred’s. She loved teaching, something she never gave up all her life in one form or another. She would occasionally receive letters or hear stories about her former students, and she would instantly recall each and every one of them, for good or for bad.

In 1954, at the Old Assembly Rooms, a regency-style dance club in Newcastle, she met Roy Allan McDougald, a Canadian Master’s in Engineering student on a scholarship at the University of Birmingham. Something clicked between them, and on July 23rd, 1955, they were married, of course, at St. Wilfred’s.

The new couple honeymooned in Ireland, where Joan would get to go on her first plane ride. It certainly would not be her last. This trip kicked off a lifelong love of travel, seeing new things and new places. And reinforced with her the idea that she would not remain at home. She wanted adventure.

On May 30^th, 1956, their daughter, Elizabeth Jane, my sister, was born at noon. It was a relatively short labour, with the new mother ready to show off her new daughter later that same day.

After graduating with his second Master’s in Engineering degree (Joan typed up his Thesis), Roy returned to Canada to begin his first job in Peterborough, Ontario, as an Engineer at the General Electric plant there.

Soon afterwards, Joan and daughter Jane, as she was now known, joined them travelling by ship, the Empress of France, in what the ship’s Captain told Joan that, due to the terrible weather, was the slowest crossing on the Atlantic since the days of sail.

The family settled in Peterborough, and Jane was soon joined by two brothers, Michael and Gavin (me). The small family, who had no relatives nearby as Roy’s lived in California and Joan’s were still in England, lived a happy, yet isolated existence.

The family made their own fun and enjoyed many short and long trips exploring North America.

Mom made lots of friends in her new town, and they socialized with the other General Electric workers and executives.  Joan took up bowling, mostly for socialising, as evidenced by the numerous bowling cocktail glasses and Moscow Mule mugs that made their way into their glassware collection.

A new job led them out of Ontario in 1965 to move to Point Claire, Quebec.

The family lived there for nearly three years, struggling to learn French but loving that Expo 67 was on while they were there, but they were destined to live elsewhere.

In 1968, they would move as a family, for the last time, to Burlington, Ontario, as Roy had won the job of head of Engineering at Otis Elevator in Hamilton, Ontario.

Their first brand-new house was at 4205 Dunvegan Road, a four-bedroom house in a new development in the Hamilton suburb. While Dad worked, Joan ran the house, volunteered for several organizations, became heavily involved in the local arts community and eventually went on to lead the Potters Guild, and eventually helped form Arts Burlington.

A talented athlete (she was a killer on the field hockey pitch as a girl), she thrived on the golf course in the warmer months and the curling rink in the winters. Oh, and occasionally, she could be dragged skiing.

The family continued to travel extensively. They purchased a camper and dragged the family, and on many occasions, Grandma as well, all over North America.

As the kids grew and went off to school, after 27 years, Joan and Roy’s marriage came to an end in 1979. It was a semi-amicable end to a life together, but all parties were sad they couldn’t work it out.

By this time, the kids had moved on with their lives. Gavin (me again) was leaving for University. Michael, who also graduated from university with an Engineering Degree, was overseas, working for Schlumberger as an Oil Process Engineer in places like Australia and the Tasmanian Sea.

Jane, who graduated from McMaster with an Urban Planning & Geography degree, was working and had just married Gerry Dandy.

Single life did not come easy to Joan. Although she had served her community in many volunteer roles, she had never had a paying job in Canada, and now that she was on her own, she was determined to be self-sufficient. She went to the employment office, and within the week, she started a job as the manager of a pilot project, The Halton Work Program. She was tasked with setting up a workshop supporting residents with mental health challenges who were getting ready to re-enter the workforce. Like everything else she tackled, she succeeded beyond all expectations, and the pilot project became a permanent support to the mental health community.

After a few years of living a single life and running the Work Program, Mom won the lottery and met Rod Roland, an executive at Ecodyne in Oakville and a fellow golfer and curler. Together, they moved into their new home in Aldershot in Burlington after they were married on August the 29th, 1985.

They played golf together at the Burlington Golf and Country Club, which was handy as they lived across from the 6th tee, and Mom became such an integral part of the club, representing women’s causes, like the ability for working women to be allowed to play on Saturday mornings, she was named to the club’s board of directors. She also made a name for herself, becoming the only member in club history to score a Hole-in-One in golf and an Eight Ender in curling, something far rarer.

She also became a grandmother along the way, first with Charlotte:

…and then with Jack:

Of course, not everything was perfect. There were further tragedies in her life, like losing her Mother, Jane, in 1991, whom she had remained close to all her life.

But saddest of all was losing her son, Michael, to AIDS in 1994. Michael had a fantastic life in his own right, and he always wanted to burn bright rather than fade away. Mom and my wife Leslie were Michael’s principal caregivers in the last two years of his life. He moved back to Mom and Rod’s house, where they set up an apartment in the basement so he could have his privacy. It was a very trying and difficult two years as Michael’s form of AIDS caused dementia. Yet, throughout it all, Mom maintained her focus, and Michael kept his dignity right to the end.

Rod stood beside Mom throughout, providing constant support and encouragement, which was a testament to him as this was a severe test of their new relationship. After finding their life together, for the next 38 years, Mom and Rod did live happily ever after, both finally retiring and then travelling the globe, including spending the beginning of every winter in Cancun.

Their house, Jane’s, and ours became destinations for hundreds of social get-togethers celebrating birthdays and holidays – and even Leslie’s and my wedding.

In 2020, Mom and Rob moved out of their house to take up residence at Pearl & Pine, the fanciest hotel in Burlington, according to Mom. By this time, Joan was impacted by dementia and couldn’t manage to live at home anymore, so Pearl & Pine was the perfect remedy, providing not only luxury accommodations but all the meals provided as well.

Unfortunately for them, (and the rest of the world), a month after they moved in, COVID-19 hit, and they were essentially stuck in their luxurious prison cell for the duration.

Restrictions would relax over time, and they were freed to enjoy all of the amenities – like lots of visitors.

2023 was her final year. She celebrated her 92nd birthday at our house in April and was in typically fine form, keeping the party going and us laughing with her stories.

She had told us numerous times that she did not want any heroic efforts when it was her time. She wanted to go on her terms, and if she could no longer enjoy her life and lifestyle due to some lingering illness, she wanted us to pull the plug if she couldn’t. Fortunately, and typically for her, that wasn’t necessary as her end came pretty much as she wanted.

So, she had a life.

A great one. From near-poverty in northern England to surviving the Blitz in WWII. To marry a tall, dark, and handsome man who swept her away to the wilds of Canada, where she thrived, there was just no stopping her. A mid-life divorce knocked her off her stride for a while, but she more than landed on her feet, finding the love of her life with Rod.

In the last few years, she was bemoaning the fact that she had lived so long that when it came to her funeral, there would be no one left to show up. This was one of the few times she was spectacularly wrong. She had made hundreds of friends throughout her life, and despite outliving most of them, there were more than enough people whose lives she had touched left to pack her memorial celebration at the Art Gallery in Burlington – the very building she helped found.

She was easily the most impactful person in my life, shaping my character (as it is) in so many small and large ways.

Funny, smart, impatient and opinionated, she always expected the best from people, and when she got it, she was the best partner, friend, mother or grandmother anyone could have.

What a life. What a woman. My Mom.

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