Married name: Suter, born ‎22 Nov 1903 Gravenhurst, Muskoka District, Ontario, Canada, died ‎8 Jul 1986 Richmond Hill, York, Ontario, Canada‎, 82 years, cause of death: Cancer. Occupations: Sewing machine operator (‎between 1918 and 1921 T. Eaton Company, Toronto, Ontario), Factory worker (‎1917 Willard's Chocolate Company, Toronto, Ontario)
ETHEL ELIZA ROBINSON SUTER 1903-1986
November 6, 1992, H.J. Suter, Regeneration: The Suter Saga, page 61

Her maiden name was Ethel Eliza Robinson. I can still hear the affectionate sound, the caress, when Dad shortened it to "ET".

It took me 50 years to really get to know my Mum. When I found her out, she was not the saint in flour-dusted apron whom I had always cherished. She was an Irish lady of skittishly high spirits.

She was born in Gravenhurst which had been an Irish shanty town from its beginnings as a lumber milling center. Her father was the town Teamster and a hero to all his grandchildren, but Ethel saw him as something of a "heavy". She thought he always had too much spirit-inside himself, that is. On occasion, he imbibed. Grandma came from an English/Irish marriage, was a grand matron of the Ladies Orange Benevolent Association, and a strong Baptist.

Nana, as Mum was known to all her offspring, was raised in the pioneer Canadian tradition. Her earliest memories were salted with experiences such as winter sleigh-rides with her family. They were bundled up in heavy clothes, covered with a Buffalo robe and -"Tally Ho"- across the countryside they would glide. The snow drifted clean over the rail fences so that one could short-cut across the fields. The horses would huff while the kids warmed up by cuddling oven-warmed bricks under the robe beneath the dash of the cutter

Snows were deep and the winter frigid in those days. Before arriving home, the bricks would cool. The children's squabbles would subside quickly when they had to cuddle for warmth. She claimed it was Lesson No. 1 in getting along with your peers.

One of the memories she treasured most was of skating in the Gravenhurst town rink. They had a family pass, which entitled her to skate every night except Saturday in the pleasure skating oval which surrounded the hockey cushion. Saturdays there was live music. How proud she felt when the Butcher's son (the best skater in town) would take her arm to glide with her to the magical Strauss waltzes rendered by the Town band.

Ethel was 14 years old when she left home. Young, but considered entirely capable of making her own way. She lived a few years with her sister Hilda, who wised her up to the Street scene in Toronto.

Nana related a story to Mary Suter which illustrated just how wealthy the two sisters were when she first came to the city. She and Hilda could afford only one shared hat. On Sundays they sometimes argued about whose turn it was to attend morning service. You see, since they had but the one hat between them, they each must attend a separate service.

Her first job was in Willard's factory, making chocolates. She fancied the idea of a never-ending supply of sweets. There was an old Chinaman - she saw him as a real Fu Man Chu - in charge of mixing marshmallow. He used to dip his long fingers into the sticky goo and withdraw them dramatically with viscous threads of candy dripping down. He would leer at her and pretend to lick his fingers. She could never again stomach marshmallows.

Mum continued to live and work with her sister Hilda during the war. In 1919 they were running sewing machines in the T. Eaton shops. A fellow worker invited them to a home-coming for her soldier brother Harry.

50 years later Mum's blue eyes still sparkled with static glee when she archly informed me of the results. His sister Alice had intended Hilda to be Harry's partner for the evening, but the soldier had a mind of his own. He preferred the younger sister–so much so that they became partners for life. They were married in 1921. The best girl won. Notwithstanding, the sisters loved each other dearly all their lives.

Ethel was a master chef. Her skill was born of learning to prepare interesting meals for her large family in the hard times during the 30's; times when we couldn't afford the expensive meats or exotic foods now so common in chain stores. Every meal consisted of variations dreamed up from the basics. Potatoes there were, field turnips and skim milk from Pearson's neighboring farm. Fresh fruit and vegetables from our own garden we picked; store-bought flour, sugar, salt and pepper we bought. From these simple ingredients were concocted steaming casseroles and home-baked bread and pastries of alluring aroma.

When the family melted away, leaving home one after the other, her cooking skills were no longer needed. Nana turned to those expensive delicacies, now affordable, which tickled the tongues of sons and daughters who homed every Sunday. Scrumptious butter tarts were stacked in the cupboard–flaky gold pastry-cratered puddles of the most succulent butter, raisin, caramel confection ever to melt your teeth. Ambrosial ecstasy!

Sons and daughters remember those serene Sunday afternoons, visiting at 20 Boyle Drive with Dad and Mum. The glue that held us and kept us returning was LOVE! But the butter tarts helped no end. Thanks Mum!

Ethel was a not-unreasonable wife. In fact she went out of her way to please though she could put her foot down when required. Dad, when he sold cars, taught many a lady prospect how to drive her new Ford. The lessons were after hours - evenings. It seems that one of these customers craved extra homework. A Thornhill doctor's wife used to drive her latest purchase around late of a summer evening.

Ethel decided this just had to stop! While the couple sat intimately talking one summer evening, the wronged party sneaked down in her nighty. As she feared, the erring pair was too engrossed to even hear the hiss of air escaping from both back tires. The car was quite late leaving the driveway that night. Pumping tires by hand is time-consuming. The lady got the message. That was the last car in the driveway to disturb Mum late at night. Ever!

During her later years, Mum became a Hockey fan. She commented that it was curious she did not get hooked during all those years Dad watched so avidly. She was almost a fanatic, hoping for a good fight to liven things up. Each Saturday night Mum and I watched the Maple Leaf's lose. Her favourite player was Bill Derlago. She thought he looked so sad!

Her memory slowed down in later years, but she always recalled Bill "Der Footo" when his line came over the boards.

One hockey night we skipped the contest in favour of a Vera Lynn concert on Channel 8. I found it rather surprising that she would appreciate this singer of a younger generation. Near the end of the program I finally got the picture when she sang "There'll be Bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover".

"That's how I got my baby's name", I was informed out of the blue. "He was the sixth boy and I had run out of names. When I heard that line about "little Jimmy will go to sleep", that was it! Jimmy he became and it is my favourite name, still."

Re-arranging furniture was Nana's favourite avocation. Even when she grew quite fragile she would move a chair or an end table to some better spot. Whenever events frustrated her, the furniture would revolve around the living room. Dad used to grin and tease that he never knew, returning of an evening, where he could throw his hat.

"Don't sit down until you check that the chair hasn't been moved", was his pet gag line.

It never fazed mother. Next night the chesterfield would be along the north wall, the table in front of the French windows. Joyce became a party to this game but I don't believe she ever developed the enthusiasm of her mother. It took a great deal of energy but that didn't slow down Nana. During the last week of her life, while in a very weakened condition–she could not have weighed more than a hundred pounds–she still managed to shift a heavy chair across the room while all alone. It was her hobby, her escape.

Mum did not share her own father's infatuation with animals. Grandpa was the best dog trainer I ever knew. However, she did not object when her husband brought pets home.

"It seemed like he was forever hauling another dog home on a string", she recalled.

She terrorized these poor hounds with her broom, but it taught them respect. When she shouted, "Get out!" and brandished the broom, they got!

One day she looked out the picture window at 20 Boyle Drive, and was astonished to see a life size horse helping himself to the seed in the wild bird feeder. Without hesitation, out came the broom. She rushed out the door, brandishing her weapon of choice. There were about 5 meters between the door and the bird feeder. Mother had covered about half that space before she realized that this monstrous excuse for a dog was not intimidated. She backed into her house and watched the horse eat enough bird seed to last a family of Juncos a complete winter.

"Whoosh", she whistled. "He was a shade larger than a dog. Maybe I should have used a shovel!"

When Ethel lived in Gravenhurst, as a child, her Aunt George lived next door. She was a cook aboard the Muskoka tourist steamers, and felt it necessary to meet the public impeccably dressed. Her nieces didn't like the fact that Georgena expected them to follow her example of neatness. She was loud-spoken and must have owned a gruff voice; she was always remembered for her cross attitude.

One day Nana's mother was sick in bed. Whether it was a new baby or not is unsure. Middle-aged ladies were allowed to be in bed after a baby had arrived. Eliza (as Mum was called at home) and her older sister were visiting their grandmother Isabella across the "common" on the next street. Aunt George lived with their grandmother. The girls loved to visit Grandma and help her with her chores such as fetching water or wood. But beware of Aunt George! They visited only in Georgina's absence.

The front door slammed without warning. The kids scooted for the back door but they were cut off at the pass.

"Have you kids combed your hair today?" an accusatory question from their constant tormentor.

Out the door and across the field they rocketed, their Aunt in hot pursuit. Ethel made it to her mother's bedroom, taking cover under the occupied bed where she was sure her mother would protect her. The tyrant dragged her out and across the meadow.

Inside the grandmother's home, her aunt combed Eliza's tangled locks with authority–none too gently, it can be imagined. Aunt George's insistence on neat and tidy nieces had a permanent effect. Ethel's hair was groomed in braids and drawn into a crown atop her head for the rest of her life.

"Et" remembers her husband as a "good man". He never let her down, all through their years together. He is suspected of being a jealous person; she had few friends outside of the family. Nor did they go to social gatherings. I blame poverty, more than Dad's actions for their lack of interest in contacts with other people. Everything was sacrificed to the family. During the post Depression era she found it difficult to find a decent pair of shoes, even for a funeral.

Mum raised 10 children. I was born in Toronto, 5 were born in Lambton Mills, and 4 more in Langstaff. During all that time she stayed at home except for possibly one movie a year. She was totally devoted to her family. Since her husband was at work so much (6 days a week from 5:45 A.M. until 6:15 P.M.) the family was almost a total matriarchy. My discussions with Father occurred while we gardened or in his workshop after dark during the winter. My younger siblings may not have had such an opportunity to get to know him, I don't know.

About 1961 Ethel's husband began to suffer from Arthritis. He retired but the disease kept getting worse. He was eventually unable to get around any more. She stuck by him through this ordeal until his death in 1971, closely attending him, nursing him and looking after all his needs.

From 1971, she kept busy with family matters and visits to and from her children, grand- and great-grandchildren. She knew them all intimately and was known by one and all as simply "Nana". Three generations of Suters have kept in close contact thanks to her personality. She never had a bad word for any one of them, and is held in the highest esteem to this day.

Ethel passed on 17 June 1986. I am proud to have been her first son.

GRACE LAWRENCE HOUSE 8677 YONGE STREET - SUTER FAMILY HOME June 20, 1992, H.J. Suter, Regeneration: The Suter Saga, page 66

The driveway to the Grace Lawrence house is flanked by 2 ancient concrete obelisks. Each is about 18" square at the base and slightly more than a meter high. They are presently fitted with electric lamp fittings but they were used in the beginning to support rails across the entrance as the filled-in concrete cavities on the inside surfaces indicate.

The dwelling was built some time before 1868 on one acre of land at the north-west corner of lot 37, con-cession 1 Markham at the address now designated 8779 Yonge. At that time there was a stable and several other sheds. This location is almost directly opposite what was the Richard Gapper homestead where Mary O'Brien stayed when she first lived in Vaughan during the 1830's.

The land was beautifully treed with several huge soft Maples, some ancient fruit trees and a large front lawn, when my family arrived there in 1934. The grounds were secluded by surrounding lilac hedges. Yonge street had very light traffic and the front walk was flanked by several stately old Mock Orange bushes. There were Orange Lily and Periwinkle gardens thriving in the dappled shade and a feeling of serenity cast its spell over this relic of the past.

The stable sat on the north side beside the drive. Slightly to the east was a huge gambrel-roofed, barn. The stable was unsafe and was wrecked about 1935. The large barn was much more modern, of pegged construction, but mysteriously burned to the ground late one night about 1937.

The original house was of two-storey frame construction about 20 feet front to back and 28 feet wide. There were two rooms on the main floor, three bedrooms and a large closet upstairs. A stair began from the hallway rising towards the east, turning north at a landing near the top and rising two more steps to an upstairs hall.

Both main floor rooms have a French window built centrally in the west wall. Both have two double-hung windows in the exterior walls with resultant excellent lighting. The floor comprises wide pine boards throughout. The ceilings are low, I would estimate seven feet high, making for ease of heating although the drafts through the floor are intense. The northern room has a wooden-mantled brick fireplace between the double hung windows. The mantle has an interesting shield type of carving embossed on the front–perhaps a coat of arms. There is a stone half-cellar under part of the main floor northern room with entrance from the south-east corner. There was no foundation; the dwelling merely rested on the ground, with the result that the winter blasts ballooned the linoleum rug dramatically on January nights.

Upstairs, two rooms are located above the northern main floor room. The smaller was in the north east corner; the larger to the west. The most spacious bedroom lay to the south. Two double-hung windows straddled a crumbling chimney in the southern wall. The larger bedrooms were heated by stovepipes coming from below through thimbles in the middle of the floor.

The conveniences were indirect, located in the back yard. Morning wash-up was from a basin with hot water dipped from the copper reservoir at the end of the cook stove. One of the boys' winter chores was to replenish this vessel with soft water from the outdoors cistern each winter evening.

This then was the private School operated by Grace Lawrence, and the home in which she raised her family of four children until she sold it on 31 August 1885. It was also the Suter family home from 1934 until the end of the Second World War.

In November 1869, this property was bought by Mrs. Lawrence for $520. In 1991 (122 years later), the place was put up for sale again. The list price this time was reputed to be $5 million. The value had increased approximately 9,615 times for this schoolhouse on Yonge Street–a very substantial increase in capital value for a cabin in Richmond Hill over a little more than a century.

It had great apples and a thousand happy memories.

Born ‎5 Aug 1894 Toronto, Ontario, Canada, died ‎25 Apr 1971 Langstaff, York, Ontario, Canada‎, 76 years, buried ‎Mount Pleasant Cemetery, Section 22 Lot 459, Toronto, Ontario