Kelvin Thomas Johnson, Sr (March 14, 1931 - March 19, 2017)

I'm not sure how old my father is in this photo. It was taken when he was still teaching high school. I am told he came dressed for the day as a clown and the school photographer said he would take his picture if he would sit down. 

I loved this photo that hung on our wall at home. He looked like an actor to me. Apparently he would like to have been an actor. I think he had a beautiful singing and speaking voice. I can still hear his voice in my mind, most easily when I play back the mental tape of him reciting the opening lines of Chaucer's Canteberry Tales or poetry from Tolkien's Silmarillian.

 I was thinking of my father on what would have been his 90th birthday. It's hard to imagine him at 90 since I said my goodbyes to him when he was only 86 years old. So young, really, and younger each year as I age.

I can remember calling him on his last birthday on this side of the earthly veil, back in 2017. He had stopped speaking by this time in his palliative care. Occasionally he did get out a word - "wonderful," but not on this visit. On this visit he only communicated through his facial expressions.

I had called the Seaton Care home ahead. I asked if his iPad could be to be turned on and set in front of him so I could wish him a Happy Birthday. They always obliged when they could.

When his face came up on the screen, I enthusiastically said, "Happy Birthday" and launched into the Primary version of a birthday song,

Happy happy birthday, father dear,

Happy days will come to you all year,

If I had one wish, than it would be,

A happy happy birthday, to you from me.

By the time I got to line two, I could see he was in some distress, but didn't know what I could do for him, so far away. I chose to go on singing with gusto. His facial expression did not shift in the direction I had hoped. His distress only increased.

Song done, I could see he was trying to vocalize and his body was unable to support his desire in that moment. I tried to reassure him, comfort him. I remember saying, "I can see you are trying to tell me something but the words aren't coming. It's okay, dad. You don't have to say anything. I can the talking for both of us."

Yes, that is what I said to him. In truth, it was an attempt to comfort him, but even as the words came out I realized it was an odd thing to say. Who wants others to do the talking for them. 

I think if he had been feeling better, and I had been feeling less anxious about his distress, we both would have had a very big laugh. 

He had a great laugh.

~BonnieWyora

(Below Rebecca is going to refer to a website, easiliest approached by clicking here)

Thoughts on a father who loved words

Kelvin Thomas Johnson

Thoughts on a father who loved words

June 20, 2020

My father loved words.  All of them. 

I don’t know when I first understood that, but he did.  He loved words, all sorts.  He loved their meanings and how they worked together to create and bring colour to life.  Books, poetry, grammar-- all central to his love of words. He loved words to the end.

Words.

Funny as a child to consider this passion and recognize I didn’t share it. 

I loved numbers.

 Math, science and all things related to them, not words. I don’t think I ever picked up a book just for the love of reading. Oh sure, I read--textbooks and articles, but I had no passion for poetry or books.

Kelvin's Journal
I love his handwriting.

My father loved to put words together.

His love poured out onto pages to form poetry and prose.

His earliest efforts, stories for his children.

Those words now lost, but in the moment of creation full of the tall tales of farm animal, of which he knew a great deal.

Each of his children a different character in his farmyard menagerie.

Although too young or interested in the plots, the animal’s adventures were special because they were meant for us.

English GrammarLiliane Haegeman & Jacqueline Guéon

One of my father's well loved and often studied books

Sitting at the feet of the Hobbit chair (fondly named because it was the place where he read Tolkien’s saga to the older children) he entertained us with stories of the farmyard gang including Catherine the Cat and the laughter provoking Titmouse.

Few siblings still remember the details, but all delight at the memory of snickering with the mention of the “tit-mouse”. The great thing about words, which my father understood is that they can keep surprising us. It took me 51 years to finally look up the word titmouse, only to discover it is actually a bird.

titmouse
(tĭt′mous′)
n. pl. tit·mice (-mīs′)
Any of several small insectivorous songbirds of the family Paridae of woodland areas, especially members of the genus Baeolophus, such as the tufted titmouse.

one of a multiple of dictionaries in our house

Dictionaries are full of words, as were all the books that filled the built-in bookcases in our home.

Books entered and left the house as if they were just part of the regular goings and comings.

Books carried back and forth from libraries in laundry baskets and knapsacks.

The house always filled with books.



Books of poetry brought my father great joy.  During one of our last visits, he asked me to read to him.  I choose Robert Frost from the books that had been brought along with him to the nursing home.

I began with Robert Frost’s Birches.

“When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.”

My father' tree - climbing ladder added later. 

Images of my dad as a young man swinging from trees formed in my mind’s eye and remembrances of trips to Barnwell filled the room. The family homestead, just three large rooms with an outhouse in the yard. Such humble beginnings. The ditch out front filled with rain water-- a novelty for a city girl, along with the the solitary gigantic climbing tree in the back yard. The tree, not one a city girl would know how to climb or even dare to try after hearing of her father falling out.  All images brought back to life in Frost’s words.

Words, mixing with memory, knowing it would be our last time together, and not knowing how to say goodbye. Lost for words. Words. Words.

Trying to say the words-

“So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile…

Words, recognizing the frailty of life, its messy business, it’s lashes and its pain.

Words,  I can’t finish the poem. I close the book as if not saying the words will change the outcome. Dad knows the words too well and wonders why I have stopped mid verse. I simply can’t read the words.

“I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.”

Words.

“Words don’t have meaning, people having meanings for words”. Funny how some words find their meaning long after the giver is gone.

This love of words now lives in me. Different perhaps, but a love none-the-less.  Grateful that WORDS brings back to the mind memories and with those memories an outpouring of love to fill the heart.

Catherine

Postscript
2020-06-20

As A Father Sees Love in Time and Eternity
for Catherine and Eric
written by Kelvin on their wedding June, 1992

“….And to your hearts lay this
Sure word of prophecy:
No love is lost
That springs unbidden,
Though the labour of your life
Be all the cost.”

Things you may have had in common with Kelvin Johnson Sr.

Kelvin, age 86 with his 20 month old grandaughter, Betty

You may have had something in common with Kelvin Johnson if you have ever taken something you were wearing or taken something from your pocket and  tried to entertain a child.

It may have been a set of beads, a silver bracelet, some car keys, a church programme, a white handkerchief, even your own set of glasses  -- but both you  and he could take it out of your pocket and make it work for a child.

Arta

Kelvin Johnson: March 14, 1931 - March 19, 2017

Taking pictures at a sibling get-together
Grant, Sharon and Kelvin

Many of you will know that we are mourning the passing of Kelvin whom to us was husband, father and grandfather.

In the past year and a half, many happy hours were spent at Agecare Seton where he lived with his two siblings, Sharon and Grant.

He passed away Sunday afternoon.

Richard, and his three children and I had gone there for our regular Sunday afternoon visit with him.

We had croissants, we ate candy, and we watched cartoons with grandfather.

Then the children and I moved to a different game room.

Kelvin passed on as Richard and Clark Schow were happily reminiscing about basketball games of the past at his side.

A memorial service will be held March 31, 2017 at 11 am at the Bow Valley Ward Chapel, 2526 24 Ave NW, Calgary, Alberta.

Arta

Happy Birthday to you

... Hello, brother! ...

Today Kelvin turned 86.

Sharon was just coming back from lunch so she came in to see Kelvin, to say Happy Birthday and to touch base for a minute.

Tricky to get her lounge chair and his bed in the right position.

... a moment of saying hello ...

... Sharon sings an unorthodox Happy Birthday song ...

We were joined in our music endeavours by the three people in the room, two of whom had brought Sharon in and the third, who was tending to Kelvin.

Sharon offered to sing a folk birthday day that she knows.

Kelvin took her up on the offer.

Sharon was sure that Kelvin was 96 and I was not going argue with anyone who has kept family records for years.  In about five minutes she had corrected herself.   And she brought out their right ages:  86 and 83.

... Sharon and Kelvin meet after lunch ...

That was not the only bright part of the day.

Rebecca Johnson, Duncan Carter-Johnson, Rebecca Jarvis, Thomas Jarvis, Catherine Jarvis, Hebe Jarvis, Naomi Brooks, Leo Brooks, Rhiannon Brooks, Bonnie Johnson and David Camps-Johnson all came to visit, via the IPad.

Blessed IPad.

Kelvin has asked for a Cadbury Cream Egg the last time I was there, so I picked some up at the store.

The new packaging is disappointing.

No pulling that foil off anymore, and having bits of it stick to the egg.

But the centre is the same.

Between Sharon and Kelvin, they couldn't finish off one egg.

Two of them worked at it and there was still 1/2 left.

This bodes poorly for the Cadbury Milk Company, at least for egg sales to the baby boomers.

ARTA

Cold hands, warm heart

Image from Deviant Art[a]

Even though the car was warm, and I had on gloves,  by the time I got to AgeCare Seton the -18 C weather had made my hands are cold.

Kelvin wanted to me to hold his hand when I arrived yesterday and I did, the warmth differential between his hand and mine feeling pretty good.

A health care worker came in and ask Kelvin how he was doing.

He haltingly said, "My hands are not as cold as Arta's."

Old habits die hard.  Before I knew it, I was off my feet and to the front of the bed placing my other hand on his chest and saying, "But look, this one is even colder."

I saw the fastest move from Kelvin I have seen in weeks.  He pushed my hand away and furrowed his brow to show me exactly how cold my hand had been. I doubt it was anywhere close to approaching zero, but his look made me think it might have been.

Shortly, the nurse came in to do a procedure on him and there was no way he was letting her hands get close to him, no matter how she tried to prove her hands were warm.  She put them on his arm.  She showed him that she had gloves on.  She laid his hand on top of hers.  But he was still living in the past.

I had seen Ramona just as I entered Agecare Seton and she said that she was bringing Grant to see Kelvin.  Grant is loosing weight.  It looks like Ramona has bought him jeans that are too big.  But I think the truth is that he is just getting smaller, even needing suspenders to hold his trousers up. Grant is good for not just one hug, but a series of hugs, reintroductions and hugs for about five minutes.  Then he walked right up to Kelvin's bed and in his clear army commander's voice barked, "What are doing in bed, brother?  Time to get up."

Kelvin really smiled.  One word at a time said, "I ... can't ... find ... the energy."

The four of us sat and told the story of our lives to each other.  Ramona is taking Grant on a family vacation to Pennsylvania next month.  I told Grant that Ramona would have a better time if she left him at home.  He told me, no, he wanted to go.  He has never seen Pennsylvania and she will make sure he has a good time.  I think he is right.

Ramona said that Grant sometimes forgets to eat the mid morning and mid afternoon snacks that are brought to him.  He tried to get her to eat his, and a little later, he saw it again, and this time ate it.

I can't imagine getting so old that I will forget to eat my snack.

Arta

Traveling to the theatre and back

... a selfie at the food court ...

When Rebecca was here, one of her goals was to take Kelvin out to the movies, or shopping or anywhere he thought he would like to go. 

That is how we discovered the joys of Eau Claire Market.

Who could ask for anything more: a food court, movies in progress and interesting ethnic shops.

I wanted to wheel Kelvin in and about the Nepalese store, and it was possible but just barely.

I hadn't realized that isles of stories aren't wheel chair friendly.

Rebecca and I were interested in eating at the mom and pop food kiosks -- one of them a curry place and the other a Chinese take-out.  We ordered the large sampler dish of the curries the first night.

The second time, Kelvin was dying for Chinese food, so he broke rank with us and ordered the classic Canadian Chinese take-out:  ginger-fried beef and deep friend pineapple chicken.

... our maiden voyage in the wheel chair lift ...

I didn't know how wheel chair access was going to work at the theatre until I got up the elevator right to the steps of the theatre.

No ramp here, but a small lift that would raise the wheel chair up about four feet.  The ticket taker had to leave her spot to key the unit into operation.  I was supposed to be able to get the wheel chair out on my own at the top, but there was a small lip at the top which I couldn't see, and of course, that I couldn't get over.

My first try only gave a thump to that edge with the wheel chair.  I used all of my strength on the second try but was stopped as well, and it is only by the grace of God that Kelvin didn't get whiplash or even be thrown out of the chair.  I know when to throw up my hands in dismay and again the ticket taker came to explain to me that the lift doesn't always stop even with the floor and that next time I should adjust it.  Odd that she didn't tell me that at first.

There is a talent to transferring patients from a wheel chair to a van.  A few more days of driving and going to events around the city, and Rebecca and I would have got the method right down.

Until then I had to count on learning through experience.

shop window at the
Son of Pharaoh in Eau Claire Market

Rebecca says I am the only person who wants to get her picture taken beside a skull.

 I don't think it was the skull in this shop that intrigued me.

 It was that so much of Egypt was in the display window. I didn't know that there was a real shop just around the corner that was full of Egyptian ware until a few days later when I was walking the same mall.

I shall miss Eau Claire now that Rebecca is gone.

Arta

In The Gallery - Bosch

Rebecca and Kelvin on the handibus
... an outing and an appointment at Costco ...

The schedule seems punishing since Rebecca has been here.

This has been entirely our own fault.

We don't want to miss one of the appointments that have been made or one of the many wonderful events that have been playing -- ones that are easy for Kelvin to attend.

Rebecca leaves Wednesday morning, too early to get Kelvin to the Wednesday evening event called "In the Gallery": The Curious World of Hieronymus Bosch.

I don't have the skill to stay awake for In The Gallery events. It would not be a toss up as to which of the HD Series puts me to sleep first. In the Gallery works for me, hands down. I can get a sleep before I go. I take good snacks. I fill myself with caffeine. Still, I can’t stay awake for the whole 2 hours of “In the Gallery”.

Before hand, I read about what I will see and then I go to the theatre with the best of intentions: to stay awake. I don’t beat myself up over falling to sleep. Just as many minutes as I can stay with the dialogue and the images is all I expect of myself.

That will be true of The Curious World of Heironymus Bosch when I go to see it on Wednesday. As of right now, I only know what I know because I have been watching Utube videos about this painter.

On reflection, I have heard of the painting called “The Garden of Earthly Delights” but I am going to get some analysis of the painting before I go to the show on Wednesday.  I have already taken a look at Alan Evan's review (3 Nov 2016) of the exhibit in The Guardian.

The Ballet is the series I like the least.  In The Gallery is the one that puts me to sleep.

Go figure why I go to either.

Arta

Pre and Post Theatre Events

Rebecca and I had a wonderful Saturday. We met Kelvin at Chapters before the opera began. He had been so cold in the show a couple of nights before, that she went into the bookstore and bought him a fleecy blanket. Never think that Chapters only sells books.

Judy Chicago
The Dinner Party

She also saw a lovely book on Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party, but she knew that she could find the same book in Victoria, and there is always the problem of overweight baggage now that the airlines are looking so closely at how many pounds suitcases carry.  She asked me if I wanted her to buy it for me for Christmas.  I asked her if she had seen me read for even five minutes while she has been here this week.

Yes, I want the book.

No.  I will not have time to read it.

We had brought  along a couple of blankets from home besides, so while she tucked him into his good opera seat,  I climbed the stairs iin the theatre to find my single seat. I have to find a seat at just the right height so that I can get a good view of the screen.   With trifocals a person has only a small think line of vision through multi-graded glasses.  That is what I needed to control.  They were worried about warmth.

And safety.

... walkers ...
in
The Producers

Kelvin doesn’t really like to get out of his wheelchair now, in the interests of not falling. A worthy concern.  I noticed that there was a line up of walkers on the same level as he was sitting. The image of that wonderful song in The Producers flashed through my mind. There is nothing like a long line up of walkers involved in a choreographed dance.

Kelvin will tell you that what was notable about the opera when it was finished were the old people hurrying to get their walking aids and to get down the ramp before the rush of theatre go-ers left. One woman lost her footing and fell to the ground. The usher had a panic attack and ran to call for an ambulance instead of staying to say, "buddy, buddy, are you OK". The woman, of course, wanted to get up, but she didn’t have the energy to do so. People of good-will around her offered to help her and were pulling on her arms. Rebecca was worried that this frail soul would have her arms fractured or her collar bone broken and so she was lifting her from behind. The theatre lights were on and beaming down on this corner of live theatre where so much was going on.

I thought to myself – this scenario is not one we practice in our minds that often. I know that I am due to take another St. John’s Ambulance First Aid Course for the work I do with Zoe. I think I will sign up for it with a renewed interest in those who have aged.

Arta

Just Remember One thing

Sharon had found her purse and
now it is on her lap with her at dinner.

From Catherine.

This was my last full day in Calgary.

I said to Kelvin, "Dad, this is my last day with you, and I don’t want to share it with anyone else."

That was not to be.  He wanted us to eat with his brother and sister.  So we had a family party at 5 pm with Grant and Sharon which was VERY, VERY fun.

Sharon, Kelvin, Grant and I enjoyed each other in a more private setting, just off of the main dining room.

The workers went to get Sharon and put her in the family room.

I put Kelvin there.

I met Grant at the elevator door.

I said, "Grant, this is so exciting, we are having a family party."

Grant: Who is coming?

Catherine: Sharon and Kelvin

Grant:  What about Beverly?

Catherine: I don’t think he is coming.

Grant: Why not.

Catherine: I don’t think he is feeling well.

Then I tried to change the subject.

Add caption

Here is a picture of them.

They were holding hands.

It was nice.

Again, Grant wanted Beverly to be there and asked where he was.

Sharon was laughing so hard and went into uncontrollable laugher.

She said, "He is dead."

Grant and Sharon

Grant said, "Well, nobody told me."

Sharon said, "Grant, you were at the funeral."

So I put my tape recorder on the table and their conversation was wonderful to listen to when I got home and could hear it again.

It was a lovely little dinner.

We all had an enjoyable time.

... the four of us in a selfie ...

Then all of us had FaceTime with my kids my family in Montreal were having home evening.

My Seton group family was happy to be there.

Grant offered a prayer.

Grant gave a beautiful prayer, a loving one, about loving our families and being grateful for the things that surround us.

Just lovely.

 Then Kelvin and I went back to his room to look at old letters, some from his parents, the last thing that Bessie wrote in her own hand — about her marriage.

Kelvin read me this outloud -- the story of his mother getting married.

The family photos at dinner were fun, as well, with Grant wondering….having a lot of questions about his own family and the extended family.

Just lovely to see his concern.

One of Grant’s letters that we read said, “Just remember, all that matters is family”.

... one more try at getting the perfect selfie ...

Kelvin reminded me that since the four of us had eaten in the family room, the housekeeping staff wouldn't be cleaning up after us.

I tried to gather everything together, but I stacked too many plates and cups in my hands, so they fell before I made it to the kitchen.

A bottle of Ensure was all over everything: the table, chairs, the legs of the table and all down the front of me. 

Grant was back in a second with a wet cloth and was cleaning up everything. I asked him again how old he is.

There -- a 91 year old man was cleaning up after me.

Catherine

Uncle Grant trying sushi

Catie and Great-Uncle Grant  

What is the best news of the day is a question that is asked over the dinner table where I get to share meals with Miranda, Richard, Michael, Alice and Betty.

A good part of Miranda's day was that Betty can say bye-bye and then go point to the door so that she can get outside into the yard to play.
She isn't allowed to go that far.

Only to the porch where there is another child-proof gate.

A mother has to take care that a toddler doesn't get too far.

... a take-out / bring-in meal of sushi ...

The best part of one of my days last week was to hear that Sharon was moved so that she is in the same AgeCare facility as her two brothers. 

They can spend some of their mealtimes together which is a lovely bonus for them.

Grant, back of Tom's head, Kelvin and Hebe

Catherine sent me these pictures of a July visit that the Jarvis family made to see Kelvin.

They brought sushi. As you can see, Grant was willing to try it.

And Kelvin likes it.

 So sushi it was on the Jarvis visit -- and games for all to play.

Arta