Day: June 30, 2024

Mary Stocks Obituary

STOCKS, Mary Patricia (nee Morris) —

Pat Stocks, 94, passed away peacefully at her home in bed July 1, 2015. It is believed it was caused from carrying her oxygen tank up the long flight of stairs to her bedroom that made her heart give out. She left behind a hell of a lot of stuff to her daughter and sons who have no idea what to do with it. So if you’re looking for 2 extremely large TV’s from the 90s, a large ceramic stork (we think) umbrella/cane stand, a toaster oven (slightly used) or even a 2001 Oldsmobile with a spoiler (she loved putting the pedal to the metal), with only 71,000 kilometers and 1,000 tools that we aren’t sure what they’re used for. You should wait the appropriate amount of time and get in touch. Tomorrow would be fine. This is not an ad for a pawn shop, but an obituary for a great Woman, Mother, Grandmother and Great-Grandmother born on May 12, 1921 in Toronto, the daughter of the late Pop (Alexander C.) and Granny (Annie Nigh) Morris. She leaves behind a very dysfunctional family that she was very proud of. Pat was world-renowned for her lack of patience, not holding back her opinion and a knack for telling it like it is. She always told you the truth even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. It was the school of hard knocks and yes we were told many times how she had to walk for miles in a blizzard to get to school, so suck it up. With that said she was genuine to a fault, a pussy cat at heart (or lion) and yet she sugar coated nothing. Her extensive vocabulary was more than highly proficient at knowing more curse words than most people learned in a lifetime. She liked four letter words as much as she loved her rock garden and trust us she LOVED to weed that garden with us as her helpers, when child labour was legal or so we were told. These words of encouragement, wisdom, and sometimes comfort, kept us in line, taught us the “school of hard knocks” and gave us something to pass down to our children. Everyone always knew where you stood with her. She liked you or she didn’t, it was black or white. As her children we are still trying to figure out which one it was for us (we know she loved us). She was a master cook in the kitchen. She believed in overcooking everything until it chewed like rubber so you would never get sick because all germs would be nuked. Freezing germs also worked, so by Friday our school sandwiches were hard and chewy, but totally germ free. All four of us learned to use a napkin. You would pretend to cough, spit the food into it and thus was born the Stocks diet. If anyone would like a copy of her homemade gravy, we would suggest you don’t. She will be sorely missed and survived by her brother George Morris, children: Shauna (Stocks) Perreault, Paul/Sandy (Debbie) Stocks and Kirk Stocks, son-in-law Ian Milnes and son from another mother, John McCleery, grandchildren: Lesley (Sean), Lindsay (Lucas), Ashley (James), David (Tia), Brett, Erin (Brian), Sean, Alex, Courtney and Taylor and great-grandchildren: Connor, Emily, Ainsley, Tyler and Jack. She was preceded in death by her loving husband Paul (Moo) Stocks and eldest daughter Shelley (Stocks) Milnes and beloved pets Tag, Tag, Tag and Tag. All whom loved her dearly and will never forget her tenacity, wit, charm, grace (when pertinent) and undying love and caring for them. Please give generously to covenanthousetoronto.ca “in memory”. A private family ‘Celebration of Life’ will be held, in lieu of a service, due to her friends not being able to attend, because they decided to beat her to the Pearly Gates. Please note her change of address to her new place of residence, St John’s York Mills Anglican Church, 19 Don Ridge Drive, 12 doors away from Shelley’s place.

Kathleen Carries On Part 10 Or Peel It Off

Long ago in a land faraway, no decent woman, no matter how svelte, would have been caught going without a tortuous girdle. Mother was a decent woman. Just before embarking on a train trip to visit her family in Texas, she updated her wardrobe with the latest in girdles, a latex model interspersed with tiny holes for ventilation. After struggling into it on the morning of her departure, she was gratified to notice it was all its designers had promised. Her backside and belly were flat as a board, just as she’d hoped. Moreover, the girdle fit snugly without lines to show through her sleek skirt. Though she craved a backside and belly flat as an ironing board, she felt a curvy bosom was just the look she needed, an easy fix. Sliding foam rubber falsies into the empty cups of her new bra, she looked good!

Rounding up her six-year-old and three-year old daughters and eight-month-old baby, she slipped into her new patent leather high heels so Bill could take her to the train. It felt wonderful knowing she looked so shapely.

The long train trip was an intimidating prospect for a mother traveling with three little ones. Her diaper bag, travel bag, and purse were stuffed with bottles, snacks, toys, books, drinks, lunch, and changes of clothes for the little ones. The little girls helped with the parcels and bags, but Kathleen was constantly on the alert for their loss. The high humidity and heat made all of them miserable. The baby whined and the three -year-old fidgeted. Kathleen drank and ate as little as possible to keep bathroom trips to a minimum, but naturally, the girls made up for it. Six long hours later, her folks met them at the depot. The grandparents joyously relieved her of the children and her burdens. Because the fierce heat had dehydrated her, she’d only had to relieve herself once early in the trip, a mercy. She was dying for a drink of water and the bathroom once she got to comfort of her parent’s house. The bathroom was her first stop. The girdle had gotten really snug with the cooperation of her body temperature and the blazing South Texas heat. Dancing with the demands of her bladder, it took a bit to work her fingers under the damp, rubbery girdle. Impatiently, she gave it a tug, snatching it down in desperation. Aghhhhh! It felt as though she was being skinned. As she had perspired and moved about, her much more compliant skin worked itself into the ventilation holes of the industrial strength girdle. Upon removal, rubber monster left her covered in tiny red blisters from her waist to her thighs. As if that weren’t enough, the rubber falsies had blistered her bosoms.

The foundation garments hit the trash and on her trip home, she sported a flat chest and bouncy bottom. Live and learn.

Maxine

Praise the Lord and Save Your Kitties From the Heathen

Our little church held periodic revivals. For the benefit of those not blessed with a Southern Baptist upbringing, a revival is a series of nightly evangelical preaching services culminating with a baptismal service on Sunday for converts. There was a good bit of Hell-fire promised, so a quite a few errant souls joined up. Our small church had no baptistry, so baptism was conducted in a creek, exciting business for kids.
Dressed in old clothes, a stark contrast to usual his usual church garb, a stalwart deacon led the candidates to the preacher waiting in waist-deep water. After a few words and a prayer, the preacher dipped the candidates for baptism backwards in the murky water, then raised them up a moment later, gasping, sputtering, and cleansed of sin. It must have been quite a workout for the preacher and an unnerving experience for the baptized. Seeing the redeemed folk led from the water with their clingy garments served as a pretty good anatomy lesson for us kids, as well. Afterwards, the crowd quickly dispersed, out of concern for the soaked.
I chafed, all through the prayers and scripture, awaiting the creek side baptism, anticipating an outing with a picnic and swimming. Verily, there was no swimming for us, only baptism for the redeemed. Though Mother had warned me not to expect such a party, I’d thought perhaps I could engineer the opportunity to fall in the creek, resulting in a swim, after all. Lo, it didn’t happen with the death grip Mother had on me and Billy. My major impression of the day was disappointment.
My brother Billy and Cousin Evil Larry took the opportunity to put all they’d learned in practice the next morning. Our cat had hidden away a litter of kittens, but apparently not well enough. Billy and Evil Larry rounded up those sinful kitties and went to work on redeeming their mewing, little souls. After dunking them in the repeatedly in the water trough, a couple of them straight to Heaven, assuming the baptism worked. Mother caught the boys and saved the rest. I guess she just wasn’t into religion.