SENATORS’ STATEMENTS — The Late Julia Mary Manning

Honourable senators, today, I am pleased to present Chapter 100 of “Telling Our Story.”

Abraham Lincoln, the sixteenth president of the United States of America once said, “All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” For many of us those words ring true each and every day.

With that thought in mind, combined with treasured memories and mixed emotions, I have the privilege to stand here today to tell you about the life of a very special lady, my mother, Julia Mary Manning.

On Easter Sunday morning, April 5, 1931, Julia Mary Careen was born in the small but, as she always would say, “the most beautiful community” of Point Lance, St. Mary’s Bay, in Newfoundland and Labrador. Her parents, Patrick and Margaret Careen, were delighted to welcome their second child, as Mom had an older sister, Mary Anne, and she was followed by a younger brother, Anthony.

As you can imagine, life in Newfoundland during the years of the Great Depression was a constant struggle. Life was very difficult, and things became progressively worse when Mom’s dad passed away at the tender age of 35. Mom was just 4 years old at the time.

On the advice of other family members and the local clergy, my mom and her sister were sent off to the Belvedere Orphanage in St. John’s, where Mom would spend the next 12 years. The orphanage was run by the Sisters of Mercy. My mom spoke well of her years growing up in the orphanage. She often told us stories about her time there, where schoolwork, chores and, as always, her prayers were part of each day. She credited her time there as having taught some valuable lessons that served her well throughout her life. She often reflected on how fortunate she was to have had her older sister at the orphanage with her.

Her dream from an early age was to be a nurse, but the $80 application fee in the mid 1940s was a major impediment to Mom realizing that dream. Having been educated while at Belvedere, as a young 16-year-old, Mom set out for St. Brendan’s Island in Bonavista Bay, where she began her teaching career. Her remuneration at the time was $75 a month, $50 of which, she would send back home to help with the needs of her family. My grandmother remarried, and Mom had a stepbrother James, whom she showered with love and affection.

During the summer months, Mom would travel home to Point Lance to spend time with her family and friends and help with parish activities, including the annual garden party. It was at one of those garden parties that she told me of her first contact with my dad, Walter.

At that stage in his life, Dad was driving a truck, hauling salt fish to the merchants in St. John’s.

At the garden party that Sunday afternoon, Mom was tasked with selling raffle tickets. She told me Dad would buy all the tickets that had been assigned to her so she could stay and talk to him a while longer. I have photos of my mom from when she was a young lady, and I can easily see why my dad was smitten with her.

They were married in 1951 and welcomed their first child, Mary, in 1952. Mom brought eight more children into the world for a total of six boys and three girls. The first decade or so of their married life was spent in Sept-Îles, Quebec, where Dad was a heavy equipment operator and Mom was tasked with taking care of the first four children in the family.

They moved back to the Cape Shore of Newfoundland in the early 1960s and opened a general store in February 1963 in my hometown of St. Bride’s, and that is where they would spend the rest of their days.

Mom was a teacher, devout Catholic, devoted wife and mother, au courant grandmother, exceptional friend, gracious hostess, superb cook, avid gardener, spirited community advocate and true pacifist.

Admittedly, as a child and later as a young adult, at times you may question the wisdom of your mom’s advice and guidance, but as you grow older, her words of wisdom are those you choose to live by.

From a very early age, Mom instilled in us the joy of reading and writing. She had such a beautiful and eloquent way with words. I am blessed to have many of her handwritten notes and cards full of sage advice that now guides me on my life’s journey.

Tidbits such as:

It was more than luck or biology that brought us together. We will need more than these to keep us together. Faith and forgiveness, kindness and co-operation, laughter and love — these will preserve the precious bonds between us.

Another one was:

Your family may be less than ideal, but they are your family.

Mom was not a big fan of politics and had plenty of advice on that front as well:

Everyone you will meet is carrying a load of something on their shoulders, so be kind and thoughtful especially for those less fortunate than you are.

One of my favourite bits of advice from her was:

Fabian, in politics, please stay on the high road as there is way too much traffic on the lower road.

Mom had a tremendous faith in God, and she had a saint you could pray to for every ache, pain or issue. Now, as she was trying to raise six sons who could be a little wild at times, I fully understand that she may have needed some help from the saints along the way.

Mom had a lifelong devotion to St. Anne, who represents maternal love, faith and the importance of generations. We had St. Anne’s medals in our pockets, our bookbags and our vehicles. The faith with which she was blessed could move mountains, and she often told me that, when troubles and tribulations came her way, it was her unwavering faith in a higher power that sustained her.

The last few years of her life were wrought with ill health, but she never lost her beautiful smile or warm embrace. Her amazing strength and courage were an inspiration. Her loss has left an emptiness in our hearts that is immeasurable, but her life left a legacy of kindness, humility and love that will remain with us forever.

There is so much more I could say about my beautiful mom, but my time today is limited, so I will conclude with the chorus of an old and famous Irish ballad, entitled A Mother’s Love is a Blessing:

A mother’s love is a blessing, no matter where you roam.

Keep her while she’s living, you’ll miss her when she’s gone.

Love her as in childhood, though feeble, old and grey,

For you’ll never miss a mother’s love ’til she’s buried beneath the clay.

God rest her.