When Mary Gouchie passed away at the age of 97, her spirit was carried by 84 direct descendants.
"You've heard it said that it takes a village to raise a child. Well, she raised her own village," said her youngest daughter, Jo-Anne Berezanski, 63. Berezanski moved to Vancouver Island in 1986 and never returned except for visits. When she drove around Prince George after Gouchie passed away on Jan. 24 and saw that many of the civic flags were flying at half-mast, she was overwhelmed.
"I never knew my mom was so famous," Berezanski said. "We are so very, very proud of her for all the work she did for her family and community and she was always so humble about it."
That work spanned her entire expansive life. When she was mother to Janet, Duncan, Murphy, Shirley, Fred, Laura, Jo-Anne, Ernie, Gilbert and Douglas (the latter three predeceasing her), her efforts were applied to the work of raising a family.
She worked for years on end at the Coast Inn of the North and was its first employee to reach retirement. She would walk to and from work daily from the family home near Hakanson's General Store on the Island Cache (in the vicinity of what is today Cottonwood Island Park) before that area was cleared of all residents in 1972.
Gouchie grew gardens of fresh food and turned much of it into preserves.
She was a master at crochet work, quilting and sewing of any kind.
Her creations had function but she would also produce works of art. It was of such high quality that many cohorts of international students at UNBC and CNC received her items as gifts to take back to their home countries.
Her connection with the city's two premier post-secondary institutions grew richly when an academic interest was taken in Gouchie's ability to speak the Lheidli T'enneh First Nation's branch of the Dakelh language. She was the last fluent linguist of this dialect.
She took that responsibility with care and professionalism. She became a central figure in UNBC's and CNC's efforts to understand the Lheidli culture and document the language. She helped in similar ways with the City of Prince George and was an official translator for the 2015 Canada Winter Games - the first time those Games officially recognized a host First Nation. She was active almost to her final day in teaching the local Dakelh dialect to younger generations eager to restore this Indigenous tongue very nearly quashed by the residential school system and other colonization efforts.
"My mom lived through such racist times it would make any moral people cry," said Berezanski. "She was actually a very private person, but she did amazing things without any attention for it."
Some attention is shining now on Gouchie's legacy, over and above her 21 grandchildren, 33 great-grand children and more great-great-grand children.
Some of that attention was the simple memory of times spent with a beloved elder.
"I remember her pressing large amounts of berries through a sieve," said grandson Joseph Berezanski. "She would make sure there were no bits, just clear raspberry or blueberry juice. Grandma would take this juice, add water, sugar and ice for a kind of real fruit Kool-Aid in the hot summers."
He also remembered proudly trying to save the wrapping paper and bows from his Christmas gifts to give to his grandma so she would have nice trappings for wrapping her own presents.
"Money was very scarce when mom was growing up and in the early years of raising her family," said son Duncan and his wife Norma. "She talked of a time when she suffered terribly with a toothache. There was no money to see a dentist so she stayed up all night making moccasins, walked to town from Shelley, sold the moccasins to Harold Moffat at Northern Hardware and was able to pay a dentist to pull her tooth."
Gouchie would joke that she was so thrifty at making a dollar stretch for miles that the Minister of Finance ought to take lessons.
"Our fondest memories of our mom/grandma are going garage saling and thrift store shopping with her. She was the most thrifty person we knew and was always on the lookout for the best deals," said granddaughter Miranda Seymour on behalf of her mother Laura Luth. "She took opportunities to instill in us the importance of saving money, doing things right the first time so you don't have to do it again and, most importantly, not paying full price for something if you could find it in a garage sale or thrift store."
Gouchie also instilled the value of a life of openness.
"We also enjoyed our breakfasts with her at Ricky's or White Spot, all of her delicious home cooked meals, especially her baking and legendary Christmas dinners. We also enjoyed spending time at her home at 680 Union St., where the door was always open and the house was always spotless. Like her cooking, her garden was legendary. We could often be caught raiding her peas and raspberries. Her other favourite pastime that she took such pride in was sewing and crocheting. We especially remember how she made myself and my sister Kerri matching outfits as kids, and clothes for our dolls."
That garden was also a primary memory for granddaughter Nicole Wiltermuth, who spoke on behalf of her mom Shirley. She said Gouchie would have a bucket of soapy water for them to wash their bare feet if they'd been out raiding the raspberries and Gouchie would inspect their bare feet for cleanliness before reentry to the house was allowed.
She also remembered their mundane routines that now seem fondest of all, like Dairy Queen treats, watching Jeopardy, playing Keno on Saturday at the mall and Gouchie's favourite beverage: Red Rose tea with two cream and six sugar.
"She worked harder than anyone I know and there was never an idle moment," said Berezanski, who laughed that her mother had a lifelong heart arrhythmia and an eye damaged in an awl incident, but with modern medicine helping to ease both afflictions, the elder Gouchie was keen to point out that she was getting younger as she was getting older.
"Her life was a perfectly balanced routine," Berezanski said. "I loved our visits and she loved hearing about my adventures. She was a joy to be with and always had wise and comforting words to share. I know that she will be dearly missed by our nation, our Prince George community, and especially our family."
Her legacy will live on in each word of Lheidli Dakelh spoken by future generations and it will live on in physical form as well. Artifacts from her life are already being gathered for an upcoming exhibition at The Exploration Place Museum and Science Centre. Items so far collected include Gouchie's wash tub, washboard, sewing machine, ironing board, a pink dress she wore for special occasions, a pressure cooker, some crochet work, her last piece of unfinished sewing, receipts for the purchase of some of these tools, a 100-year-old doll, some of her written notes for translation work and some tapes of her voice.
Her funeral will be held at the Sacred Heart Cathedral on Saturday at 2 p.m. with a graveside service to follow at Lheidli T'enneh Memorial Park's cemetery. A reception will be held after that at the Marriott Hotel where a tribute video will be shown.
Below are two family essays.
Atsoo
by Kym Gouchie
Granny Mary was a very dignified woman whose life was built on hard work, sacrifice and resilience. She believed that education was the most powerful survival tool and it was predictable that she would mention it at least once during a family visit.
She would say "nobody could have done what I've done." And I believed her.
She lived in The Cache and worked in housekeeping at the Inn of the North. She'd pride herself in never missing a day of work even when she was sick. She knew that she couldn't afford to miss a day because money was so tight. She walked to work in all kinds of weather and often told stories of how she had to climb over the train and under the train which she said was no easy feat. She was born in a government built house on the north side of the Fraser River out in Shelley, which is where many of the community members were placed after the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway took ownership of their ancestral land.
As a child and teenager, she was the eyes of her blind mother Lizette Seymour which didn't allow her much time to play. She'd go to school and the rest of her time was spent helping at home. From a young age she learned to cook, clean, sew, pick berries, set rabbit snares and night lines for fish. This work ethic guided her right to the end.
She lived for the last six years at the Laurier Manor, which is an independent living complex that provides meals and in-home support if needed. They would come in and clean her place on Wednesdays but she would often do a cleaning before they got there.
She was ruled by the clock and lunch time and dinner time had her pushing you out the door. She would grab her tea bag and head down the long hallway to the dinner hall. She never wanted to be late.
I was always shocked at how much sugar she used in her tea and she told me that sugar was the secret to a long life and she'd say it's salt that's the killer. The only time that I ever put sugar in my tea was at Granny's house.
Atsoo means grandmother in the Lheidli dialect. My atsoo and I spent many, many hours together as I documented Lheidli words and phrases, many of which I have included in my songs (and will continue to).
She was a wealth of information and kept original documents that lay out the story of her life in chronological order. She kept journals and diaries and was always aware of what was going on with politics and in the world.
On Oct. 2, 2017, she told me this, "There's something wrong in the world. The whales are dying."
She'd often greet us at the end of the long hallway when she knew we were coming. She called it death row and would smirk. Oh, I loved her smirk. She was always so quick-witted and sharp. Even on her death bed she would wake up just enough to add to the conversations happening around her.
When she was in hospice, sleeping longer and communicating less, I was standing alone with her and she drifted off. Uncle Murphy walked in and came to her side. As he leaned in, she opened her eyes and Uncle Murphy said, "Hi Mom, it's me, Murphy." She turned her head to me and laughed and said, "He says that every time."
She knew who he was.
When she was still coherent she never lost her ability to recognize us and to tell us she loved us.
The day before she passed, she was looking up at the ceiling and pointing. She said "They are waiting for me. I need to go through there. That's where I need to go."
I asked her if she sees my dad and she nodded and said "yes." I told her it was okay if she wanted to go with them.
My mom whispered to her "everything is ready" and Granny nodded and smiled and said "yes." She then said, "after I'm gone, it doesn't matter." She repeated this sentence.
My mom asked her if she saw her mom, my Blind Granny. Granny held her hand to her mouth and nodded yes.
She left us on Jan. 24 at 9:25 p.m. She was surrounded by the love and tears of our big family. There was a confusion of joy and sadness with an overwhelming feeling of peace.
A Memory of Mom Gouchie I'll Never Forget
by Noella Gouchie on behalf of her husband Murphy and daughter Jacqueline Taylor Gouchie
I remember visiting mom years ago shortly after she moved into 680 Union St.
She was cooking something in a very large pot on the stove. She was using a very large wooden spoon.
I was sitting at the table in the kitchen and I noticed mom had several scandal magazines. I was browsing through these old scandals and noticed she underlined a picture of Clark Gable. I asked her what was so good about this old black and white picture of Clark Gable. She started to laugh under her breath muttering something about how she thought he was such a good looking man and Jake (in her eyes) kinda looked like him.
I couldn't believe what I just heard. I said "what did you say?"
She said in modest little laugh, "ya, I think he is so handsome." I remember saying without thought "Mom, if you think Jake looks like Clark Gable, then what the hell did you see in Dan Gouchie?"
She quickly pulled out that wooden spoon out of the pot and flicked it clean. She turned toward me (I thought she was going to hit me with the spoon for saying hell) and said "You know, dear, Dan was a good looking man too. He was such a good dancer as well. I loved dancing and so did he. He always liked to dance with me or Josie John Paul. He was always dressed like a proper gentleman and spoke so kind to me. He was a great help preparing wood for her and caring for her blind mother (Lizette Seymour)."
As she returned to her large pot, she continued to stir vigorously to whatever she had going on for thoughts. She never shared her thoughts and I knew better than to continue that conversation. Whew, glad that was over with.
On Aug. 4, 1994, Murphy and I did a reaffirmation of our wedding vows of 25 years. Mom got to do the first dance with her son Murphy. She said she hadn't danced in over 30 years. She was in her glory. Mom never danced again since that day.
I remember Mom when Murphy and I came home in August last year that we would be celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary in August 2019. I said "you know, Mom, maybe you could dance again even if you could use your walker." She looked at me and laughing so softly saying, "you know dear, I think my dancing days are over."
I asked her if she would change her mind if Clark Gable was present. She shook her hand above her head and then lowered her head to a graceful bow, saying "nothing could change me now. I'm just too old."
