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by Shelley Byers
Kitchener Citizen
November 3, 2016
“She’s a give-back person,” says her granddaughter, April. “With the will of happiness.”
Velma Belliveau doesn’t talk about her childhood except to say that she loved to dance. Born in Hamilton in 1928, her family moved to Waterloo Region when she was small.
The Depression had dissolved pocket books and hardened hearts across North America. These are the difficult times she would rather not call back.
Her family lived on Weber Street in Kitchener. The youngest of seven children, Velma reveled in being the baby.
“What did your brother call you?” Her daughter, Lynn, asks.
“Little darling.” Velma’s eyes crinkle with a smile.
Like many others during that time, Velma left school early to help the household. She found work in a bakery and later, during the Second World War, folded parachutes for the Armed Forces.
Her family was able to house two foster children who fit in like filling in a pie. Her father worked for Coca Cola, but everyone pitched in to help keep food on the table.
“How did you manage?” asks Lynn.
“Very carefully,” Velma says.
The stress of a house stretched to its seams and the daily insecurity lead to, what else, the jitterbug.
“I love to dance! We went to dances five times a week,” she says. “To get away from everything.”
Even now, when in the comfort of the lounge at Trinity Village, Velma taps her toes to the music of Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra and Englebert Humperdinck.
She married Eddie in her early 20’s and muses that it was beautiful, but it didn’t last. The couple had three children, Lance, Lynn and Kevin. Lynn was four when her father began his career as an O.P.P. officer. Constant transfers bounced the family from city to city.
In Waterdown, faulty wiring set their rental home ablaze. Thankfully, they had been away, but what little they had was gone. Velma gathered her children and prepared for another transfer to Dundas, then Burlington and up north to Rolphton – a ghost town today.
As sometimes happens, something had to break. But, as she always had, Velma looked to the future and saw goodness. Ed’s family made sure that Velma and the children were settled back in Kitchener.
“It was difficult on my own,” says Velma. “But I made the best of it.”
Velma began working at Electrohome testing televisions as they advanced down the assembly line. She couldn’t afford a television of her own for many years. A single mom in an era when that was rare, she did little things to give her children little beacons of delight.
“She was a loving, caring mother,” says Lynn who describes a lavender bedroom painted as a surprise. Her eyes settle on her mom across the room. “She never complained.”
“What is it she always says?” asks April.
“Unless you have something good to say, don’t say anything at all,” says Lynn.
Velma’s parents moved from Weber Street to a small farm near Wellington Street. The farm didn’t last long before they moved to Havelock near Peterborough where Velma’s brother owned a fishing lodge.
Eight cabins complete with small fishing boats were scattered along the shore. The three ladies remember fish fries and the simplicity of life at the lodge. Visits were frequent including Christmases. Stories about trimming trees and baking pies are lost in the memory of getting stuck in the muddy driveway that decorated festive presents in sludge.
At home, however, she was on her own. She was proud of her children and grateful for her job, but every once in a while – the jitterbug.
Back in the early 70’s, the original Coronet on Victoria Street in Kitchener was considered “spiffy.” That’s where Velma met Paul.
She recalls that her friend had her eye on the handsome construction worker, but Paul had eyes only for Velma.
“The rest is history,” says Lynn.
They married and had almost 20 years together. They bought a motor home and took to the road. Their travels covered Sarasota, Tampa Bay, Disney World and best of all, Bingemans park in Kitchener.
“Remember the Sunday picnics?” April asks, her eyes matching her Grandmother’s. Those were the days of the swimming hole, a lone swing set, and kids building castles on a tiny swatch of sand. Heaven.
Another adventure took them to an old, abandoned farm house in Southampton. Together with the children, they gutted the ramshackle place. Inside the walls, they found newspapers used as insulation dating back to 1910. For Paul, this was the perfect hobby that would become a home.
Just before construction was complete, Paul was diagnosed with cancer. He passed away nine weeks later.
For a moment, Velma’s head bows. “He couldn’t dance, but he tried,” she whispers. “I loved him.”
It doesn’t take long for Velma’s head to rise, her eyes to glisten, and her shoulders to square.
This time, Velma had grown children to help her through her grief. She sold the house in Southampton and moved to a small walk-up apartment on River Road in Kitchener to begin another new life.
She had retired from Electohome at the age of 65 and had her own television set. She had gone through a few by then.
At the age of 78, Velma needed a hip replacement. After extensive tests, her doctors gave her the disheartening news that she also needed a quintuple bypass.
Lynn and April arrived at the hospital where Velma was to undergo open heart surgery.
“And what was she worried about?” Lynn asks. “Us seeing her with her teeth out!”
The girls agree that Velma sailed through that surgery and the hip replacement that followed. Later, Velma moved into the same building as Lynn as it boasted a single floor.
Life took on a carefree attitude with Sunday dinners shared, and families growing. Velma’s arms have held seven grandchildren and one great-grandchild.
Yet, tranquility soon found disquiet one afternoon when Lynn couldn’t reach her mother by phone. Knowing Velma was usually out during the day, she didn’t worry. They had spoken at their usual time the night before. Velma most likely had her stroke shortly after they hung up. It left her partially paralysed three years ago and needing the care of a long-term-care facility. For many, this would deflate the balloon of hope.
A knock at the door to her room stops our chatting. Two PSWs enter, each with their arms outstretched looking for a hug before leaving for the day.
“We can’t leave without saying goodbye to Velma!” they chime.
“She’s everyone’s grandmother,” says April. “She’s an inspiration about how to look at life and keep going no matter what happens.”
Velma shakes her head. “I never thought of it like that before,” she says.
April calls her grandmother a go-with-the-flow girl mixed with a bit of Betty White.
True to form, Velma embraces each new adventure, and they are plenty. She is the “new face” of Trinity Village. Her sparkling eyes will be the first image seen on their new website. As well, she will be quaffed and dolled up for an in-house fundraiser the Sip’n Shop Fashion Show and Shopping Extravaganza.
“She has a sparkle and spirit that is non-stop,” April says showing a copy of the photo used for the website.
“She’ll need an agent,” says Lynn. Her smile reaches across the room to her mother.
“Well, isn’t that something,” Velma says with a twinkle.
JITTERBUGGING THROUGH LIFE
New face of Trinity Village an inspiration of how to look at life
New face of Trinity Village an inspiration of how to look at life
Velma Belliveau with her daughter Lynn (left) and granddaughter April.