Shirley Ann Struthers

Fed up with puréed food and the confines of a wheelchair, Shirley decided to take her chances on the great beyond, Friday, March 24, at the age of 84.

Throughout her life Shirley preferred the company of men—especially smart men—over women and in her later years, animals over all. Her first love was her father, Walker Mitchell, who, as an uncompromising disciplinarian, helped raise Shirley and her little sister Bette to be strong, independent women, albeit with a touch of PTSD.

Educated at Brandon College, Shirley worked for a brief time as a school teacher in The Pas and as Miss Shirley on Romper Room before turning her full attention to her young family. She was a staunch grammarian who was always quick to point out a dangling participle or split infinitive to her bewildered children.

Shirley dedicated her life fully to her family and though frugal when it came to her own needs, her generosity to her children and grandchildren knew no bounds. For Shirley, food was a natural expression of her creativity and nurture. Her skill as both consummate cook and host was local legend and everyone was welcome at her table. Sunday dinner was a weekly culinary triumph and family ritual long after her four children had grown up.

Her nurturing touch also extended to flora. House plants responded so well to her care that they threatened to strangle out human inhabitants. Her yard was festooned with pointsettias and geraniums that she managed to overwinter indoors and return to their former splendour each summer. She loved fresh garden tomatoes and grew bumper crops that she would devour herself, to the point of breaking out in rash, rather than share.

Like many children of the Great Depression, Shirley hated to see anything go to waste, especially food. She was undeterred by mere ‘best before’ dates, making it her personal mission to save every wretched morsel from the trash. Finicky children refusing to eat would face the dreaded ‘timer’. “Clean your plate before the buzzer rings, or else!” Strangely though, none of her children ever learned what terrible fate awaited them.

Shirley was also a news junkie and liked nothing better than a heated discussion of politics or world events. Her kitchen companion was a food-spattered boom box set permanently to CBC 540 with which she engaged in constant and sometimes less-than-civil debate. When the news of the day brought her to her breaking point, she would turn to her collection of CDs, treating anyone within earshot to free concerts by Pavarotti or Johnny Cash.

Shirley was a physically active person throughout her life. A disciple of the XBX exercise program, she chose to walk or pedal, rather than drive, whenever possible. When her knees became creaky with age, she swore by giving them a regular squirt of WD40 to keep them supple. She dabbled at bridge and curling and had a torrid affair with the game of golf, for which she briefly abandoned her family.

Responsibility always trumped entitlement in Shirley’s world. She was absurdly stubborn and never let a cold, flu or ruptured appendix keep her from her daily duties. This sense of dedication also extended to the observance of happy hour, to which she was a strict adherent. Though she never visited its namesake, the Manhattan was her drink of choice.

Sadly, we don’t know what antics Shirley might have been up to over the last decade as she was taken from us, bit by bit, by Alzheimer's. When her condition necessitated a move to a care home, she referred to it, while she still had the words, as her prison. But she faced her sentence, as with everything in her life, with good humour and stoicism.

She will be forever loved and missed by her children, Michael (Grace), Robert (Noreen), Gordon (Helge) and Kathryn (Bruce) and her grandchildren Becky, Brandise, Severn, Lauren, Natalie, Walker and Max. There will be no formal memorial service, but we encourage you to mix up a Manhattan and raise a toast to Shirley.

Manhattan

2 oz rye or Canadian whiskey, ¾ oz sweet red vermouth, dash Angostura bitters,

Maraschino cherry (garnish)

Stir over ice, strain into a chilled glass, garnish and serve straight up

Shirley’s family offers their heartfelt thanks to the staff at Luther Care Home and Extendicare, who offered such tender care to Shirley during her final years. You are our heroes. Arrangements entrusted to Acadia-McKague's Funeral Centre (306.955.1600).