March 5, 1920 – August 4, 2020
Violet Jean Bain – Jean to anyone lucky enough to have known her – was born in Vancouver on March 5, 1920. Raised by loving parents Thomas and Lucy Anderson in Strathcona and East Vancouver, an agile mind and love of learning allowed her to skip two grades.
She precociously enrolled at UBC by age 16, graduating in 1940 with a major in psychology and a minor in sociology, and earning a diploma in social work the following year. While at UBC Jean became ardently engaged in social and political issues via the Social Problems Club, the Political Discussion Club, and the Student Christian Movement. This experience, combined with her Depression-era upbringing, fueled Jean’s lifelong commitment to all aspects of the fight for social justice.
Jean was also involved with the on-campus Musical Society, and was inevitably attracted to a few fine fellows. She became particularly intrigued by one handsome but seemingly aloof young man who often distinguished himself acting in the UBC Players Club. “That Archie Bain seemed like such a snob,” Jean used to recall many decades later in remembered frustration. Archie, who turned out to be an entirely commendable Scottish gentleman, was not snobby but merely shy. And, happily, not so shy as to miss out on what became a lifetime love. Jean and Archie were married on Christmas Eve of 1942.
Archie joined the RCAF during the Second World War, serving on a remote radar base in Scotland; Jean, meanwhile, was fighting her own battles as a social worker, being moved around from the West Coast to as far away as icy Nelson in winter. Her many challenges ranged from being chased by cows as she took an ill-advised shortcut through a farmer’s field to being pursued at high speed back to the office by an enraged – and woefully incompetent – parent who resented Jean taking an appropriately probing interest in his son’s welfare.
After the War, Archie briefly tried his hand at teaching before moving to Central Saanich just outside Victoria on Vancouver Island in the early 1950s to become a daffodil farmer (and, later, a successful wholesaler of exotic plants all across Western Canada). Jean very reluctantly abandoned her life on the mainland for these new circumstances and was a bit bewildered at first to find herself in a small rural cottage perched atop a cliff overlooking Haro Strait with snow-capped Mount Baker gleaming in the distance. First daughter to arrive was Lynne, followed two years later by Lesley. When a handsomely designed house was eventually built, the shack-like cottage was unceremoniously bulldozed over the cliff. And after a few years in the new home, the final daughter, Jill, was born in 1962.
Jean and Archie were an engaging and outgoing couple, and found themselves leading exciting lives while building a large community of friends who had shared interests in culture and travel. There were great house parties with people singing and dancing around the kitchen island or making impromptu music (a large collection of musical instruments was a constant presence at both parties and in daily life around the house). There were fantastical, themed New Year’s Eve costume parties, where artistic friends painted large backdrops worthy of a small theatre. These were creative and heady excitements, and Jean was at the centre of them, glamorous as all get-out and always preferring classic black to donning a costume.
The Victoria Symphony and, later, Pacific Opera Victoria, provided much artistic inspiration, as did a huge library of novels, biographies, reference books and art history tomes that was complemented by an extensive and eclectic record collection. Victoria’s burgeoning theatre scene was embraced and supported, with Archie performing in a number of musical theatre productions. Archie was also a talented barbershop quartet singer, and sentimental classics like Spanish Eyes as sung by Al Martino were often heard on the stereo. Equally so were the dramatic works of Beethoven and, especially, Shostakovich, which were played LOUD so that Jean could revel in the depths of the Russian soul.
When the endless demands of motherhood required that Jean leave her social worker job for several years, she credited CBC Radio with helping her stay sane amidst all the domestic chaos familiar to any devoted parent. But despite being more than busy, Jean always followed current events, both locally and around the world. Not content just to stay informed she took part in many letter-writing campaigns (in beautiful MacLean Method handwriting) for numerous causes, usually involving issues of social justice. And Jean wasn’t just generous with her time – she made large donations to an impressive array of charitable causes, and never more generously than to Diabetes Canada after a daughter and a grandson were both diagnosed.
While Lynne stayed in Victoria with husband Robert, her two sisters moved to Vancouver, married, and eventually had two children each (Lesley and Rod first, with Thomas and Lucy, and later Jill and Bill with Gina and Myles). They had always been a close family, and return visits to Victoria remained essential – especially with grandchildren now on the scene. And so, about once a month, the house on Livesay Road would be jammed with a lively crew of Bain-Moyes, Sherlocks, and Hemy-Bains, all stoked on delicious home-cooked meals – Eat those vegetables! Especially the Brussels sprouts! – and a seemingly endless conga line of Archie’s homemade wine brought up from the basement. Very good times, indeed.
After Jean had encouraged Archie to accompany her to seemingly every important cathedral and art museum in Europe, he yearned for more casual travels to Mexico. Teaming up with Lynne and Robert the four began more than a decade of near-annual trips to Puerto Vallarta, Zihuatanejo, and Puerto Escondido. The happy-go-lucky quartet soon self-identified as Team Margarita and, largely but by no means entirely thanks to the efforts of Jean and Robert, proved more than worthy of that moniker.
Other destinations then beckoned, from Buenos Aires to Las Vegas. Jean was particularly adept at upgrading to a better room upon arrival at any hotel, and in New Orleans she outdid herself at the iconic Hotel Monteleone, soon waltzing into a posh suite complete with an antique four-poster bed. We never did find out when it was that she realized that directly above the bed the ceiling was adorned with a massive mirror. Jean’s serious side showed in Havana where, with tears streaming down her face she spent a long time at the museum dedicated to the horrors and heroism of the Cuban Revolution.
Some years later, when all four grandchildren were old enough to travel, memorable family trips to Disneyland and Mismaloya (just outside of Puerto Vallarta) were undertaken with gusto.
It is often said that people’s lives typically contain three acts. It became clear that Jean had no intention to follow such a clichéd dictum. Widowed in 2010, she remained alone in a home that was full of many memories. Jean was always formidably strong-willed and she stubbornly refused to move into any kind of retirement complex, even though she was gradually becoming less able to look after herself. After a second hospitalization resulted from yet another serious fall, the doctors would not allow her to be discharged back home. There was a frantic search for an appropriate facility, and Jean was eventually relocated to St. Charles Manor, set in a retrofitted old mansion. By now worryingly weak, suffering from serious health issues, and seemingly succumbing to dementia, Jean was shockingly less than the vibrant soul her family had always known her to be.
Miraculously, after a few months of scrupulous and compassionate care at the Manor, Jean was slowly restored to her former self. For the next five years, she had a happy and fulfilled life in what she very much saw as her new home. Jean was often courted by attentive younger “boyfriends,” participated in all sorts of lively group activities, went on rubber-necking bus rides, and subscribed to the Times Colonist to keep informed. Always a charismatic and very social woman, Jean was clearly a favourite at the Manor. The staff happily doted on her, including one care aide who insisted on spending a lot of time helping Jean with her makeup and jewelry every morning. Several staff members even gave her special presents at birthdays and Christmas time.
“The kids are coming over” was a phrase that always sparked Jean to heights of enthusiasm: it meant that the Vancouver contingent would be catching the ferry and then installing themselves in adjoining suites at the nearby Parkside Hotel. There would be a succession of daytime visits and evening “hotel parties” where tasty dinners were cooked and Jean – the centre of attention in her wheel chair – was able to sip a few more glasses of wine than was on the menu at the Manor. These visits occurred every 4-6 weeks and were used to celebrate birthdays, play music, and maintain all the decades-long family traditions that Jean had nurtured so assiduously.
Jean turned 100 in early March, and had not one but two parties. The first was at the Manor, and included the residents and staff and also some special guests who had known Jean going back several decades. Then on the weekend, a particularly elaborate hotel party featured a mirth-filled roomful of family – in particular her only sister, Norma – as well as other relatives, and a few more close friends. And then, at 8:00 pm, the bagpiper showed up!
It was a remarkable evening – made even more remarkable in retrospect, because the COVID pandemic sparked a complete lockdown barely a week later. Afterwards, we couldn’t stop remarking on how lucky our timing had been.
Eventually, Jean became noticeably weaker and was clearly beginning to fail. Sleepy most of the time, she could barely summon enough energy to say even a few words. But when she did speak, it was clear that she was still alert to those around her and knew what was going on. Her Vancouver-based family somehow timed a few final close-but-no-hugging “patio visits” where Jean was often alert and responsive. Now hardly eating or even sipping water, she continued a slow fade (but could still manage a happy wave or flash a warm smile). Jean passed away peacefully on the morning of Tuesday, August 4.
Notwithstanding her indomitable commitment to making the world a better place, she was a practical person and insisted on a well-balanced life. Jean’s family meant everything to her, at the same time as her irrepressible joie de vivre saw her embrace vivid cultural and social opportunities . . . while looking fabulous the whole time. Jean had 100 grand years, lived her life brilliantly and generously, and was a great source of inspiration for all who knew her. And for those of us who loved this remarkable woman, it truly is the end of an era.
We will be forever indebted to the kind, skillful and attentive staff at St. Charles Manor who made Jean’s final years a real blessing. And we are grateful to First Memorial Funeral Services for their thoughtfulness and professionalism.
There will be a family gathering in Jean’s honour. Donations in her memory may be made to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation.
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