A Lifetime of Caring

Initially, I knew her only as Mary Brown, an elderly Jamaican lady who lived in the seniors' building at 252 Sackville Street. In her late eighties, it's difficult for her to get out much. But when she does come to community events, I'm always attracted by her bright eyes – eyes that seem to notice everything and enjoy everyone around her. I want to meet the person behind those dancing eyes.

I intend to learn about her life over a quiet cup of tea. Instead, she suggests that I join her for a noon-hour worship service held at CRC/40 Oaks, one of the social service agencies just around the corner from her building. On entering the tiny chapel, I discover my elderly friend along with a handful of participants. She immediately goes around the circle, introducing me to each person. This unusual little group with its distinctive blend of indigenous drums and Christian hymns, sweetgrass smoke and Scripture, is, for her, a community of faith.

Afterwards, though, she is too tired to talk, so we arrange to meet in an hour or two. I find her later in her regular spot, on a bench in the lobby of her building. She still doesn't have the energy for tea, so I simply perch beside her and start into my list of questions. What I discover are the understated particulars of a remarkable life.

Born in 1931 in St. Mary's Parish, Jamaica, Cylethia Lee was the firstborn of ten siblings. But what made her family even more notable was the racial diversity of her grandparents: one Chinese, another African, a third Scottish, and a fourth Syrian. In other words, inclusiveness flows quite literally through Cylethia's veins.

When I ask why she calls herself Mary Brown, she smiles: "To make it easy for people." Her strategy seems to work, for as her neighbours pass through the lobby, each one greets her as Mary. She is delighted to see them, knows all their names, and to one elderly woman, who is dependent on both oxygen and a mobility scooter, she sings out, "My dear, you look so beautiful today!"

When the activity in the lobby eases, I return to my interviewing. In 1954, at age 23, Cylethia was the first in her family to go to England for professional training. She went to Rochford General Hospital in Essex, about an hour east of London, where she became a Registered Nurse, followed by further qualifications in midwifery, tropical medicine, and infectious diseases. When I ask why she chose these last two areas of study, she explains, "I always intended to go to Africa – and I did go." She worked in the small town of Namwala in a country that, after independence in 1964, would be called Zambia.

More people enter the building, and once again, her memories take second place. Although many seniors dwell in the past, Cylethia lives firmly in the present and welcomes everyone: some small children coming to visit their grandmother, a tired-looking woman whose husband, she explains to me afterwards, is in the midst of a losing battle with cancer, and a Muslim woman who doesn't speak much English. Even when a woman with dementia threatens that the police will take us to prison, Cylethia responds with practised calm: "No more talk of police and prison." 

Eventually, I bring our conversation back to the past. In 1967, her family of origin migrated to Canada and settled in the east end of Toronto. Here Cylethia continued to get further qualifications, becoming both a Public Health Nurse and eventually a Nurse Practitioner. But as she had done earlier in her life, she used her many credentials not to succeed in some prestigious job, but to serve in neglected places. This time it was on various remote indigenous reserves in and around Sioux Lookout in Northern Ontario, where she worked among the Cree, Ojibway, Sioux and Metis until her retirement in 1999.

In the end, I am glad that we did not meet quietly for tea because it was the many disruptions that afternoon that brought Cylethia's life into focus for me. At the CRC chapel, I saw the faith that had inspired and strengthened her life of service. And in the lobby of her building, I saw the delight and care with which she reaches out to others – so that even in old age, as her strength declines, she is still creating community.