Single by choice: “Men that chased me I should just run, run around like the devil and not stop”

Anne Elizabeth, 78

My Life in a Nutshell

  • I lived in Toronto for 35 years, but have moved home to rural Ontario
  • I have been married twice and have not been lucky in love, “the first was a tyrant, the second an alcoholic”
  • I had a great childhood, “because we had more money than most kids. So we had the best of food, the best of toys, and our mom and dad took us on a trip every year, and we would go out every weekend. We would go to the movies every Saturday night, and out for a little treat.”
  • I’m proud of the fact I went back to school and got my high school diploma at 25
  • I care most about my family and my animals
  • I don’t think people care enough about each other
  • I enjoy a pint of beer a day
  • I love cooking, baking, dancing, home decorating and playing cards
  • My life wasn’t necessarily a happy one, but it wasn’t all unhappiness either
  • I couldn’t care less how others view me

Anne’s Story

(In my last post, I interviewed Bob. In this post I interview Anne, his older sister.)

Anne is 78-years-old, but looks significantly younger. She is tidy and well-kept, wearing relaxed jeans and a bright sweater, and her deep blue eyes are enhanced with just a touch of makeup. Despite her age, her face has remarkably few lines, and her expression is alert and lively. Still, a touch of sadness tinges her expression, which is most evident in the downward turn of her mouth.

Nonetheless, the retiree describes the last 20 years as “the happiest years of my life.”

Anne says that’s because she’s been single for exactly two decades.

“It’s all one-sided,” she says of marriage.

Anne has been married twice, and says her marriages were the most significant hardships she’s ever endured.

“All men are like babies. Men are exactly like babies. It has to be their way or the highway. So I said, ’take the highway.’”

Anne was born in rural Ontario in July 1941. She says, like her sister and her mother before her, she married at 17. She says marrying in your teens was not uncommon then, and Anne believed she was in love.

“I thought it was like a fairy tale.”

But marriage to her first husband turned out to be anything but.

“The first was a tyrant.”

She gives an example of life with Raymond.

“One time, my first husband got really mad at me. And I went down to my mom and dad’s, and when I come home he had the shotgun. I had to run in the field and duck.”

She says he shot at her a “couple times” because he was angry she had refused to go to a dance with him.

The marriage didn’t last more than a couple years after that point, and she left when she was 28.

“I had a job at the hospital and I worked in payroll and Human Resources, so I finally said ‘I can support myself so I’m leaving.’”

Leaving wasn’t as plausible only a few years earlier. Anne says she only had a grade 9 education when she wed.

“And women didn’t work in those days, the way they do now. There were only teachers, librarians and nurses. Very few women worked, they stayed home and looked after their family.”

But she says three years after getting married, she decided to go back to school. Anne was 21 at the time.

“I went back for four years to high school and got my 10, 11, 12 and 13.”

She describes this as the accomplishment she’s most proud of in her life.

“I was the first woman, or, in fact, male or female in our town that ever went back to high school after I was married. And then others followed.”

She says getting her diploma opened doors, and she was able to leave her first marriage.

But it wasn’t long before she would meet her second husband.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

Anne describes her second husband as “worse than the first. The next was an alcoholic.”

She says Robert always drank, but his alcohol consumption got heavier over time. She says she should have known how bad he would get, given his family history.

“They were all drunks except one,” she says.

“My mother never liked either one (of my husbands). She could tell. She could tell.”

Anne declines to describe anything more about her 13-year marriage to Robert, although she says there are a lot of bad memories: “too many to tell you.”

After divorcing her second husband, with whom she had moved to Toronto, Anne had three subsequent relationships, and was even engaged one more time.

“They were a disaster too,” she says.

“Men that chased me — I should just run, run around like the devil and not stop.”

Anne says she wanted to be a homemaker, but that was never really a choice.

“I wasn’t crazy over working but it was a necessity. I had to support myself.”

Anne is proud of the work she’s done, and you can hear the pleasure in her voice when she describes how she was treated with respect and appreciation, given she was so “highly organized.”

“I would rather have been happily married and had children and that little white picket fence, but no, it never happened to me.”

Anne never had children of her own, but says her brother always reminds her, “don’t say you never had children. Because you helped bring up mine and you helped bring up Tracy (her sister’s son).”

She has fond memories of dinners and movies and excursions with her nieces and nephews over the years.

“That’s what I remember. The highlights is having the kids.”

Apart from her marriages, Anne says she has no regrets, and she “couldn’t care less” how others view her. She says for her, the most important thing in life is family.

“I really have nothing else. And my little animals. My little animal family. I love those.”

Anne has always had dogs, and at times, she took care of the occasional cat.

“They’re the things that were completely mine that I loved and looked after, and they were just mine. They’re such loveable little things and they need loving and attention and you love them and they love you.”

Anne says she has never felt lonely without a partner. After her father died ten years ago, she left Toronto and moved home to rural Ontario, and currently lives with her brother. Her sister and brother-in-law of 56 years live in the house next door.

While she takes care of the cooking, laundry, interior painting and decorating, Anne says her brother does the “roofing and all that stuff.”

“I guess stuff I couldn’t. I only do women’s jobs, which I don’t think putting up light fixtures is a woman’s job.”

She says this “traditional” arrangement works well for them.

Currently, Anne says her life is quite busy. In the summer, she loves gardening, and year-round she likes cooking and hosting dinner parties. She especially enjoys baking, which she does often for the Anglican Church in town.

“Well, my mother was a cook. Her mother was a cook. My sister was a cook for a living. So it runs in the family.”

When asked about the future, she replies with a bark of a laugh, “What future? I’m 78.”

“I take it a day at a time, is all I do. If I wake up in the morning, that’s great. I got one more day.”

A life behind the lens: “Paul Bernardo was just a foot away from my camera”

K.D., 61

My Life in a Nutshell:

  • I care more about friends as I get older
  • I wish people cared more about their health
  • A significant hardship I’ve endured is being away from family
  • I’m the fifth of nine children, but never had any children of my own
  • I have been a cameraman for nearly 40 years and have covered stories all around the world
  • My career has been important to me and I take pride in my work
  • It bothers me if I get a feeling my work or effort isn’t being appreciated
  • I sometimes wonder if I should ever have moved to Toronto
  • I wish people would look at me and think: “This guy has his shit together”
  • I am “half and half” on a happiness scale
  • I’m a sociable guy, but I don’t get out enough

K.D.’s story

When I walk into K.D.’s home, a handsomely decorated semi-detached near Casa Loma, dozens of pieces of state-of-the-art camera equipment are strewn across his living room.  The 61-year-old is a veteran news cameraman, but he’s a newly minted freelancer.

“I don’t really have to work, so I’m not nervous.  But it’s a learning curve, going from a $50,000 to an $11,000 camera — it’s a learning curve.  They’re finicky.”

For 37 years, K.D. worked at one of Canada’s leading broadcasters.  In a recent round of cutbacks, however, the senior shooter accepted a package he couldn’t refuse.  

“It was a perfect time to leave.”

It wasn’t, however, a perfect time to retire.

“I don’t like that word,” he says.  “I’ve had a decent life and there’s still lots left.  I don’t think of myself as old.  I don’t want to get into that mindset.”

So now K.D. is starting over, picking up equipment and jobs where he can.  

“You know, I did a shoot with a former colleague recently and got paid quite a bit of money, so I hired an editor to come to my house.  We had bagels and coffee.  It was stress-free.  It was fun, so it was a good experience.”

It is a stark juxtaposition to the way K.D. started out in the business. 

“My first year I was so nervous, and I was driving what looked, essentially, like an old police car, and I almost hit a hydrant.  I ended up scraping the side and the back accidentally, and I was so nervous about losing my job I took it to an auto body shop and paid to have it repaired,” he says with a laugh.

K.D. was just 26-years-old when he began working in Toronto, Canada’s largest city.

“It was tough, very tough.”  

In fact, he says, in some ways camera work was the last thing on his mind when he was a “greenhorn.”

“There’s a lot of things you have to learn about this job.  Where to park, dealing with people, going to shooting scenes, wondering if you’re going to get shot, pushing the envelope with the cops to get the shot.”

But the nerve-wracking first years aside, K.D. went on to have an illustrious career, covering major news stories both at home and abroad.

“Because of my ability, people loved to work with me.  It gave me a good feeling that people had confidence in me, so I excelled at my work.  Work was probably pretty important to me because I didn’t have a family.”

K.D. has seen plenty of danger.  He spent a month covering the Gulf War.

“We weren’t sleeping, alarms were going off.  We’d get up to work all day and we’d get up in the middle of the night because planes would take off, the hotel would shake.  Scuds would come by fairly close, so we’d try to get shots.”

He’s also met some of the most dangerous human beings on the planet.

“Paul Bernardo was just a foot away from my camera.  I couldn’t believe how close he was.  I could have slugged him,“ he says of the moment he shot the notorious serial killer.  

“I looked him in the eye — he was about the same height.  I wanted to see if I could see the evil in him.  And I couldn’t see anything.”

K.D. has also met some of the most famous A-Listers in the world.

“Nicole Kidman just left a good impression.  We got her coming into the Princess of Wales Theatre, but she was coming by during the commercial break.  But she stayed and waited and we did our live with her. It’s amazing how some stars are just so accommodating.”

The ever-stylish cameraman, who has a penchant for Hugo Boss, has come a long way from his roots.  Not only is he 170 kilometres from his hometown, but as the fifth child of nine, he wore nothing but hand-me-downs as a child.

“When I was a little guy we’d get new underwear and socks, but when it came to pants and shirts, we’d open up the big red box in the basement and reach in and find something that fit us,” he recalls.  “Most of the time, they didn’t fit.  One time I remember pulling out a pair of green bell bottoms and they didn’t fit, but I wore them anyway,” he says.

Still, he says, given his “old-fashioned” upbringing, fashion didn’t matter to him.  As a youngster, his priorities were quite different.

“Just going to the river fishing, swimming in the river, staying there all day.  Making go-karts, climbing trees, the skating rink in the backyard, always being active.  It was great growing up.”

K.D.’s father worked on trains for the Canadian National Railway.

“All he did was work and bring money home.  We didn’t have much money, but we never starved. Although, with nine kids, you didn’t eat as much,” he says.  “The big thing was Kentucky Fried chicken.  If we had a bucket — boy, that was a big thing.”

While his father was laid back, he says his mother was the disciplinarian.   

“You didn’t want to be caught doing something.  She’d drive around with a wooden spoon looking for me and I’d be hiding in a bush,” he laughs.

He says, over the years, he has often wondered if he made the right decision in moving to Toronto. 

“Because as you get older — both of my parents are dead, and I didn’t see them much in my latter years.  It would have been a different path.”

In fact, he says, the biggest hardship he’s had to endure is being away from family.

“I can’t call up my sisters.  If they were here, I could call them and say, ‘Hey, let’s go to a restaurant.’  I don’t have that luxury where I can call any of them and say, ‘Let’s go out tonight.’  I’m sure a lot of people live with it; but, you know, your life is much more full when you have family around.”

That being said, K.D. admits life in London, Ontario would not have suited him.  He’s used to the fast pace of a big city and its restaurants and culture.

“When I drive my motorcycle North, it takes forever to get out of Toronto.  And when I get out to the suburbs, I think to myself, ‘I couldn’t live there, because it’s so far from everything.’ I have a subway right near.  I can walk to Yorkville in 12 minutes.”

At this point in his life, K.D. says he is fairly happy and enthusiastic about life, although at points he struggles with loneliness. 

“I don’t do well by myself all the time.”

That is why friendship is increasingly important to him. 

“I care more about friends as I get older, and making an effort at staying in touch.  I lost touch with a lot of people over the years.”

K.D. has had long-term girlfriends, but none of his relationships have ever stood the test of time.  He has no children.

“Certainly, I want to be with somebody, but I’m not letting it eat at me.”

And while he’s never been lucky in love — he’s had a lot of luck with real estate. 

“I bought a condo, bought a house, and have a rental apartment.  I wish I’d bought more, years ago, but things have skyrocketed.  And it’s a good experience.”

With his substantial package and pension, along with income from his rental properties, K.D. is well-situated financially.  It makes the prospect of freelancing more appealing.

“Once you get off the treadmill of work, you realize — ‘Huh, I’m okay.  I could do what I want.’”

And while everyone has regrets, K.D says he tries not to dwell on them.

“I could analyze and rip my life apart as much as I want.  ‘Why didn’t I stay with that woman or have a kid?’  I certainly would have had a different life.  But honestly, sometimes I just thank God I’m by myself.  I try to keep a positive outlook.”

K.D will be going to Bali for a couple months over the winter, and does not rule out freelancing while he’s there.  He’s also expecting some friends to visit. 

“Just because I’m alone, I’m not really alone,” he says.  

“The point is, I want people to to think of me as a nice person, and that I’m smart and that I have my shit together.  I want them to think I I try to go the correct route, try to stay healthy, try to stay in touch with family, and that I’m not bad off.”

Injuries drastically alter life of “mountain man”

Ronald Piet, 62

My Life in a Nutshell

  • I care about high-quality music, audio and video productions
  • I wish others cared more about noise pollution
  • A significant hardship I’ve endured is dealing with the aftermath of a streetcar collision
  • I’ve been married and divorced twice
  • My greatest regret is not having children
  • Something I look back fondly on is living off-the-grid for two years
  • I think others view me as sensitive, intelligent and kind, and think I’m a great cook
  • I am generally happy
  • I would have liked to have travelled more to see other continents and their art and culture

Ronald’s Story

With the help of a walker that’s heavily laden down with bags and articles of clothing, Ronald Piet slowly makes his way into Toronto’s Forest Hill library. Pain is evident in his movements, his gait unsteady and faltering.

“What weighs me down is my injury,” he says. “Pain, physical pain in my legs, neck and back.”

The 62-year-old says he was in a streetcar collision eight years ago and suffered spinal damage, which causes chronic pain.

It is a difficult fate for a man who was an avid outdoorsman in the not-too-distant past.

“You might have called me a wilderness man.”

While Piet currently lives in a one-bedroom apartment in the Bathurst and Eglinton area, just ten years ago, home was a remote cabin on Manitoulin Island, with no running water or electricity.

“No one would know it by looking at me that I was practically a mountain man,” he says with a chuckle. “I went out hunting with a bear nearby, fishing, wildcrafting, gathering fruits, nuts.”

Piet says he lived off-the-land in this cabin for six years on a part-time basis, before he relocated there full-time for two years.

“I do enjoy being in nature and I also like challenges, and I also like doing new things that I never considered doing before.”

Still, in a life marked by contrasts, life in the North was a far cry from where Piet started out.

The retiree was born in Hamilton, Ontario, one of three sons of Dutch emigrates. He says his childhood was “not particularly good.”

Piet describes his parents, who remained together until their deaths, as “stingy and unkind.”

He says not only would they never acknowledge his excellent grades and other accomplishments, but “both of my parents hit me. Frequently.”

Piet says this is why solitary activities have always appealed to him.

“For example, at the age of ten, I created my own darkroom and started processing film. I was self-taught. I enjoyed it because it was a technical challenge, and it was something you could measure yourself against others with.”

It is this interest in photography that would eventually lead him into a career working with film.

Piet started his working life as a salesperson in a camera store in Dundas, Ontario, and eventually transitioned to processing colour prints and slides at a still photography lab. He is particularly proud of some of his professional photography.

“I did some really fine music concert photography, and MuchMusic bought some to decorate their halls with at one point.”

Eventually, however, Piet says he could not resist the call of the wild, abandoning his job in his forties, to move to Manitoulin Island.

He says his ingrained studiousness served him well. Piet says he learned to live off the land, in large part, by reading and studying, and through trial and error. For those considering making a similar move, Piet says a good place to start is by learning to fish and hunt small game, like rabbit.

“And then you go and spend time, patiently, pursuing those things because both of those activities require a long period of time when you’re not even talking.”

His German Shepherd “Freedom” kept him company, but the isolation would sometimes be hard to deal with.

“Well, books (were) very important, and I also had a good AM radio that I would listen to talk radio shows late at night when I had nothing else to do, and on intriguing subjects or whatever was going on that was important to other people in the world.”

But living off-the-land was not sustainable in the long-run. And when the money ran out, Piet left rural Ontario, for life in Canada’s largest city, after obtaining a job at Deluxe Labs, an Etobicoke picture and sound post-production house.

“You would run test strips, watch on a monitor as the film was coming through, and then you’d know if you had to do anything — adjust colour balance and density, and see whether any other flaws were showing up.”

“I immensely enjoyed that job. To me, it wasn’t even work.”

He says, however, in 2011 he lost his job due to the “whole digital revolution”, an experience that made him “heartsick.”

After six months on the job hunt, Piet decided to make a career change and train to become an RMT. He had just been accepted into a program when he had his accident.

Piet now lives on assistance from the Ontario Disability Support Program.

“It’s hard to make ends meet. It would be impossible if I lived alone,” he says. “But I have a roommate. It keeps loneliness at bay. We watch shows together, do crosswords, have conversations about various things.”

Piet was married twice, but neither relationship lasted. Still, the loss of his wives is not what he mourns most in life. He says apart from his injury, his greatest regret is that he never had children.

“I think about that often, especially as I get older. Like Thanksgiving is coming, every holiday is difficult. Christmas is a big one. It gets lonely.”

Nonetheless, Piet counts himself happy. He loves to cook, and the self-described audiophile enjoys “real high-quality music and audio and video productions. I’m very interested in film and music that is very well-produced.”

And while Piet knows the pain from his injuries is not likely to improve, he still has hope for the future.

“That I live out the rest of my life in reasonable comfort, access to groceries, with a pretty good kitchen and a good sound system and computer and monitor.”