FOUR WOMEN WHO TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE

I have been extraordinarily fortunate to have four strong, wonderful, hard-working and intelligent women in my life who taught me, guided me, challenged me—and hugged me on the bad days.

They each left something with me that I carry to this day.

First, my mother.

When I was eight or nine, I came home upset because a girl down the street didn't want to play with me.

I wanted sympathy.

Instead, my mother said, "You need to learn how to solve your own problems."

It hurt. A lot.

But those words became some of the best advice I've ever received. She was teaching me that I was capable of finding my own way through difficult things.

I loved her. And I still do.

Then there was Miss Sinclair.

My Scottish neighbour. A librarian. And, for about 26 years, one of the most important people in my life.

My father traded lawn mowing, snow shovelling and car maintenance for weekly lessons in reading and writing—in English.

Miss Sinclair taught me respect, manners and gratitude. She taught me to write thank-you letters. She taught me that gratitude isn't just something you feel—it is something you express.

She taught me to drink tea from a proper porcelain cup and saucer. Her side door was never locked, but I still had to knock.

Every so often, she would invite my mother for tea. Mom brought a cake, and we'd sit around the table talking about life.

As I got older, the tea occasionally became ginger ale with a tablespoon of wine—with my parents' approval, of course.

I loved her.

Then came my aunt.

She had rules for living.

"Move every day."

"Say hello to everyone on the street—even if you don't know them."

As she got older, she would walk four blocks each way, even in winter, to buy one thing: an apple, a cinnamon roll, a loaf of bread.

At Christmas, I'd take her shopping. She bought a box of chocolates for every receptionist and secretary she knew.

Because those women mattered.

They helped with appointments, taxis and all the little things that made life easier.

My aunt noticed.

And she said thank you.

She kept a list throughout the year, and then we'd spend days driving around delivering chocolates and thank-you cards.

Even the gas station owner who brought in a stool so she could sit down and warm up on her winter walk received a box.

And then there was my mother-in-law.

The biggest and best gift my husband ever gave me.

She came for a visit that lasted seventeen years.

Was the first year difficult?

Yes.

Mostly because of me.

I was fiercely independent.

She taught me, among many other things, how to reuse and recycle long before it became fashionable.

I had an old wool sweater I wanted to throw away. She made me unravel it and leave the wool with her.

While I was at work, she knitted me mittens and socks from that old sweater.

Then there was the pregnant stray cat who arrived at our home and gave birth to eight kittens.

My mother-in-law saved everything—peach baskets, tomato baskets, old jars—"just in case."

We bought eight brightly coloured tea towels and some kitten food.

Then she took the kittens, wrapped in their little tea towels and tucked into peach baskets, to church.

She knew there were older people there who were lonely.

Every Sunday, she'd find someone who needed a little companionship and help them take home a kitten.

She understood something important:

Sometimes helping isn't about giving people what you think they need. It's about noticing what is missing from their lives.

A pair of mittens.

A thank-you card.

A cup of tea.

A kitten.

A hug.

A little help.

A reminder that someone cares.

Four women. Four very different lessons.

My mother taught me independence.

Miss Sinclair taught me respect, manners and gratitude.

My aunt taught me kindness, movement and the importance of noticing people.

My mother-in-law taught me resourcefulness, generosity and compassion.

And all four taught me something I hope I never forget:

You don't have to do something enormous to make a difference in someone's life.

Pay attention.

Look around.

See what needs doing.

And do it.

These four women formed much of my character.

As I work to earn your trust—and, ultimately, your vote—I thought it was important for you to understand a little more about who I am as a person, and where those values come from.

I had the extraordinary privilege of having these four women in my life.

Their lessons, their example, their kindness and their strength helped shape the person I became.

And I carry those lessons with me every day.

Thanks for listening!

September 3rd, 2026