Remembering Maple

I want to tell you a story about a relative of mine now deceased. The story is as I understand it thus far based on what I have been told. Her name what Bessie Comer. She lived in a home her father had built in Kingston, Ontario that was known as Maple House or The Maple Family Home. I am not sure exactly how this name came about except that there was a maple tree in the front yard and the word Maple was written in stained glass above the front door. The house and stained glass inscription remain today.

From what I have been told, Bessie was a writer who aspired, at least in part, to write articles for the newspaper. Some essential context, however, is that women were not permitted to do such a thing at the time (at least, not to have articles in print). That is a sad part of the story.

Yet Bessie did have her articles published. She wrote under the pseudonym Maple. Her articles were accepted and did appear. I don’t know how she accomplished this exactly but somehow she found a way.

Here, I believe, enters inspiration.

I am remembering Maple a lot these days: her courage to have a voice, to find a way. Indeed, I originally thought of calling my blog just that: remembering maple. In the end, I didn’t but somehow I have the sense that my work with Maple is not over yet. She visits me in imagination and I am glad for that. Her visits offer renewal, strength, a kind of fuel to an inner fire.

What stories have you encountered that made you feel a bit stronger in conviction or courage or hope and led you to take another step? If you feel comfortable, please do share one or more of yours below. It seems to me that these are great stories to share and feel and know.

If you are feeling low on such stories, or even empty, please accept this story as one for your own.