Williamina Elder

Wiliamina (Bunty) Elder died peacefully, Saturday, November 16th from complications of Alzheimers at Four Corners HCC. Bunty was 90. She was born Williamina MacKenzie, on April 14th 1923 in Victoria , British Columbia, Canada and grew up at her family’s home on MacKenzie Beach near Tofino, on the rugged west coast of Vancouver Island. She married Glenn Martin on January 3rd, 1945 in Blanchard, WA. She resided in the Bellingham area, raising her daughters and truly loving the hard work of being a partner in various family businesses, “spare” time was spent with volunteer work for her community and her beloved golf game. Bunty served in the Royal Canadian Air Force Women’s Division during WWII and was stationed in Halifax, Nova Scotia and Vancouver, BC, serving in the Western Air Command as an air traffic controller (rank: LAW - Leader Aircraft Woman). Her marriage to Glenn ended in divorce after 27 years and she married Thomas Elder in Bellingham, WA in 1974. She moved to the Durango area in 2009 to be near her daughter, Carolyn. She is preceded in death by her parents Williamina (Davidson) and Donald MacKenzie, siblings Roselynd, Donald Jr, Ian (John), Alice, Jessie (Tess), Leslie and Kenneth. She is survived by her brother Robert, of Nanaimo, BC, 2 daughters, Linda Smith (Lloyd) of Everett, WA and Carolyn Plested (Bill) of Bayfield; 3 grandchildren, Elysa Madison, Andrea Plested and Scott Plested; and a large loving family of nieces and nephews and their families.

Nobody Has Mom Named Bunty
By Linda Martin Smith, eldest daughter of Bunty Elder.

When Carolyn and I were toddlers, we were given the freedom to call our parents by their first names. We didn’t know anything different until we started school and discovered words like Mommy and Daddy were perhaps more appropriate than Bunty and Glenn, especially in social situations.

Other kids’ moms had names like Lois, Betty, Dorothy, Ann, or Mary but nobody had a mom named Bunty except for us. Mom was named after her mother, Williamina Davidson MacKenzie, and Bunty, as we learned, was a Scottish term of endearment, an affectionate name meaning “little dear one”.

Mom’s name often required some explanation to those who asked. Your Mom’s name is Bunny? Bonny? No, Bunty, a Scottish nickname. It is a substitute for Williamina. Oh, well, that clears it up! Williamina, not Williameena! So, Mom’s name was always a source of interest, yet it fit her well: little dear one.

Mom lead a unique life equaling her unique name. Born the fifth child of nine to Scottish immigrants in Victoria, British Columbia, Mom grew up in the remote village of Tofino on the rugged west coast of Vancouver Island--a unique and wonderful spot, but not well-known by my teachers and classmates. When I announced to my third grade teacher that I was going to visit my grandparents in Tofino, on the west coast of Vancouver Island, she bluntly retorted with something like, no you’re not, you can’t get there.

Well, we did get there to visit over and over again to Mom’s home on the beach where she learned to love the beauty of the sea, the magic of the virgin forested lands and all of the creatures living there. Mom grew up with whales, cougar, deer, clams crab, oysters, salmon--all in her front yard. She knew the names and habits of everything. She could tell you which plants in the forest were medicinal or poison, or which sea snails were edible. But most importantly, to her children and grandchildren she knew around which trees the fairies would dance at twilight. Mom’s imagination and unabashed love of nature ran deeply in her soul, always. Nobody else’s Mom was like that.

Nobody’s else’s mom was a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force in Halifax, Nova Scotia as an air traffic controller for the Western Air Command during World War II, went on to marry our father, a U.S. Army paratrooper from Edison, Washington, and settled in Bellingham to raise two beautiful daughters, born fourteen months apart and herself, become a United States citizen. I remember that day. Mom dressed in a lovely suit, her daughters equally pretty, stood quietly in a small windowed room in the Federal Building in downtown Bellingham, clutching the hands of her own little dear ones, to be sworn in as an American citizen. Mom had to learn some U.S. history as a requirement for citizenship. At the time, we lived on a 40-acre farm in Ferndale, and had a small head of cattle, most raised from calves bought at the auction. Mom named the heifers after the wives of U.S. presidents, so we had Martha Washington, a Hereford, Abigail Adams, a roan; and bulls (steers) were named after presidents; most memorably Zachary Taylor, a Holstein. Mom had no problem passing this part of the test. Now, nobody’s else’s mom did that!

One of Mom’s early jobs as she raised her girls on the farm was being field boss for local strawberry growers during the summer months. Mom’s military training paid off as she kept a strict watchful eye on the youth who would rather throw and eat the berries than pick them. One of Mom’s gifts was her ability to detect the sound of an improperly picked berry. She could hear the snap of a berry pulled off the stem one-handed a mile away. Proper strawberry picking was a gentle two-handed affair and she made sure the kids did it correctly. Carolyn and I had to be extra good as our mom was the boss of everybody! No other Buntys in the berry field! Only our Bunty.

Life on the farm became life at Delta Grocery, became life at the Fir Tree Motel, and then a brand new life with Tom: world travels, golf, dancing, partying, ball games, trips with friends and family in the fifth wheel, grandchildren, step-children--a full, full life.

Mom adjusted to selling groceries and pumping gas, but it was a 12 hour a day, 7 days a week grind. She missed the leisurely family connections and just spending Saturdays going to downtown Bellingham, all dressed up for lunch at Newberry’s and shopping at the Golden Rule and Penney’s. One memorable Saturday, she hired some help so we could, once again, have that Saturday downtown feeling. Dressed up, the four of us were window-shopping along Cornwall when we looked down to discover that Mom had on two different high-heeled shoes! We all shared great big laugh and went on our way in a jolly mood.

In the 1960’s everything gradually changed in the world, in everyone’s lives and in the family that Mom was so devoted to. Mom’s girls took piano and violin lessons, performed at community functions, were good students, winning spelling bees and Girls’ State, beauty contests, scholarships, going on to college to become a teacher and a nurse. Mom was a proud, proud mother. She took much joy--feathers in her cap--in the successes of her two girls. Mom became a grandma for the first time in 1971 when Elysa (Elly) was born to Linda and twice again when Andrea and Scott were born to Carolyn in 1981 and 1982. Ever the teacher, Mom taught Elly how to knit at age 5, a skill Elly is still able to do today. Mom instructed the three of them in the fundamentals of a golf swing in her back yard, and, as a summer evening approached, showed them where the fairies danced in a ring around a tree not far from her Bellingham home.

Mom’s was uniquely versatile in many areas. She had true zest and curiosity for all of life, never afraid to try something new: part athlete, part urbanite, part businesswoman, part homemaker, part explorer, part leader, part helper, and ever the lover of her own life, her children and grandchildren. She reveled in the wonders of nature, her flowers, her dogs, rocks and landforms, the sky, the moon, her beloved sea. She could wield a shovel, turning the soil to ready a garden as well as any man and in the same day, arrange a delicate bouquet of roses to match the artistry of a florist. Nobody’s mom did that. Nobody’s mom was named Bunty, the little dear one.

As God is welcoming back His little dear one, our little one, Bunty, He must know how very special, important and influential she is to all those whose lives she has touched: her friends, her family; how instrumental Bunty was in creating interesting and vibrant lives for her two little dear ones, Linda and Carolyn. Bunty’s grandchildren, Elysa, Andrea and Scott are forever blessed to have had Bunty for their grandmother. Nobody has a grandma named Bunty.

Let’s hope Bunty arrives at the gates of Heaven to the strains of her favorite song, “Somewhere Beyond the Sea” where she, in eternity, will continue to be imaginative and curious, surrounded by the endless comforts of beauty and love.