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Katherine (Kay) MacDonald: Matriarch. Teacher. Potato tutor. Islander. Born Dec. 2, 1925, in Boston; died Nov. 9, 2017, in Stratford, PEI, of a stroke; aged 91.

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Kay MacDonald.The Globe and Mail

I could always count on Aunt Kay to upgrade my potato education during summer visits to Prince Edward Island. She carefully explained the source and variety of potatoes served for supper at her cottage on the red Gulf shore. There were tutorials about Irish cobblers, new potatoes and the “best eating” Green Mountain variety, but she also gave me – a mainlander nephew – an appreciation for my Island family. As I savoured the delicious potatoes, Kay told stories about my family’s remarkable experience on PEI. For that, I am grateful. She always spoke of the family with respect, love and understanding; she cared that far-flung relatives knew about their Island people.

Katherine Roche was born in Boston, but her Islander parents raised her in Georgetown, PEI. She trained as a teacher at Prince of Wales College in Charlottetown, a career well-suited to her leadership abilities. Kay became principal of Georgetown High School at age 20. It was a job she enjoyed for two years, until she learned that she was being paid less that the male vice-principal. Kay raised the wage gap with the board and when it didn’t increase her salary, she resigned.

Kay enrolled in St. Dunstan’s University (now University of Prince Edward Island) to study English, and this is where she had a fateful encounter. In one class she sat in front of an “annoying” man who had served in the Second World War. Eugene MacDonald was so annoying that Kay asked the professor to talk to him (he did). Eventually, Gene became sufficiently less annoying that he and Kay embarked on a romance. Dating progressed to marriage in 1952, which lasted until her beloved Gene died in 2008.

Kay and Gene settled in Stratford, outside Charlottetown, and raised a family: Gene-Marie, Anne, Ron, Claire, Peter and John (who died in infancy). Kay and Gene were an impressive couple: intelligent, witty, strong and compassionate. They loved each other deeply and, into their 80s, often fell asleep holding hands.

They built a modest cottage near Stanhope beach and it became a refuge and retreat for family and friends. That cottage is still a place of stories, single-malt scotch, family history, board games, barbecues and (for me) potato learning. During cottage visits, Kay helped me to see my place within the Islander lineage. She told family stories with kindness, humour and, importantly, honesty. I gained many insights about family and myself. Graciously, she acknowledged my claim as an “honorary” Islander by virtue of my bloodline, visits and donations of bottles of Highland Park scotch for before or after-supper nips (and even during, under extraordinary circumstances).

As I prepared to leave the cottage last summer, I told Auntie Kay that I loved her. She looked me in the eye and said simply, “I love you … very much.” Her pause and amplification added such tenderness. It was as if her words came from deep within our family. Our farewell is a precious memory. I still hear her voice.

So, for one last time I say, please pass the Irish cobblers, Kay, and tell me again about that annoying guy from English class.

Jim MacDonald is Kay’s nephew.

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Lives Lived celebrates the everyday, extraordinary, unheralded lives of Canadians who have recently passed. To learn how to share the story of a family member or friend, go online to tgam.ca/livesguide.

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