Irene was born in Mannheim to Hans Mendler and Anna Bausch. She had an aptitude for languages and was sent to boarding school, where she developed flawless French, German and English.
She spoke the latter with a vocabulary so advanced, her misbehaving children were never called brats - they were "blots on the family escutcheon." Her grandchildren knew from an early age that "sybarite" was Oma's word for enjoying ice cream together.
Following the Second World War, Irene's linguistic skills landed her a coveted job with the U.S. occupying forces. She translated classified medical documents from German to English.
Riding her bicycle on a deserted country road one evening, she came upon a German woman who had stayed out past curfew to pick apples in a local orchard. A drunk U.S. soldier had stopped his vehicle beside the woman, and was clearly preparing to rape her. Irene, all of 5 foot 2, leaped off her bicycle and shouted at the soldier. He walked over to Irene, slapped her and staggered into his vehicle. The local woman kept thanking her.
At 26, Irene crossed the ocean to travel Canada with educator J.G. Althouse holding public hearings on education. In Toronto, she stopped to begin premedical studies, but a chance meeting at the home of a mutual friend led to marriage and three children. After four years she left the marriage, kept the children, bought a house, retained a housekeeper and became a Canadian citizen.
Her mantra every evening was, "You must go to university and get a good education." Daughters Connie, Christine and Patty took her message to heart and obtained eight university degrees between them.
As a court reporter for Peel County, Irene typed late into the night and on weekends. Expert in three languages, fluent in three more and able to understand another six, Irene often translated in court. She recounted the tale of a man almost convicted for being far too friendly with a goat. "It bit my tentacles," he cried to the court. Evidently it was the sort of misunderstanding only someone with a knowledge of Italian could rectify.
Sadly, seniors are discounted. Offered a diagnosis of diabetes and medication for Alzheimer's disease two years ago, Irene challenged the evidence, hid the medication and argued with the professionals. It was for naught. She died of cancer only two weeks after being correctly diagnosed.
In her final weeks she ate only ice cream. Too weak to argue any more, she spoke her mind in Latin, twice declaring, " Apologia pro vita sua," which means "Thus I justify the life I have chosen."
Connie Denbok is Irene's daughter.