Stone Stories: The Golden Girls of Prospect Cemetery

Have you ever heard of best friends being buried together?

That’s exactly what four women in Toronto chose to do. They lived in the same neighbourhood, supported one another, and made sure they’d stay side by side long after their time on earth. Their story is heartwarming, inspiring, and a little unexpected.

In the heart of Toronto’s Prospect Cemetery sits a shared gravestone marked with one simple word: Friends. The four women behind that stone, Pauline Chorna, Annie Hrynchak, Nellie Handiak and Anna Baran, might not be famous, but their story has captured hearts across Canada and beyond.

These women, friends in life and now in death, chose to be buried together as chosen family. Their decision, made decades ago, quietly reflects a lifestyle that’s now becoming more common, one that embraces shared housing and friendship as a way to age with dignity and connection.1

At a time when most people were buried with relatives, choosing to be buried with friends was unusual and incredibly meaningful, which is part of why their gravestone stands out so much today.

Thank you for being a Friend

Long before the Golden Girls TV show aired in 1985, these four women had already built full lives rooted in friendship and community. All four were immigrants from the Carpathian Mountains, part of a wave of 20th-century migration driven by difficult economic times2. Some say they may have met on the ship that brought them to Canada.2

They each married and raised families, but no matter where life took them, they stayed close. They met regularly to play cards and catch up at the Carpatho-Russian cultural centre, building a bond that lasted decades and continued beyond their lifetimes.

This kind of friendship, and now living arrangement, is part of a growing movement in Canada known as the Golden Girls model. It’s a new way for seniors to share homes instead of moving into care facilities. It helps fight loneliness and can make housing more affordable. In 2019, a bill called the Golden Girls Act was introduced in Ontario to make shared housing easier and more protected by law.3

The movement has grown beyond Toronto, too. In my hometown of Sudbury, for example, a group of women created the Golden Girls Network to help seniors learn more about shared housing. They want people to know that this way of living can offer friendship, safety, and support. It’s not just about saving money, it’s also about finding joy and community in later life.4

Prospect Cemetery

Prospect Cemetery opened in 1890 and has been part of Toronto’s landscape ever since, with peaceful paths and historic stones that reflect more than a century of stories.5

We visited on a chilly, grey day in late April 2025. My fiancé and I were staying in Toronto with friends, and they suggested we take a stroll through the cemetery. The cemetery is quite large, and many locals use it for dog walks, bike lessons and quiet strolls.

Our friends were more than happy to show us around, especially to show us the grave of the well-known Golden Girls.

We found their final resting place easily. The red granite stone sits right along the path. At the top, where a family name would usually be, is the word “Friends”, followed by the names and dates for each woman.

Pauline Chorna was the first to pass away on January 30, 1977.

Annie Hrynchak followed on February 6, 1993, at the age of 87.

Anna Baran also passed away on February 6, 1996, 3 years later, at the age of 91.

Nellie Handiak, who had purchased the cemetery plot back in 1968, was the last of the group to pass away.2 She died on June 22, 2006, at the age of 97.

Handiak’s daughter, Jeannie, honoured one of her mother’s final wishes by slipping a deck of cards into her casket.2

When Handiak first told her daughter that everything had already been arranged, even the headstone, Jeannie was taken aback. “Oh, we got that too. We’re gonna be ‘friends’”, her mother had said.2 When asked why, her answer was simple: cards. So when Jeannie placed that deck of cards in the casket, she made sure the four friends could carry on their favourite card games in the afterlife.2

Their story continues to be shared online and in local news, and their gravestone has become a small point of interest for visitors who are moved by their friendship.

So, if you ever find yourself wandering through Prospect Cemetery, take a moment to visit their grave. It might leave you thinking differently about getting older and about how powerful true friendship can be.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Who are the Golden Girls of Prospect Cemetery and why did they decide to spend eternity together? | Toronto Star
  2. Best Friends…Forever | Toronto Star (through Pressreader)
  3. Golden Girls Act to help seniors access shared housing | Registered Nurse Journal
  4. ‘Golden Girls’ concept expands to Sudbury, Northern Ontario | Sudbury Star
  5. Prospect Cemetery | Find a Grave

October Stone Stories: The Bird Family and Woodchester Villa

Even though Halloween has just passed, it still feels like a perfect time to share another ghost story.

One that stands out is the tale of the Bird family of Bracebridge, Ontario, and the mysterious history of Woodchester Villa. A house known for both its striking architecture and its lingering ghostly rumours.

In April of 2024, my mother and I took a trip to Bracebridge to explore this unique historic site. It was Easter weekend and our first road trip of the season. The Spring thaw had come early, but spring itself hadn’t quite arrived yet. The trees were bare, and the grass was still brown, giving the whole day an autumn feel.

It was fitting, since we were there to visit ghosts.

Henry James Bird

Built in 1882, Woodchester Villa was the dream home of Henry James Bird, a successful wool mill owner who made his mark in Bracebridge, Ontario.1 Henry was born on January 3, 1842, in Woodchester, England, the youngest of eleven children.2 He learned the wool trade in his home country before spending time in Australia and the United States, eventually settling in Canada in 1867.2

Before finding his footing in Bracebridge, Henry worked for the Rosamond Woollen Company in Lanark County.2 A few years later, he bought a mill in Glen Allan, but after a terrible flood damaged the property, he decided it was time for a change.2 Tragically, before he could make the move north, his first wife, Sarah Jane Fraser, and their two young children died of tuberculosis.2 In 1872, Henry moved to Bracebridge, where he opened the Bird Woollen Mill beside the falls.2

Henry quickly became a respected businessman and community leader. He served on the town council and helped bring new public utilities to the growing town, including its first water and fire protection systems.2 His success and civic pride eventually led him to build his grand home, naming it “Woodchester” after the village where his story began.2

Woodchester Villa

Although Woodchester Villa was ahead of its time, it’s also long been tied to strange happenings that add to its eerie charm. The house was closed during our visit, but we spent plenty of time admiring its design and reading the educational panels scattered around the property. They helped us picture what life might have been like for the Bird family living within those walls.

I wandered around the grounds with my camera, hoping to catch a flicker of movement from inside. We didn’t see any spirits, but the landscape itself felt charged, as if the past still lingered quietly on that secluded hilltop.

Woodchester Villa is one of Ontario’s finest examples of an Octagonal house.1 The eight-sided design was inspired by Orson Squire Fowler, an American phrenologist and author who believed octagon homes were healthier and more efficient than traditional square houses.1 Bird fully embraced this philosophy, creating a three-storey home that blended innovation with comfort.2

Inside, the villa featured some impressive amenities for the late 1800s, like indoor plumbing supplied by rainwater tanks on the second floor, a ventilation system that circulated air throughout the house, and even electric lighting, which was rare for the time.2

For all its beauty and history, Woodchester Villa has a reputation for being one of the most haunted spots in Bracebridge. Behind its restored walls, many believe something otherworldly lingers.3

Stories tell of a spectral woman and two ghostly children who seem to wander the rooms.3 Visitors and staff have reported hearing the soft cries of a baby, the quick steps of little feet on the upper floors, and the faint sound of a woman’s voice singing somewhere in the distance.3 Cold spots are often felt throughout the house, especially near the basement stairs. Some have also described the air growing so cold they could see their breath, even in the middle of summer.3

While no one can say for sure who these spirits are, many believe the ghostly woman could be Henry Bird’s first wife, Sarah Jane, accompanied by their two young children.3 All three died of tuberculosis before Henry moved to Bracebridge. Perhaps, as Andrew Hind suggests in Muskoka’s Most Haunted 2, their sudden, tragic deaths left them unable to rest, and they followed Bird north to the home he would later build.3

The idea is both eerie and oddly touching. If the spirits truly belong to Henry’s lost family, Woodchester may represent the life they were meant to share, their love quietly echoing through the halls, long after death.

Bracebridge United Cemetery

After exploring the villa grounds, we visited the nearby Bracebridge United Cemetery, where Henry James Bird and his family are buried.

After some searching, we found the graves of Henry, his second wife Mary Matilda Bird, and several of their children, including Margaret Elizabeth and Catherine.

The cemetery was quiet and calm, yet the connection between the villa and the family’s final resting place added an eerie layer to our visit. Standing at Henry’s grave, I felt surrounded by history and maybe something more. Whether it’s the family’s hardships or the strange energy tied to their home, the Bird story seems to linger beyond the grave.

The Bird family’s story and their haunted home remind us how easily history and mystery can intertwine. Whether or not you believe in ghosts, there’s something about Woodchester Villa that still feels alive with the past.

For anyone interested in cemetery tourism or dark local history, this hauntingly beautiful site is well worth the visit.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Woodchester Villa, Bracebridge | Ontario Heritage Trust
  2. Woodchester History | Bracebridge The heart of Muskoka
  3. Muskoka’s Most Haunted 2 by Andrew Hind | Book

October Stone Stories: The Haunting of Bell Mansion

Some places just have a presence.

You can’t help but notice them. The Bell Mansion in Sudbury, Ontario, is one of those places. It’s grand, full of history, and, if the stories are true, maybe even haunted.

Despite its spooky reputation, it’s also been a popular spot for wedding photos, with its striking architecture offering a mix of romance and a touch of haunted charm.

But while the mansion still stands for now, its future is uncertain, and its past lingers in more ways than one.

The Bell Family

William Joseph Bell, better known as Willie Joe, was born in Pembroke, Ontario, in 1858.1 He started in the lumber industry at just 18, working as a scaler and lumberjack in Quebec.1 By the time he moved to Northern Ontario in 1896, he had already made a name for himself.1 He quickly climbed the ranks, becoming Vice-President and General Manager of the Spanish River Lumber Company in 1901.1 His influence didn’t stop there; he also ran a hardware company and sat on the board of National Grocers Ltd.1

In 1886, he married Katherine Skead, the daughter of an Ottawa senator, and the couple eventually settled in Sudbury.1 Beyond business, they were generous community builders. Their greatest gift may be Bell Park, a beautiful green space on Ramsey Lake, which they donated in 1926.2 A gift that continues to benefit Sudbury today.

The park remains one of the city’s most beloved gathering spots, offering accessible recreation for people of all ages. Just as Bell Park connects residents with nature, the Bell Mansion connects them with the city’s past, standing as a reminder of the Bells’ influence and Sudbury’s early growth.

The Bell Mansion

Built in 1907, the Bell Mansion, also known as Belrock, is beautiful. Made from local stone in the Arts and Crafts style, the house once sat on 155 acres, stretching from Elizabeth Street down to Ramsey Lake.3,4 That land is now Bell Park, but back then it was all part of the Bell’s massive estate. The mansion itself is a 6,000-square-foot beauty, complete with a coach house, greenhouse, and a separate house for the servants.4

On December 3, 1955, disaster struck when a fire gutted the home, leaving little more than stone walls standing.5 Only one room survived—the conservatory.5 The Nickel Lodge Masons bought the property, but their rebuilding plans never came to life.5 For more than a decade, the mansion sat empty until the Centennial Committee of the Chamber of Commerce led renovations in 1966.5 Two years later, ownership was transferred to Laurentian University, which leased the space to the Art Gallery of Sudbury.5

For decades, the gallery displayed countless exhibits within the mansion’s walls. But what fascinates people just as much as the art are the ghost stories.

Over the years, people have reported eerie sounds such as rustling skirts, heels clicking across the floor, and even ghostly horses neighing outside.6 Many believe Katherine Bell still keeps watch over her home.6 Staff and security have both described phantom footsteps, loud crashes with nothing disturbed, and objects disappearing only to reappear days later.5

The most memorable stories involve a woman’s voice that can be heard eerily singing throughout the house. It’s seems to be loudest in the conservatory, the only room spared by the fire.5 Some say Katherine is still rehearsing for one last ghostly concert.5

She may not be alone. Visitors claim William Bell also makes his presence known, through heavy footsteps and sightings of a tall figure in a dark suit and top hat, quietly watching over the gallery.5

Another mystery once puzzled visitors: the sound of children laughing and playing inside the house, even though the Bells never had children of their own.5 The voices eventually faded, but the questions remain. Who were they, and what tied them to the mansion?5

In 2024, I visited to photograph the exterior. Though currently closed to the public and sadly in visible disrepair, the mansion still has an undeniable elegance, and definitely still has stories to tell.

Calvin United Church Cemetery

For all their ties to Sudbury, the Bells aren’t buried there.

Instead, they rest in Calvin United Church Cemetery in Pembroke, Ontario, a peaceful spot along Boundary Road East where six cemeteries line the street.

William Joseph Bell died in January 1945 at the age of 87 from complications of a leg injury, and was buried in the family plot.5 When Katherine Bell passed away in her home at age 90 in 1954, she was laid to rest beside him.7 William’s parents and three siblings are also buried in the family plot. Their large pink granite monument is simple and understated. It’s a sharp contrast to the grandeur of the mansion they left behind.

On my way back from Ottawa in 2024, I stopped in to visit their graves. Despite their prominence in Sudbury, I was surprised they weren’t buried there. With the help of reference photos, I eventually found their gravestone and was able to pay my respects.

Today, the fate of the Bell Mansion is uncertain.

In late 2024, Laurentian University announced it would list the property for sale, saying repairs were too costly.8 The Art Gallery of Sudbury, which had long occupied the mansion, has already relocated as part of Laurentian’s insolvency process.8

In response, local advocates launched a petition urging that the grounds remain open to the public and that the heritage designation be respected.9 Many argue the mansion is too important a piece of Sudbury’s history to lose.10 That is one of the reasons I felt it was important to photograph it and share its story.

Whether you believe in ghosts or not, there’s no denying that this house has a past worth remembering.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. The History of Bell Rock | Local Color
  2. Appreciating the legacy of Bell Park | Sudbury.com
  3. Bell Mansion provides touch of elegance | Northern Ontario Business
  4. Turning Bell Mansion into a historical teaching tool | Sudbury.com
  5. Haunted Museums & Galleries of Ontario by Andrew Hind | Book
  6. Ten haunted habitations and spooky sites in Greater Sudbury | Sudbury.com
  7. The History of The Bell Mansion | Art Gallery of Sudbury
  8. Historic Bell Mansion in Sudbury, Ont., listed for $1M | CBC
  9. Sale shouldn’t limit access to Bell Mansion grounds, petition states | Sudbury.com
  10. Bell Mansion’s heritage should be protected, local history buffs say | Sudbury.com

Stone Stories: The Tangled Truth of J.E.H. MacDonald

On a recent trip to Toronto with my fiancé, we found ourselves with a bit of free time to explore—and for me, that usually means a visit to a cemetery.

Our friends we were staying with suggested we take a walk to Prospect Cemetery, one of the larger and more historic burial grounds in Toronto. It was a chilly, grey day for late April, but despite the dreary weather, it was perfect for a quiet stroll.

There’s something extra special about sharing my love of cemeteries with others. I pointed out some grave symbolism along the way, and our friend—who used to bring their daughter here to bike ride—showed us some of their favourite gravestones.

But I also had a bit of a personal mission too: to visit the grave of J.E.H. MacDonald, one of the founding members of The Group of Seven.

J.E.H. MacDonald

James Edward Hervey MacDonald was born in Durham, England in 1873 and moved to Canada with his family in 1887.1 He trained in commercial art and landed a job at Grip Ltd., a Toronto design firm that turned out to be a creative hot spot for future Group of Seven artists.2

MacDonald mostly painted with oil, a paint that let him build rich textures and bold, expressive brushwork into his landscapes. He had a special talent for using bright, sometimes unnatural colours to set a mood rather than literal realism. His style focused more toward the feelings and spirit of the landscape rather than detailed realism.2

He was especially inspired by the wild landscapes of Algoma and the Rocky Mountains. His 1916 painting The Tangled Garden shows just how much colour and movement played into his work.2 Besides painting, he also taught art and eventually became the principal of the Ontario College of Art in 1929.2 He helped shape not only Canadian art but also the next generation of artists.

Controversy

MacDonald made headlines again in late 2023—long after his death—but not for the reasons you’d expect.

The Vancouver Art Gallery had been showing ten oil sketches that were believed to be his work, donated back in 2015. But after some doubts were raised, experts took a closer look—and discovered they were fakes!3

Experts tested the pigments, looked at the brushstrokes, and compared the style to his known works. The materials didn’t match what MacDonald would’ve had during his lifetime, and the way the art was created didn’t quite fit either.4

In a refreshing move, the gallery didn’t just quietly pull the pieces—they created a whole exhibit about the forgery, cleverly called A Tangled Garden.4 The title, a nod to MacDonald’s famous painting, added a bit of irony to the situation.

I respect how the gallery handled it. They used the opportunity to teach people about how art is authenticated and how fakes are detected. In the end, MacDonald’s reputation stayed strong—no copy could ever capture the depth and meaning of his real work.

Prospect Cemetery

J.E.H. MacDonald passed away in 1932 after suffering a stroke. He was only 59. He’s buried in the family plot in Prospect Cemetery in Toronto.5 His grave is simple, tucked away among the rows of headstones. A foot stone with his initials J.E.H.M., and his birth and death dates sits in front of a larger family stone with the MacDonald name. Next to it is another foot stone marked W.H.M. / 1876—1956. I’m not certain, but I believe he might be laid to rest beside his brother, William Henry MacDonald.

There is another foot stone in the MacDonald family plot that is a bit of a mystery. The stone is engraved with the letters J.E.M. and the dates 1920-1926. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to uncover any details about this child’s grave.

Standing in front of MacDonald’s grave felt like another little win in my personal journey to visit the final resting places of all the Group of Seven artists. This was the third grave I’ve visited so far, and I find it fascinating how different each artist’s marker is.

Despite their fame, none of their gravestones are flashy. Like Franklin Carmichael’s grave, MacDonald’s grave didn’t have any grave goods—no paintbrushes, no small stones, no tiny canvases. But there was something powerful about the peacefulness of the spot.

There’s something grounding about visiting the grave of someone whose work you admire. You see where their story ended, but you also carry part of their legacy with you. That day in Prospect, under grey skies and the hum of city life just beyond the trees, felt like the perfect moment to reflect on MacDonald’s impact.

Whether through his bright, expressive paintings or the recent conversations around art authenticity, J.E.H. MacDonald still shapes how we see Canada. His grave may be modest, but his influence on Canadian art is anything but.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. J. E. H. MacDonald | The Canadian Encyclopedia
  2. James Edward Hervey MacDonald | The Group of Seven
  3. These Group of Seven artist’s sketches are fake — and that’s the point of this Vancouver Art Gallery exhibit | CBC
  4. Museum Realizes Ten J.E.H. MacDonald Sketches Are Fakes—and Puts Them on Display | Smithsonian Magazine
  5. J E H MacDonald | Mount Pleasant Group

Stone Stories: Sudbury’s Ghost Bike

Bicycles often represent freedom and joy, but when painted flat white and placed by the roadside, they carry a much heavier meaning.

These “ghost bikes” mark the sites where cyclists have lost their lives, serving as haunting memorials and powerful reminders of the need for safer streets.

The History of Ghost Bikes

Ghost bikes are roadside memorials placed at locations where cyclists have been killed in traffic accidents. The bikes, painted entirely white, serve both as a tribute to the fallen and as a warning to motorists to share the road and drive safely.1

The first documented ghost bike appeared in St. Louis, Missouri, in 2003. A cyclist named Patrick Van Der Tuin witnessed a car hit a fellow rider and decided to take action. He placed an old bicycle at the crash site with a sign reading, “Cyclist Struck Here.”2

The idea spread quickly, and soon cities around the world began installing their own ghost bikes in memory of lost cyclists.

Beyond their role as memorials, ghost bikes have become global symbols for cycling advocacy. They are often installed by local organizations or loved ones who want to honour victims and raise awareness about road safety.2

Sudbury’s Ghost Bike

Ghost bikes aren’t unusual in Canada—they mark the tragic losses in communities just like mine. In my hometown of Sudbury, in 2017, a white bicycle appeared in memory of Dr. Robert Santo “Bob” D’Aloisio, a local cyclist who was struck and killed in a tragic accident.

His death deeply affected the community, sparking conversations about road safety and the need for better cycling infrastructure.3

It was a bit of a dreary day when my mother and I went to visit the ghost bike. It’s secured to a parking lot railing outside of an apartment complex on a busy street. I’ve driven by it many times but only really noticed it recently. The white bike blends into the white of the railing, so unless you’re looking for it, you might miss it entirely. That in itself feels symbolic—how easy it is to overlook something so significant if you’re not paying attention.

We kept our visit short since I didn’t want to take up anyone’s parking spot, but I made sure to take a moment to pause and reflect. While I was taking photos, I looked up at the tall apartment buildings surrounding us and thought about how someone could’ve easily witnessed the accident from their window.

Even after nine years, the ghost bike remains—a quiet, persistent reminder of the loss that took place there.

D’Aloisio’s passing was a devastating loss for his family and the cycling community. His loved ones continue to advocate for greater awareness and protection for cyclists. His story is a haunting reminder of the dangers cyclists face and the responsibility of all road users to ensure their safety.4

Park Lawn Cemetery

After visiting the ghost bike, we headed to our second stop—the cemetery.

Robert D’Aloisio is laid to rest at Park Lawn Cemetery. The cemetery itself is peaceful and tucked away, a contrast to the busy road where his memorial stands. The moment we stepped out of the car, it felt quieter, more reflective. I felt like I needed to visit both sites: the place where his life ended, and the place where he now rests.

The sun was beginning to peek out as we arrived, and the birds were singing. We wandered the gently curving paths for a few minutes before we came upon the D’Aloisio family plot. His gravestone is elegantly simple: polished granite with the family name at the top and a Latin cross separating his name from his wife’s, who is still living.

Visiting his stone, after having just stood at the place where his life was cut short, felt as if the threads of his story had tied together—from tragedy to rest.

Ghost bikes are powerful symbols, but the ultimate goal is to make them unnecessary.

Their presence speaks to the need for safer infrastructure, stricter enforcement of traffic laws, and a cultural shift toward respecting all road users. In Ontario and beyond, cyclists, pedestrians, and drivers must all coexist with caution and compassion.

With the warmer weather returning, more cyclists are hitting the roads. It’s a timely reminder for all of us—whether we’re behind the wheel, on a bike, or on foot—to slow down and share the road.

D’Aloisio’s story, like that of many others, is a call to action. Let’s honour his memory by advocating for safer roads and ensuring that cyclists can ride without fear.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Ghost Bike FAQ | Advocacy for Respect for Cyclists
  2. Ghost Bike | Wikipedia
  3. Sudbury ‘ghost bike’ a haunting reminder | Sudbury Star
  4. Father’s cycling death haunts Sudbury family | Sudbury Star

Stone Stories: Remembering Cole Howard Through Art

Last Summer, while I was on my way to visit some cemeteries in Southern Ontario, we made a special stop along Highway 69. Not for a gravestone, but for a different kind of memorial.

The Cole Howard Memorial Sculpture is a roadside landmark that’s both beautiful and deeply moving.

We had started our day early, and the road was relatively quiet when we got close to the sculpture. Taking advantage of the slow traffic, we pulled over, and I was able to hop out and cross the highway to photograph this beautiful and artistic memorial.

Though I didn’t know Howard personally, this is a memorial I always look out for when I’m travelling down Highway 69. It’s my small way of saying ‘hello’ to Cole, a gesture of remembrance for a young life lost too soon.

Cole Howard was only 19 years old when he was killed in a car crash on January 3, 2012.1 He was a passenger in a vehicle that crashed due to icy road conditions.1 The accident also claimed the lives of Jessica Chamberland, Alyssa McKeown, and Torry McIntyre.1

It’s important to also remember the others who tragically lost their lives in the same accident. Howard, Chamberland, McKeown and McIntyre were all taken far too soon. Each of them left a lasting impact on their families, friends, and community. The grief of such a loss has reverberated through the lives of all who knew them, and their legacies are now forever intertwined.

In the wake of this tragic accident, Howards family wanted to create a lasting tribute that would not only honour Cole’s life but also reflect his love of music. The result is a life-sized sculpture, crafted from steel and placed on the side of the highway, at the site of the accident.

Sculptor and welder, Laval Bouchard created the image of Howard with remarkable accuracy.1 He is depicted sitting behind his drums, barefoot, wearing a backward hat—just as he often did in life. Howard had been the drummer for the local metal band Sanctuaries, and his sculpture even features him wearing one of their band shirts.1

The memorial sculpture was installed at the crash site the day after what would have been Howard’s 22nd birthday, in 2014.1 For his family, it must have been a deeply emotional moment—transforming a place of tragedy into one of remembrance. Unlike many who have a traditional grave marker in a cemetery, Howard was cremated, and his ashes were not buried in one place. Some were spread at Abbey Road in London, England—an iconic location for music lovers.2 The rest of his ashes remain in a drum-style urn in his family’s home.2

Without a conventional grave site to visit, this roadside memorial serves as a place where friends, family, and even strangers can stop to pay their respects and remember Cole. In a way, it acts as both his monument and gathering place for those who continue to hold him in their hearts.

When I visited, the sculpture was wearing a pair of sunglasses, and its shoulders were draped with a large stuffed elephant. There were so many grave goods left around the memorial, including stones, beer cans, and even a couple of drumsticks. It was a moving reminder of just how much Howard is still loved.

What I love about roadside memorials like this is that they’re not just a spot for remembrance—they’re a statement. They’re a way for families to make sure their loved one is never forgotten, even as time goes on. For Howard’s family, the sculpture was a way to turn their grief into something positive, something that would last. It’s clear from the visitors and mementos left at the sculpture that the community feels the same way. Even years after the accident, the memorial continues to be a place for people to honour him.2

The Cole Howard Memorial isn’t just a tribute—it invites you to pause and reflect on life, loss, and the power of music. Roadside memorials like this also serve as powerful reminders of the dangers of the road and raise awareness about the importance of road safety.

Have you ever passed by a roadside memorial that made you stop and reflect? I’d love to hear your experiences in the comments.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Sudbury family honours beloved son | Sudbury Star
  2. Remembering Cole Howard | Sudbury.com

Stone Stories: The Youngest Member of the Group of Seven

After visiting both of Tom Thomson’s graves, I was inspired to visit the graves of all the members of the Group of Seven.

As a graphic designer, I have a little background in art history and I have long admired their work. Standing at Thomson’s first resting place at Canoe Lake sparked a desire to pay my respects to the others who also helped shape Canadian art.

So today on the blog, I want to share my visit to the grave of Franklin Carmichael in Orillia, Ontario.

Franklin Carmichael

Born in 1890 in Orillia, Franklin Carmichael showed early signs of artistic talent, which his mother quickly nurtured by enrolling him in music and art lessons.1 In his teenage years, he worked in his father’s carriage-making shop, where he honed his skills as a designer, striper, and painter.1 By 1910, Carmichael moved to Toronto to attend the Ontario College of Art, where he studied under renowned instructors.1

In April of 1920, Carmichael found his place within the emerging Group of Seven, joining artists like A.Y. Jackson, Lawren Harris, and J.E.H. MacDonald in their mission to capture Canada’s untamed wilderness.1 Despite being the youngest member of the group, Carmichael’s work, particularly his depictions of Ontario’s northern landscapes, were just as striking and bold as those of his peers.1 His travels to Lake Superior and the La Cloche Mountains were the backdrop for some of his most celebrated works, where watercolors became the defining feature of his style.1

Carmichael would go on to teach at the Ontario College of Art and later founded the Canadian Group of Painters, after the Group of Seven disbanded in 1933.1

Orillia Museum of Art & History

The Orillia Museum of Art & History sits in the heart of downtown Orillia and is housed in the historic Sir Samuel Steele Memorial Building. My mother and I parked the car on a side street and slowly walked along the sidewalk to the museum as we took in the views of the downtown core. It was a beautiful fall day when we visited, so the streets were bustling with activity.

We began our museum visit on the top floor and slowly made our way back down, through the myriad of exhibits. The museum’s collection intertwines local history with artistic expression.

When we visited, the Teachers and Their Enduring Impact—The Legacy of Jose Salas exhibit had just opened. This exhibit featured artwork by Jose Salas, an art teacher at the local college, as well as artwork from of his students.2 It was a lovely exhibit that showcased the profound influence a teacher can have on their student’s creative journeys.

While viewing this exhibit, I couldn’t help but think about Carmichael and what kind of influence he had on his students when he taught at the Ontario College of Art. Having taken quite a few art classes myself, I wondered what it may have been like to be taught by one of the famous Group of Seven.

The museum also has a permanent exhibit that features some of the more prominent figures from Orilla, like Gordon Lightfoot, Stephen Leacock, and of course—Franklin Carmichael.

After taking in everything the museum had to offer, it was time to make our way to the cemetery to pay our respects.

St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery

Franklin Carmicheal passed away in Toronto, on October 24, 1945, following a regular day of teaching classes. As he began his drive home, he suffered a heart attack in his car; he was only 55 years old.3

Carmichael is laid to rest in St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery in his hometown of Orilla. His final resting place is marked with an elegant grey granite stone, that is engraved with ivy and crosses. He is laid next to his beloved wife, Ada Lillian Went Carmichael, who passed away in 1964.

Buried alongside Carmichael in the family plot, are his daughter Mary Franklin Carmichael Mastin, and her husband. Mary dedicated much of her life to preserving her famous father’s legacy.4 She was also a writer and journalist, writing about nature and conservation.4 She passed away in 2012, at the age of 91 at St. Gabriel’s Villa, in Chelmsford, Ontario.4

In contrast to the busy streets, the cemetery was very quiet. My mother and I were the only visitors. As I stood at Carmichael’s graveside, I reflected on how his contributions to the art world have influenced and inspired countless generations of Canadian artists. I was a little surprised, though, to find that no flowers or grave goods had been left at his grave, something I had expected for an artist of his caliber. It made me think about how a person’s life story can sometimes be quietly forgotten, and the importance of remembrance.

I really enjoyed my visit to Orillia. Exploring Franklin Carmichael’s legacy was a unique opportunity to reflect on the power of art and how it connects us to the land and each other. From the Orillia Museum of Art & History to his gravesite, it was a lovely trip that gave me a deeper appreciation for Carmichael’s work and the lasting impact he had on Canadian art.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Franklin Carmichael | The Group of Seven
  2. Teachers and Their Enduring Impact—The Legacy of Jose Salas | Orillia Museum of Art & History
  3. Franklin Carmichael | Roberts Gallery
  4. Mary Franklin Carmichael Mastin | Find a Grave

Stone Stories: The Voice of the Great Lakes

“They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters”1

These lyrics from Gordon Lightfoot’s iconic song The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald have long been etched in the minds of listeners, who like me, have found themselves enthralled by Lightfoot’s masterful storytelling.

This song, along with many of his other hits, like If You Could Read My Mind and Sundown, have created the soundtrack for countless Canadians, evoking the beauty, melancholy, and vastness of our Canadian landscape.

Today on the blog, I want to share my experience from this past September. I had the opportunity to visit the Gordon Lightfoot Sculpture Park and his final resting place in his hometown of Orillia, Ontario.

Gordon Lightfoot

Gordon Meredith Lightfoot was born on November 17, 19382 in the small town of Orillia, the gateway to the Muskokas.3 From an early age, Lightfoot showed a natural talent for music, learning the piano, teaching himself to play drums, and later picking up the guitar.2 In 1957, Lightfoot left Canada, going to Los Angeles to study jazz orchestration at Westlake College of Music.2 After returning to Canada in the late 1950s, he began to sing folk songs and play guitar around Toronto.2

It didn’t take long for Lightfoot to make his mark on the Canadian music scene. His folk-infused ballads quickly captured the essence of the Canadian spirit. Throughout his career, Lightfoot released over 20 albums and was known for his blend of folk, country, and soft rock—a style uniquely his.2

Lightfoot received numerous prestigious awards throughout his music career, including multiple Juno awards, and was inducted into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame in 1986.2 He also earned honours like the Order of Canada, Order of Ontario, and a Governor General’s Performing Arts Awards.2 Lightfoot was recognized in the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame and received a Lifetime Achievement award from SOCAN and the Toronto Music Awards.2

One of my favorite Lightfoot songs is based on a real-life event, the tragic sinking of the S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald. The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, in my opinion, is one of his most famous and most haunting ballads.

The song is a tribute to all the lives lost in the shipwreck, on November 10, 1975. It’s estimated that between 7:20 and 7:30 p.m. on that fateful day, the ship vanished and sank with 29 men onboard.4

Gordon Lightfoot Sculpture Park

I knew my visit to Orillia would not be complete without a visit to the Gordon Lightfoot Sculpture Park and walking trail. We visited in late September, and the trees were just beginning to change. A perfect day for a walk.

The sculpture park is a beautiful and artistic tribute to Lightfoot’s music and legacy, celebrating both his achievements and his connection to the area. The park’s centerpiece is a striking, larger-than-life bronze sculpture of Lightfoot, sitting cross-legged with his guitar in hand. It captures him in his element, mid-song as his music comes alive around him, depicted on maple leaves that encircle him.
I took some time to reflect while standing before the statue. The park is not just a collection of art pieces, but a reflection of Lightfoot’s connection to the land, his music, and the people who grew up listening to his songs.

My mother and I were not the only visitors to the park that day. There were throngs of people walking the trails, many with large cameras in hand. I noticed they all took some time to admire the beautiful sculpture work and reflect on Lightfoot’s life and work as well.

I wondered if Lightfoot himself had known about this sculpture park. I was pleasantly surprised to see a large plaque that showed Lightfoot smiling as he stood beside his younger, bronze self. He was in attendance for the unveiling in 2015, and said humbly “I’m honoured, much more so than any of the honours I’ve received up to this point in time.”5

St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery

After walking the entirety of the walking trail loop, my mother and I made our way back to the car. We decided since the area was so nice that we would have our picnic lunch in the sculpture park, before heading to our next destination—the cemetery.

It was a short drive from the park to St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery. The cemetery was quiet and serene, offering beautiful views of the surrounding forest, although we were not the only living souls visiting the cemetery that day. There was an older couple who were also meandering through the cemetery paths.

Gordon Lightfoot passed away of natural causes, in a hospital in Toronto, at the age of 84.6 He was laid to rest in St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery in May of 2023, beside his mother and father. His mother, Jessie Vick Trill Lightfoot passed away in 1998 at the age of 88.7 His father, Gordon Meredith Lightfoot Sr. passed away in 1974 at the age of 63.8

The gravestone is simple, yet elegant—a testament to the quiet humility Lightfoot always embodied, despite his fame. The inscription simply reads “Together Forever”.

Visiting Gordon Lightfoot’s grave and walking the trails at the Sculpture Park in Orillia was a beautiful and memorable experience. I couldn’t help but think about how his music had been woven into the fabric of Canada’s history. More than just melodies, they’re stories that often capture the essence of the Canadian experience.

There is something special about visiting the final resting place of someone whose music has shaped the soundtrack of a country.

What is your favorite Gordon Lightfoot song?

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot | S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald Online
  2. Gordon Lightfoot | The Canadian Encyclopedia
  3. Location | City of Orillia
  4. The Tragedy | S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald Online
  5. Gordon Lightfoot sculpture unveiled in Orillia | Orillia
  6. Canadian singer-songwriter Gordon Lightfoot dead at 84 | NBC News
  7. Jessie Vick Trill Lightfoot | Find a Grave
  8. Gordon Meredith Lightfoot Sr. | Find a Grave

Stone Stories: The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

In honor of Remembrance Day this year, Monday, November 11th, I want to take a moment to reflect on the significance of this solemn occasion and the powerful symbol of sacrifice that is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

This day, which marks the end of hostilities during the First World War and honors all who have served in times of conflict, holds deep meaning for Canadians. While Remembrance Day has been observed since 1919, its evolution over the years—from its origins as Armistice Day to the shift in date and name in 1931—demonstrates its lasting importance in our collective memory.1 In this week’s post, I want to delve into the history behind the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, a tribute that today stands as a symbol of the many soldiers who gave their lives without recognition.

The Unknown Soldier

The tomb of the unknown soldier lies in front of the National War Memorial at Parliament Hill. The large monument, a cenotaph, was unveiled in 1939 to commemorate the Canadian response to the First World War. It has grown to symbolize the sacrifice of all Canadians who have served in times of war.2

The Royal Canadian Legion, with help from Veteran’s Affairs Canada, began work to bring the Unknown Soldier home in the spring of 1998.3 As a Millenium project, this undertaking was not an easy task and many veterans were anxious to see this tomb built, as a reminder for new generations of the cause and consequences of war.3,4

Exhaustive work was completed to choose the remains that would be repatriated. The remains were selected from among 6,846 unknown soldiers of the First World War.5 The set of remains that now lie at rest in the sarcophagus at the base of the war memorial comes from Cabaret-Rouge British Cemetery, in Souchez, France.4

The Unknown Soldier’s remains were exhumed on May 25, 2000, by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. The remains were then repatriated to Canada in a Canadian Forces aircraft, where they would lay in state for three days in the Hall of Honor in the Centre Block of Parliament.5 On May 28, 2000, the remains were laid to rest in a sarcophagus made of granite, during an interment ceremony. Soil from each Canadian province and territory was placed on the casket. They also included some soil from France.6

The inscription on the tomb reads “The Unknown Soldier / Le Soldat inconnu”. There is also a brass plaque embedded in the ground in front of the tomb which reads: “Here lie the remains / of Canada’s Unknown Soldier. / Please treat this grave / with respect.”

The tombstone marking the first resting place of our unknown soldier, in France, was also brought to Canada and now hangs in the Memorial Hall of the Canadian War Museum in Ottawa.

The inscription reads: “A Soldier / of the Great War / A Canadian Regiment / Known Unto God”

The Memorial Hall of the Canadian War Museum has a unique design feature, where every year on November 11th, at 11 a.m. the sun filters through a window in the hall, directly illuminating the headstone.7

A new gravestone was placed to mark the original burial site, now empty, in Cabaret-Rouge British Cemetery. The stone, similar in appearance to the original gravestone, is engraved with a maple leaf and the following epitaph, “The Former Grave Of An / Unknown Canadian Soldier / Of The First World War. / His Remains Were Removed / On 25 May 2000 And Now / Lie Interred At The / National War Memorial / In Ottawa Canada.”4

The Changing of the Guard

This summer, while I was visiting family in Ottawa, I had the opportunity to visit the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and witness the changing of the guard.

Since 2007, the Canadian Armed Forces have posted sentries to stand guard at the tomb, with a rotation of personnel from the Royal Canadian Navy, Canadian Army, Royal Canadian Air Force, and Canadian Ranger units from across the country.8 During the summer months, the changing of the guard ceremony occurs every hour, on the hour, between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m.

The ceremony is a somber occasion that reflects respect for Canada’s fallen soldiers. As the sentries execute their precise and disciplined movements, the atmosphere was heavy with reverence. The ceremony serves as a powerful reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of freedom and those who gave their lives in service.

While visiting the tomb, I was struck by the weight of history and felt the significance of honoring those whose identities may be lost, but whose sacrifices will never be forgotten.

We will never know the identity of the Unknown Soldier—but that’s the point.

In war, the remains of soldiers may be badly damaged, or destroyed. Even though a great effort was made to find and identify remains, many were not found at all. Almost 20,000 Canadians who died in the First World War have no identifiable graves.4 Some could only be identified as Canadians, by uniform buttons or badges, and were buried with a simple military marker, like our unknown soldier.4

So this Remembrance Day, as we pause to honor the sacrifices of those who served, remember also the unknown soldier—the many who gave their lives, whose identities are now lost to history.

Lest we forget.


References:

  1. Remembrance Day| Canadian War Museum
  2. National War Memorial | Veterans Affairs Canada
  3. Bringing the Unknown Soldier Home | Legion
  4. Questions and Answers | Veterans Affairs Canada
  5. The Unknown Soldier | Canadian War Museum
  6. Tomb of the Unknown Soldier | Government of Canada
  7. Canadian History Ehx’s Post | Facebook
  8. National Sentry Program | Government of Canada

October Stone Stories: The Witch of Plum Hollow

Did you know that not all Witches are found in Salem?

Folktales and legends of witches can be found worldwide, even in small towns in Ontario. This truth led me down a few rabbit holes that uncovered some fascinating stories about a darker side of Canada’s history—a history of stigma, politics, and strong women.

One such strong woman was Jane Elizabeth Martin Barnes, also known as Mother Barnes. This summer, I was fortunate to visit her homestead and pay my respects at her final resting place.

Elizabeth Barnes

Every good witch legend exists in mystery, and the Witch of Plum Hollow is no different. Some details of her story are uncertain, like the date of her birth. Some sources note her date of birth as 1794, as engraved on her tombstone, while others note November 15, 1800.

What we do know, is that she was born in Cork, Ireland. Her father was an Irish landowner, and her mother was of Spanish Gypsy descent.1 Facing an arranged marriage, Elizabeth and her lover, a military man, left for North America where they would elope.1

The young couple would have one child together before misfortune struck. Elizabeth’s husband passed away tragically, leaving the young mother alone to raise their child.1 Four years later, she would marry David Barnes, a shoemaker. Together they had nine children, six sons and three daughters.1

In 1843, the Barnes family moved to Sheldon’s Corners, near Athens, Ontario.1 They raised seven of their children in the small wood cabin, that today is known as the Mother Barnes Homestead. Eventually, Elizabeth’s husband grew tired of farm life and left, taking their youngest son with him.1 Elizabeth was left with a house full of children to mind on her own.

To support her family, Elizabeth turned to fortune-telling.

She credited her Spanish Gypsy ancestry and the fact that she was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter as the source of her second sight.2 She charged 25 cents for a reading and soon became well known for her accuracy.2

At this time, she began to be known as the Witch of Plum Hollow, respected by some and feared by others.1 People visited from everywhere for a reading from Mother Barnes. She became increasingly involved with local lost & found cases, finding lost items and missing livestock.2 She was also instrumental in a disappearance case, directing the searchers straight to the missing body.2

Her most famous visitor was a Kingston lawyer with political aspirations. Mother Barnes foretold that this man would become the leader of a new country and that its capital would be in Bytown.2

Today, Bytown is known as Ottawa and is the capital of Canada. That lawyer was John A. Macdonald, who became the first Prime Minister of Canada in 1867.2

Mother Barnes Homestead

The small log cabin that had so many visitors in the past sat for a time in utter disrepair. Over time, the wood rotted, and the roof sagged, the derelict state made worse by vandals’ damage.

The property, which includes; two acres, the original cabin, an abandoned well, and a deteriorating barn, was eventually purchased by descendants of Mother Barnes in the 1980s. They worked hard to try and bring the little cabin back to life.3

Today the log cabin has been restored by new owners. A green sign with large gold script declares the site as the “Mother Barnes Homestead”. Beside the sign sits a large boulder with an indent suggesting there was once something attached to it. This once commemorative boulder had a sign that read “Home of Mother Barnes”. The sign was removed to preserve it from further damage, as it had been used as target practice.1

The property is now well maintained and sits behind a wooden fence, that is dotted with no trespassing signs.

The day I visited the Mother Barnes Homestead I was hoping there would be someone on the property to talk to, and maybe get a tour of this historic house. Unfortunately, the property was deserted. The no-trespassing signs were enough of a deterrent to keep me from trying to sneak a peek inside the windows.

I would have loved to be able to explore the attic, where Elizabeth was known to perform her tea readings. I hope one day the property will be opened as a historic house and museum.

Sheldon Cemetery

Jane Elizabeth Martin Barnes died on February 4th, 1891 at the age of 90 after falling ill with pneumonia.5 She is laid to rest in Sheldon Cemetery, not far from her homestead.

Originally her grave was unmarked, that is until local Cheesemakers Claude and Ella Flood decided to erect a monument in her memory. Curiously, the dates on the stone are incorrect, listing her year of death as 1886.5

The stone itself was not placed on her actual gravesite either, I would learn. The stone sits beneath the cemetery sign arch near the cemetery entrance. When I visited, the arch was completely overgrown and obscured with vines. The gravestone reads: “Burial Place / of / Mother Barnes / 1794—1886”

While visiting another cemetery in the area, I met two women who pointed out some interesting graves for me to photograph. After showing me the graves, they asked if I had been to visit the Witch of Plum Hollow. I said yes, to which they replied that she wasn’t buried beneath the stone.

The unmarked grave of Mother Barnes lies at the back of the cemetery on the left-hand side.

The woman also shared that there is a pipe sticking out of the ground in that area, very close to the grave. They continued to tell me a story about the pipe, and how it was plugged for a very long time, to keep the witch’s spirit in. But, sometime in the 1980s, the pipe was unplugged and the spirit of the Witch was released. I was surprised to hear a negative tone in the woman’s voice as she told the story, and how she thought the pipe should have remained plugged.

It was interesting to see that the stigma behind the term witch was still alive, well over 100 years later.

But was Elizabeth Barnes really a witch?

By all accounts she was just a single mother, using kind advice and honest predictions to provide for her family. Predictions that very often came true.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Elizabeth Barnes: The Witch of Plum Hollow | Pinecone
  2. Meet Mother Barnes, the “Witch” of Plum Hollow, Ontario | NCPR
  3. Plum Hollow Witch still casts spell |The Ottawa Citizen, Thursday, October 28, 1982, page 23
  4. The Plum Hollow Witch | Ottawa Rewind
  5. The Witch of Plum Hollow | Arlene Stafford Wilson