For 24 years I’ve lived within sight of Lorraine Snider’s house and garden. It’s a little old white house perched on a cliff near the top of the Patrick Street hill. There are lilacs on the north side of the cliff. The garden is huge and flat and sunny.
Lorraine, born on Markland Street in 1926, lived her entire life in a space of a few Kingston blocks. But my interview with her was wide-ranging. She spoke of miraculous small things: the curlicues of metal her father brought home from the Locomotive Works, the pots of soup her grandmother made, a spring on Montreal Street. She talked about her husband’s work at Frontenac Tile, his dancing, and his death. At a time when her body was causing her much distress, she recalled the pleasures of rowboats and bowling.
Although Lorraine’s voice didn’t get included in the 6 podcasts I made with Phil Lichti in 2017, it has remained in my head. Lorraine died in the fall of 2018. Hers was a whole life. In this condensed version of this interview, I hope you enjoy meeting her.