I grew up in a curling family. Both my mother and father, and my oldest brother curled. There was also a family rumour (spread by my father!) that I was conceived after a few too many rum and cokes after a curling bonspiel weekend. And since all of my parent’s friends curled, it seemed like curling was the centre of our family’s universe and became something that dominated our house (and TV) all winter long. Dinner conversations often included a pad of paper with the familiar four circles of the house sketched out and the day’s exciting placement of rocks in the house while my parents reviewed possible strategies of play. I had no idea why everyone loved this sport.
Before I entered kindergarten, my mother would take me two or three times a week to her curling rink where they provided free childcare while the ladies curled. I always knew it would be the curling rink daycare for me even before we got in the car because my mother would be upstairs in her room getting game ready in her curling outfit. And she always took special care with a cherished box in her dresser drawer that held a gold curling medallion. She’d place the medallion around her neck like it was the crown jewels, a ritual she repeated before every game she played.
I came to learn that the curling medallion that my mother so proudly wore was a prize that my grandfather had won while in the Grand Challenge Cup in the Yukon. The front of the medallion has a raised gold curling stone and the words Grand Challenge 1914-1915 and the back is engraved in a beautiful script with his name, S.F. Chamberlain and Dawson YT. My grandfather was born in England and, as a young man, the British North America Bank promised him a job if he moved to Canada. The bank moved this young English gentleman to Dawson City, Yukon Territory! He knew nobody and I assume he joined the curling rink to make some new friends.
While in grade school, I would tag along with my mother to the curling rink on days that I was sick (or was pretending to be sick). Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to find a spare at the last minute, my mother would leave me in the lounge overlooking the curling rink with a hot tea and unlimited sugar cubes. I would watch her play while overdosing on sugar. Once the games were finished, I was showered with attention from all of my mother’s curling friends as each team came upstairs to enjoy some coffee or tea and conversation. My mother glowed with happiness when she was at the curling rink, playing the game she loved while also hanging out with her friends who shared the same passion. She curled her entire life.
Unfortunately, my mother passed away at the age of 67. I was 26 years old. When my father was trying to figure out what to do with some of my mother’s favourite possessions, I asked if I could have her curling medallion. I never met my grandfather, but I saw his curling medallion as a symbol of the connection that he and my mom shared surrounding the sport that they both had loved. After she was gone, I felt that I needed that connection to my mother. Even though I didn’t curl, I believed that someday I would.
Fast forward thirty years. A happily married mother of three wonderful children who were out making lives of their own, living in Etobicoke, Ontario, just blocks from where I was raised. A stretch of time that provided so many wonderful memories for my husband, Greg, and I. But it was time for a change so we decided to retire to Collingwood Ontario, a place where we believed we could lead an active and healthy life. We knew very few people in town and we soon realized how hard it was to meet new people when you uproot and settle somewhere else. So, in the spirit of my grandfather, Sydney Chamberlain, when he got sent from England to Dawson City to work, Greg and I decided to bolster our social life by joining the local curling club.
Last year was our first year at the Collingwood Curling Club. We took the Learn to Curl Clinic and joined a few draws. I wore my grandfather’s medallion every time I played. I could feel the energy of my mother while on the ice as well as in the upstairs lounge. Curling just felt right. It was in my blood to become a part of the curling community.
We began to meet more and more curlers after each game. Soon we were walking into the curling club and seeing more friendly faces welcoming us. Each day I curled, the members made me feel more and more welcome and gave me a much needed sense of belonging. Soon I was volunteering on curling committees, as well as getting invitations to non-curling activities with my new friends. I was so happy that I had joined the curling club.I finally understood the importance of the game and the community that surrounds curling. I was home—and my heart was full.
Now, when I walk into the ladies change room, and I’m greeted warmly by so many of my new friends at the curling club, I often think of my mom and how happy she must have been every day she curled. Like me, when she walked into her curling club, it was a place where “everyone knows your name.” Thirty years after her death, it warms my heart to share my mother’s passion and happiness.
Our son just recently moved to Collingwood and has now joined our curling club. After his first game, his skip was shocked to hear that it was his first time curling and told him that he was a natural…. He said, “Of course I am. I come from a long line of curlers!”
History and passion does repeat itself! And maybe one day, our son will wear my grandfather’s medallion at a curling club full of new friends.
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As an aside.. I reached out to my older brother for more information about our parents curling and he told me that he also joined a curling club when he moved from Toronto to Sarnia,Ontario, for a new job.
And my cousin also told me that her mother (my aunt who was named after my grandfather Sydney) also curled at a few clubs around Canada, including Summerside, PEI, and Ottawa, Ontario, as her husband was in the Canadian Air Force and they moved quite frequently.
1.My Grandfather’s curling medallion front
2.My Grandfather’s curling medallion back
3.My Grandfather Sydney Chamberlain (2nd from the left) with his fellow bank associates in Dawson City, YT.
4. My new curling team/ friends (I am third from left)
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Grandfather-Sydney-second-from-left-56cca40fdf845949142e94cf78f993de.jpg
curling-team-jackets-front-89d43742e5938dc7e8746834f8e0a932.jpg
