Elliott Family

The grand-daughter of an opera singer, Violet Kathleen typed on a manual typewriter, calmly taking dictation from a British lawyer in a bomb shelter during The Blitz. The roof would shake and tiny bits of debris would drop onto the paper. She would brush it away, re-adjust the ribbon, slam back the carriage mechanism and carry on.

On her way home she watched the dogfights between the enemy and defending pilots in the skies over London, and would cheer along with other streetcar passengers as the planes dodged and circled above them.

Her first love, a British soldier, had already lost his life in the first six months of the war, and now lay buried on the tiny island of Malta. She bravely carried on. Years later she caught the eye of a handsome Canadian soldier, who noticed her at a dance as she sat by herself, cross-legged on a chair. Meeting her grandsons today I can see why she was attracted to him.

That love led her steaming across the ocean to an unfamiliar shore, determined not to be called a war bride.

While waiting the long winter in Calgary with her new husband's family she grew impatient to be with him at his post in the remote forest station and struck out on her own. Taking a bus as far as it would go, then hitching rides on different logging trucks, arriving at the small Forestry cabin, much to the shock and amazement — no, delight — of John Elliott. (There she learned many skills, including skinning a bear.)

This petit little British darling was as tough as nails, determined as a soldier and sharp as a tack.

That is how she lived her life. She was a dedicated Royalist, having the highest regard for Queen Elizabeth (who chose, along with her sister, to stay in London and risk the war along with the rest of them). If you think that there is gossip now about the Royal Family, well it doesn't hold a candle to the goods that she was privy to, affairs, abdication, Mrs. Brown, all related in a confidential manner of course... followed by "God save the Queen."

Whom, by the way, she had smiled and waved to on two occasions, in Canada. She later met two Prime Ministers, three Premiers, and had our MLA Ty Lund's phone number on speed dial.

She was a staunch Conservative, and somewhat of an enforcer of good British etiquette. You had better not wear your cap at the table, speak out of turn, or wear a skirt that was too tight, or too short, or inappropriate for the occasion.

Connie, that skirt is two inches too short! You're mature now, and besides, your legs aren't what they used to be.

I am probably taking the risk right now of being reprimanded on the length of my kilt, which is precisely why I wore it. And if she were here today sitting beside you, she would mention it, in a voice loud enough for me to hear it at the pulpit. (Apparently staunch British manners allowed for that sort of information transfer).

Kathleen was a feisty little firecracker who delighted in speaking her mind. She always kept abreast of world affairs, current affairs, and the political interworkings of Rocky Mountain House for that matter. I don't know anyone else who was chauffeured to public functions on as many occasions by the Mayor, as Mrs. Elliott.

Mrs. Kathleen Elliott was a backbone of this community, a dignified little lady who will be remembered by many, respected by all and missed by those whose lives she touched.

God bless her little heart, and by all means, God Save the Queen.