Former Oxford CAS supervisor celebrates 105th birthday

Dorothy Ward celebrated her 105th birthday recently at home, north of Woodstock, with family members and former Children's Aid Society (CAS) compatriots. Trained as a nurse, she had a remarkable 40-year career with the CAS, finally re-retiring at the age of 84. (Jeff Tribe photo)

Jeff Tribe, Echo Correspondent

It makes a certain sense a woman who re-retired from a 40-year career with the Children's Aid Society at the age of 84 would celebrate her 105th birthday.

What makes Dorothy Ward's story even more remarkable is that her accomplishments came after she recovered from tuberculosis (TB) as a young woman.

"I think I had something to give and I gave, that's all," Ward summed up succinctly from her residence north of Woodstock.

Dorothy was born on March 13, 1920, spending her young years helping out on the Down family farm east of Courtland. They began without hydro, an outhouse rather than indoor plumbing, and Dorothy walking a mile-and-a-half to school along with her siblings.

"No snow days back then," she said, explaining that if there was a blizzard, her father would harness his team of horses and drive his and the neighbours' children to school. When telephone service arrived, her family was on a party line, their ring two longs and two shorts.

"Everyone would pick up the phone to listen," said Ward. "That was like the beginning of social media."

She enrolled in nursing school in St. Thomas at the age of 18, graduating three years later and upgrading her degree at Montreal's Royal Victoria Hospital and The Neurological Institute. Turning down a $43-a-month offer to work there, she began her career in 1942 as supervisor of operating rooms at the hospital in Fredericton for the then-princely sum of $79 a month.

"That was good money," said Dorothy, who attributes learning managerial skills from her mother Lucy on the home farm.

Her attempt to enlist with the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1943 was grounded by a diagnosis of TB.

"That put the kibosh on that."

Dorothy spent the next three years in a sanatorium in London, before streptomycin's efficacy against the bacterial infection was established. In a time before universal health care, her father sold three cows to pay for treatment, which today would be administered across a week, rather than the single dose she received.

"That would cure anything," Dorothy laughed.

Rebuilding her strength and stamina over the subsequent years, she took annual six-month summer caregiving jobs with a Toronto woman travelling to Kennebunkport, Maine, also helping out her sister after the birth of her daughter. Dorothy recovered sufficiently to return to nursing at The Standard Tube factory in Woodstock in 1958, working for four years before 'having a snit with the director,' who reportedly told an assistant that because she couldn't do anything else, 'They had her over a barrel.'

"Don't ever tell anybody I can't do anything," Dorothy responded. "I'll probably do it."

In 1962, she moved to a position with Oxford County's then seven-member CAS, working with unmarried mothers. Pregnancy out of wedlock was a huge societal taboo at the time, women were subjected to prejudice and negative judgement, including from their own families.

"Who was I to judge?" Dorothy asked rhetorically, striving for a combination of compassion and respect.

It was not uncommon at the time for pregnant unwed women to be relocated under some pretence, have their babies, give them up for adoption, and return to their lives under a shroud of silence.

The story of one 42-year-old unwed mother's dilemma is indicative of the times and how they've changed. Staying with relatives in Ontario during pregnancy and birth, she found herself unable to commit. Dorothy presented the option of making her baby a temporary ward, placed within foster care pending a final decision. One year later, the woman contacted Ward, indicating she'd like to take custody of her baby.

Dorothy flew to a western airport with the child, 'a real darling' who became a quick favourite with a flight crew, surprised to see Ward solo during the return flight.

"They were all worried about what I had done with this baby," smiled Dorothy, who shared a brief explanation. "They thought it was wonderful."

Dorothy's work responsibilities included counselling and support for whatever decision women made - some did keep their babies - as well as visiting schools and giving talks on her role.

"Quite often, kids would say 'Can I come and talk to you?'"

Dorothy's satisfaction came from helping women in extremely tough circumstances come to their own choice, one which at the time, they felt was best.

"When girls made a decision, they were satisfied it was good."

She went on the road weekly, visiting women in communities including London, Kitchener, Toronto and Chatham.

"To see my girls, as I called them."

Support given through challenging times formed lasting bonds, Ward continually meeting women she had served.

"It was amazing the number I ran into and rewarding they would come up to you."

Dorothy moved into a supervisory role in the late 1970s. Working with the CAS in support of neglected or abused children comes with challenges. Ward 'saw it all' during her career, at times working closely with police to extricate the most vulnerable from horrific situations. She recalled one instance, four young people removed from their home in the middle of a nighttime downpour.

"You have to disrupt these children and their lives," she said. "I used to feel that as much as we were taking them away from parents, these kids were given a chance in life, a much better chance."

She was threatened 'many times', taking that in stride along with the 'hard' parts of the job.

"You didn't seem to mind because you felt you were getting somewhere," she said. "I think I did the best at that point for that person or that particular problem."

Her career became part of her life, much more than a job, supported unconditionally by her husband of 55 years, Rex.

"He never ever complained about how much I was away from home."

Retiring at 65, Dorothy was contacted by a provincial official, seeking her experience with a CAS experiencing difficulties.

"He called and asked if I'd be willing to come and help him out."

That initial contract led to others in counties across south-western Ontario, a string stretching out across the next 20 years. In re-retirement, Dorothy volunteered at the Woodstock hospital's physiotherapy and rehab departments, one doctor shaking his head in disbelief after asking her age.

Admittedly, a fall just before her 100th birthday in which she broke two vertebrae in her neck, her pelvis and hip slowed her down a little, to the point her nephew Ed Down moved in with her.

"I was kind of dinged up, but I survived," she smiled. "I am so lucky to have Ed."

Dorothy celebrated her 105th at home with family members, former co-workers from the Oxford CAS and a cake that had only five candles on it.

"We didn't want the smoke detector going off," her nephew smiled in explanation.

"I really enjoyed working with them," said Dorothy of her former 'crew.'

"And I guess they enjoyed working with you," Ed added, "because they still keep in touch."

Touching even lightly on Ward's remarkable life story stands both as testimony to determination and resilience and the danger of arbitrarily assigning an age number to a person's ability to contribute.

"You sort of felt you could still do a bit of good for people," Dorothy concluded, "And I think you can."