YVONNE LUCIE LEIPSIC

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YVONNE LUCIE LEIPSIC Yvonne Lucie Leipsic died on December 27, 2009, at the age of 88. Born on June 11, 1921 in Vienna, Austria, she was the only child of Martha Meissner and Alfred Lowenberg. Growing up, her childhood was nothing short of idyllic. Summers in Aussie with cousins and her half-sister, Greta, consisted of mountain hikes, wild mushroom picking and fresh cows' cheese. These experiences imbued her with a deep and abiding love of the outdoors and nature. Always happy in her garden, even in failing health, she continued to weed and tend her flowerbeds this past summer. Notoriously non-materialistic, she once admitted to being envious, but only of someone else's beautiful garden. Growing up in Vienna also exposed her to the cultural opportunities of a great city, particularly symphony and opera. Over the years she amassed a VHS library of over 100 operas which she would turn to constantly for listening pleasure. She was able to recite both famous and obscure opus, including their lead performers. A regular listener of Saturday Afternoons at the Met , Yvonne's love affair with opera lasted her entire life. Her last Saturday was spent listening, albeit confined to her bed, to the Les Contes d'Hoffmann, a personal favourite. Her childhood came to an abrupt end at the age of 18 when, in 1938, the German Nazi regime annexed Austria. She would often recall with horror the fervor and zeal the so-called civilized Viennese displayed as Hitler's cavalcade paraded through the Stephansplatz; and the life she knew, abruptly changed forever. In a matter of days, she would endure shunning by gentile neighbours and best friends who crossed the street to avoid her, later witnessing her Jewish teachers being forced to scrub the street gutters. Within weeks of the Anschluss, came the anti-Semitic laws and the vice of closed borders. She had the good fortune to flee when her stepfather, a Czech national, was able to obtain visas (denied to Austrians) for Yvonne and her mother who fled to England. At age 18, she was unceremoniously thrust from her comfortable privileged life into war-torn London where, despite not speaking any English, she was first employed as a nanny for five shillings a week. In addition to child care, she was also expected to keep house and, ironically for a girl from a household which employed cooks, to cook. When she protested her lack of ability, her mother promptly presented her with a German cookbook and the inspiration, You know what it's supposed to look like and taste like, now go make it . And make it she did! For anyone who had the pleasure to dine at her table, it was a gastronomical experience few if any could match. From wiener schnitzel to paella, chutney, liver pate, florentines, kugelhopfs and linzertorte, Yvonne had the knack and finesse of a truly gifted cook. Indeed, she had the uncanny ability to read a recipe and know exactly what it would taste like and why it was or wasn't worth pursuing. In her early married years, pitching tents and camping with the family at hell-'n-gone locations, she was equally adept at turning out several courses, all piping hot, on a two-burner Coleman stove. More recently the gift of a bread machine returned spectacular dividends, in the form of baguettes, cinnamon buns and her famous challah, a much appreciated Shabbat hostess gift. In London she learned English with characteristic tenacity. Though not in a formal setting, she nevertheless learned to speak and write it with complete accuracy and deftness. Yvonne became the grammar warden and it is amusing to recall how often her grandchildren sought her advice concerning the language and its use. She could often be heard shrieking at a split infinitive or other grammatical mistakes (the misuse of me and I' was a particular sore point) in the editorials she read and devoured daily. She acquired and read a library of great depth and breadth. She could recite without hesitation (and did so in her last days) the Greek myths (and their counterpart operas, to wit: Electra), her favourite authors and titles. Her appreciation of the medley of lore and religion lead her to maintain that all conventional religions, and in particular Judeo-Christian faiths, merely borrowed from each other and from the precursor great Creation story - a truism which reaffirmed her atheism. Though not religious (she was repulsed by the evil and inhumanity mankind inflicted in the name of religion), she was highly moral and ethical. Quick to admonish devotion to religious liturgy, she believed devotion to only a single tenet was required to lead a civilized and spiritually sound life: Do unto others as they would do unto you. A champion of good etiquette, she professed that manners did more to separate civilized man from the savage mob than any regime of law. The basic civilities of proper decorum, table manners and conduct were things she took seriously and impressed relentlessly on her children and grandchildren. Even when her eyesight began to fade, Yvonne was still able to spot an incorrectly held knife or fork from across a dining room. Having mastered English, by 1942 she became a bookkeeper at the Cumberland Hotel. She recalled her blind luck when during the Blitz, due to a local fire, she was forced to spend the night at the hotel. In the morning, she discovered her entire apartment building had been leveled by a direct hit. It was at about this time that she was introduced to Barry Leipsic, a dashingly handsome 25-year old Lieutenant from Winnipeg, stationed in England with the Fort Garry Horse Tank Regiment. Yvonne and Barry were married in 1944. Like so many war brides she immigrated to Canada, to its winters and remoteness; a world even more foreign than anything for which England might have prepared her. But Winnipeg did have a burgeoning theatre, symphony and ballet, with the likes of John Hirsch, Victor Feldbrill and Arnold Spohr, all of whom became friends with Yvonne, the culture vulture. Together Yvonne and Barry raised two sons, Peter (Karen) and Richard (Kerrie). Her legacy is four grandchildren, Jonathon (Karly), Sarah (Kevin Solomon), Adrian (Anna) and Barry and four great-grandchildren, Isabella, Carsyn, Hugh and Ryann. While she was proud of all her grandchildren, her relationships with them were unconventional and on her terms. Even in her capacity as a grandmother, she knew how to drive a hard bargain. She would meticulously keep track of her grandchildren's gambling debts accumulated during weekly games of gin rummy before Sunday night supper. Debts could be settled in cash or, at her option, by performing yard duties five cents per weed pulled, a nickel for every geranium repotted. And though she delighted in treating the kids to movies, especially the animated variety, the concession stand was off limits, unless of course they had their own money to waste. In his early years she took pleasure in exposing Jonathon to the world. They had numerous trips to exotic destinations, beginning as early as age seven when they first travelled to Israel and Egypt. She had a special bond with Adrian and Barry (B.J.) but even these didn't develop and flourish until after the boys were old enough to mix a proper gin and tonic. For B.J., a career in investment banking had its origins in the stock portfolios she started and nurtured for him and each of her grandchildren. In order to involve him, she purchased his first stocks - in Coca Cola, McDonalds and Disney - anything to entice his interest. Thanks to her direction, by the age of nine, B.J. was familiar with dividend reinvestment plans. In Adrian she nurtured a love of the arts. They enjoyed frequent outings together to M.T.C., the ballet, and the symphony. Numerous summers were spent attending the Stratford Festival, though he recalls, with more humour today than at the time, her propensity during performances to express her frequent criticisms not so inaudibly and at the most inopportune times. Her marriage to Sylvan in the 1970s brought with it, adventure, travel, and beautiful summers at their cottage in Clearwater Bay, Ontario. Yvonne was at her happiest either in a symphony hall listening to Mozart or in a boat with a fishing rod in her hand. On her last birthday, she landed a master angler Walleye and somewhat begrudgingly though philosophically, released it to renew the species. She loved preparing the family cottage favourite brunches of corned beef hash, corn fritters, and pancakes made from freshly picked strawberries and blueberries. Yvonne was generous, articulate, opinionated, poignant, intelligent, cantankerous, interesting, difficult, and witty, with a great sense of humour and laugh right to her very last days. She had absolutely no patience for political correctness or euphemisms. Yvonne took ideas seriously, but not herself. She was frank (admittedly to a fault) and sentimental, without indulging in sentimentality. Style, panache and flair were her hallmarks. Fiercely independent, she lived and died on her own terms. Indeed, she was as impatient with dying as she was in life. Mustering the strength to dispense advice and favourite recipes just a week before her death, she quickly resigned herself to the next journey with the resolve and esprit de corps by which she lived her entire life. In keeping with her wishes, Yvonne's remains were cremated. Her ashes will be used to nurture a sapling to be planted in her memory. The family extends their appreciation to Jean James for being her dear friend and confidant for over 60 years. We are grateful to her physician, Dr. Ruth Simkin, to the Riverview Palliative Care Nurses (3E) and to Dr. St. Godard for the dignity and compassion they extended to Yvonne and our family in respecting her final wishes. No formal memorial service or shiva will be held. Friends and family are invited to visit and remember Yvonne on Sunday, January 3, 2010 between Noon and 3:00 p.m. at 101 - 255 Wellington Crescent. If desired donations to Winnipeg Harvest Inc., info@winnipegharvest.org would be appreciated. Tout passe, tout casse, tout lasse

As published in Winnipeg Free Press on Dec 31, 2009