In the 50’s and 60’s, Toronto may have been a staid, close-down-on-Sundays town, but the Kastner house was rocking.
In my fam, there was always music, whether live – my banjo and guitar-playing sister and brother – or recorded: the music of the theatre; reading was a respected and encouraged activity’ – from Chekov to Colette. And there was laughter, lots of laughter.
The Kastner parties were infamous – held annually until our parents’ health declined. The criteria set by our mother, Rose: invitees had to be attractive, famous or interesting; the house was filled with the Big Names of the time: The Pierre Bertons, Farley Mowatts, Harold Towne along with politicians, millionaires and academics. All guest were made to feel honored, atmosphere instantly created with a ‘welcome cup’ of “Coroner’s Punch” a secret recipe that my mother managed to wangle from then-Coroner, Morton Shulman.
I grew up in a family not driven not by greed, but by creativity and joy along with respect, discipline and excellence (‘whatever’s worth doing, is worth doing well’) My parents became Canadian translators of German wunderkind Bertolt Brecht, and had created and had published Canada’s version of Reader’s Digest. In later years, my father became an artist, working in bronze, fiberglass, oils and watercolors, while mother had a project that was never completed: How to get a husband in 30 days.
I was the last of four: Susan, older than me by 14 years, three years later, came Peter and then three years later John. I came along 7 years later.
My sibs brought so much to my life. Peter was the only family member who spoke to me like an adult. He took me seriously when the others talked down to me. I adored him for that. He made an early name for himself in an NFB docu-drama, Nobody Waved Goodbye. I missed him terribly when he left home at 18 to pursue acting, landing a starring role in Francis Ford Coppola’s first film, “You’re a big boy now.”
John was my playmate, pictures show us happily cavorting. Getting older, he supported me in so many ways: helping get jobs, hiring me for jobs. He was my go-to for work-related dilemmas and later, a sounding board for my own entrepreneurial undertakings. John was a chick magnet, counting a Miss Canada in his romantic pursuits.
But it was my Big Sis Susan who was my mentor, my model and one of my very best friends. She’d fuss over me: painting my nails, dressing me up, and making up silly songs for me. When she went to Paris for work, she’d write home ‘send my little sister’.
Beautiful and delicate, I wanted to look like my Big Sis. Guys were always falling in love with her. She had suitors calling every night, and almost every call elicited a sigh: “Pills. All of them Pills. She married 5 of these love-struck suitors. Story has it that, walking down the street with our mother, fellas would say, “I always wanted to marry Susan”. Mother’s response; “Wait long enough and maybe you will.”
That was the absolute greatest thing about my family. They were all funny. Clever-funny. Observant-funny. Witty-funny, off-the-wall original funny.
When boys came into my life, my sister was my rock. At my Sweet 16, it was my sister who commiserated when my date flirted with my bestie. ‘This is so stupid’, I sobbed on her shoulder ‘I’m only 16. This is ridiculous how upset I am.’ ‘Nonsense,’ assured sis, ‘heartbreak doesn’t have an age.’
While Peter, leaving at such a young age, was always a heartache to my family, nothing compared to the 1976 death of our father, age 66. He died of a massive heart attack. John took charge: he and our mother began a collaboration, creating award-winning social justice and health-related documentaries.
Susan accepted this new order, as she did when our mother died of an inoperable brain tumor 7 years later when John again took on the role of Patriarch with a vengeance, always looking out for both sisters.
Meanwhile, I took on the part our mother played in Susan’s life: best friend and frequent traveling companion. I was often called upon when my sister needed to get away from her marriage situations.
Together we went to Paris, Italy, New York, Montreal, Bahamas – and always attracting guys like a magnet. By her own admission, my sister was vain to the max: on a Paris trip, seated at a breakfast bar, a fella next to Susan kept glancing over. Finally, he couldn’t hold back: “I was admiring your slender wrists.They are so lovely.” The rest of the trip she had a great time admiring her wrists.
I followed her leads and needs, an adoring companion. I knew how to ride her moods: she was easily irritated and often snarky. However, I was happy to be her sounding board, and we never tired of talking about each of her 5 husbands and the boyfriends in between.
It was while Susan and I were in Paris in 2008 that the call came from John: Peter died of a heart condition at 65. I remember a chill coming over me: we lost one of us. Losing a sib is different from losing parents.
It took 11 years for the next tragedy: November 2019, a terminal brain tumor took John. Oldest and youngest, sister and I, were the last of the family. We held each other close.
Then, in 2021, my sister was diagnosed with ALS. The decline was relentless. November 2023, four years after John died, my beloved sister succumbed. My world has changed irrevocably.
I am now the Last Person Standing. I’m not ready for this new dynamic, taking on the mantle of Matriarch. The shoes seem too big. My way forward: to hold all of their goodness and cleverness and love close, and forge a new path.
