Kerol Diane Rose

In the early hours of a Thursday, we lost Kerol to the mysteries of the universe. Maybe less mysterious to her than to many of us. Family and friends had been with her most daylight hours, and we can be comforted that two of St. Vincent’s wonderful nurses were holding her hands at the end. Born in Winnipeg, Kerol grew up there and in Sinclair, Manitoba. By way of Montreal, Virginia, and Ottawa, she came to Nova Scotia in 1974 with her then husband Bill Stevenson and her older son Willie, eventually moving with their younger son Charlie to the Chester area. Here she made many lifelong friends. Art was central to her life, some of it intensely private, some collected and exhibited. She was enthralled with the luminescence of gold in every form: glimpses, maybe, into other worlds. Red, too. Before leaving machines behind for the meditation of hand sewing, she only used red thread in her Pfaff. Working as a single mom in Chester, one of her favorite jobs was teaching pottery in the schools, especially on Tancook Island. She had previously taught at Mary Winspear’s remarkable Weston School in Montreal, and in a Black elementary school on a Virginia island. She had run her own pottery studio and shop in Ottawa, and a copy of M.C. Richard’s Centering sits near her desk to this day. In the early eighties worked with Paula Scott in her sweater business, making some of the most innovative and beautiful examples. It was here that she noticed a young carpenter working on the house next door, Emanuel Jannasch. Manla (“Monla”) and she would spend the next 44 years ever closer together. Books were another element of Kerol’s life; she worked as a librarian in Winnipeg, Ottawa, and Bridgewater and volunteered at Chester Middle School with two inspiring and beloved humans: Helen Iseminger and Lee Collins. Some might remember Vivian Crooks, another important mentor from that time. Kerol also sold books, this trade led her from Chester’s Thirsty Thinkers Tea Room to Halifax: first to Frog Hollow and then to Soho Books. Liz Crocker of Frog Hollow and Kerol remained tight friends. In Halifax she immersed herself in Buddhism, though distanced herself from the local organization rather early in its trajectory. The practice remained central to her life. She’d quote Denny Blouin: “we’ll always have our cushions”. Kerol’s early life had been tough. She began working her way through the after-effects with Rod MacLean, a process that evolved into training: first in Gestalt therapy, then Transactional Analysis and Psychosynthesis. Stella Girard encouraged her to begin leading workshops with Marilou Manning at Services for Sexual Assault Victims. Before long she was part of several health collectives and then opened her own psychotherapy practice above Woozles on Birmingham Street. This was her life’s calling, helping clients through their suffering towards beauty, peace, and even plain survival. She nurtured a lighter side through Catchword Productions, founded with closest of friends Jan Morrison and Linda Jackson. The trio produced raucous yet densely layered murder mystery weekends at the Oak Island Inn and throughout the Maritimes and New England. Happily, Kerol and Manla (“Monla”) didn’t wait for retirement to travel. One highlight was an extended family drama across the iron curtain to Czechoslovakia and pre-war Germany. Another was visiting her McCarthy grandparents’ homeland in the South-West of Ireland. Visiting the Basque Country fulfilled another longstanding dream, and her favorite journey was to Istanbul, Ankara, and hidden corners of Turkey. Another memorable trip was to Merlefest 2006 and its extraordinary lineup. Kerol’s heart connection to music extended to many styles and genres but remained rooted in a high school friend’s blues recordings. There’s a whole book to be written here. Watching Grandkids Max and Scarlett develop as musicians was thrilling to her. So was finding her own voice in the Dalhousie Medical School Choir. In 2019 family and friends saw that something was awry with Kerol’s mind, and in retrospect the symptoms of Alzheimer’s had set in years earlier. It seems Kerol was relieved to understand her state of mind and put her skills and insights to managing it. Kerol and Manla moved from Jollimore to a great building on the Peninsula managed by the sympathetic and watchful Layton Richard. When Kerol needed full time care, Liz Crocker suggested the best caregiver imaginable in Imelda Gayo. Imelda eventually passed on the responsibility, and Rebecca Mostoles proved to be her equal. It’s hard to put their diligence and love into words, but both continued to visit their dear friend in hospital and nursing care. In September, Kerol needed noticeably more physical help. On Thanksgiving Sunday she was still able to take a beautiful autumn walk in the Musquodoboit Valley, but in a matter of weeks had to be hospitalized, first at the Infirmary and then at the Victoria General—where she had volunteered in the palliative care unit for many years. Late on Christmas Eve she was transferred to St. Vincent’s Nursing Home, whose wonderful staff made that a beautiful gift. Then, in a matter of weeks we lost a friend and guide, a keen-eyed customer of vintage clothing shops, a mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, and every kind of relative. And a muse. Among the relatives Kerol lost were her brothers Davey and Brian; among those who lost Kerol were her brother Robert Mantel: they discovered each other not so long ago. The fates were kind: the less capacity Kerol had to live her life, the less time she spent at each threshold. We are grateful for that. Her body has been cremated. There will be a celebration of Kerol’s life at a date and place yet to be decided. If you’re thinking of a memorial donation, you might consider the Alzheimer Foundation of Canada or the Alzheimer Society of Nova Scotia.

Kerol Diane Rose

September 20, 1946 - January 16, 2025