By Mary Jo Leddy and Maureen Brosnahan
Reflections Mary Jo Leddy – Romero House Founder
The recent death of Joan Leishman has been a time of sorrow for friends and family. It has
also evoked a special sense of loss at Romero House.
Joan died suddenly after a fall from the steps in her garden.
She was more than a journalist who wrote about Romero House. She became a member of our community. Her involvement with Romero House began with “A Street Called Wanda,” a remarkable documentary about the Wanda Road Street Party, which aired around 2000. It was more than a movie, it was a way into the world of refugees. It helped Canadians recognize themselves in the ordinary life on Wanda Road.
Joan travelled the world so she knew its ways. She had seen the immense suffering. During her time in Africa, she saw first-hand the genocide in Rwanda as well as the transformation of South Africa under President Nelson Mandela. In Central America, she witnessed the massacres of Church leaders who fought for justice. She took it to heart.
Once back home in Toronto she sought out ways of making a difference in her work and in her home life. She raised her family, she joined PEN Canada and hosted refugee writers in
her home. Despite living with chronic back pain, she refused to run from her suffering or the
suffering of the world She advocated long and hard for several people who were facing deportation. It was long and hard work.
She was a very small town girl with a very big heart.
Recently Joan became a member of the Romero House Board of Directors. She pushed us to care about the world, on our own doorstep and in our country.
Reflections from Maureen Brosnahan – Board Member Romero House
Joan and I were friends and colleagues for more than 30 years. Our desks were side-by-side at CBC. We collaborated on many assignments. We bounced story ideas off one another. We celebrated our wins and consoled each other on the darker days.
Joan was a fearless fighter. Whether in a media scrum or in her beloved garden, she took on her tasks with a vengeance. I was blessed to spend a few days with her at Mary Jo’s cottage the week before she died. She was up-to-her elbows digging up weeds, planting flowers and watering. I watched her wrestle a large hydrangea which had fallen over and was blocking the sun from reaching a lovely spread of hastas below. She staked it up and stood back, pleased with her efforts. Joan always strived to let the light shine through no matter how dark and difficult the challenge.
When Mary Jo began the Writers in Exile group, part of Pen Canada, almost 20 years ago, there were the monthly pot-luck dinners at the Romero House Centre. I invited Joan to her first one. That was the beginning of her life-long commitment to help journalists and writers who were forced to flee their homeland and adjust to their new lives in Canada. Whether a meal or a long-term place to stay, Joan’s home was always a refuge.
She valued her quiet times with nothing better than a good book. She would sit out in the sun, feet-up, reading the latest novel from a noted international author. It was one of her passions. She also loved the water. In recent years she became an accomplished deep-sea diver. Her most recent trip was to New Guinea to explore the coral and underwater life. She was already planning her next trip this fall.
Joan loved her work, but she loved her four young grandsons even more. They were the light of her life as were her daughters, Thandiwe and Lauren. She was so proud of Lauren for taking on social justice causes and the environment. Lauren’s graduation from Law School was one of her proudest moments.
On our last night at the cottage, we sat up and chatted away, searching for solutions to the latest challenge we had undertaken. We then ventured outside. It was dark, the sky was clear and absolutely bursting with stars. My lasting memory of Joan is standing out on a rock looking up at the universe. I have to believe she is now up among those stars, continuing to shine her light down on us.
