Juanita Doris Trenholm

Juanita Doris Trenholm was “five-foot-two, eyes of blue” and, like the old song goes, “Oh, what those five feet could do!”

She was born in Revelstoke to Ernest and Doris Needham in 1932 and grew up during The Great Depression. Like many born in that era, she was frugal and never wasted anything. She was resourceful, and learned to knit, sew, garden and preserve food. She was brought up in the newly found faith of her parents, and went to Sunday school, which her mom taught. She was a camper at what is now known as SunnyBrae Bible Camp in its inaugural year and each summer after. She came to faith in Jesus at a young age and had a very strong sense of right and wrong, social justice, and a belief in being kind and following The Golden Rule. One of her oft-repeated sayings was “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” She had integrity and she would not sacrifice it.

As a youngster, Juanita found a wallet full of money on the sidewalk while walking home from school. She brought it to her dad, who accompanied her to return it to the owner without a penny missing. When Rhonda was five or six, while leaving Askew’s grocery store, Rhonda gleefully whispered that she thought the cashier had given too much change. Juanita did an about-face with daughter in hand, making a bee-line to the cashier to ensure they received only what they were owed. It was a formational moment for Rhonda.

Juanita’s mom, Doris (née Mobley), grew up in Sunnybrae. In Juanita’s last year of high school, the family moved to Salmon Arm, and eventually to Sunnybrae where they built a house to be closer to Doris’s family. Juanita was adventurous—she enjoyed skiing (back when you had to hike up the mountain to ski down), swimming, and hiking up to Margaret Falls long before there was a path. At 17, she travelled by herself to Toronto to visit family there. She was an artist like her mom, but pursued bookkeeping as a vocation.

Her first job was at the Salmon Arm Machine Shop, where she handled the bookkeeping and managed the front till. That’s where she met her future husband, Robert Dean Trenholm, who was coming in to buy a power saw near closing time. Juanita usually caught a ride home from her boss, but he wasn’t able to that day, so Dean offered. He wouldn’t let her pay for gas, but suggested she repay him by taking him out for dinner.

On that very first “date,” they got into an argument. Mom asked him when his birthday was, and he said January 12. “It is not!” she countered. She thought he discovered her birthday was January 12 and was toying with her. He had to pull out his driver’s licence to prove he wasn’t lying. They indeed shared the same birthday, one year apart.

They got married on July 1, 1952, and celebrated their 73rd anniversary in 2025. In many ways, they were like oil and water. Mom was a spitfire, impish at times, sweet and highly principled. Dad was a scrappy cowboy/carpenter/auctioneer. But both Mom and Dad were resourceful, hard-working, in love, and they kept their vows faithfully. Mom spent a good part of their marriage wondering if she had made the right decision—and if it was worth the years of “re-training” this old-fashioned, in-charge, head-of-the-household man who was part entrepreneur and all dreamer.  On their 50th anniversary, she declared that the first 50 years were Dad’s, and the next 50 would be hers. Dad mellowed with age and they made it through the tough times by looking out for each other to the very end—and possibly by fishing, which was Mom’s favourite pastime.

We have a picture of Juanita at about age 8 with a straw hat, fishing pole and a big grin as she held out her first catch. In the course of her 93 years, Mom took great pleasure in having fished at more than 100 lakes throughout British Columbia, with Dean, us kids, grandkids, her and Dad’s parents, and any number of family friends and neighbours. Some of our most cherished family times were heading up dusty, bumpy roads with deep ruts and numerous switchbacks to pristine mountain lakes. If Mom was ever asked how many fish she caught, the answer, with a twinkle in her eye, was always “my limit.” It pained her to throw back small fish, and she had an ongoing rivalry with a loon that would chase the fish on her line and try to steal it.

When Dean and Juanita were first married, they lived in a shack in Sunnybrae, then built a home on the lake where they raised their first two children. Noreen Theresa was the firstborn in 1955 and was named after Mom’s best friend Noreen Munroe, who tragically died of multiple sclerosis as a teenager. Robert Eugene was born in 1957 and, as the firstborn male, was named Robert in a long family tradition.  In 1964, Dad and Mom bought a 113-acre farm at Carlin, which they named The Silver Spur Ranch Ltd. Rhonda Lee came along in 1966 as the “afterthought.”

Mom stuck with Dad, supporting all his dreams, including clerking for him while they ran Salmon Arm Auction, and through all of Dad’s many entrepreneurial ventures. When Dad was exploring the next way to make a million dollars, Mom was holding down the fort at the farm, feeding horses and cows, and working on her own projects. She was entrepreneurial, too! She raised chickens and sold eggs, bred our “mama pig” and sold the piglets, raised geese and sold goslings, and grew almost all our own food in her one-acre garden. She even sold the extra produce—a dollar a dozen for corn and $2 a bucket for picked raspberries and strawberries!

She loved gardening—both flowers and vegetables—and spent most of the summer tending and harvesting. We canned and froze the fruit and produce, and enjoyed simple, healthy meals year-round. Gardening always took priority over housework, which often fell to Nonie or Rhonda, so that Mom could spend more time outside in the garden or tending the animals. Mom always had one special cat—usually a Manx—that was allowed in the house and became her special pet, but our dog was never allowed in the house.

Mom was a saver. She kept everything from plastic grocery bags to school assignments and drawings by us kids, and even obituaries of her friends—almost all of whom she outlived. She saved the money she earned from selling pigs, geese, eggs and produce to make improvements to the house, which Dad didn’t see as a priority. One time while Dad was at the logging camp, she took out the corner of the house to put two huge kitchen windows so we’d have a nice view overlooking the farm. When Dad came home on the weekend, there was a two-by-four holding up the corner where the window was going to go in. Mom told him, “We took a vote while you were away.” Another time, Dad came home to a hole in the living room wall where Mom decided to put a fireplace. Grandpa showed her how to lay the bricks, and she built the whole interior of the fireplace by herself, under Grandpa’s gentle supervision.

Mom was part of the Tappen Ladies Aid, a group of women who met each month to sing hymns—“In the Garden” was her favourite—and raise money for local missionaries. They held an annual Valentine’s Tea and Auction and sold each other the baked goods they’d made. They also held an annual picnic with gunnysack races and every kind of salad you could imagine, along with devilled eggs, little sandwiches, sweets and ice cream.

Mom was a true crafter and taught a new craft each month to a group of ladies at the White Lake or Sunnybrae halls. She especially loved Christmas crafts, including making poinsettia and candle arrangements with driftwood, wreaths, and ornaments from nuts, pinecones and popsicle sticks. For a couple years, she rented a table at Centenoka Park Mall (now Piccadilly) at Christmas with Grannie Needham and Rhonda, selling crafts to earn money for presents. She also loved making ornaments and wreaths with Mandy and Ryan to give away.

Juanita was also a caring daughter and daughter-in-law to both sets of grandparents, who lived within seven miles of the farm. She often visited them, spending time at the Trenholm’s on Bolton Road or at the Needham’s in Sunnybrae. Often in the summer, we’d work in the garden in the morning, prepare the produce in the early afternoon, then head to the lake at Grannie and Grandpa Needham’s at 2 p.m. for a swim. After our grandpas passed away, Mom cared for both grannies, always finding ways to brighten their days. When our grannies eventually went into longterm care, Mom would regularly visit and bring them—and all ladies there—flowers from her garden in vases that she thrifted or bought at a garage sale. She was ahead of her time in making second-hand gifts something normal. There isn’t a road in Blind Bay or Cedar Heights where we didn’t hunt down a garage sale.

Mom loved and raised us three kids well—and always seemed to have new batch of grandkids or great grandkids in each decade. In the 1970s, there were grandsons Robyn and Darcy Wideman; in the 1980s, grandkids Mandy and Ryan Trenholm; in the 1990s, great-grandkids Nathan and Keanna Wideman; and in the 2000s, grandsons Sabin and Gibson Nowak. While Nonie and Rhonda moved away, Rob stayed on the farm with his wife, Angela, to raise their kids. While Angela worked as a full-time nurse, Mom looked after Mandy and Ryan and built a special bond with them that she treasured.

Mom also had a deep bond with Rob, whom she relied on for support throughout her life on the farm. In the later years, Rob and Angela made sure Juanita and Dean were able to stay on the farm in their own home as long as possible. They kept them healthy and entertained—no small feat during the pandemic.

Mom loved feeding chickadees and hummingbirds, watching butterflies and laughing at a squirrel she named George that would try to steal the birdseed and that stored fruit in the hollow of the tree until a bear came and stole the stash. Thank God for that big kitchen window, calls from family, and satellite TV so she could watch the news, Wheel of Fortune, 100 Huntley Street and her favourite, Tribal Trails. On Sundays she put on her “church hat” to watch a few favourite programs.

Over the last 10 years, Mom faced a heart attack, lung cancer, and then a stroke in 2023 that sometimes made it difficult for her to communicate. Even so, she managed to recover for the most part, and enjoyed a good quality of life, despite some frustrations. During this time, her favourite part of the day was when Rob came up to their house at 8 a.m. for coffee, or at the end of the day when he reported on all he had done. Whenever we kids visited, our favourite times were having coffee with Mom and Dad, solving the problems of the world at the kitchen table and concluding, despite all that is going on in the world or in our lives, “We are blessed.”

On July 30, Mom and Dad moved into longterm care together. We decorated their room with Mom’s and Grannie’s oil paintings, folded paper butterflies Mom made, and brought all her favourite pretty blue blouses that brought out the blue in her eyes. But by that point, Mom was tired, her job looking after Dad was done, and she was ready to depart her old body.  She would emphatically tell everyone she met at the care home “I want to go to Jesus!” She couldn’t understand what He was waiting for. While it wasn’t as soon as she had longed for, Jesus finally came for her on Sept. 7, after a visit with Nonie, Rob and Rhonda. She slipped away gently with Rhonda by her side, holding her hand. She is at peace in Love’s embrace.

“Well done, Juanita, my good and faithful servant.”

Juanita is predeceased by her parents, Ernest and Doris Needham. She is survived by her husband of 73 years, Dean; daughters Nonie (Bob) Wideman and Rhonda (Michael) Nowak and son Rob (Angela) Trenholm; brother Sam (Sunny) Needham, Grandchildren Robyn Wideman, Darcy (Nina) Wideman, Mandy Trenholm, Ryan Trenholm, Sabin Nowak, Gibson Nowak; great grandkids, Nathan Wideman and Keanna Wideman, and “adopted” granddaughter Britni Ryder.

The family will be holding a memorial fishing trip in 2026 at a nearby lake and will share details when the time comes. In lieu of flowers, hug your friends and family, tell them you love them and be kind to a stranger.