What a Life: Muriel Allen

Muriel Allen's obituary reads a bit like a novel. 

That's probably appropriate, given how much her life revolved around books.

Muriel drove the P.E.I. Bookmobile for more than 20 years, spreading books — and the love of them — to Islanders from tip to tip.

She died this past December, and like many Islanders in the COVID-19 era, her family wasn't able to hold a funeral for her because of public health restrictions.

We've started a new series on CBC P.E.I. called What a Life. We're making up for some lost time and celebrating the lives of some of the great Islanders we've lost in the last year and a half.

I called up two people who knew Muriel well.

'She could laugh at the worst of things'

"She was the funniest woman I know," said Irene MacIsaac in Charlottetown.

There was a 30-year age difference between the women, but that didn't stand in the way of a lifelong friendship.

Irene met Muriel in 1975 at an Al-Anon meeting for family members of alcoholics. Muriel had married young to a man who struggled with alcohol.

"She was someone who could laugh at the worst of things," said Irene. "I couldn't believe she could laugh at things, at that time. I couldn't laugh about it, but I learned to laugh. And she taught me that. She could go through difficult situations, and then deal with it, and then she'd laugh."

A natural teacher

Muriel and her husband bounced back and forth between rural P.E.I. and Nova Scotia for a few years early in their marriage. They had two kids. 

Her daughter, Judi Allen, says they had a hard time making a living on their farm, so Muriel took a job teaching in the one-room schoolhouse in Rice Point.

"Was she a natural teacher?" I asked.

"Yes, I think so," said Judi. "Well, she was a natural storyteller. If you speak with anyone who knew my mum, they'd say she was a really great storyteller and a really avid reader and a lifelong learner. She had a lot to give."

Muriel and family eventually moved to Charlottetown. With little money coming in, Muriel got a job at a dry cleaner. Judi remembers these as some of their darkest days. But they didn't last.

"Not very long, actually," she said. "I don't know if it was even a year. And then a position opened up in the Charlottetown Library for a library technician, and she was successful. She went from there to the Confederation Centre Library and after that to the love of her life: the bookmobile."

On the move

"That seems to be the thing people associate her with," I replied. "Her identity is kind of tied up with the bookmobile."

"Oh yes, absolutely. You have no idea how many people she knew. She travelled all over P.E.I. And they were just so loved. They went to places that didn't have any access to books. They were so appreciated," Judi said.

"And Mum always talked about the wonderful, intelligent, great readers who were, you know, in fairly isolated places way up west and way down east. Or a fisherman who never got to go to a library. They were all great readers, and they would wait with great anticipation for the bookmobile."

She absolutely loved the children and people coming on the bus.— Irene MacIsaac

Being a part of the bookmobile crew meant Muriel needed a lot of skills. Besides being a librarian, she had to be able to navigate the highways and back roads of rural Prince Edward Island. And someone needed to drive the bus. Muriel went to truck driving school in Debert, N.S.

"Mum and her very good friend Sarah Margaret Jones were the very first two women to graduate from that truck driving school," said Judi with a laugh.

"That must have been a hoot," I said.

"You should see the graduation picture. Mum was tiny! She rounded up to five feet tall. She was just adorable."

Muriel grew into her new job and new role. Irene says it was around this time that Muriel divorced her husband and began her new life, surrounded by friends and fellow lovers of books. 

"Anybody who lived in Tignish, Alberton, Kinkora… any of those places, if you mention Muriel Allen and the bookmobile, they knew exactly who she was," said Irene. "She loved it. She absolutely loved the children and people coming on the bus. She got to know who they were, and she would save books for them.

"Like, if it was women out on the farm, and they wanted romance novels — Harlequin romances — she'd save four or five of them. She'd say, 'Oh, come here. I've got your books for you today.' And they would be thrilled." 

Muriel and the bookmobile both retired in the 1990s. 

But her adventures didn't stop. 

She sold her house in town and bought a little cottage in Argyle Shore.

She spent 10 winters living in Puerto Rico, where she drove an infamously beat-up car held together with rope and wire.

She and Irene spent a lot of time together. 

Going for lunch. 

Competing for the best find at a yard sale.

And just laughing.

"She would invite my husband and I for supper," remembered Irene. "She and I would drink wine, and she'd always have a project for my husband. We'd laugh and laugh, and he'd be working away.

"One day he was stuccoing her ceiling with this cement you put on the ceiling. And he stepped off the stepladder and right into the bucket of cement. We were sitting there, and I started to laugh. And she looked at my husband and she looked at me. She wasn't sure if he was going to be angry or what, and the two of us started to laugh. We laughed and we laughed and we laughed until my husband said, 'Would somebody get me a cloth?' We just laughed until we couldn't laugh no more."

And that was Muriel.

A good friend.

A good mum.

And a good storyteller.

Someone who can make her friends and family laugh, even now that she's gone.

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