Tribute to my Dad

My Dad would be 110 years old today. He was born in Alliston Ontario, on a family farm, the first of six children.  Being the oldest son, Dad was expected to do a lot of the farm work.  School was considered secondary. He went when he wasn’t required to work, and made it through grade three. It was enough that he learned to read and write and do arithmetic, and learned about the various countries and whatever else he needed to know to do well in life.

In his early 30s he left home and ventured out to make a life for himself. With a quarter in his pocket, he went to other farms to ask for work. He had sadly realized that if he didn’t leave home he could end up spending his life working for his father and never having a life of his own. Unfortunately his father had taken to drinking. He would get angry and mean to his mother and sisters, for example ripping the phone off the wall when he thought the women were talking too long on it. My father stayed home a long time to protect his mother, but finally decided that if he ever wanted to get a wife of his own he had better get out of there.

Eventually he made his way to Saskatchewan, where he got a job in Moose Jaw delivering blocks of ice to homes for their ice boxes. It was there that he met my mother.

She was working as a maid in one of the homes on Dad’s route. She used to tell the story, jokingly, that she trapped him behind the ironing board!

They were both Christians, and started trying different churches together, eventually settling on the Christian and Missionary Alliance. They got married outside in a park. Dad had ordered sandwiches and ice cream, and some of Mom’s relatives made the cake, bringing it all the way from Herbert in the car on bumpy roads. A wonderful time was had by all!

Eight years later I was born, when Dad was turning 47. Mom was 11 years younger than him. By this time my parents had moved to Vancouver, and Dad had started his own business as a roofer. He liked the name “Stanley”, and called his business “Stanley Roofing”, later naming my brother Stanley.

Dad had chosen a good business for Vancouver, where much rain makes for many roof repairs and replacements! He was kept very busy, but always took Sundays off, and a week or two or more for a family holiday in the summer. Every second summer he drove us to Saskatchewan to visit my mother’s relatives who lived in and around the little town of Herbert. Dad loved to go at harvest time and pitch in with the farm work with my uncles.

Twice he took us all to Ontario to visit his relatives. Sadly his mother had died before I was born, so I never got to meet her. The first time we went it was winter, and we traveled by train. I was three and my brother was one, just old enough to get into a bit of mischief! We had found chocolate, a rare treat, in Mom’s purse. Little did we know it was actually exlax! Then we got so thirsty and kept going to the water cooler for many paper cups of cold water!

A highlight of that trip for me was getting snowed in at Aunt Mossy and uncle Wilfred’s farm and after several days, being taken out of this remote area by horse and sleigh.

My sister, who was 5 1/2 years younger than me, was always good and never got into mischief. I think she was my dad’s favourite.

We had a happy family life. My father bought a new house in South Vancouver when I was eight. He continued to work as a roofer until he was 68. Twice he had fallen and broken ribs.

At the age of 89, he had been outside shoveling snow for the next door neighbours as well as their own, when he came in to the kitchen and collapsed on the floor. He had suffered a major stroke. It caused him to lose all his memory and ability to speak, other than a few words. However, his cheerful spirit was still there! For the next five years the two phrases he kept repeating were, “Apple pie!” and “Rejoice and rejoice!”

After Dad was moved into a nursing home we realized that Mom had become quite weak. We hadn’t realized how much Dad had been caring for her. She was able to get into the same nursing home, and she died a year later.

Dad lived on to the age of 94. He’s been gone for over 15 years now. What a wonderful father he was!