Memories of my Dad


My father came to Canada from England at the age of 3, lived for 2 years in Southern Ontario, and then was raised thereafter in the Northern Ontario farm his father homesteaded in 1912. As a boy he helped his Dad carve a home out of the woods, and helped his mother when his Dad was away for winter work in the camps. Dad’s older brother was lucky enough to continue his schooling and become a school teacher, as was his younger sister. Dad would have liked to have followed his own father’s footsteps into the ministry, but someone needed to stay and help with the farm, which he eventually took over as his own.

Dad was a very giving soul, but a man of few words. He would much rather drop something off unnoticed than deliver it with fanfare. He gave out of the joy it brought to him, and the joy it brought to those who received, not for the recognition of having done his deed. There was a fine line between what he expected payment and recognition for, for which he expected to receive what was due to him, and what he did for the love of giving.

On the farm, we worked along side him, as it was expected of us, and seldom received thanks. We knew it was just what we had to do, our way of life. But when one of us made something he was the first to praise us, both to our faces, and anyone else he could find who would listen. We knew he saved his words for what was truly important, and so we valued his appreciation even more.

He gave of his time, to help others finish their work; his knowledge, as a pinch-hitter when the vet was not available for the neighbouring farmers; his beliefs, as a very well known and popular member of the local town council for many years (quite a feat for a man of so few words!); and his love of both animals & children, as a volunteer 4-H sheep club leader. (For years at the end of the club season he treated the kids to a trip to my sisters cottage for a swim and wiener roast). He was a Director for the local Agricultural Society, and with Mom also holding office, they were the glue that held together and organized the local Fall Fair for many many years. As a young man he and a neighbouring farmer offered their resources, struggling as they may have been, to hold the mortgage for the building of our town's original Pentecostal Church. A fact that came to light to a much more recent Pastor many years later, and was recognized by a plaque presented to him, which he reluctantly but smilingly received....he had not done it for recognition.

Mom, unfortunately, suffered bad health for several years. I cannot remember exactly when this happened, but I think I was in senior High School. Mom had been in hospital quite a bit during the year, and it was Christmas Eve. Dad had an idea, and we were all recruited to help. He rushed to town for paper grocery bags from the store, and we all set to work around the kitchen table. We washed and packed bag after bag of potatoes, and a few other vegetables like carrots & turnip, sealed their tops, and wrote Merry Christmas on each bag, piled them all in the car and delivered them to the hospital. There were enough for each and every staff member, nurses, cleaning staff, kitchen staff..... his thanks for the care they had given Mom during her stays.

From that day on he delivered his vegetable bundles every Christmas without fail, for the next 15 or so years, long after Mom passed away. In 1990 he took sick, first with pneumonia, then after some time in hospital his mind began to change. The other side of his room was instead the knoll on the road to the farm; his bedside table was the tractor that needed fixing; some days were 30 years ago; yet he knew each one of us, and when Christmas came, he expressed his worry to my sister....who would package up the vegetables for the Christmas delivery?

Giving was not an effort with him, it was woven into every inch of his being, so much so that even in his altered state of mind he remembered it. I suppose, growing up with this man, I cannot help it when I look around me and think, now what can I give today, what help can I offer, what words can I say, that will make someone’s day a brighter one?