Sadly

Sadly, my Dad passed away last Friday.  He was 93 years old and except for a couple of difficult months this past year,  was exceptionally healthy for all those years. 

Dad's life motto was  'When we work,  we work hard.  But when we play, we play hard.'   Dad's personality and way of things could best be described as one of largess or perhaps the better word is,  excess.

If he owned one pair of sneakers, he must have owned 18.  Same with plain white tee shirts, light bulbs, batteries and shoe laces. In his bedroom at the house he had 3 tall boy dressers, and a collection of 500 CDs.

He loved to drive around the Gaspe but by the 17th trip my  Mother refused to go again and so  dad made many more  trips alone.

He used to make his own wine. He kept a running supply of 400 bottles.  

Since my Mothers death he had collected small, round, end tables.  "For the living room, to put a dish of peanuts on when I have company"  he'd say.  He had 9.   

He like his music loud;  his wine, red and copious; his cigars, Cuban; his Courvoisier, heated.  He loved Quebec, the French language and the French people.  And they loved him.  One French family that worked for Dad years ago had 13 children.  Dad and my Mom were invited to every one of those 13  weddings and by the time number 13 was married they were being invited to the weddings of the grandchildren. 

Dad loved Canada and  from 1941 - 1945 he served his country overseas. After being involved in the Italian Campaign, Dad was scheduled to be shipped to the Pacific but with the dropping of the atomic bomb the war was over and dad was home.  Ever after, he  held  Harry S. Truman in high regard.  "Mr Truman saved my life", he'd say. 


He loved politics, attended several sessions of  both federal and provincial Parliaments, never failed to vote and kept a regular email correspondence of an advisory nature  with his member of Parliament.

He believed in hard work and thought that all who are able should always pay their own way.   He had no patience for laziness or cheaters. 

He loved to travel  and he loved to read.  He had read every book ever written about,  or by,  Winston Churchill.

His home was always open to anyone who wanted to drop in.  There was no business so pressing that he couldn't stop to enjoy a glass of red wine with a friend.

He asked for no funeral but rather that we have a party.  And he asked that we  spread his ashes  in Quebec City, at Perce Rock and in New Orleans.  We have some travelling to do.