What She Said
Jan. 21st, 2006 06:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tvordljEveryone kept asking me how i could possibly have got through it and how hard it must have been but it wasn't really. I just knew down deep i was meant to speak and as i told a few people "As Dad always says, It was just my job" and that carried me through it. I wanted to make people smile, even just a bit and they did.
We want to thank you all for coming, from all of the family. It really is appreciated. I told Mom there would be a crowd and she said "Do you think so?" .. uh. Yeah. I do. How could there not be? We've had lots of cards, phone calls, emails and messages asking about him, sending words of support, over the last few months. The word "Favourite" keeps coming up. Again, I’m not surprised. Dad was like that. If you knew him, it was a pretty safe bet that you respected him and liked him a lot. If you knew him well, you loved him. If you didn’t know him, but you know one of our family, you will have heard us talk about him. You will have been able to tell how much he was loved, what a fun, caring, GOOD man he was. The best.
He and his twin Keith were born July 6, 1935, a bit of a surprise because nobody expected twins. And like most twins, they were a team. Dad sold newspapers during the war. We always heard lots of stories about those days. He played basketball in high school. He met Mom when they were 16, at a dance. Dad left school, got a job and decided to become an electrician. To that end, he went to night school for four years and passed all his exams. He worked for Simpson's in Halifax, and later the federal government climbing poles and sorting out fire alarms. For the last 25 years or so of his career he worked for the Halifax School board until he retired in 1995. He still did some part time work for a few years and then retired for good at 65.
Mom and Dad married 50 years ago, January 6, 1956 and they just celebrated their Golden anniversary. My sister and I came along in due course. Dad had nicknames for us, I was Fred and she was Oscar. Later on he designated me, as the oldest, as Number 1 and Laurie Number 2. My best friend Carolyn was designated Number 3, honorary daughter. The grandchildren, the lights of his life, arrived in the 1980’s. Ryan, Justin and Staci. He was so proud of them, watching the young woman and young men they’ve become. I remember when they were babies, he'd say they were "G'ampy’s gird or G'ampy's boy" and call them his Little Bambinos. Oh and we can’t forget The million dollar cat! His name was Sandy officially. Dad had about a half dozen unofficial names for him as well.
My father was a good man. He was loyal, dependable, hard working, honest. He was a man of his word. And he was a funny man. We were all trained in the "art" of puns, and he could tell a story about when he was a kid, or his father or another family story, or maybe something that happened at work, and you'd be in stitches before he even finished. He was an ace at one-liners and puns… "Old bowlers never die, they just go on strike"
He wasn't a religious man. Mom said that he believed in taking care of your family and friends, looking after them, doing for them, being there for them. That was his religion, she said. That was his job, he'd say. They raised their family, together, as a team, and gave us so much support and encouragement. Our home was always filled with love and laughter. He accomplished what he set out to do with his life. He did a good job and I told him so a few days before he died.
He loved to have fun. Anyone that's bowled with him over the years, or played cards, darts, horseshoes, knows that. He always rose to a challenge. If you told him you were going to win he'd say, with a twinkle in his eye, Now you've just made a mistake telling me you're going to beat me because you know I'm Dangerous when I'm challenged. but no matter whether he won or lost, he would congratulate the other players and if he lost, he knew he did his best and he was beaten at the game fair and square. And then he'd say "you have to let the other guy win sometimes or they wouldn’t want to come back and play again".
He liked to dance and taught Laurie and I how to do the jitterbug so when Mom wore out, he would still have dance partners. He loved to read. He was never without a book on the go, one eye on the page, one eye and ear on the hockey game and one ear on his police band radio. And he'd read every last word of the newspaper. He was also famous for his homemade bread, after learning how to make it from his sister in law, Bonnie.
He wasn't a man that talked about his feelings but you always knew he loved you. He would do anything for you and as a result you would do anything for him. He told you how much he loved you by making you laugh with jokes, stories and puns, or silly little gestures with sound effects. He was never surly or cranky and even if he got annoyed in general, he'd find something funny to lighten his mood like the time the inner bag of breakfast cereal burst when he was trying to open it and the contents went all over the kitchen floor. He stood there and looked at it, looked at us trying not to laugh and finally said "Doesn't that make you feel crummy?"
We have so many good memories. I know most of you do too and I hope you will find us later and tell us some of your favourites. Some things that I will never forget include him walking around the house in the morning, making his breakfast, and seeing his long black socks hanging out of the back of his pants pocket. I can still see him swinging and twirling his screwdrivers and pliers in and out of his tool belt like six guns, and how, in the telling of a story or joke, he'd hitch up his shoulders, tighten his mouth and out of the side of his mouth he'd say "Well, sir..." (not that I can do it like he could!)
You might feel that there's a Ken shaped hole in your life now. But look a little closer. He's still there in your heart. He always will be. Remember him when you tell a joke, or throw a bowling ball or have a piece of homemade bread. Remember him when you pay the vet's bill. Remember him, and smile. I will.
Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
We want to thank you all for coming, from all of the family. It really is appreciated. I told Mom there would be a crowd and she said "Do you think so?" .. uh. Yeah. I do. How could there not be? We've had lots of cards, phone calls, emails and messages asking about him, sending words of support, over the last few months. The word "Favourite" keeps coming up. Again, I’m not surprised. Dad was like that. If you knew him, it was a pretty safe bet that you respected him and liked him a lot. If you knew him well, you loved him. If you didn’t know him, but you know one of our family, you will have heard us talk about him. You will have been able to tell how much he was loved, what a fun, caring, GOOD man he was. The best.
He and his twin Keith were born July 6, 1935, a bit of a surprise because nobody expected twins. And like most twins, they were a team. Dad sold newspapers during the war. We always heard lots of stories about those days. He played basketball in high school. He met Mom when they were 16, at a dance. Dad left school, got a job and decided to become an electrician. To that end, he went to night school for four years and passed all his exams. He worked for Simpson's in Halifax, and later the federal government climbing poles and sorting out fire alarms. For the last 25 years or so of his career he worked for the Halifax School board until he retired in 1995. He still did some part time work for a few years and then retired for good at 65.
Mom and Dad married 50 years ago, January 6, 1956 and they just celebrated their Golden anniversary. My sister and I came along in due course. Dad had nicknames for us, I was Fred and she was Oscar. Later on he designated me, as the oldest, as Number 1 and Laurie Number 2. My best friend Carolyn was designated Number 3, honorary daughter. The grandchildren, the lights of his life, arrived in the 1980’s. Ryan, Justin and Staci. He was so proud of them, watching the young woman and young men they’ve become. I remember when they were babies, he'd say they were "G'ampy’s gird or G'ampy's boy" and call them his Little Bambinos. Oh and we can’t forget The million dollar cat! His name was Sandy officially. Dad had about a half dozen unofficial names for him as well.
My father was a good man. He was loyal, dependable, hard working, honest. He was a man of his word. And he was a funny man. We were all trained in the "art" of puns, and he could tell a story about when he was a kid, or his father or another family story, or maybe something that happened at work, and you'd be in stitches before he even finished. He was an ace at one-liners and puns… "Old bowlers never die, they just go on strike"
He wasn't a religious man. Mom said that he believed in taking care of your family and friends, looking after them, doing for them, being there for them. That was his religion, she said. That was his job, he'd say. They raised their family, together, as a team, and gave us so much support and encouragement. Our home was always filled with love and laughter. He accomplished what he set out to do with his life. He did a good job and I told him so a few days before he died.
He loved to have fun. Anyone that's bowled with him over the years, or played cards, darts, horseshoes, knows that. He always rose to a challenge. If you told him you were going to win he'd say, with a twinkle in his eye, Now you've just made a mistake telling me you're going to beat me because you know I'm Dangerous when I'm challenged. but no matter whether he won or lost, he would congratulate the other players and if he lost, he knew he did his best and he was beaten at the game fair and square. And then he'd say "you have to let the other guy win sometimes or they wouldn’t want to come back and play again".
He liked to dance and taught Laurie and I how to do the jitterbug so when Mom wore out, he would still have dance partners. He loved to read. He was never without a book on the go, one eye on the page, one eye and ear on the hockey game and one ear on his police band radio. And he'd read every last word of the newspaper. He was also famous for his homemade bread, after learning how to make it from his sister in law, Bonnie.
He wasn't a man that talked about his feelings but you always knew he loved you. He would do anything for you and as a result you would do anything for him. He told you how much he loved you by making you laugh with jokes, stories and puns, or silly little gestures with sound effects. He was never surly or cranky and even if he got annoyed in general, he'd find something funny to lighten his mood like the time the inner bag of breakfast cereal burst when he was trying to open it and the contents went all over the kitchen floor. He stood there and looked at it, looked at us trying not to laugh and finally said "Doesn't that make you feel crummy?"
We have so many good memories. I know most of you do too and I hope you will find us later and tell us some of your favourites. Some things that I will never forget include him walking around the house in the morning, making his breakfast, and seeing his long black socks hanging out of the back of his pants pocket. I can still see him swinging and twirling his screwdrivers and pliers in and out of his tool belt like six guns, and how, in the telling of a story or joke, he'd hitch up his shoulders, tighten his mouth and out of the side of his mouth he'd say "Well, sir..." (not that I can do it like he could!)
You might feel that there's a Ken shaped hole in your life now. But look a little closer. He's still there in your heart. He always will be. Remember him when you tell a joke, or throw a bowling ball or have a piece of homemade bread. Remember him when you pay the vet's bill. Remember him, and smile. I will.
Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
