Today, I remember my father. He was born 100 years ago yesterday. He is not alive today, having been grateful to pass away in his 90th year, long after life ceased to be of interest to him. Although he was lucky not to suffer any real physical ailments, he was a proud man and he was tired from the gradual loss of his independence and his sense of dignity.
He was a hard man to know -- incomprehensible to his children. His frequent bouts of bombastic temper are family legend now. But despite his failings as a parent, we knew he cared about us. He was there for us, to support us in every way that a father can.
What I remember most about him was his sense of humour. He loved wordplay and our family had quite a few invented words (almost our own language) which we all contributed to, and he enjoyed very much. As he was in his late 40s when I was born, I don't remember him as a very active father, our shared pursuits were more sedentary - reading, watching television, and playing board games like checkers,
crockinole and chess.
His old friends remembered his sense of humour. When I was in my late teens and we moved to southern Ontario I had the privilege of meeting one of Dad's friends from his RCAF squandron in WWII. I could tell from his manner that he still held a lot of respect for my father and my Dad was equally thrilled to meet with him again.
Here is a picture of the squandron taken in 1945 at Waterbeach, Cambridgeshire, UK.
Thanks to my sister for providing the picture!
For more about my Dad, here is my post from last year:
And last, but not ever least, here is Rick Mercer ranting about the Canadian federal government's latest injustice to our Veterans.