For Dad

*A departure from our usual posts. 

Experiences can take all forms, and let me tell you, this one has knocked my feet right out from underneath me.

In preparing to speak at my Dad's funeral, I wrote this three days prior.

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When writing down my thoughts to share today, I found myself churning out autobiographical facts about my Dad that made up the timeline of his life;

He was born in London England in 1935, and spent his early childhood enduring World War 2. He is the son of an Anglican minister and the eldest of seven children. He attended boarding school, and was later conscripted to the military, which led to his eventual immigration to Canada in 1957. During his time in the British and Canadian military, he was stationed in various European countries and Canadian cities. In 1969 he met my Mom at Queen’s University, and the two eventually settled in Brighton where they have raised their two children, and now four grandsons for the past 45 years.

That’s my Dad in a nutshell – but anyone who knows John, knows that there was a bit more to him. He was a true character. And so what I really want to share with you is what I love most about my Dad. 

First and foremost, I love how much he loved his family. My Dad could be counted on to call, write or email all members of our immediate and extended family on a regular basis. He did not forget a birthday, anyone at Christmas or pass up an opportunity to spend time together.

After leaving home, I would often open my mailbox to receive an envelope with dad’s distinctive handwriting, inside a newspaper article that he thought I’d be interested in or a photograph he had annotated and turned into a homemade comic. Just something simple to let you know he was thinking about you. To our embarrassment, he would repeatedly share stories about our childhood to anyone who would listen, a courtesy that has since been extended to his grandchildren as well. His children, grandchildren, brothers and sisters, cousins, and nephews; We all knew we were loved. 

I don’t think it is possible to speak about my Dad and his love for family without talking about my mom, Lois. When asked about how my parents met, mom would lovingly say “He just wouldn’t go away!” and as a testament to his persistence, my Mom and Dad were married for 51 years. They have navigated the inevitable ebbs and flows of marriage. They co-existed in a world where they would recite poetry to one another at the dinner table, worked together on crossword puzzles daily, and each evening before saying goodnight, my Mom would look at my Dad and say, “You’re one of the good guys.”  They balanced each other, and contrary to their more commonplace roles, my Dad was a pillar of calm for my Mom in the most challenging moments of their lives together. 

Dad jokes for days

I love his sense of humour. My Dad was always thinking of a joke, a pun or silly limerick—Some you would laugh at, some you would roll your eyes at, and some you would never repeat. Even as a child my Dad loved a harmless joke. You would think being the son of a minister would deter John and his sister Janet from playing pranks, but it just added to the general silliness of their childhood. He’d roar when he’d tell you the story of digging “The Grandpa Pit”---A hole they dug in hopes of entrapping their Grandfather in the garden. Dad always maintained that it was Jan who was the mastermind, and he was the one who got in trouble. Knowing some of the pranks he played as an adult, I find it hard to believe that he had no part in the planning. Whoever the mastermind was, Aunt Jan and Dad were thick as thieves, and found themselves and each other very funny throughout their entire lives.

Mischief Makers

I love that he had so many interests. Up until the last couple years, I don’t remember my Dad sitting still for any length of time. He believed in being an active member of the community and that it was important to continue to learn, be engaged and productive. Age was never a factor in his pursuits. He took weekly singing lessons and sang in a variety of community and church choirs. He practiced tai chi, and spoke multiple languages. He was a dedicated member of the Brighton Lions Club for 40 years. He remained passionate about the armed forces throughout his life, and was a proud member of the Legion. He maintained a garden each summer. He loved to camp in every season, instilling a love for the outdoors in both myself and especially my brother Aaron. At the age of 60 he took up sailing, and went on many voyages throughout the Great Lakes, along the Atlantic, and amazingly down to the Antarctic at age 80.  Recently one evening after dinner, Dad and I were having a drink of Grand Marnier, as he did most evenings. He looked at me and said “You know, society expects you to be productive”. I rolled my eyes and thought this a thinly veiled message for me to get a job – but after some conversation I realized he measured productivity by so much more than just a standard day-job. I’d say Dad lived up to society’s expectations and then some.

I love how he never truly grew up.

Having been raised by him, I had an inkling and it was only confirmed when he turned 80 and he confessed to me that he’d felt like he was 18 his whole life—Not exactly a revelation when I thought back on the ice-cream sandwiches Aaron and I ate for breakfast when mom wasn’t home or the extensive collection of whoopie cushions he owned. He insisted that we plant Cheerios or “donut seeds” on full-moon nights and would be up at the crack of dawn to get a dozen donuts before we woke up. Instead of worrying if the water was too cold, he’d be the first one to do a cannonball into the lake. He taught me not to take things too seriously and to take pleasure in the small and silly moments.  

And finally, I love the way he spoke his mind, most of the time. As most of you can attest to, my Dad did not hesitate to share his thoughts and opinions. There were very few issues he sat on the fence about, he read a lot, shared his feelings freely and his mind was always busy. As my Uncle Robin aptly mentioned– “John never knew how to close a phone call”. He always had one more thing to add to the conversation. However, without fail, when it was finally time to say goodbye and an “I love you so much Dad”— He would pause, his blue/grey eyes would soften, he’d smile and say “I love you too” and you knew he really meant it.... And then he would ask you something completely mundane, like if you remembered to take out the garbage.

So when my Mom asked me to say a few words about my Dad today, I knew that I couldn’t sum up my thoughts in just a few words — I am my father’s daughter after all. The long and short of it is that I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to speak about him, and more importantly to have loved and been loved by my Dad.  

Fun•Day at Fundy National Park

Oook let's take a pause and rewind a moment for a quick update; We arrived back in Ontario in September and headed to New Brunswick for October & November. Since snow and general low temps aren't uncommon in Canada for this time of year (and let's face it, it's only getting colder), we decided to store our camping gear and sell our van since we'd be staying (indoors) with our parents for awhile. 

Classified Ad: Currently looking for an RV---Something 20-30ft, mechanically pretty sound and no water damage. The state of the interior isn't so much important, as we'll likely reno. If you know/hear of anything, let us know!

So when New Brunswick repeatedly broke record temp highs during our stay we were kicking ourselves for not bringing our van east. We definitely wanted to be outside while the province experienced the second-coming of summer. Without much camping gear we decided our best option was to check-out the yurt scene at Fundy National Park.

Of course we had to take the round-about way to get there --We hit the Fundy Coastal Drive and stopped in for a picnic and to check out the sea caves at Saint Martins.

Late afternoon, we finally rolled into Fundy National Park! Across Canada in the National Parks are some really cool set-ups for those with little outdoor gear, or the desire to actually sleep outside. The icing on the camping-cake was rolling up to Yurt #2 which included unreal views. 

The view at low tide & high tide. And why is this tide so special you might ask?
Well, the Bay of Fundy boasts the highest tides in the world, rising and falling 12m twice daily.

We arrived at low tide, took in the fresh air and a cider, then wandered down to the seaside town of Alma. After a good little toodle, a bowl of seafood chowder and several pictures of lobster miscellany, we hit up the corner store and headed back up the hill. 

Cranking up the yurt's propane woodstove, we put little J to bed, and then sat outside under the full moon and cooked dinner. 

The new morning was a quintessential Bay of Fundy day---Drizzly, grey, fresh and thick with fog. As someone who drops in on the East Coast every now and again, I find the weather just adds to the overall charm, so we were not deterred from hitting up a couple hikes and a frolic in the rainbow blueberry fields before making our way home.

You might notice a lack of sun in all these pictures.
"It'll burn off" is a catchphrase we use often as motivation to get out.

Oh Jeez, Lake Louise

Having just visited Banff in May, we bypassed the iconic village and headed to Lake Louise. Holy cheddar-smokies, knowing that it's one of the most photographed sites in Canada should have given us some inkling as to what we were getting ourselves into. Usually we are completely deterred from going to super popular touristy places because fighting the crowds just kills our mojo (hence why we visited the Trevi Fountain in Rome at 11pm in February). So naturally, Lake Louise would be a place we gravitate towards in peak summer -_-

As mentioned we had been in Canmore & Banff in May and whole-heartedly expected the same quintessential mountain tourist town out of Lake Louise. As so many of our blunders, a simple Google search could have clarified that we were rolling into a glorified truck-stop, and not a metropolis where you could buy such essentials as say, baby diapers (minor snaffoo). So we arrived in the town square (I'm being generous here), and quickly realized there was no way we were getting close to the lake that day. The parking lots were full, shuttle buses were sold out and given that the campgrounds were also chockers we ended up at the overflow parking lot/camp just outside of town. First impressions of Lake Louise were not spectacular.

Weirdly, it all turned around in the overflow parking lot. There were so many people there, it was a bit festivally---lots of different rigs--RVs, converted camper vans/delivery trucks, even a firetruck with a swing set. Everyone checking out each other's set-up, making dinner, and a collective knowing that we were in the company of others who also did not have the foresight to plan ahead and reserve a legit campsite. As scrappy as it sounds, I did not hate the overflow camp. 

Anyway, we set our alarm to wake-up early (like before-baby-wakes-up early) because we were told the parking lot at the lake would be full by 8am. Again, the franticness of it all definitely had us thinking we were not so interested, but we pressed on. Got to the parking lot at 7:30am and it was nearly full--insanity. Trudged down to the lake as the sun was just coming over the looming mountains...And holy shitting hell, heavens to Betsy. Wow! 

Now here's the thing about Canada and the natural sights---they are usually really big. Despite the rigmarole and crowds in actually getting to the lake, there is generally so much space to enjoy the beauty. I went for a gorgeous sunrise paddle, and being a pretty cold morning and early enough that the tour buses hadn't arrived, had the entire lake to myself. Truly one of the most spectacularly peaceful experiences I have ever had. A super-charged start to the day, and views that are among the best I've ever seen. How's that for a flip-flop in perspective?!

Afterwards we all struck out for a little hike up to the Lake Agnes Teahouse. Although we had previously looked up the next adjoining hike and decided it was too far/too difficult for us, we were just flying high on natural beauty and decided to go for it...Despite not having any food, and limited water, we were heading up The Big Beehive (we generally make our best decisions when flying high). Albeit a little thirsty and hungry, the views from top to bottom were stunning. 

Baby on Board: Big shoutout to Tyler for being our sure-footed sherpa, mountain-goating the relentless switchbacks with ease and care.

We spent a second night at the overflow parking lot---Which again, I full-heartedly enjoyed in my post-epic-paddle/hike-exhaustion bliss. So yes, crowds suck, but sometimes it's absolutely worth it (Also, definitely fight the crowds to see the Sistine Chapel-It's also worth it).