Offered by Doug Blair Kitchener ON, 2022
Jack Blair and Beverley Roberts married October 4, 1947
Doug Blair born April 6th, 1951
Scott Blair born February 13, 1959 Jack died June 15, 2010
Bev died September 2, 2022
Dad (Jack Blair) was stationed with the R.A.F. at Invergordon, Scotland during the war. Working radar, navigation and surveillance on Sunderland floating bombers over the North Sea. He remembers one day being reprimanded and excused from a flight for some other menial task. He watched that plane head out over Cromarty Firth, falter and crash into the waves Great loss of life There were other close calls Mom (Bev Blair) lost her mother to a heart attack when she was only fourteen Her father Ken, a WW1 veteran injured at Vimy, tried his best while working as a commercial painter at C PR ADanishAunt Mary, sister to the deceased Hertha, became the surrogate mother providing much female comfort and counsel
After the war a neighbour half a block away fromAunt Mary had some interesting news. Her elderly father Hank Radway, a golf personality in London had met a strapping young man who worked for his UncleTom Munro at Munro Sports. Match maker collaboration ensued and the date was on for Jack and Bev. The young retailer and the pretty blonde nurse were wed at a simple ceremony in 1947.
Four years later Bev sat at the edge of a hospital bed, painfully into her third day of sporadic labour Apparently the baby had a really big head She remembers thinking to herself, as the nurses whispered down the hall, "I could die having this baby Lord help me "
Almost eight years later, Bev was again ready to deliver, but this time much more confidently Young Doug was having a "holiday visit" withAunt Mary He remembers being driven each day by Uncle Perce past the fire hall and across town to Ryerson Public School Then came the suspenseful return home and the first viewing of baby Scott in the re decorated bedroom on Regent Street
Skip to 1972 and a summer break from college Doug and his friend Jim Carson drive into Invergordon, Scotland The village looks pretty much as it did in the 1940's The sun is shining over Cromarty Firth
On May 8th this year (2009) Mom celebrated her 83rd birthday Dad looks forward to his 87th on June 7th They still live at the same house on Regent Street Gardening Holding each other Watching for birds at the backyard feeder station Keeping tabs on curling and golfing championships Occasionally, although failing in eyesight, Dad takes a try at nine holes, as did old Hank Radway
All this was interconnected God at the helm He has carried my family He always will
My Dad has a real soft spot for railroads As a youth he would accompany his grandfather "Lug" Watson, a locomotive engineer, on rides on the London and Port Stanley Railway to the docks at Lake Erie His "Uncle Bill" Watson was also an engineer in the Sarnia and Michigan area I remember Uncle Bill very fondly He andAunt Betty would often drop by at my parents' home whenever shopping or the horse races or an itch for a drive would bring them to London Uncle Bill's voice belonged in a much larger man He was loud because of his living with my widowed and somewhat deaf great grandmother Elizabeth Watson It was surprising for me to learn in later years that Bill had once had a real struggle with alcoholism
Petite and smiling Betty and Elizabeth had seen him through the ordeal (I never once saw myAunt Betty upset or downcast She ran variety stores in Sarnia and would often arrive with exoticYankee candies for Scott and me Even widowed and taking the bus to visit us, she was all smiles ) Bill and Betty loved our little dachshund "Otto", and the dog always got first loud welcome when they arrived Simple, resilient, hard-working, thankful people who REALLYenjoyed their years in retirement together
I will tell a story of Lug Watson He and an associate were crossing the townships of Elgin County The railroad line intersected a dirt country road at a very sharp angle with the road somewhat hidden by a hedge They did not see the little old green grocer in his dilapidated truck approaching the intersection CRASH! Cucumbers, lettuce, potatoes, pots and metal parts flying all over the place The two men in the locomotive only suspected what had happened and they hit the brake Often they had waived to this merchant in their travels Was he alive? Once stopped they left the cab to the sound of pathetic whimpering up front How surprised they were to find the little Jewish merchant intact, crouched on the "cow catcher" and hugging the head lamp! Before long, the three of them were rolling on the ground in laughter and much relieved
Years later in retirement my Dad visited the Railroad Museum under development in St Thomas Their guide told of a project to re build one of the old L and PS engines He pointed to a black and white photo on display, and there was "Lug", standing proudly in front of his old charge Dad now has a copy of that picture hanging in the den
My mother is not much of a story teller. Dad has that propensity. Mom was always the good listener, sitting often at the kitchen table, hearing out the teen age boy with his many challenges. I always treasured her support. Words, though few, were appropriate and loving. She was extremely artistic. Oil paintings of scenes and still life.Tasteful backyard gardens. The finest of popular music on the high fidelity record player Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, Keelie Smith, JulieAndrews, Percy Faith, Mantovani and Henry Mancini.There were times when she had to be both mother and father, Jack taking to the road in his Regional Manager's position with Dominion Rubber On one such occasion she suffered the undeserved guilt of being on the watch when her son was on a construction site and throwing stones with another boy An errant stone took out about sixty percent of the vision in my right eye Mom had not had an easy upbringing At age fourteen she lost her mother, Hertha (nee Jaeger) to a heart attack Her father Ken Roberts, English born, tried valiantly to hold things together He was a commercial painter and a crack local athlete softball, lane bowling, lawn bowling Daughter Beverley held in some secret pain, began to gain weight, felt out of place
But then Danish aunts came to the rescue Mary and Lillian, sisters to the deceased Hertha These were robust, jovial Danske folk Mary had married a local musician, Stuart McKenna Lillian's husband was Pete Belcher, a cab driver
The female comfort and counsel took hold and Beverley began to blossom in high school glee club, basketball Then off to nurse's training at Victoria Hospital
Aunt Mary suffered the early loss of Stuart Her beloved son Dalton joined theAmerican Navy for the war and became anAmerican citizen with Hollywood friends Dalton was the practical joker, hockey enthusiast, construction engineer, traveling to distant places with exotic projects He would always, and I meanALWAYS make his mother laugh He was the closest thing to a brother for Bev My parents happily visited him in California His third and final wife, Laurie was an airline executive
Lillian and Pete lost in a couple of attempts to have children This would draw Lil even closer to Bev and her two sons I always rememberAunt Lil for her considerate gifts and cards, which seemed all the more precious because she did not have much money She worked as a switchboard operator at Hotel London Her voice was perfect, "I'll connect you " Surprisingly she also suffered threatening bouts of emphysema Mary was married again to a local optometrist, Perce Dawkins, and the two lived comfortably They got my parents involved in the Gyro Service Club with many memorable meetings, projects and parties
These women remain all that I really know about my Danish side Of course I have the stereotypical images of pastries, dairy cattle, blue cheese, seas in every direction, herring, Hans ChristianAnderson, Jenny Lind, Victor Borge and the history of Vikings in longboats
Perhaps only the people really matter anyway. I can still see the fair skinned, rosy cheeked, costumed sisters smiling, hugging and singing Christmas carols at their beloved Beverley's holiday dinner.
I can still see George standing by the restaurant cash register and looking out his big picture window on Dundas Street. Three piece suit. Gold chain watch. Ever present cigar. Diagonally opposite the old Hotel London. This was his street.My Dad's sporting goods store was around the corner and he would often cut through the back parking lot and George's rear kitchen to go to the restaurant. Cooks. Waitresses. George's two sons, Gus the number two restauranteur, and Gary the high school teacher. "Nice boys." Mrs. Kerhoulis, short, neat, smartly coiffed and keeping an eye on the table service.Addressing many of the customers on a first name basis.
Often when I was working youth program or the swimming pool at the YMCAI would join Dad there for a lunch or Friday night supper. Meals were prepared to your specifications and the waitresses got to know "the usual" for many of the patrons. This was retail as it used to be for those like George and my Dad. Big on customer service. Full-time skilled employees. Centre of town. Courtesy. Family owned. Long hours. Real sense of community. Good will abounding. "The customer must be satisfied." My Father campaigned hard for this to continue through his involvement with the Downtown BusinessAssociation.
Meanwhile the syndicated shopping malls conspired to suck the life out of the city's core with their warehouse atmosphere, zero customer service, ranks of half-trained part-time staff and location in the nameless, faceless suburbs.
Tom Munro Sporting Goods Ltd. was liquidated successfully and the property sold just months before the big New Year's Eve fire destroyed the London Central Y. I remember pictures of the ice castle charred remnant the morning after. Dad's store was empty and suffered extensive smoke damage. I often wonder what would have happened to Dad and his partner Roy if they had still been operating with inventories at peak level for the skiing and school seasons. But the partners had decided to get out and leave the trade to the encroaching department, tire and drug stores who were "butting in".
George also closed the Maple Leaf Restaurant. The Hotel London was knocked down for a banking and office tower The complexion of Dundas Street changed dramatically.
Years later my Father passed the old corner and saw George sitting on a bench in a newly established green space and watching people pass by. George looked at his old friend as if through a fog. "Jack?" "Yes George, how are ya?"
Tears welled up in the old Greek gentleman's face. "My friend I have been sitting here for over two hours now, and yours is the first face I recognize." Dad joined him for a while in order to reminisce.
My Dad's best friend lived across the street Big man Heavy General insurance broker Born in the northland (Burk's Falls) moved to the big city College football enthusiast Time-keeper with Dad at many a Western Mustangs football game Daily morning "coffee club" partner Fishing buddy Cottage enthusiast
Bill was about ten years younger He died years before Dad from complications with pneumonia His funeral service was ministered by a friend who gave an honest to goodness Gospel hope message His son and daughter, Bob and Janet handled the reminiscences admirably
"Wully's" favourite expression in a wide variety of circumstances was "Mercy" That was it No embellishment But the way he said it invested it with mystery and respect
He was a fair minded man with a big sense of humour. Coming from him "mercy" sounded like something good. But I never heard him express a Gospel message or allusion. His life's message had an impact on me and suggested time and again the concept of mercy. Listen to Jesus bawl out the religious formalists of His time:
Matthew 23:
23 Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone
Her name was Louise Wyatt Never married Head of the London Central Secondary School English Department No children But a large moving cavalcade of young people drawn into her interest, time, attention and love One would see her shuffling between classes Arms full of books Hair bun slightly askew Spectacles slipped low on the nose Her classic "hunkering" posture But if you had a question or a concern, all would stop and the time would be yours My mother in law Betty Hourd told of how Louise had made her first few weeks of supply-teaching bearable with the class "straight from hell" Miss Wyatt would focus those piercing eyes on Betty, and would see, and would understand everything Betty finally got the better of that class and came to enjoy teaching It was as my supply teacher that I first met Betty before starting to date Hilary
Years later Betty and Louise would share a room at Parkwood Senior's Residence Betty for a short period of convalescence Louse until her final days Always books to be read and reviewed in stimulating conversation
I also recall Miss Wyatt from Robinson United Church where she would usually sit with Eloise Cotton, an amazingly upbeat widow who lived around the corner from my parents, and who visited daily their next-door neighbour Myrtle McMaster If ever I enjoyed a conversation with any of these elderly women, I felt that they had an honest interest in my thoughts and well-being, almost unparalleled in my experience Robinson United did not show me much of the "Roman Road" of the Gospel, but I was shown unselfishness and true friendship with individuals well beyond my years, individuals who attended and honoured the seasons of Christian celebration
From these women, and particularly from "Hunker" Wyatt, I learned something about the extraordinary value of stopping, establishing eye contact, listening long and hard and demonstrating simply the affirmation of another human being We all need this from true neighbours Do we still have the time?
Perhaps this testimony of the old English school mistress will provoke someone, somewhere to follow suit Louise, thank you
Watching a movie this evening about English aristocracy, Hilary and I were reminded of our holiday trip to England and Scotland the year before our daughter was born.Adream come true to avid students of English literature, art, history and Scottish culture Lovers of the current monarchy Lovers of theatre, old architecture, darts, shepherd's pie Seashores, cathedrals, heather covered hills The list goes on But almost in the same breath this evening, the two of us blurted out "Blenheim Palace" This is the home of the Dukes of Marlborough (pronounced "Mollbra"), the family of Sir Winston Churchill
The night before we had lodged in Oxford, drizzling wet, gray ancient buildings.Too tired and late to sight see. But we had a delightful conversation in a common room with a foreign
exchange student, a girl form the east, who simply needed some companionship and a few smiles as she adjusted to the big English centre of learning
Our little stints at UWO in London, Ontario seemed small by comparison
Back at our room we were delighted to see that BBC One featured a nature documentary on the Scottish Highlands and a dramatic presentation on the Battle of Britain entitled "Churchill and the Generals" We were being primed for what lay ahead
To our pleasant surprise we were up early the next morning.The sun was shining.After a hearty British breakfast of fruit, bacon, eggs, kippers and "stiff" toast we were down the road to the palace, arriving long before visitors' hours. Parking the car we decided to wander the beautiful landscaped grounds in the forefront, complete with man made lake, swooping stone bridge, wood lot, sculptured shrubs and lush lakeside pathways. Suddenly we noticed two on horseback coming from the far end of the lake toward us as we stood on the bridge. They appeared to be in their young forties, handsome, dressed smartly in riding attire They gave us warm smiles and a ready "good mowning".The unspoken comment was that it was pleasant to meet in this uncommon, private, quiet part of the day.
I can still visualize my wife, back towards me, hands in her trench coat pockets, watching the two riders progress up the cinder roadway toward the impressive columned palace
Then it dawned on us! Who would have liberty to ride these beautiful grounds during the off hours?The Duke and Duchess Once inside the palace we saw the portraits confirming our supposition
Now the ironic part is that in former years Hilary's family had nick named her "the Duchess" and my high school basketball chums had nicknamed me "Duke"
There you have it!The Duke and Duchess drop in on the Duke and Duchess. You may not be getting anything out of this No matter It is for us Thanksgiving is both a delight and a tonic We remember that beautiful time Four days after our fifth anniversary, which was September 21st, Battle of Britain Day, 1979
Shortly thereafter, ten months to be precise, little Lauren arrived
She was the first Came out fluid and supple Wasn’t breathing I looked down into my wife’s face and prayed Doctor made a couple of adjustments Then came the exquisite cries of Kimberley Lauren
Little girl in the curls and hand smocked dresses on the tree lined street of solid old homes in Chatham Always game for a party even when relegated to the crib upstairs Topic of many a pleasant exchange on stroller walks round the blocks Playground and campground buddy for a Dad who was finding it hard to grow up Playing judge and lawyer in the very room after hours in the Old Court House Dad had a key Sitting in the waiting room all night while little brother was born Seven year old counselor to troubled adults sharing the same space Always attentive and trying to offer good support Watched a rattled Dad spill a whole plate of lasagna over himself later that evening at the restaurant
Strange little student in the home school environment, taking the quizzical looks of other kids in the new neighbourhood in the new City They would ask her if her parents were the “original two” Apparently nobody else around had that Dad had traded white collar for blue
Little brother was happy to accompany in the art projects, the nearby playground, horseback rides and the “Duck Park” She, the High School artist staying late at the studio and Newsroom to get it out and out right
She travelled with me toThunder Bay to take brother to the new college and distant career path Heard of his adventures in aviation while she went through the tough jobs Wondering often if she measured up, but as is often the case, not hearing bosses’real thoughts (she was mature, reliable and one of the exceptional) She accompanied me, giving comfort and courage when Mom was seriously ill in a distant hospital Being often Mom’s girlfriend, giggle partner and sounding board when there was none other
Launching into credentials in Human Resources All the muscle building now coming to the table for others of different walks who find themselves “hard at the birthing” Hearing them out with compassion, ideas and persistence
Letting go in this set of circumstances with her own ironic and quirky sense of humour, and that arsenal of hilarious accents
Now comes “the significant other”.Adivorced man with two charming kids.Amaster in sales. Good humoured.Apparently sensitive to her needs; and she recovering these days from a tornAchilles tendon and consequent blood clots. Understanding now push button doors and stairway sensitive buildings. She stops to talk to the disadvantaged.
Still hard at the birth She will probably be embarrassed with this written slant of mine But honestly, the end result (and one still in progress) is a Princess with capability, courage and compassion of high order I love my daughter And “I know something the Prince never knew”* (*Lyric in the song Cinderella by Steve Curtis Chapman)
My parents were married in 1947 They were already fast friends with Dorothy and Bill Vize The two women had been together in nurses' training at Victoria Hospital, London
This month my Mom celebrated her 90th birthday. Part of the day's celebration included a visit to the Vize home in South London. Imagine! Dorth and Bill are still keeping up the old homestead at ages 92 and 93 respectively.And she is certified blind and he a long time diabetic.
Daughter Lynda, a retired university professor in Education lives in Kingston with husband Dennis. My brother Scott and I have considered her like a sister. Every day Mom chats with Dorth by phone Every day The conversations are rich with empathy, laughter and memories Those shared cottage summers, trips to the Detroit Zoo, Sunday dinners at one home or the other, card games, Nurses' reunions, high school events and sports for the kids, summerYcamp visits, generalYMCAinvolvement, sunny visits to the farm of Bill and Nadine Danforth, Bill's drumming spot with the Johnny Downs Dance Band, the business men's coffee club most working mornings for Jack and Bill (Bill was a long time general insurance broker and Dad was a sporting goods retailer).
Dorothy worked many years as a nurse for Dr Morris Wearing, a London obstetrician There she comforted many women on the birthing journey and other concerns Her soothing voice and straightforward manner
Last Saturday Dorothy and Bev, upright and active, ran into each other's arms and laughed and kissed, saying "I love you" (2016)
Do we see such committed friendships these days? Not likely The society is so mobile and driven that there is little time to sit down and appreciate But these two Dorothy and Bill and their friends Bev (and Jack) remind us of good old days and good old ways
Bravo with Love DougAugust 06, 2022
I tell women about
The one imagined In Ezekiel's Vision
Out of the four faced creature
As Face of Man. Mortal Vulnerable. Keenly aware of discourtesy. Harshness Discounting of those
Womanly virtues. Stamina and Trust.
Virtues that Jesus Lifted up, comforted. Reassured Little Mary giving birth (Luke 2) Elizabeth as the Delighted portent Carrying the Baptist. Grieving Widow Mother of Nain. (Luke 7) Jairus' Wife (Luke 8) Mothers of Salem Whose children knew The precious touch
Of Grace in the Carpenter.
With His stories. (Mark 10: 13-16) Those heroines who wept
At Via Dolorosa. The Magdalene and others Present for the Empty Tomb Yes women, the kindly Focus of Third Evangel. Respect duly given Now and always. Bless 'em.
https://issuu.com/dewane/docs/jesus and the women af0f4c296b76f http://histocall.blogspot.com/2022/08/a-mother-of-salem.html
