Well, its Father's Day.
Counting my two grandfathers, my own father, and the father of my children there have been four men in my life who have influenced my definition of what being a father actually means.
Charles Cooper was born on February 5, 1891 in Manitoba. I know little of his childhood, and even less of his upbringing. He was, what to me as a child, a tall slim man who never wore his false teeth.
I do know he married a dark beauty named Bella Jane and fathered five children , all of whom served in the Canadian Forces during World war II. I know that somehow or other he became a mechanic and worked for little pay until he moved his family, after years of poverty and want, to Brandon, Manitoba. It was at this time that he started his own cab company "Cooper's Cab". I had the opportunity more than once to accompany Granddad on his pickups and delivery and having him explain proudly that I was his granddaughter from Saskatchewan.
He also had a love for boating and fishing as is evident in his owning a wooden fishing houseboat "The June Bug." I saw it only once resting in his garage. I believe he and Grannie took it to the Pacific coast one year at least , to fish probably for salmon.
Granddad also owned and wore huge diamond rings. I don't know how or why he had them, probably an investment of some kind. Perhaps the result of a distrust of banks and financial institutions borne out of being an adult in the 1930s. That might explain why Grannie and Grandad had a huge combination safe in their bedroom where cash was kept. I do know that whenever I see one of those eye pieces that jewellers wear to examine the worthiness of gold or jewels I think of Granddad . Strange what one's memory chooses to cut and paste .
I do know that Grandad had suffered a huge tragedy when he lost his parents in a car accident. I recall standing by Grandad at his desk-- a desk cluttered with nick nacks--little figurines that did tricks--balancing fishermen on ledges, ceramic horses, and papers and adding machines. There was a picture of a lady on the wall and I asked him who that lady was. I was about 8 years old but I recall how his eyes welled up with tears as he said that that was his mother. I later found out that his parents had driven off a cliff during a rainstorm in British Columbia on their way back from visiting him and his family.
He had the deepest dimples when he smiled that I have ever yet to see on another person; not even surpassed by my own mother's.
He smoked. I remember watching him with awe as he rolled his own cigarettes using a home cigarette rolling machine. Watching the ritual of the process is not unlike, in a strange sort of way, the watching of a tea ceremony . The clearing of all the superfluous off the kitchen table. The smell of the tobacco as the can was opened ; the preciseness of the amount of tobacco as it was placed evenly along the leather slats, as well as the carefulness of the rate of rolling which culminated in the bringing out of the razor blade to cut the length of each cigarette. A little bit of magic in this child's eyes. Unfortunately, as a consequence of this activity, I can also still hear his deep and laboured breathing that would announce his entrance into a room.
He did drink. Sometimes to excess. Mom recalled how he and another fellow came home all wet, in more ways that one, one day. They had drunkenly sunk the boat in the Assiniboia River that runs through Brandon. I am not sure of the circumstances, but another family story is that Granddad accidentally discharged a shotgun in the kitchen whilst cleaning it one day.
I can remember Mom speaking about a time when, for whatever reason, Granddad had 10-- $100 bills in his hand , a fortune in the early 1940's; sitting in the chair woefully proclaiming with tears in his eyes, " Oh, what we could have done with this when the children were young."
Charles Cooper was always referred to as 'Daddy' by my mom. He died in the spring of 1961 of emphysema.
William Edgar Dixon was born on his parent's homesteaded farm on October 3, 1898 near Lemberg, Saskatchewan. He was the youngest of 6 children. He had four brothers and one beloved sister who everyone referred to as ''Sis'. He attended the country school Chickney and achieved his Grade 8 status.
He worked on the family farm. He joined the Royal Canadian Army and was stationed near York, England during WWI. Grandpa had a tattoo and if ever I could figure out what it was I would get one to match it. He lost at least two fingers during a farming accident. He met and married my grandmother Edna Aileen in 1920 and fathered three children; two sons and a daughter.
He was the School Secretary for Chickney School for many many years, as was his father before him. Perhaps his only claim to common fame was that he was a pallbearer to the Rt. Honourable James G. Gardiner , former Premier of Saskatchewan, and Federal Minister of Agriculture for the Dominion of Canada.
I grew up and lived only 2 miles from this grandfather and have many many happy memories of visiting and learning about this wonderful man who was small in stature but great in being able to be happy and content. I can only recall one time when he was sharp with me and that was when I was in the grain truck with him. I was putting my feet on something that wasn't supposed to have feet on it. He admonished me with some anger in his voice and I can still feel the sting of the hot tears that rolled down my cheeks. That was the only time I recall of ever seeing him ticked off with anything or anybody..(yes..and it had to be with me :( ).
Grandpa Dixon could and would talk to anyone about anything. He loved to socialize and he loved to laugh. He never was at a loss for words, and I do not recall him ever saying a bad word about any person or group of people.
His favourite trick was to put 'something' in the toe of your shoe or boot when you weren't looking , so there would be some excitement at the door when we would be leaving.
He rarely drank. I am not sure if it was his decision solely or if he was 'influenced' by Grandma's opinion of the evil drink. I do remember his proudly showing me a bottle of Brandy in the cupboard that he had recently bought after a heart attack because the doctor had prescribed it.
I spent many many happy times playing rummy, checkers, and UNO at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Saturday afternoons were often spent going to town with them. I spent my seventeenth birthday with them in Melville where we went out for Chinese food. I can recall consciously thinking that that was a special day not to be forgotten, and I am so grateful for that thought as it still is one of my favourite birthday memories.
Grandpa died on a Saturday morning in February in 1973. I was attending university at the time. I was supposed to go see Grandpa and Grandma the night before, but being young and stupid, I made the unfortunate choice to meet friends at the local bar, with intentions of visiting the next day.
The next day never happened as at 7 am that Saturday morning the telephone rang. It was Grandma calling asking my dad to come quickly as Grandpa had had a spell and had fallen out of bed. Mom called from the bottom of the steps to my bedroom telling me to get up and go with Dad to Grandpa's. She thought that I would want to go. I will always be grateful for her insight and acknowledgment of my need to be there.
Grandpa had passed by the time we drove into town. He had probably passed before he even hit the floor. I believe he did not feel any physical pain. I know I was in his thoughts just prior to that as Grandma relayed that he had mentioned earlier that morning that I probably would be coming into town that day as I hadn't stopped in the night before.
It is nice but also sad that I was part of his last thoughts on this earth.
Russel Edgar Dixon was born in the house that his father had built on the family farm on September 25, 1923. He was to be the eldest of 3 children. He attended Chickney school until the end of Grade 9. He worked on the farm until the age of 18 and then he enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force to serve during World War II. He was stationed near York, England, like his father before him in World War I.
While stationed at Shilo, Manitoba, my father met my mother , Elsie May of Brandon. After serving overseas he married this Brandon girl and together they made their home on a farm not far from his own family's He fathered four children; three daughters and a son.
Farming was Dad's main occupation. He farmed about five quarters of land for most of his farming career. He also had about 40 head of cattle. When I was about 6 years old I remember looking out my bedroom window and seeing the first of what was to be a litany of Caterpillar Tractors in the yard. Dad had decided to enter the road construction and bull dozing business. Dixon Construction existed for about 30 years and became the basis of our family's income over farming.
Dad worked hard to make a living. From the time he bought the first D2 Caterpillar until the day I left home he was constantly , constantly working long long hours. There were times when we children would not see him for two weeks at a time. The only evidence of his existence would be the shine of lights on our bedroom ceiling as his 1/2 ton would drive into the yard at ten or eleven at night or else the sound of the dog barking at 5 am as it drove out again.
I remember as a small child Dad having a band. He played many musical instruments. I suspect that if he had been born at a different time in a different spot in the world he could have been an acknowledged musician. There were many many years when his guitar had not been brought out at all due to lack of time or energy. It was only during the last 20 years of his life that his music was given any attention.
Because of his many miles traveling from job site to job site, he seemed to have the permanent ''farmer tan' on his arm. You know, that left arm tan that happens when one's arm is leaning on the edge of the turned down window. I spent many hours and days with my dad in his truck as he drove around to job sites and meetings with customers and the inevitable 'parts people'. These truck conversations would often be about politics--actually mostly politics when I think about it. Political conversations combined with the playing of music on the radio. I distinctly remember the new song , "Rocking Robin" being played and Dad tapping to the music on the steering wheel. I remember literally walking in his footsteps in freezing January weather out in the open pasture helping to carry feed to the cattle. I watched him chop ice in the dugout to water the stock and traveled with him to check muskrat traps and watching in awe as he skinned his catch and tanned them in the basement. There is a smell involved with that that is pretty near indescribable.
The most special time I remember was when I wanted to watch the Lucy Show on television. It came on at 9pm--past my bedtime. Dad took me in his lap and whispered in my ear to go to bed now and 'sneak' back down at 9 to watch. I do believe that there has not been very many times in my life that I have felt as delightfully extraordinary as that little moment when I was five.
What else do I remember most about my Dad? I remember his hard work, his being able to pull over at the side of the road, fall into a deep sleep in seconds, wake up in ten minutes, and continue on his journey refreshed as if he had had a full night's sleep. I remember how his frustration with life and the pressures that accompanied it were sometimes manifested in unreal expectations and an impatience with myself and the rest of the world. Sometimes his actions were unreasonable and seemingly cruel, and they were. But as I look upon them with an adult eye , an adult who has also experienced frustrations and exhaustion and have also made bad choices, I feel much empathy for both the child I was and for this faulty adult who made bad and regrettable decisions.
I also remember that he was the absolute BEST gift giver I have ever known. I admire anyone who can give great gifts because it means to me that the gift giver has actually given thought of the recipient. A lot of insight and understanding on the part of the giver has to occur before a good gift is chosen. I thank him for the gold pearl pierced earrings he bought for all his daughters one Christmas, as well as the flashlights, the metal grill made from re bar to help me get unstuck in bad weather as well as the inevitable Jersey Milk chocolate found at the bottom of a box of groceries. He also brought me home a chameleon from the local fair one year. I must not forget the biggest gift ever and the biggest surprise ever; that being a saddled cattle pony, Lady Jane, being driven into the yard in the back of a truck on a June 8 morning as I was getting ready for school.
My Dad loved music and he loved to dance. He was a great dancer having learned ball room dancing while overseas during the war.
Dad was a reader of History. He was accepting and interested in different cultures, a value which I believe he has handed down to me. He had the gift of his own father for being able to talk about anything to anyone. He enjoyed a good joke and a good trick and would repeat them and laugh as much the fifth time as he did the first.
Dad suffered terribly during the last two years of his life. I spent quite a lot of time with him and got to renew and redefine our previous troubled relationship. I realized that inside that sometimes hard exterior he had while I was growing up, there was a very vulnerable, caring, loving human being who in many ways had been doing his best, the best he knew how.
All in all I wouldn't have traded a minute of time with my dad with anyone else. I was and always will be proud to be able to say that I was Russel Dixon's daughter. I am glad I told him that before he passed away in 2004.
IRWIN MURRY HOFFMAN is the father of my four children, one son and three daughters.
Irwin was born in Foam Lake, Saskatchewan , the middle child of a family of four, 3 boys and a girl. His father was a farmer and his mother a homemaker.
Irwin followed in his father's footsteps and farmed until he hurt his back in his early 20's. He then sort of 'retired' and lived off the rent of the farm until he married and had children of his own. Four children arrived in quick succession, and it seemed that with each birth a new challenge rose.
The first child was born amidst the news of the impending passing of Irwin's dear wonderful mother. The mixture of joy and sorrow was never felt as much as during those horrible/happy days of the spring of 1983.
The second child was born shortly before the decision to return to farming was made. Long hours of building, fixing, fence making, and field work made getting to know his first baby daughter very difficult.
The third child was born on the very day of the beginning of the process of turning the farm back to the financial institution. The winter following was a time of contemplation, bargaining with lawyers and banks, and of renewing his acquaintance with his children. This was the winter he spent building a complete miniature wooden kitchen set that was enjoyed for at least a decade by all.
The fourth child came along during a time of employment and a certain amount of fleeting financial security which was only to disappear within a month of her birth.
The things that I consider to be gifts of character handed down to these four children by their father are: perseverance, faithfulness to family , diligence, responsibility, zest for learning, honesty, integrity, and unselfish giving of time. He is and always has been their greatest fan being confident and proud of their ability to do right and to excel. He gave the time he could when he could. He never shirked the honour of caretaking during the most difficult times as is evident in his time taking three preschoolers to the lake one summer, and four preschoolers the next, while I was away taking classes.
Irwin also accepted the challenge required to return to school at the age of 35 in order to upgrade his education for the sole goal of being able to improve his children's future.
He also took over the role of 'stay at home Dad' for a full year with an ease and confidence rarely found in one of his generation.
I am sure each child has their own special memory of times spent with this man. Times spent alone at the cottage, bike rides, times of game playing, making of special spaghetti sauces, palt making, campfires, grass cutting, Christmas mornings, Easter mornings, birthdays and book reading.
Sometimes character development doesn't happen with the direct expression of verbal direction but of visual observation . I believe that each and every one of our children have benefited greatly by watching and learning from the actions of this father who was not perfect. In spite of his imperfection, this father expressed his love for his children through his example of how to persevere in life even with its foibles and frustrations that at times were inappropriately vented and unhappily comes along with the making of unfortunate choices.
There was no time that any decision made concerning his children, no matter how ill conceived or badly it turned out, was not made with the best of intentions.
I believe my children have been blessed with such a man to be their father, and I hope that they know and believe so too.
And now just recently, I have learned that I have a son- in- law who has become the father of my first grandchild. I know that this young father is filled with all the good intentions and confidence of knowing what choices to make with the benefit of his child in mind, just as the men who I described above have done. I wish him well in his choices and hope that his decisions in the future will be met with compassion and forgiveness as he too will only do the best he knows how.
Counting my two grandfathers, my own father, and the father of my children there have been four men in my life who have influenced my definition of what being a father actually means.
Charles Cooper was born on February 5, 1891 in Manitoba. I know little of his childhood, and even less of his upbringing. He was, what to me as a child, a tall slim man who never wore his false teeth.
I do know he married a dark beauty named Bella Jane and fathered five children , all of whom served in the Canadian Forces during World war II. I know that somehow or other he became a mechanic and worked for little pay until he moved his family, after years of poverty and want, to Brandon, Manitoba. It was at this time that he started his own cab company "Cooper's Cab". I had the opportunity more than once to accompany Granddad on his pickups and delivery and having him explain proudly that I was his granddaughter from Saskatchewan.
He also had a love for boating and fishing as is evident in his owning a wooden fishing houseboat "The June Bug." I saw it only once resting in his garage. I believe he and Grannie took it to the Pacific coast one year at least , to fish probably for salmon.
Granddad also owned and wore huge diamond rings. I don't know how or why he had them, probably an investment of some kind. Perhaps the result of a distrust of banks and financial institutions borne out of being an adult in the 1930s. That might explain why Grannie and Grandad had a huge combination safe in their bedroom where cash was kept. I do know that whenever I see one of those eye pieces that jewellers wear to examine the worthiness of gold or jewels I think of Granddad . Strange what one's memory chooses to cut and paste .
I do know that Grandad had suffered a huge tragedy when he lost his parents in a car accident. I recall standing by Grandad at his desk-- a desk cluttered with nick nacks--little figurines that did tricks--balancing fishermen on ledges, ceramic horses, and papers and adding machines. There was a picture of a lady on the wall and I asked him who that lady was. I was about 8 years old but I recall how his eyes welled up with tears as he said that that was his mother. I later found out that his parents had driven off a cliff during a rainstorm in British Columbia on their way back from visiting him and his family.
He had the deepest dimples when he smiled that I have ever yet to see on another person; not even surpassed by my own mother's.
He smoked. I remember watching him with awe as he rolled his own cigarettes using a home cigarette rolling machine. Watching the ritual of the process is not unlike, in a strange sort of way, the watching of a tea ceremony . The clearing of all the superfluous off the kitchen table. The smell of the tobacco as the can was opened ; the preciseness of the amount of tobacco as it was placed evenly along the leather slats, as well as the carefulness of the rate of rolling which culminated in the bringing out of the razor blade to cut the length of each cigarette. A little bit of magic in this child's eyes. Unfortunately, as a consequence of this activity, I can also still hear his deep and laboured breathing that would announce his entrance into a room.
He did drink. Sometimes to excess. Mom recalled how he and another fellow came home all wet, in more ways that one, one day. They had drunkenly sunk the boat in the Assiniboia River that runs through Brandon. I am not sure of the circumstances, but another family story is that Granddad accidentally discharged a shotgun in the kitchen whilst cleaning it one day.
I can remember Mom speaking about a time when, for whatever reason, Granddad had 10-- $100 bills in his hand , a fortune in the early 1940's; sitting in the chair woefully proclaiming with tears in his eyes, " Oh, what we could have done with this when the children were young."
Charles Cooper was always referred to as 'Daddy' by my mom. He died in the spring of 1961 of emphysema.
William Edgar Dixon was born on his parent's homesteaded farm on October 3, 1898 near Lemberg, Saskatchewan. He was the youngest of 6 children. He had four brothers and one beloved sister who everyone referred to as ''Sis'. He attended the country school Chickney and achieved his Grade 8 status.
He worked on the family farm. He joined the Royal Canadian Army and was stationed near York, England during WWI. Grandpa had a tattoo and if ever I could figure out what it was I would get one to match it. He lost at least two fingers during a farming accident. He met and married my grandmother Edna Aileen in 1920 and fathered three children; two sons and a daughter.
He was the School Secretary for Chickney School for many many years, as was his father before him. Perhaps his only claim to common fame was that he was a pallbearer to the Rt. Honourable James G. Gardiner , former Premier of Saskatchewan, and Federal Minister of Agriculture for the Dominion of Canada.
I grew up and lived only 2 miles from this grandfather and have many many happy memories of visiting and learning about this wonderful man who was small in stature but great in being able to be happy and content. I can only recall one time when he was sharp with me and that was when I was in the grain truck with him. I was putting my feet on something that wasn't supposed to have feet on it. He admonished me with some anger in his voice and I can still feel the sting of the hot tears that rolled down my cheeks. That was the only time I recall of ever seeing him ticked off with anything or anybody..(yes..and it had to be with me :( ).
Grandpa Dixon could and would talk to anyone about anything. He loved to socialize and he loved to laugh. He never was at a loss for words, and I do not recall him ever saying a bad word about any person or group of people.
His favourite trick was to put 'something' in the toe of your shoe or boot when you weren't looking , so there would be some excitement at the door when we would be leaving.
He rarely drank. I am not sure if it was his decision solely or if he was 'influenced' by Grandma's opinion of the evil drink. I do remember his proudly showing me a bottle of Brandy in the cupboard that he had recently bought after a heart attack because the doctor had prescribed it.
I spent many many happy times playing rummy, checkers, and UNO at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Saturday afternoons were often spent going to town with them. I spent my seventeenth birthday with them in Melville where we went out for Chinese food. I can recall consciously thinking that that was a special day not to be forgotten, and I am so grateful for that thought as it still is one of my favourite birthday memories.
Grandpa died on a Saturday morning in February in 1973. I was attending university at the time. I was supposed to go see Grandpa and Grandma the night before, but being young and stupid, I made the unfortunate choice to meet friends at the local bar, with intentions of visiting the next day.
The next day never happened as at 7 am that Saturday morning the telephone rang. It was Grandma calling asking my dad to come quickly as Grandpa had had a spell and had fallen out of bed. Mom called from the bottom of the steps to my bedroom telling me to get up and go with Dad to Grandpa's. She thought that I would want to go. I will always be grateful for her insight and acknowledgment of my need to be there.
Grandpa had passed by the time we drove into town. He had probably passed before he even hit the floor. I believe he did not feel any physical pain. I know I was in his thoughts just prior to that as Grandma relayed that he had mentioned earlier that morning that I probably would be coming into town that day as I hadn't stopped in the night before.
It is nice but also sad that I was part of his last thoughts on this earth.
Russel Edgar Dixon was born in the house that his father had built on the family farm on September 25, 1923. He was to be the eldest of 3 children. He attended Chickney school until the end of Grade 9. He worked on the farm until the age of 18 and then he enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force to serve during World War II. He was stationed near York, England, like his father before him in World War I.
While stationed at Shilo, Manitoba, my father met my mother , Elsie May of Brandon. After serving overseas he married this Brandon girl and together they made their home on a farm not far from his own family's He fathered four children; three daughters and a son.
Farming was Dad's main occupation. He farmed about five quarters of land for most of his farming career. He also had about 40 head of cattle. When I was about 6 years old I remember looking out my bedroom window and seeing the first of what was to be a litany of Caterpillar Tractors in the yard. Dad had decided to enter the road construction and bull dozing business. Dixon Construction existed for about 30 years and became the basis of our family's income over farming.
Dad worked hard to make a living. From the time he bought the first D2 Caterpillar until the day I left home he was constantly , constantly working long long hours. There were times when we children would not see him for two weeks at a time. The only evidence of his existence would be the shine of lights on our bedroom ceiling as his 1/2 ton would drive into the yard at ten or eleven at night or else the sound of the dog barking at 5 am as it drove out again.
I remember as a small child Dad having a band. He played many musical instruments. I suspect that if he had been born at a different time in a different spot in the world he could have been an acknowledged musician. There were many many years when his guitar had not been brought out at all due to lack of time or energy. It was only during the last 20 years of his life that his music was given any attention.
Because of his many miles traveling from job site to job site, he seemed to have the permanent ''farmer tan' on his arm. You know, that left arm tan that happens when one's arm is leaning on the edge of the turned down window. I spent many hours and days with my dad in his truck as he drove around to job sites and meetings with customers and the inevitable 'parts people'. These truck conversations would often be about politics--actually mostly politics when I think about it. Political conversations combined with the playing of music on the radio. I distinctly remember the new song , "Rocking Robin" being played and Dad tapping to the music on the steering wheel. I remember literally walking in his footsteps in freezing January weather out in the open pasture helping to carry feed to the cattle. I watched him chop ice in the dugout to water the stock and traveled with him to check muskrat traps and watching in awe as he skinned his catch and tanned them in the basement. There is a smell involved with that that is pretty near indescribable.
The most special time I remember was when I wanted to watch the Lucy Show on television. It came on at 9pm--past my bedtime. Dad took me in his lap and whispered in my ear to go to bed now and 'sneak' back down at 9 to watch. I do believe that there has not been very many times in my life that I have felt as delightfully extraordinary as that little moment when I was five.
What else do I remember most about my Dad? I remember his hard work, his being able to pull over at the side of the road, fall into a deep sleep in seconds, wake up in ten minutes, and continue on his journey refreshed as if he had had a full night's sleep. I remember how his frustration with life and the pressures that accompanied it were sometimes manifested in unreal expectations and an impatience with myself and the rest of the world. Sometimes his actions were unreasonable and seemingly cruel, and they were. But as I look upon them with an adult eye , an adult who has also experienced frustrations and exhaustion and have also made bad choices, I feel much empathy for both the child I was and for this faulty adult who made bad and regrettable decisions.
I also remember that he was the absolute BEST gift giver I have ever known. I admire anyone who can give great gifts because it means to me that the gift giver has actually given thought of the recipient. A lot of insight and understanding on the part of the giver has to occur before a good gift is chosen. I thank him for the gold pearl pierced earrings he bought for all his daughters one Christmas, as well as the flashlights, the metal grill made from re bar to help me get unstuck in bad weather as well as the inevitable Jersey Milk chocolate found at the bottom of a box of groceries. He also brought me home a chameleon from the local fair one year. I must not forget the biggest gift ever and the biggest surprise ever; that being a saddled cattle pony, Lady Jane, being driven into the yard in the back of a truck on a June 8 morning as I was getting ready for school.
My Dad loved music and he loved to dance. He was a great dancer having learned ball room dancing while overseas during the war.
Dad was a reader of History. He was accepting and interested in different cultures, a value which I believe he has handed down to me. He had the gift of his own father for being able to talk about anything to anyone. He enjoyed a good joke and a good trick and would repeat them and laugh as much the fifth time as he did the first.
Dad suffered terribly during the last two years of his life. I spent quite a lot of time with him and got to renew and redefine our previous troubled relationship. I realized that inside that sometimes hard exterior he had while I was growing up, there was a very vulnerable, caring, loving human being who in many ways had been doing his best, the best he knew how.
All in all I wouldn't have traded a minute of time with my dad with anyone else. I was and always will be proud to be able to say that I was Russel Dixon's daughter. I am glad I told him that before he passed away in 2004.
IRWIN MURRY HOFFMAN is the father of my four children, one son and three daughters.
Irwin was born in Foam Lake, Saskatchewan , the middle child of a family of four, 3 boys and a girl. His father was a farmer and his mother a homemaker.
Irwin followed in his father's footsteps and farmed until he hurt his back in his early 20's. He then sort of 'retired' and lived off the rent of the farm until he married and had children of his own. Four children arrived in quick succession, and it seemed that with each birth a new challenge rose.
The first child was born amidst the news of the impending passing of Irwin's dear wonderful mother. The mixture of joy and sorrow was never felt as much as during those horrible/happy days of the spring of 1983.
The second child was born shortly before the decision to return to farming was made. Long hours of building, fixing, fence making, and field work made getting to know his first baby daughter very difficult.
The third child was born on the very day of the beginning of the process of turning the farm back to the financial institution. The winter following was a time of contemplation, bargaining with lawyers and banks, and of renewing his acquaintance with his children. This was the winter he spent building a complete miniature wooden kitchen set that was enjoyed for at least a decade by all.
The fourth child came along during a time of employment and a certain amount of fleeting financial security which was only to disappear within a month of her birth.
The things that I consider to be gifts of character handed down to these four children by their father are: perseverance, faithfulness to family , diligence, responsibility, zest for learning, honesty, integrity, and unselfish giving of time. He is and always has been their greatest fan being confident and proud of their ability to do right and to excel. He gave the time he could when he could. He never shirked the honour of caretaking during the most difficult times as is evident in his time taking three preschoolers to the lake one summer, and four preschoolers the next, while I was away taking classes.
Irwin also accepted the challenge required to return to school at the age of 35 in order to upgrade his education for the sole goal of being able to improve his children's future.
He also took over the role of 'stay at home Dad' for a full year with an ease and confidence rarely found in one of his generation.
I am sure each child has their own special memory of times spent with this man. Times spent alone at the cottage, bike rides, times of game playing, making of special spaghetti sauces, palt making, campfires, grass cutting, Christmas mornings, Easter mornings, birthdays and book reading.
Sometimes character development doesn't happen with the direct expression of verbal direction but of visual observation . I believe that each and every one of our children have benefited greatly by watching and learning from the actions of this father who was not perfect. In spite of his imperfection, this father expressed his love for his children through his example of how to persevere in life even with its foibles and frustrations that at times were inappropriately vented and unhappily comes along with the making of unfortunate choices.
There was no time that any decision made concerning his children, no matter how ill conceived or badly it turned out, was not made with the best of intentions.
I believe my children have been blessed with such a man to be their father, and I hope that they know and believe so too.
And now just recently, I have learned that I have a son- in- law who has become the father of my first grandchild. I know that this young father is filled with all the good intentions and confidence of knowing what choices to make with the benefit of his child in mind, just as the men who I described above have done. I wish him well in his choices and hope that his decisions in the future will be met with compassion and forgiveness as he too will only do the best he knows how.
