Memories of Mom & Dad
Do you have a favourite memory of Mom or Dad, or care to comment on a particular character trait that has inspired you? If so, please share it with us. We have each had a different kind of relationship with them and perhaps the best way for others to get a glimpse of who they were is through the sum of our experiences with them.
Submitted by Marissa
I may not have much to say about Nanny and Grandpa as I was young, but I do know that they were amazing parents and grandparents and it was a huge loss when they both passed on.
If I had one reason why I look forward to going to heaven someday it would definitely be to visit them and tell them how much I have missed them both since they have passed away.
Although I was young when Nanny was alive and I may not remember a lot about her, one thing is for sure; I will never forget her famous saying .... "I love you to pieces"... when it came from her it was always true.
I may not have much to say about Nanny and Grandpa as I was young, but I do know that they were amazing parents and grandparents and it was a huge loss when they both passed on.
If I had one reason why I look forward to going to heaven someday it would definitely be to visit them and tell them how much I have missed them both since they have passed away.
Although I was young when Nanny was alive and I may not remember a lot about her, one thing is for sure; I will never forget her famous saying .... "I love you to pieces"... when it came from her it was always true.
Submitted by Larry
My Father knew that it took hard work to be able to raise a family; my Mother had told me a story of Dad going to INCO in Port Colborne, every day, and standing outside trying to get hired. It took almost six months when, one day, one of the workers fell into the smelter and disappeared. Having a need for someone to operate the smelter, Dad was hired, after all the co-workers refused to take that job. He gained respect from his co-workers for sticking with it, although in those days, it was dangerous work.
He continued with INCO for the next twenty five years. Having to leave the company due to cancer, just six days short of his 25th year, the company refused to acknowledge his 25 year service. Along with the union, he fought the company on the grounds that the company had caused the cancer, working the smelter for so long. Even though he was a smoker for 30 years, taking it to the Supreme Court of Canada, he won the case and received his recognition, but more important, it brought new standards to companies in Canada and the United States regarding health issues.
His routine (except winter), was to come home from work, eat at five, lay down till about six or six thirty and then, with Brian and I in tow, we would work on numerous lawns on Stanley Park Road in Thunder Bay, where Dad had quite a number of customers, doing odd jobs ranging from landscaping, roofing, renovations and tree cutting…he would approach all his jobs with true professionalism.
Although not formally trained, he had a rare intelligence to be able to adapt, and use common sense with any task that was asked of him. Everyone was in awe of the windmill and garden he had made for the Blakely’s (family friends) and it was a good example of his ingenuity and his intelligence. I recall one of his later clients was the Voortman Family cottage. They are famous for their cookies. I was always hoping to score some of the famous cookies. Freebees? Never, lol.
Dad kept most of his feelings to himself, but once you got to know him you could see a wise, unique man. What I’m especially proud of is that he kept his quick wit and intelligence till the end.
P.S. This site would not be able to handle the volumes of stories Brian and I hold, regarding our working together with Dad.
My Father knew that it took hard work to be able to raise a family; my Mother had told me a story of Dad going to INCO in Port Colborne, every day, and standing outside trying to get hired. It took almost six months when, one day, one of the workers fell into the smelter and disappeared. Having a need for someone to operate the smelter, Dad was hired, after all the co-workers refused to take that job. He gained respect from his co-workers for sticking with it, although in those days, it was dangerous work.
He continued with INCO for the next twenty five years. Having to leave the company due to cancer, just six days short of his 25th year, the company refused to acknowledge his 25 year service. Along with the union, he fought the company on the grounds that the company had caused the cancer, working the smelter for so long. Even though he was a smoker for 30 years, taking it to the Supreme Court of Canada, he won the case and received his recognition, but more important, it brought new standards to companies in Canada and the United States regarding health issues.
His routine (except winter), was to come home from work, eat at five, lay down till about six or six thirty and then, with Brian and I in tow, we would work on numerous lawns on Stanley Park Road in Thunder Bay, where Dad had quite a number of customers, doing odd jobs ranging from landscaping, roofing, renovations and tree cutting…he would approach all his jobs with true professionalism.
Although not formally trained, he had a rare intelligence to be able to adapt, and use common sense with any task that was asked of him. Everyone was in awe of the windmill and garden he had made for the Blakely’s (family friends) and it was a good example of his ingenuity and his intelligence. I recall one of his later clients was the Voortman Family cottage. They are famous for their cookies. I was always hoping to score some of the famous cookies. Freebees? Never, lol.
Dad kept most of his feelings to himself, but once you got to know him you could see a wise, unique man. What I’m especially proud of is that he kept his quick wit and intelligence till the end.
P.S. This site would not be able to handle the volumes of stories Brian and I hold, regarding our working together with Dad.
Submitted by Dave
Memories of mom... there are so many I remember I could write a book but i'll keep it to the minimum. First of all I think the one that sticks out in my mind more often than any is the first Canada Cup when Paul Henderson scored, mom let me stay home from high school that day but sent Joye & I went yelling down the street to Joye as she got off the bus from school that Canada had won. I remember when nanny & mom would take us to Port Colborne to watch the ships. Teasing mom that the bread man was her boyfriend. I could & did call her many times when Shane was younger at 1 or 2 in the morning after the bars closed & whether I made any sense to her or not she would listen to whatever was on my mind that night never hanging up on me. Then there was one night that she was going to pick me up from work and she never showed and that night was the saddest night of my life. I could go on & on about my memories of mom but like I said short & sweet just like mom
Memories of dad: just like mom I have so many. I think i'll begin with him walking me down to Jimmy Becks to get my hair cut (he only took me down so he could place bets with Jimmy i do believe) hahaha. Then there was the fishing incident in Quebec where he hooked my back instead of a fish so he we are driving to the doctors with his hook attached to his line attached to his rod still in my back, (pretty hilarious now but back than hmmm). Next was the shotgun incident also in Quebec when dad & grandpa tried to teach me how to shoot the 22. Well had it resting on a rototiller which had a tarp covering it, so anyways I aimed the 22, shoot the 22 and put a bullet hole through the tarp (how I did that I have no clue ) but I did. Helping him restore his Chevy Impala was big in my memories because right before then we weren't talking & that was a big son dad bonding time for me anyways. Again I could go on & on...I miss mom & dad so much.
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Submitted by Chad
I have very few memories of Grandpa, I wasn't close to him the way I was with Nanny. The few memories I have of him however, are good. The best is of him offering me cheese. I will always remember him on the couch in the same spot every time I went over there.; always laying on it, watching TV. Growing up he was almost like a stranger to me; someone a kid sees in passing regularly but doesn't know. I remember him always offering me cheese though. Every time he had some - sitting there on the couch with a brick of cheese and a knife eating it slice by slice. Its how I eat cheese even now. Take one bigger piece and slowly cut a piece off then eat it. I remember he would turn around to say something to me but I rarely knew how to respond.
I remember him trying to tell me my socks were on the wrong feet one time. I remember when Titanic came out on VHS. He bought it and invited me over to watch it with him and Nanny. It was so long that we watched tape one the first night and tape two the following. I don't remember this, but my mother tells me when I was little he stopped by randomly and said it was because he missed me. I don't remember it, but it's a story that brings a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. I remember seeing the pain on his face at Nanny's memorial. His personality always seemed the same to me growing up; kind, but strong. It was something different to see him cry like that. I remember seeing him a few times after Nanny passed away, sitting in the front porch, having a small chat with him. I remember him being strong. Everything he went through, the stuff I saw and the stuff I was told about, all the injuries, the loss of his wife. I remember thinking about how strong and amazing he was. When I think of Grandpa, I feel both happiness and sadness. Happiness for all the good memories I have of him. Happiness that I have nothing but good memories of him and sadness at the fact that he is gone. Sadness because I didn't know him better and the fact that I never let him know I loved him and that I saw him as the great man that he was . His passing shares the same day as my birthday. I am OK with this - it means that every year while I celebrate being another year older with family and friends, I am also celebrating my grandfather and the memories I have of him.
I was close with Nanny although I was still young when she passed away. Many of my memories are brief flashes - just small moments. Moments I cherish. I remember all the times she drove me and my mom around. I remember her picking me up from school. I remember having to explain to her that "We were playing a game and I kicked his butt" was just a saying and not literal. I remember spraying her with a water gun at one of Aunt Joye's barbeques and her trying to push the top of my head into the water not realizing my face had gone in. I remember my mom getting mad at her for this although I wasn't upset about it -- accidents happen. Water and I have never quite gotten along since then however. Still I'm not bothered by it. Each memory I have of her I hold dear. I remember going with her and Aunt Dianne to visit Aunt Bev in her new place. I remember them getting lost in Simcoe on the way back after missing their turn and I remember trying to tell them how to get back, but they would not listen. I tend to gloat a little about how I was right, every time I tell this story. I remember the trips to Aunt Bev's with her and my mom. I remember her falling out of the hammock. I remember how caring she was; always looking out for the family and other people. I remember my mom telling me how she found a $20 bill on the ground at bingo and went around asking everyone if they had lost some money and how much, until she found the person who lost it. I remember the trip to the hospital when my mom went into labour with Lindsay; there was a man with a bike laying on the ground at the side of the road and she had to stop and make sure he was OK . That was the kind of person she was.
When I think about those times when I was younger and I would visit Nanny and Grandpa, often to bring them their mail, I think about the house. The feel it had to it, the smell, the aura- everything about it. Every time someone says anything about "just how Grandma used to make" or the words "old country", I think of that kitchen. The sunlight shining through, the smell when she would make home made bread. The feeling of the bedrooms upstairs, the hallway, the back room upstairs, it all had a bright comforting aura to it. I can still feel it. I can close my eyes and feel the sun light, and just feel at peace. The house had an old time feeling to it and It was wonderful! It felt so different from the modern world and from your average every day house. The only true way to describe it is it felt like happiness.
One last memory - the strongest memory I have of Nanny - the one thing that out shines every other memory... "I love you to pieces."
Memories of mom... there are so many I remember I could write a book but i'll keep it to the minimum. First of all I think the one that sticks out in my mind more often than any is the first Canada Cup when Paul Henderson scored, mom let me stay home from high school that day but sent Joye & I went yelling down the street to Joye as she got off the bus from school that Canada had won. I remember when nanny & mom would take us to Port Colborne to watch the ships. Teasing mom that the bread man was her boyfriend. I could & did call her many times when Shane was younger at 1 or 2 in the morning after the bars closed & whether I made any sense to her or not she would listen to whatever was on my mind that night never hanging up on me. Then there was one night that she was going to pick me up from work and she never showed and that night was the saddest night of my life. I could go on & on about my memories of mom but like I said short & sweet just like mom
Memories of dad: just like mom I have so many. I think i'll begin with him walking me down to Jimmy Becks to get my hair cut (he only took me down so he could place bets with Jimmy i do believe) hahaha. Then there was the fishing incident in Quebec where he hooked my back instead of a fish so he we are driving to the doctors with his hook attached to his line attached to his rod still in my back, (pretty hilarious now but back than hmmm). Next was the shotgun incident also in Quebec when dad & grandpa tried to teach me how to shoot the 22. Well had it resting on a rototiller which had a tarp covering it, so anyways I aimed the 22, shoot the 22 and put a bullet hole through the tarp (how I did that I have no clue ) but I did. Helping him restore his Chevy Impala was big in my memories because right before then we weren't talking & that was a big son dad bonding time for me anyways. Again I could go on & on...I miss mom & dad so much.
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Submitted by Chad
I have very few memories of Grandpa, I wasn't close to him the way I was with Nanny. The few memories I have of him however, are good. The best is of him offering me cheese. I will always remember him on the couch in the same spot every time I went over there.; always laying on it, watching TV. Growing up he was almost like a stranger to me; someone a kid sees in passing regularly but doesn't know. I remember him always offering me cheese though. Every time he had some - sitting there on the couch with a brick of cheese and a knife eating it slice by slice. Its how I eat cheese even now. Take one bigger piece and slowly cut a piece off then eat it. I remember he would turn around to say something to me but I rarely knew how to respond.
I remember him trying to tell me my socks were on the wrong feet one time. I remember when Titanic came out on VHS. He bought it and invited me over to watch it with him and Nanny. It was so long that we watched tape one the first night and tape two the following. I don't remember this, but my mother tells me when I was little he stopped by randomly and said it was because he missed me. I don't remember it, but it's a story that brings a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. I remember seeing the pain on his face at Nanny's memorial. His personality always seemed the same to me growing up; kind, but strong. It was something different to see him cry like that. I remember seeing him a few times after Nanny passed away, sitting in the front porch, having a small chat with him. I remember him being strong. Everything he went through, the stuff I saw and the stuff I was told about, all the injuries, the loss of his wife. I remember thinking about how strong and amazing he was. When I think of Grandpa, I feel both happiness and sadness. Happiness for all the good memories I have of him. Happiness that I have nothing but good memories of him and sadness at the fact that he is gone. Sadness because I didn't know him better and the fact that I never let him know I loved him and that I saw him as the great man that he was . His passing shares the same day as my birthday. I am OK with this - it means that every year while I celebrate being another year older with family and friends, I am also celebrating my grandfather and the memories I have of him.
I was close with Nanny although I was still young when she passed away. Many of my memories are brief flashes - just small moments. Moments I cherish. I remember all the times she drove me and my mom around. I remember her picking me up from school. I remember having to explain to her that "We were playing a game and I kicked his butt" was just a saying and not literal. I remember spraying her with a water gun at one of Aunt Joye's barbeques and her trying to push the top of my head into the water not realizing my face had gone in. I remember my mom getting mad at her for this although I wasn't upset about it -- accidents happen. Water and I have never quite gotten along since then however. Still I'm not bothered by it. Each memory I have of her I hold dear. I remember going with her and Aunt Dianne to visit Aunt Bev in her new place. I remember them getting lost in Simcoe on the way back after missing their turn and I remember trying to tell them how to get back, but they would not listen. I tend to gloat a little about how I was right, every time I tell this story. I remember the trips to Aunt Bev's with her and my mom. I remember her falling out of the hammock. I remember how caring she was; always looking out for the family and other people. I remember my mom telling me how she found a $20 bill on the ground at bingo and went around asking everyone if they had lost some money and how much, until she found the person who lost it. I remember the trip to the hospital when my mom went into labour with Lindsay; there was a man with a bike laying on the ground at the side of the road and she had to stop and make sure he was OK . That was the kind of person she was.
When I think about those times when I was younger and I would visit Nanny and Grandpa, often to bring them their mail, I think about the house. The feel it had to it, the smell, the aura- everything about it. Every time someone says anything about "just how Grandma used to make" or the words "old country", I think of that kitchen. The sunlight shining through, the smell when she would make home made bread. The feeling of the bedrooms upstairs, the hallway, the back room upstairs, it all had a bright comforting aura to it. I can still feel it. I can close my eyes and feel the sun light, and just feel at peace. The house had an old time feeling to it and It was wonderful! It felt so different from the modern world and from your average every day house. The only true way to describe it is it felt like happiness.
One last memory - the strongest memory I have of Nanny - the one thing that out shines every other memory... "I love you to pieces."
Submitted by Bev
My earliest memory of Dad was when I was about 3 years old; standing on a kitchen chair, Mom giving me a bath. She and I were arguing because I insisted she wash my feet before she washed my bottom. She tried to explain why my feet got washed last. Dad came through to the kitchen on his way to the mudroom and overheard the argument. He asked why I thought my feet should be washed first -- I ran around all day outside in my bare feet and they were filthy. I said “but Daddy, I just walk on my feet; I sit on my bottom to pooh; that’s dirtier than feet”. He just laughed and laughed and patted me on the head. Mom laughed too, but still insisted on doing it her way!
When I was five, I went into the hospital to have my tonsils out. Mom and Dad were both there and I remember – just before they wheeled me away, Dad came over to the bed and smoothed my hair back from my face. His eyes were so full of love and concern, as he promised that “Mommy and I will be right here when you wake up”. And so they were. I remember the drives we all took, before there were so many of us we couldn’t all squeeze into a car together. Nice, warm summer evenings Mom and Dad would pack us up and we’d go down to Point Abino and watch the sea planes. Dad would explain about the pontoons and how they helped the boats land. I loved the huge sandhills and the smelly, fishy shoreline.
I remember the night of his accident; Mom was so worried as she called around for a babysitter. Many times, Kathleen and Gordon Jones would drive Mom and us kids to the hospital. Mom would go up and Kathleen and Gordon would entertain us. I remember standing outside the hospital looking up at all the windows. When I saw the outline of a person way up high, I asked if it was daddy and was so disappointed when they told me it wasn’t – daddy’s in bed right now. I didn’t want to leave my vantage point, but the promise of the swings and slides up ahead were enough to persuade me to go with them. I was so happy when he finally came home to us.
I have too many memories of Mom to write about here – my first memory is of her walking down the road with me in her arms. I remember the pink and blue sunset as I looked up from her arms -- a sight that even today, evokes a great sense of security and peace.
When I call Mom to mind, I think most often of her sense of humour. You never knew what was going to tickle her funny bone. You’d expect her to get mad about something, and she’d burst out laughing. She really did enjoy the antics of her kids – and grandkids. I recall when I was oh, almost five. I came home from kindergarten, Mom gave me a bath and dressed me in a white dress – I was going to see the doctor. As she waited (probably for Nanny to give us a ride). she stood me outside the front door and told me to stand right there – don’t move. Well, of course, it was my intent not to move but there was a big, deep, muddy puddle just two feet away from me – beckoning to me. How could I resist? I remember sitting down in this puddle, washing my face with mud, then slathering it on both arms. I was having so much fun, even the sight of Mom coming out the door, catching sight of me didn’t stop me from laughing and slathering on more mud. I can so clearly see the open-mouth look of horror, hand coming up to cover her mouth in shock. Then the horror melting, to be replaced with laughter. I’m sure we all remember Mom’s helpless laughter. She laughed so hard and so long, she was doubled over and couldn’t move. Finally, she called me over and, still laughing, shooed me into the house for another quick bath.
Another memory that catches me at times comes many, many years later. Mom had come down to our house in Brantford for a visit. Now, Mom loved her “grand dogs” (she would often say to my Nee – “Nanny will get you a treat”, or “are you Nanny’s girl?”). The one thing that wasn’t okay from any dog was to lick her face. Her arm, or hand okay but NO DOGS AT MY FACE was the rule. Whenever Neea-Kha got close to her face, she’d gently move her away or shift around so her face wasn’t a target. Nee eventually got the message and stopped trying to lick her face.
Until one day Mom and I were in the bedroom, I at the computer, she sitting on the bed – Nee sitting beside the bed. I had said something outrageous – as I was prone to do with Mom – and she started laughing. Nee alerted to the changed pitch in her voice (as she always did with Mom) and jumped up on the bed. Mom was laughing harder by this time, with me carrying on with my nonsense. She got to that helpless stage of laughter where she could barely move and Nee spotted her chance. She put both paws on Mom’s chest and pushed her into a prone position on the bed. Mom just KNOWS what’s coming next and tries to deflect it, but to no avail. Nee was licking her face – wetting it really good. Mom’s trying to wipe the wet away, laughing harder, trying to get Nee to stop. I was trying to get over to the bed to get my dog off but by that time I was having an attack of that helpless laughter too, and could hardly stand up. Finally, I made it and pulled Nee away. Mom got up real quick and ran to the bathroom to wash her face. She was in there so long, I’m sure she must have been disinfecting as well.
This is getting rather long so – one more story.
I was on a visit home – we were in the livingroom chatting – Mom in her rocking chair by the sun-porch door, me sitting on the floor on one side of her, Dave sitting on the floor other side of her. I happened to spot a huge run in her stockings and stuck my finger in it, making it bigger. When she asked what I was doing, I said she had a run in her stockings and she wouldn’t be able to wear them again. I started ripping huge holes in them and she was laughing and telling me to stop. Then Dave got in on the act and started ripping more holes. By this time, I’m sure we were pulling them right off her. She was laughing so hard, trying to keep her pantyhose on, and as we pulled she moved along with us until she was sitting on the floor. Dave and I kept pulling, she holding on to her stockings for dear life, rocking forward on her rear end to keep them on. She’s laughing so hard and trying to stay in a sitting position and we made our way like that across the living-room, into the kitchen where we came to a stop at the back door. She scrambled up and ran into the bathroom, where she eventually collected herself, coming out long enough to say “you damned fools" before staggering up the stairs.
These are but a few of my favourite memories and I’d love to read what others remember the most about our parents.
My earliest memory of Dad was when I was about 3 years old; standing on a kitchen chair, Mom giving me a bath. She and I were arguing because I insisted she wash my feet before she washed my bottom. She tried to explain why my feet got washed last. Dad came through to the kitchen on his way to the mudroom and overheard the argument. He asked why I thought my feet should be washed first -- I ran around all day outside in my bare feet and they were filthy. I said “but Daddy, I just walk on my feet; I sit on my bottom to pooh; that’s dirtier than feet”. He just laughed and laughed and patted me on the head. Mom laughed too, but still insisted on doing it her way!
When I was five, I went into the hospital to have my tonsils out. Mom and Dad were both there and I remember – just before they wheeled me away, Dad came over to the bed and smoothed my hair back from my face. His eyes were so full of love and concern, as he promised that “Mommy and I will be right here when you wake up”. And so they were. I remember the drives we all took, before there were so many of us we couldn’t all squeeze into a car together. Nice, warm summer evenings Mom and Dad would pack us up and we’d go down to Point Abino and watch the sea planes. Dad would explain about the pontoons and how they helped the boats land. I loved the huge sandhills and the smelly, fishy shoreline.
I remember the night of his accident; Mom was so worried as she called around for a babysitter. Many times, Kathleen and Gordon Jones would drive Mom and us kids to the hospital. Mom would go up and Kathleen and Gordon would entertain us. I remember standing outside the hospital looking up at all the windows. When I saw the outline of a person way up high, I asked if it was daddy and was so disappointed when they told me it wasn’t – daddy’s in bed right now. I didn’t want to leave my vantage point, but the promise of the swings and slides up ahead were enough to persuade me to go with them. I was so happy when he finally came home to us.
I have too many memories of Mom to write about here – my first memory is of her walking down the road with me in her arms. I remember the pink and blue sunset as I looked up from her arms -- a sight that even today, evokes a great sense of security and peace.
When I call Mom to mind, I think most often of her sense of humour. You never knew what was going to tickle her funny bone. You’d expect her to get mad about something, and she’d burst out laughing. She really did enjoy the antics of her kids – and grandkids. I recall when I was oh, almost five. I came home from kindergarten, Mom gave me a bath and dressed me in a white dress – I was going to see the doctor. As she waited (probably for Nanny to give us a ride). she stood me outside the front door and told me to stand right there – don’t move. Well, of course, it was my intent not to move but there was a big, deep, muddy puddle just two feet away from me – beckoning to me. How could I resist? I remember sitting down in this puddle, washing my face with mud, then slathering it on both arms. I was having so much fun, even the sight of Mom coming out the door, catching sight of me didn’t stop me from laughing and slathering on more mud. I can so clearly see the open-mouth look of horror, hand coming up to cover her mouth in shock. Then the horror melting, to be replaced with laughter. I’m sure we all remember Mom’s helpless laughter. She laughed so hard and so long, she was doubled over and couldn’t move. Finally, she called me over and, still laughing, shooed me into the house for another quick bath.
Another memory that catches me at times comes many, many years later. Mom had come down to our house in Brantford for a visit. Now, Mom loved her “grand dogs” (she would often say to my Nee – “Nanny will get you a treat”, or “are you Nanny’s girl?”). The one thing that wasn’t okay from any dog was to lick her face. Her arm, or hand okay but NO DOGS AT MY FACE was the rule. Whenever Neea-Kha got close to her face, she’d gently move her away or shift around so her face wasn’t a target. Nee eventually got the message and stopped trying to lick her face.
Until one day Mom and I were in the bedroom, I at the computer, she sitting on the bed – Nee sitting beside the bed. I had said something outrageous – as I was prone to do with Mom – and she started laughing. Nee alerted to the changed pitch in her voice (as she always did with Mom) and jumped up on the bed. Mom was laughing harder by this time, with me carrying on with my nonsense. She got to that helpless stage of laughter where she could barely move and Nee spotted her chance. She put both paws on Mom’s chest and pushed her into a prone position on the bed. Mom just KNOWS what’s coming next and tries to deflect it, but to no avail. Nee was licking her face – wetting it really good. Mom’s trying to wipe the wet away, laughing harder, trying to get Nee to stop. I was trying to get over to the bed to get my dog off but by that time I was having an attack of that helpless laughter too, and could hardly stand up. Finally, I made it and pulled Nee away. Mom got up real quick and ran to the bathroom to wash her face. She was in there so long, I’m sure she must have been disinfecting as well.
This is getting rather long so – one more story.
I was on a visit home – we were in the livingroom chatting – Mom in her rocking chair by the sun-porch door, me sitting on the floor on one side of her, Dave sitting on the floor other side of her. I happened to spot a huge run in her stockings and stuck my finger in it, making it bigger. When she asked what I was doing, I said she had a run in her stockings and she wouldn’t be able to wear them again. I started ripping huge holes in them and she was laughing and telling me to stop. Then Dave got in on the act and started ripping more holes. By this time, I’m sure we were pulling them right off her. She was laughing so hard, trying to keep her pantyhose on, and as we pulled she moved along with us until she was sitting on the floor. Dave and I kept pulling, she holding on to her stockings for dear life, rocking forward on her rear end to keep them on. She’s laughing so hard and trying to stay in a sitting position and we made our way like that across the living-room, into the kitchen where we came to a stop at the back door. She scrambled up and ran into the bathroom, where she eventually collected herself, coming out long enough to say “you damned fools" before staggering up the stairs.
These are but a few of my favourite memories and I’d love to read what others remember the most about our parents.
Submitted by Heather
My memories of mom are very special to me. I would take mom to bingo for her birthday, Mother's Day and Christmas. In the summer Mom and I would go for an hour bike ride. She would often come ice skating in the winter with us kids. My most memorable memory was watching how her face lit up like a Christmas tree when got excited about something, like the Toronto Maple Leafs scoring a goal or even winning a hockey game. You could tell when she was mad at you because she would call you everybody's name but your own. She always took care of everyone else before she took care of herself, maybe that is what made her such a strong person.
My memories of mom are very special to me. I would take mom to bingo for her birthday, Mother's Day and Christmas. In the summer Mom and I would go for an hour bike ride. She would often come ice skating in the winter with us kids. My most memorable memory was watching how her face lit up like a Christmas tree when got excited about something, like the Toronto Maple Leafs scoring a goal or even winning a hockey game. You could tell when she was mad at you because she would call you everybody's name but your own. She always took care of everyone else before she took care of herself, maybe that is what made her such a strong person.
Submitted by: Dianne
Memories of Mom - I think the words to this song say it best:
"Precious memories, how they linger,
How they ever flood my soul,
In the stillness, of the midnight,
Precious, sacred scenes unfold."
... Scenes of Mom dancing, her love of music, her giggle, her singing "Bye oh baby, Bye oh Bye", as she rocked whatever baby was around at the time, of picnics at H.H. Knoll Park, of lunch hours spent with her when we both worked in Fort Erie, her at Kathy’s and I at Beattie’s; memories of country music festivals and the Johnny Cash and Kitty Wells concerts, of birthday cards, and valentines cards and Easter candy for the kids, long phone conversations, long drives and a final memory:
About a month before she died, Mom, Jerry, Ryan and I spent the weekend visiting Faye and Lawrie. The drive home was long and it was snowing hard. Mom and Ryan were in the back seat of the car, Jerry and I in front. As it grew dark Mom and Ryan struck up a conversation. He started asking her questions about her childhood, and she answered him. She talked of Uncle Raymond, and her fear of roller coasters, a whole host of things. The car was warm, the snow beautiful, we were tired and content. Finally the conversation died down and there were several moments of quiet, Ryan was falling asleep. Suddenly in a clear, strong voice Ryan said, “I love you”. Nobody responded for a moment and then Mom asked him who he was talking to. He told her he was talking to her. She said, “I love you too: and Ryan drifted off to sleep. It was the last time I saw her. Oh, there were phone calls of course, but these were the last moments I spent with her. A week or so later I found out that she had called several family members and told them how Ryan had told her he loved her. She was thrilled. She knew she was loved but she LOVED hearing it.
Memories of Mom - I think the words to this song say it best:
"Precious memories, how they linger,
How they ever flood my soul,
In the stillness, of the midnight,
Precious, sacred scenes unfold."
... Scenes of Mom dancing, her love of music, her giggle, her singing "Bye oh baby, Bye oh Bye", as she rocked whatever baby was around at the time, of picnics at H.H. Knoll Park, of lunch hours spent with her when we both worked in Fort Erie, her at Kathy’s and I at Beattie’s; memories of country music festivals and the Johnny Cash and Kitty Wells concerts, of birthday cards, and valentines cards and Easter candy for the kids, long phone conversations, long drives and a final memory:
About a month before she died, Mom, Jerry, Ryan and I spent the weekend visiting Faye and Lawrie. The drive home was long and it was snowing hard. Mom and Ryan were in the back seat of the car, Jerry and I in front. As it grew dark Mom and Ryan struck up a conversation. He started asking her questions about her childhood, and she answered him. She talked of Uncle Raymond, and her fear of roller coasters, a whole host of things. The car was warm, the snow beautiful, we were tired and content. Finally the conversation died down and there were several moments of quiet, Ryan was falling asleep. Suddenly in a clear, strong voice Ryan said, “I love you”. Nobody responded for a moment and then Mom asked him who he was talking to. He told her he was talking to her. She said, “I love you too: and Ryan drifted off to sleep. It was the last time I saw her. Oh, there were phone calls of course, but these were the last moments I spent with her. A week or so later I found out that she had called several family members and told them how Ryan had told her he loved her. She was thrilled. She knew she was loved but she LOVED hearing it.
Submitted by Larry
I have many fond memories of mother throughout my life. The most memorable is the affection, the care and the love she had shown me at a time of my illness. She is still present whenever I'm at my weakest. There is nothing in the world like a mother's love.
I have many fond memories of mother throughout my life. The most memorable is the affection, the care and the love she had shown me at a time of my illness. She is still present whenever I'm at my weakest. There is nothing in the world like a mother's love.
Submitted by Dianne
My favourite memory of Dad - Easter, 1983. I had started going to church and was baptized in the fall of 1982. The following Easter I was surprised and touched when Dad presented me with a white chocolate Bible and chocolate praying hands. This was not a gift from him and Mom, it was a gift just from him. He had purchased it from his friend, Vince, who had a chocolate store. It was the one and only time Dad gave me a gift and it is one of the most treasured gifts I have ever received. To me, it was Dad's quiet affirmation of my lifestyle choice. Dad was like that. He rarely voiced his love for his family, but it was there. He showed it in his way, in his time.
My favourite memory of Dad - Easter, 1983. I had started going to church and was baptized in the fall of 1982. The following Easter I was surprised and touched when Dad presented me with a white chocolate Bible and chocolate praying hands. This was not a gift from him and Mom, it was a gift just from him. He had purchased it from his friend, Vince, who had a chocolate store. It was the one and only time Dad gave me a gift and it is one of the most treasured gifts I have ever received. To me, it was Dad's quiet affirmation of my lifestyle choice. Dad was like that. He rarely voiced his love for his family, but it was there. He showed it in his way, in his time.
Submitted by Heather
Memories that stand out in my mind of dad are going to Tim Horton's for hot chocolate after Derek's hockey practice was
over and a few times when he played street hockey with us kids. I remember once mom was getting ready to go out somewhere and dad started laughing saying that mom did not spend that much time getting ready to go out with him. This was one of few times that I remember Dad joking.
Memories that stand out in my mind of dad are going to Tim Horton's for hot chocolate after Derek's hockey practice was
over and a few times when he played street hockey with us kids. I remember once mom was getting ready to go out somewhere and dad started laughing saying that mom did not spend that much time getting ready to go out with him. This was one of few times that I remember Dad joking.