When my dad and mom passed away, I did the eulogies for them, and while the first one for my dad was mostly from “me”, I made the second one more inclusive on behalf of the family. I then wrote subsequent follow-ups that were more just my thoughts. And both of those seemed natural…my parents, my thoughts.

When my brother passed away earlier this year, I started to write about him, and I struggled at first. It was like writing a eulogy, yet I could not and should not have tried to capture his role as a son, father, husband, and friend. I could only really write about him as my big brother.

Andrea’s grandfather, Doug, passed away this week. He was born in ’26, and whenever I spent time with him, it felt very much like my parents would have seemed in outlook. My father was born in ’27, my mother in ’29. They lived very different lives, but as I never knew my grandparents much (they were mostly gone by the time I arrived on the scene), he seemed more like a half-step past parent rather than a full “grandparent” to me.

Of course, he wasn’t “my” grandfather. At first blush, mostly I feel gratitude for his love for Andrea and Jacob, and so thankful that my son will retain that long-lasting memory of GG (great grandfather). A few years ago now, but the photo below has GG with his three grandkids and four great-grandkids.

A little over ten years ago now, I helped create a photobook for Doug’s life. It was for a big birthday, 85 I think, and the idea was a collection of photos from across his life. Some early days as a child, photos throughout his life with his siblings, entry into the Air Force as he finished high school, photos with his wife and then children, later shots of various houses etc., and then even later shots of him alone. I never met Andrea’s great-grandmother; I met GG at her funeral, as I recall. It was shortly after Andrea and I started dating, but the details are fuzzy.

When I met Doug, I felt I already knew him. While the mannerisms and personality were completely different from my father, I always feel a certain reverence for men of “a certain age”. They lived through the Great Depression, seeing their family stressed and struggling. They lived through WW II, and even enlisted as the war neared the end, even if they never saw combat. Doug learned to fly in Canada, my father made it as far as Halifax, mostly cutting hair in between drilling. I loved hearing Doug’s story about the end of high school, and how there was an exhibit of some sort with the names of people who had enlisted from the school aka patriotic nudges to encourage others to enlist and do their part. A glimpse into the routine of life, not the parts that make it into the history books.

A number of years ago, I was looking at music on the first of the Billboard lists and its predecessors. I had a blast chatting with Doug about some of the songs, and he practically chortled at the memory of “Is you or is you ain’t my baby”. 🙂

After the war, men of that age started to figure out their lives and what they wanted to do, who they wanted to be with, when to start a family. And with the memories of the Great Depression and WWII, how they would pay for having that family. I remember hearing the same story from Doug on several occasions of his first job, first apartment, interactions with his bosses. Again, the everyday parts of life that stay with you, that you remember, even if they were small at the time, but that you can remember.

I think that I remember most his stories about work in the production side of the newspaper business. Checking out why newspaper boxes weren’t working the same way in Ottawa as they did in Toronto. Flying copies of each morning’s publication to various parts of the country. Switching from multiple editions per day to just one. Moving from everything being printed in Toronto to local printings across the country. Trips that he was given as rewards in his career for big projects successfully delivered or on retirement.

And then, in the middle of one such story, he says, “Oh, yeah, that’s when she got shot.” I was like, “WTF? How have I never heard THIS story before now?”. They were travelling in the Caribbean, walking down the street, and Andrea’s grandmother got shot in the leg by a kid with a BB gun (probably deliberately trying to shoot the white woman). Don’t worry, she was fine.

Doug’s goal in recent years, a bit glibly, was to be the last remaining veteran from WW II. In 2021, there were about 20,000 veterans; by 2023, that number was down to less than 10K. He didn’t quite make it to that goal but he is in good company.

While I enjoyed Doug’s memories, my lasting images of him are likely to be playing cribbage with Jacob at the cottage or in Peterborough, or showing him around the house in Lindsay. If there is an afterlife, Doug, and you meet my father, he’ll be up for a good game of cribbage too.

As I say goodbye, and mentally shake your hand, I want you to know with all my heart, love and respect, the honour was truly mine.