Catherine Gourlay

A Celebration of the life of Catherine Gourlay

November 21st, 1904 – December 22nd, 2006
Wilson’s Funeral Home, Cornwall
December 28th, 2006 at 11:00am

Gourlay, Catherine Margaret( Fraser), 102, of Cornwall, formally of Williamstown, died Friday, Dec. 22, 2006 at Glen-Stor-Dun Lodge in Cornwall.

Catherine was born Nov. 21, 1904 in Williamstown where she attended school in the 4th concession and the Maple Leaf School. She attended high School in Williamstown. Following completion of high school she lived at home until moving to Montreal where she worked for Sun Life Insurance. She lived in Montreal until 1931 when she married Hugh Gourlay.

Following their marriage, Catherine and Hugh moved to Ann Arbor, Michigan where they lived until 1935. In 1935 they moved to Hamilton, Ontario and then to Dundas. They remained in Dundas until 1939 when they moved to Edmonton, Alberta. The family lived in Edmonton until 1955, at which time Hugh, Catherine and their younger son, Gord moved to Toronto. Catherine worked for Canadian Facts in Toronto from 1955 until her retirement in 1970.

Following her retirement, Catherine and Hugh moved to Williamstown into a new home designed by their son, Gord, who was an architect. This was their first and only experience at owning a home. Catherine had a true “green thumb” and it was no time until the yard and flowers were a real showpiece, one she was very proud of. As she aged and became unable to care for her flowers, the condition of her yard was a real concern to her.

Catherine had many talents. In addition to being an excellent cook and seamstress, she was an accomplished artist. She was very active in the community, particularly in Edmonton and Williamstown. She established a Green Thumb Club in Williamstown for gardeners as well as a reading group. She worked for several years at the N’orWester Museum in Williamston.

In 1997 Catherine sold her home in Williamstown and moved to Cornwall. She has been living at Glen-Stor-Dun Lodge since 2001. Survivors include her brother, D.A.Fraser of Cornwall; her sister, Eileen Kirker of South Lancaster;, her son Hugh Gourlay and his wife Janyce of Palm Harbor, Florida; her daughter-in–law, Sharon Gourlay of Toronto; five grandchildren, five great grand children and one great great grandchild and many nieces and nephews. She was predeceased by her husband, Hugh and her son, Gordon.
Rev. Andrea’s Reflection:

I got to know Mrs Gourlay in the latter years of her, during a time when her memories were of the distant past, or the current moment; or since I always told her I was from Williamstown, stories centered in Williamstown.

~’Williamstown is such a wonderful place. I’d move back there if I could’ she would say, and she would ask, ‘Do you like living in Williamstown?’ Of course, there’s only one right answer to that question!

She told me that her mother had died when she was born, and that her step-mother was a wonderful woman.

She told me about growing up in Williamstown, particularly attending high school, traveling into the village on Sunday nights, boarding during the week, and going home again on Fridays.

I didn’t hear details about her earlier school years, of having milk packed in her lunch box every day, and concealing this apparently embarrassing fact by not drinking her milk at lunch, but on her way home, so that neither her friends nor her mother were any the wiser.

I did hear about her father-in-law, John Gourlay, being a minister, but I forgot some of the details about that until speaking with Hugh and Jan. It was nice being with Kit, because if I forgot things, she didn’t mind either, or she would tell me the stories again.

One story she told several times, was of a time when her husband Hugh was going to give a speech, and on the way to the gathering he still didn’t know what he was going to say, creating a degree of anxiety to Kit, who was accompanying him. She reported, however, that it was the best speech he ever gave.

She also spoke about her garden at her home in Williamstown, and the man who stopped by to tell her she had the nicest garden in the village. She didn’t tell me, though, that she established the ‘Green Thumb club’ in Williamstown.

I didn’t hear about

- all the joys of becoming a mother, a grand-mother, a great-grand-mother, and a great-great grand-mother

- the sadness of losing her husband, her son, Gordon, and other family and friends over the years.

- all those moves – to the States, out west, and Toronto, or the car that broke down on that move from Edmonton to Toronto, with her china in the trunk

- the hard work in earning an income and caring for her family after her husband, Hugh, had a stroke in his late 40s, or the challenges of having some rather strange borders in her home, renting the spare room.

- her first flight in 1958 in a ‘prop-job’ – with engine failure? on a journey to go and see her first grand-child in Seattle.

- the courage it took to learn to drive a car in Toronto at the age of 55, when Gordon had gone to Edinborough, or the joys and challenges of traveling on trips to Ann Arbor, Michigan and Vermont with Hugh Sr., to visit Hugh Jr & Jan.

- Christmases spent with family in Toronto, or winters spent in Florida after her husband, Hugh’s death

- all the activities at the local seniors’ centre in Florida, a centre to which Kit place her first phone call upon arrival, or the return trips, carrying 70lbs of Florida grapefruit, which she must have thoroughly enjoyed, even if her friend, Edith Major, only ate her grapefruit out of love for Kit.

- I didn’t hear about her trips to exotic places like Nova Scotia, Scotland, Spain, & Morocco.

But I did meet a spunky woman who was a joy to be with, and who had a wonderful outlook on life.

I would like to hear what she has to say about her ‘new home’ in the next life. I wonder if it measures up with Williamstown. If wonder if she will have had as many people to greet her in heaven as she had at her 100th birthday party. I’m sure she would at least say, “This is a nice place.”

I wonder what wisdom she might share with us from the next life. But, then again, maybe she shared that wisdom in this life

- to approach life with a positive outlook

- to work hard, when necessary, without complaint

- to accept love and joy and delight in what is good

- to live through the hard times

- to share one’s talents

- to love and invest in one’s family and community

- to take each day and year as it comes, although not many of us expect to live to 102!

Kit has now returned to that great source of all life, that oneness of being that we can only dream about in this life. Kit has now made her way home.

Charlie Kinloch

A Celebration of the life of Charlie Kinloch
29 August 1945 - 14 September 2004

Eulogy by Natalie & Blaine Kinloch

Based on Dad’s great words of wisdom, you begin every speech with laughter and therefore I want to share with you some of Dad’s most bizarre habits:

* A teabag must be used a minimum of 4 times or else your wasting;
* A cookie can only be half eaten because it will make you fat;
* All hot foods will taste fine if boiled in water for a minimum of 1 hour;
* Gardening is a skill for everyone, regardless if you kill most plants and if your thumb is purple instead of green.

Charles Kinloch, son of George and Grace, beloved husband to Cathy, dearly-loved father of Alex, Blaine and Charlie, brother to Henry, much-loved father-in-law to myself and friends and this community, is a great man.

There are so many family and friends gathered here today to celebrate Charlie’s life and it clearly reflects his passion for living life to the fullest and his endless love of people. Charlie would want each of you to know that you have given him tremendous strength, love and support through all the years.

Born and raised in this village, Charlie has become somewhat of an institution to this community and church. George and Grace shared with the boys their love of this Church. Generations of Kinloch’s have sat in these very pews and Charlie’s extensive contribution to this church was done as a tribute to his ancestors and parents as much as a reflection of his faith. Ministers at this church have been very close friends of Charlie’s through the years. In the last seven years a young minister, Andrea, has graced this community and Charlie with her gifts of laughter, friendship and support. This family will forever be grateful for Andrea’s time, prayers and friendship that extend far beyond these walls.

God has given Charlie a gift of a brother to antagonize to no end. The Kinloch brothers, the Hawk and Chickie, are a legend in these parts. George and Grace had their hands full trying to keep Henry and Charlie out of trouble.

Henry fondly remembers …….

In 1967, Charlie embarked on a centennial project of finding someone special. And what a find! Cathy with her bright smile, heart of gold and love of life was a quick match for Charlie on and off the dance floor. Once Charlie’s mom’s inspection complete, Cathy became the perfect choice as a wife for Charlie. This church became a part of them and in it they raised their family. Few of us can remember when we could determine where one of these individuals begins and the other one ends. It is and will always be Charlie and Cathy, Cathy and Charlie.

Ocean into the sea…

You didn’t have to know Dad very long to benefit from his laughter. His ability to bring humor to any situation although not always shared by those closest to him. Mom will never forget on one of the first dates at A&W where Dad, a professional car roller, believed the conditions to be ideal to perform a 360o or 720o we’ll never know. Mom didn’t know what she should do other than hold on for dear life when Dad released the wheel and buried his head on Mom’s lap to protect himself. He always told us he didn’t understand why she held on to the door instead of adopting the crash position.

Charlie shared with his sons his wonderful smile, and laughter as well as his love of vehicles and may I also say his aggressive driving skills. Martintown residents have endless stories of the Kinloch boys and their driving abilities.

Beyond the GM and occasional Volkswagens (sorry Alex!) which are a great love to Alex, Blaine and Charlie. Alex and little Charlie shared with their Dad their love of tools. To this day, I have not seen the great carpentry talent that Charlie held even when blind but Alex assures me that you must always have the right tool for the job regardless of expense.

Blaine and Alex also inherited Charlie’s talking abilities. Have you ever tried to hurry past or interrupt one of these lengthy discussions?

Alex shares his Dad’s ability with numbers and Charlie has always been very proud of his chosen profession. I’m not sure if it was because of his love of vehicles or the chance to visit the dealership regularly and perhaps get a really good discount.

Blaine carries on his Dad’s incredible will to help others. You can be assured that when there is a need in this community, Blaine will be there to lend a hand.

Charlie has been blessed with his Dad’s talent at fixing things in a timely manner. It’s not that they don’t fix them; you just have to accept their own special schedules.

Charlie, you have done a fine job with these boys and I have no doubt that in these three, your legacy will be proudly carried on.

No one has been as proud as Dad to see the tradition of the Kinloch farm being carried on by the __th generations. From his contribution to the land from the time he was a child to the beautiful condition of the land today, Kinhaven is a part of Dad. The farm means the world to this family and rest assured Dad it’s in great hands.

Dad’s love for dogs and more recently a cat have meant a steady stream of pets have benefited from his love. His dogs have been his lifeline and past pals.

Dogs have also been a scapegoat for a little nasty habit of Dad’s of inflicting minor damage on non-living objects. I’ll always remember asking Dad if he knew how the dent got in my truck. His response was that our lab “Groaner” ran into it and he’s a pretty big dog. We’ll never know how the lawnmower ended up with a similar dent.

Obie, his best pal and Seeing Eye dog never left Dad’s side. Sure they had their disagreements when they each wanted to go in different directions however Dad quickly learnt that Obie could be trusted when Obie decided to let Dad lead the way and he ended up face first into a parking meter. All the strong headedness aside, Obie to this day can do no wrong in Dad’s eyes.

My memories of Charlie are a little more recent than most of you. I met Charlie 10 years ago and was welcomed with open arms by this great man. He was quick to warn me of his eldest son’s habits and I was honored at his support and love in Alex’s choice for a wife. Charlie and I have shared many trips to Ottawa together and the strength and pure will of this man have been an inspiration to me. I will cherish our time spent together and terribly miss his near choking bear hugs but most of all I promise to make sure that his spirit is passed on through the generations.

Charlie, you have joined Obie your best pal in heaven and we trust that he will lead you well as he always has.

We love you Dad.

Goodbye my love, my dad, my brother, my friend.

Ethel Jean Leitch

A Celebration of the life of Ethel Jean Leitch
March 25th, 1917 – February 11th, 2005

The Eulogy given by Ken Leitch and David MacDougall at her funeral on February 15, 2005, at St. Andrew’s United Church, Martintown.

Ken:

We’re here today … to honor Ethel Grant Leitch, a woman who was many things to many people. For Bill and Stuart, Ethel was a grandmother. For Claudette, a mother–in-law. A great grandmother for C.J. and Kirsten. A sister to Alex. A sister-in-law to Malcolm. To hundreds of others at Cornwall General Hospital, she was a compassionate nurse. And of course, a friend to those gathered today.

Now, where do the two of us fit in?

In the Leitch family, there were two brothers, Ross and Murdie, and two sisters, Maye and Jean. Uncle Ross married Aunt Ethel and they had one son, Malcolm. David MacDougall is Jean’s only son, and I’m Ken, Murdie’s only son. The three of us, Malcolm, David and I were all born within a year of each other. Dave and I are both honored to have the opportunity to pay tribute to Aunt Ethel.

Dave:

It is nice to be back in St. Andrews. The last time I was up here at the front I was probably a young teenager participating in a Sunday school service.

Aunt Ethel was a special person when I was growing up, as Malcolm and I spent a lot of time together and saw a lot of Aunt Ethel and Uncle Ross. Some of my memories of Aunt Ethel are from when I was quite young. She had a number of qualities – hard working, caring about others ahead of herself, and she always seemed to have a ready smile.

I remember that she was both a farm wife and a nurse. As a farm wife she and Uncle Ross worked as partners baling hay, doing chores and the like. She did the hard work as well as looking after the home. Often at the end of the day at the farm, she would undergo a transformation into a nurse, her second career. At this time in her life she didn’t drive and Uncle Ross would take her to and from work. They found time for a bit of sleep in there sometime.

I only remember her getting angry with Malcolm and once and we were absolutely speechless. Not sure what we did but she sat us in separate corners and didn’t talk to us for a while. That was about as bad as if ever got with Aunt Ethel.

I was introduced the bagpipes at Aunt Ethel’s I took lessons from Malcolm’s teacher and we ended up playing in the high school band together. She, as well as our other parents, spent a lot of time being to stoic Scot listening to us practice daily.

Aunt Ethel learned to drive a car only after Uncle Ross passed away. Prior to this her driving experience was limited to the tractor, safe in the fields of the family farm. She was very proud of this skill and spent a lot of time driving back and forth to my mother’s place in Cornwall. We used to chuckle a bit that she would never get a speeding ticket as we don’t think she got up to even near the speed limit. Being independent with the car was a true pleasure for her. In later years when she drove much less, Bill Leitch senior came to the rescue and was a very willing chauffeur, often driving Aunt Ethel to get groceries and to appointments.

Aunt Ethel looked after other people ahead of herself. Barb, Ken’s wife, last evening used the word “humble” to describe this quality. She would fetch tea, open doors, and even carrying luggage while younger, stronger people looked on. More than once I had to wrestle suitcases from her hands when she came to visit us. We teased her about this often. Brought it to head once when I took the bags out of the car and put them in front of her then started toward the house asking her to bring them along. She saw the humour.

Many of our fondest memories are around family gatherings. We spent many Christmases together. Aunt Ethel was a great cook and always stuffed us full of turkey. The problem was that my family then went on to an evening on the MacDougal side of the family and the traditional noon meal at the Leitch’s was enough food for a couple of days. Family gatherings evolved over the years and Aunt Ethel spent many an enjoyable Christmas with Claudette, Bill, Stuart and their families. The opportunity to spend time with her great grandchildren, C.J. and Kirsten was a highlight for her.

Ken:

For about 10 years, from 1984 to 1994, Maye, Jean, and Aunt Ethel had a whole other life in Florida. They spent about 3 ½ months every year in Panama City Beach, the home of the famous sugar sand where many Canadian snow birds escaped the winter. To the rest of the family, they weren’t known as the snow birds, but rather, the Golden Girls. In Florida, they met their friends who ranged from Alberta to Arkansas.

They usually had the end two units facing the ocean, and spent part of their time walking the beach, playing cards or hitting the early bird special at the local restaurants.

They were such regulars at the motel that they left clothes, dishes and other belongings from one year to the next, because like clockwork, when January arrived in Florida, so did the Golden Girls.

The owners of the motel, whom they referred to as, the “boys” because they were only about 50 years old, trusted them so much that when they took some time off, the girls were in charge.

As if they didn’t get enough of each other in the winter, the two sisters and their sister-in-law often spent time together in the summer at Maye’s home in Pointe-au-Basil on the shores of Georgian Bay.

It was about a 7 hour drive from Williamstown to Pointe-au-Basil, a little too far for the tractor, so Aunt Jean and Aunt Ethel usually got a ride up north with Malcolm, Bill Leitch Senior, or David. In Pointe- au-Basil once again, life revolved around meeting old friends, playing cards, boat rides, often on Tom and Marjorie’s pontoon boat, and preparation of meals. There weren’t any early bird specials in Pointe-au-Basil.

I must tell you about one of my experiences on the farm during haying season when I was 16. I was down to help out a bit, and although I thought of myself as being quite strong and fit, I had difficulty keeping up to Aunt Ethel as we unloaded the bales from the hay wagon and put them on the conveyor belt that led to the top of the barn. She did all this, went in
and prepared dinner, then headed off to do her shift at the hospital.

Your grandchildren and great grandchildren should be proud you carry some of Aunt Ethel genes.

These are just a few of the memories that Dave and I have.

Aunt Ethel has given something to all of us and we thank her for that. – but keep in mind that you enriched her life as well.

I’m sure she would want she would want me to thank you for what you gave to her and for being here today.

Aunt Ethel, you really are a Golden Girl.

Mildred Ada Victoria Fourney

A Celebration of the Life of Mildred Ada Victoria Fourney
May 23, 1924 - Oct 20, 2004

Eulogy by Ian Cumming

Mildred Ada Victoria Crites, originally from Ferrans Point, which is now under the water of the St Lawrence Seaway, was first introduced to this local community at a barn dance Jack Fourney held back on the fourth concession for his son Antoine and his new bride.

My father was at that barn dance and his uncle Gordon MacNaughton quietly confided to him that he hoped Mildred was a nice girl, “because Antoine was sure a nice boy.”

Not long after, Lyall MacLachlan was a small boy standing in his uncles store in Lancaster, where Sarah Hensen now has her restaurant, and Antoine and Mildred came down the stairs. They had just been up buying the farm on the third concession from his grandmother.

Antoine was a bean pole, Mildred a little slip of a woman and Lyall’s dad Donald, physically big man that he was, commented that he hoped such a small couple could make a go of it. They, over the years, did far more than that. The farm across the road was purchased, on retirement houses were built for themselves and two of their children. Mildred always handled the finances for the operation.

Milded was quick to find out that she had married into a clan where Jack, Lawrence and Antoine Fourney and their families not only farmed themselves, but were important cogs in keeping other people’s farms running as well.

They cut ice on the St Lawrence for farmers ice houses, their mechanical genius fixed and welded everybody’s machinery and vehicles, build a house or barn they could do that too. They never said no to their neighbours demands on their time and talents and they never, never charged enough. All were also totally honest in each and every deal.

Those of us who grew up on farms where Antoine and Lawrence were vital to the operation, have some sense of not only appreciation, but wonderment of the work Mildred did. I mean work. There was five children, a herd of dairy cows and countless farm chores without the ease of technology we have today.

There were many couples who wore themselves out just farming and raising children, but Antoine and Mildred combined that with driving a bulldozer for MacGregors, plus the on farm shop where Antione welded and his genius brain manufacturing and solving problems.

That shop was an exciting and almost magical place to a knee high boy. Your fathers large hand cupped around your head so you wouldn’t look at the welding flash. But you always managed to squirm and steal a sideways glance.

Always in the background there was Mildred, doing not only her own work, but that which we took Antoine from.

Now even as a knee high boy, not even in grade one, I knew from conversations between farmers and hired men that Antoine could never say no, but if Mildred was really busy and Antoine wasn’t around or down in the field, well you just didn’t try pushing your luck with Mildred in demanding Antoine come and fix your problem right now. There was never any words, there was just, as farmers called it, “that look” from Mildred.

The late Millard Grant told of driving in their farm yard one day, Antoine nowhere in sight, Mildred was splitting wood with the axe and he got that look over the top of her glasses. “I just put the truck in reverse and backed out,” said Grant.

With Mildred it was always the look that spoke volumes. The beaming smile she gave my little daughter Mei Le across the church aisle back in that corner several weeks ago. The look of concern a couple of years ago standing at my elbow scrapping plates at the church supper before I washed them. “You’ll be hungry, you go and eat with your family,” she said that night. Mildred, the 78 year old lady on her feet for hours, doing one of the hardest, dirtiest jobs of the evening and it was my stomach, my time with family that she was worried about.

The look of instant, quiet approval she gave on first meeting Allison which meant so much, being Dorothy was one of her dearest friends.

But there was also the look, which happened far more than once, back when I was young, late at night lurching around on the Bonnie Glen dance floor and Mildred would be sitting at the dance floor edge and there would be that quiet look over her glasses which just screamed, “Ian you’re being a damn fool.” But the thing I respected most about Mildred, she never, ever told my mother.

Now I’m sure all the MacCrimmon boys who grew up beside her got that look over her glasses many times and I hate to even guess how many times Wayne MacLachlan got it.

One cannot do a tribute to Mildred without talking about her, with Antoine, on that Bonnie Glen dance floor. How does one describe in words what so many of us felt inside when Sylvester would begin to sing and Antoine and Mildred would be first on the floor? Effortless unison would only be a cliché to describe what so many of us witnessed. It was beauty, perfection, a couple in love, it was dancing such as we had never witnessed before, or come to think of it, since.

I forget the date or even who initiated it, but quite a few years ago, Dorothy and I, Rosann and Sheldon, Malcolm and Bonnie, and Alpin and Sharon MacGregor met for a number of nights in Antoine and Mildreds basement, to be taught the two step. I can’t remember them asking for any money, but I think they wanted to end the pain they were enduring Saturday night after Saturday night watching us trying to dance.

Decades earlier when back on their farm, Donald and Muriel MacLachlan were among the couples taught the finer points of dancing, since they were far better than us on the basics.

After the farm was sold in 1974 to Wiebe and Carolyn Meyer there came the well deserved trips in the motor home. Several times down south, some taken with Leslie and Norma, with the final destination at their daughter Sheila’s Also trips to the Maritimes with Sylvester and the Glengarry Highland dancers.

They both went to England with Dorothy to her home farm and along with her mother drove up to Scotland. I had never asked that if sometime during that trip, possibly at Edinburgh Castle with the skirl of pipes in the distance, whether Antoine took Mildred by the hand and danced. Now there is no one left to ask.

About 14 years ago in this pulpit Art Buckland paid tribute to Antoine with words I don’t think any of us have ever forgotten. He talked that day about Antoine with a ploughmans lunch sitting in a field and seeing what others couldn’t see. A mere insect, how it moved, what it did.

There were a number of times I sat beside him and his dear friend Gordon Ferguson when he had that ploughmans lunch, during the noon break from tile draining on my father’s farms. But it was Mildred who had made that lunch, the sandwiches and home made desert neatly packed, along with the apple. It was Mildred who washed his work clothes, who made sure all was in order in his world.

Perhaps modern society belittles that contribution and sacrifice for others. But those of us who grew up in Antoine and Mildred’s world learned to respect the ladies who in such selfless, countless acts, were the foundation of their families and our community.

I have come to realize over the years that a person dies, but who a person is never does. They live on in those who follow.

When Thelma can look at a pile, which to you is just a jumble of metal and says “I think it goes like this” and makes something out of it, that is Antoine. When Thelma comes once a week into your chaotic, painful household where the mother and wife has just died and not only establishes an order but in the end a peace and a semblance of understanding to three little children, that is Mildred.

When Eugene, only a hour or so after Mildred was taken for the last time from her home, is in your yard telling the Glen Gordon Professor how to fix the pulley on his manure spreader, that is Antoine, but also Mildred, carrying on and doing your work despite the pain.

When Eugene and Thelma’s son several years ago is called to the front of the high school auditorium to receive the top prize for innovation in shop, that is Antoine. And when another son is praised by a neighbour for his hard work, skill around cattle and reliability, that is Mildred.

Today when you watch a dance floor in Glengarry and the MacLachlan and Cumming girls swirl around having a ball, that is Mildred along with Antoine who years ago put on those records in her home and taught their parents and grandparents not only how to dance, but a love of the music.

You, her family, were so privileged to have a mother and grandmother such as this. We were honoured to have her as a neighbour and friend..

René Butler

A celebration of the life of Rene Butler

Anyone who knew Rene knew he was a man of few words.

Anyone who knew him well would know that he would like us to keep this as brief as possible.

And although he was a man of few words, those words were always wise, comforting and reassuring.

He was like an encyclopedia to his kids; whenever they needed an answer to something they just asked Dad or Grandpa.

He always helped those that needed it... animal, human.... or even insects and reptiles....

He would stop and save a turtle from certain death by taking it off the road... spiders were escorted outside....no stray kid or animal in our neighbourhood would go without a place to stay or a meal....

He thought it best that we leave the world a better place than when we found it...

Every community that he lived in was better for it as he devoted many hundreds of hours to community service, as a Boy Scout Leader, driving seniors and Children's Aid children to Drs. appts. As well as delivering Meals-on-Wheels to seniors in our area. He was a Chartered member of the Martintown Optimist Club and was instrumental in building the Martintown Library. He made as many as seven trips with a full van to the Williamstown Fair with tables and books for Onagh's Book Nook. He spent many hours building additional space at Onagh's to accommodate all her donated books, which raise monies for many local charities. Even though he couldn't draw a straight line and had to make many, many adjustments to his cuts of wood, his motto was "if at first you don't succeed try, try again".

He took every opportunity presented to learn something...
He said if you can't say something nice don't say anything...
His love of family was his guiding force..
He was a great cook, gardener and teacher. Trying to teach anything from tennis, to golf and chess (as many of us will remember) and he never showed frustration at our attempts to improve.

Even back at Radio College when he was first married, he would bring groups of co-students home and he would help them to understand things as they gathered around the kitchen table in his small apartment in Toronto.

Upon graduation he joined the Dept. of Transport as a Radio Operator in Broadview Sask., then Churchill Man., then Kenora Ont. He found shift work was not what he wanted when Jean and he had four children to raise. So off he went to Resolute Bay for a year, to study and hoping to advance his career. Although he was Coroner, Justice of the Peace as well as Officer in charge of the Station, he found time to study. While at Resolute Bay he developed a curling rink in one of the hangers. Even though they had to wear their artic gear to play, they enjoyed the recreation.

Getting a day job and moving to a bigger city brought the family back to Ottawa where he edited and wrote Department of Transport Technical Instruction Manuals, as he was so precise to detail.

His next career move was becoming a Technician, then Instructor, which brought him to Cornwall to the Transport Canada’s Training Institute, where recreational activities included joining the Cornwall Curling Club.

He retired to Martintown and tremendously enjoyed 18 years of retirement life with winters in Florida to get away from the snow.

His working with Dept. of Transport was a great joy to him.

It was interesting to see how many of his colleagues from Transport came to pay their respects even though he had been retired and out of contact with them for many years.

Scott Dennis

A celebration of the life of Scott Dennis
Spoken by his son James Dennis on July 25, 2009

I would like to begin by thanking everyone here today for taking time out of their own lives to say good bye to a man who meant so much to my family and no doubt made a profound impression on you all.

When my Mother approached me a couple months ago and asked me to prepare a eulogy for my Father I was deeply honoured and yet frightened at the same time. I did not want to think about this final chapter in my Father’s life and worse yet was afraid that when the time came I would not be able to give a suitable homage to a man that meant so much to my Mother, Brother, and I.

Over the past months and years my Father took whatever steps he could think of to make his eventual departure as little a burden as possible on his dear wife and family. He even took the time to review the video montage prepared by the Brosseaus before giving it his seal of approval. I only wish that he could have written this speech for me today.

I know that that would not have been possible for my Dad because he was too humble of a man. He never liked to be the focus of attention but rather was more interested in hearing what was new in your life. Many people have told us that they loved talking to Scotty whenever he worked at Sears, was out having coffee with Rick or Ken, breakfast with Richard or Jim, or simply stopping by the condo to visit. He never dwelled on his condition but rather focused on positive matters so that people never felt uncomfortable being with him.

I am told though, that when Dad had his choice on the topic of conversation that he loved to sing the praises of his two sons, Jason and I. I do hope that our tales of adventure were not too boring for everyone. Jay and I learned very early in life that our passions, hobbies, and interests quickly became those of our Father. It did not matter what we chose to do or what we wanted to become, our Father was always behind us 100% with his love and support. He only wanted to see us happy.

When my brother embarked on his new business venture, Summit Fitness, our Father never hesitated in providing him with the support and guidance to see his dream materialize.

Prior to that, football was a large part of my Brother’s life and as such was a large part of my Father’s too. He always happily took my brother to his practices and was on the side lines cheering Jason on during all of his games. He became part of the local football executive and regularly watched NFL and CFL football games on TV with his youngest son. The Superbowl parties actually became a yearly tradition that brought the three of us closer together following the end of our university lives and our return to the Cornwall area.

I don’t know how he did it but he always seemed to have time for his sons. He loved us equally and while Jason had his football I had my Jeeps and offroading. I don’t think my Father ever thought I would find excitement in the Ontario and Quebec back country driving around with others in our modified and lifted Jeeps but it didn’t matter, he was going to be along for the bumpy ride. If I hadn’t promised my passenger seat to someone else he would happily ride shotgun on my adventures. On one trail run I learned what an athlete my Father still was. After putting the Jeep into an unexpected off camber position tilting the Jeep WAY over on his side he unbuckled his seat belt and darted out of the doorless Jeep faster than Ben Johnson saying, “I can’t handle this!”.

Some of those offroad excursions became weekend camping events and that is when I think Dad really fell in love with the hobby. He really enjoyed meeting all my offroad buddies and sitting around a campfire at night talking Jeep. At one point he told me that he really enjoyed camping but that it was just not my Mother’s “thing” and that her idea of camping was a 3 star hotel.

Despite their differences our Father loved our Mother dearly and he knew the first time he met her that she was the woman for him. On an evening nearly 40 years ago their paths crossed at the Cornwallis Hotel and their lives would forever be changed. With his confidence mustered he strode across the room and proceeded to introduce himself to Barbara Ann Alguire. After extolling all of his affections and complimenting her on her beauty he proclaimed that she would one day be his wife. His steady perseverance paid off as soon they were dating, then engaged, and ultimately married. The fact that he had a car too didn’t hurt.

Together they became a formidable parenting duo. No child could have asked for better parents. Family was always the highest priority to Dad and Mom. We always had dinner together, went on several trips together, spent the summer down at the cottage together, and gathered together with the rest of the family during ALL the holidays.

You would think that after all of that time spent together Dad might be a little relieved to see us leave the nest so that he could perhaps pursue other interests. That couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact Mom has told us that whenever they dropped Jason or I off at university down in London or Waterloo Dad would always be quiet and sullen with his headed tilted away from Mom as they made the long drive home along the 401. He would even be teary eyed in the days that followed. He simply missed his boys dreadfully.

My Father’s love for my Mother never faded. He would do whatever it took to make her happy and gladly took on the challenge given to him by his Father-in-law on their wedding day to take care of her for the rest of his life. Even as they got older Dad would have no qualms putting on a public display of affection in front of my brother and I despite our chagrins. He loved to hug and kiss his “Tooty”.

Dad was Mom’s ROCK. She could always count on him to be there and with his support she has been able to spread her wings and become a strong, independent, and loving woman, wife, and Mother.

A lot could be learned from their marriage and at times I have asked Dad for advice on this topic. I can’t recall how the conversation came about but one day but I asked my Father if he ever had difficulties with my Mother’s LOVE for a VERY clean and tidy household. He grinned at me and told me that he knew the day he proposed to my Mother that he would be spending the rest of his life living in a museum.

Some of Dad’s greatest moments were being able to see both of his sons getting married. He loved the women we had chosen to be our wives and equally loved to share with them one of his favourite all-time sayings, “You know my dear, there are two kinds of people in this world. Dennis’, and those that want to be Dennis’”…Did I say he was a humble man, my mistake.

I think that one of his greatest joys was the birth of his grandchildren, Lydia, and Preston. He was so looking forward to becoming a grandfather and spoiling them as rotten as possible. If Jay and I are half the Father he was to us then our children will be better off than most.

Dad’s only regrets were that he would not be around to see his grand children grow up, spend time helping out his sons, and traveling near and far with his wife.

As he lay in his bed on Tuesday morning I leaned in and told him that I loved him and that I couldn’t have asked for a better Father. He told me that he loved me and simply asked that I take care of our Mother. I know that if he could of he would have enveloped me in a warm bear hug as he often did.

My Father was the greatest man I have ever known. He was smart, loving, considerate, hard working, and had a warm smile. He was more than a Father and a Husband to our family, he was our Best Friend.

I would like to send out a special thank you to those individuals who have spent a lot of time with my Father over the past couple of years as his health deteriorated. I will not mention names as they know who they are but I am certain that it is because of your kind gestures that he was able to remain so active for so long. For this our family is eternally grateful to you.

I am sure that Dad is looking down on us now, smiling, and slightly humbled by the number of lives that he has touched. And if he could speak to us now I am sure that he would say to not worry about him because things are just Tickety-Boo.