M Y D A D

My dad was always a quiet and gentle man.
Sometimes you barely knew he was around, and the thing
I always noticed the most about him was his perseverance
as he went about his tasks around the house or how he
endured a job at the Hunter’s Veneer Plant for years, a job
that in my eyes, even as a child, found too much for his frail
frame. His fingers were always covered with tape as they
were burned raw by the hot veneer coming out of the driers.
Even worse was the position he held there before that one.
He used to stand above a boiling pit where the logs soaked to
get rid of the bark and in the winter when it was time to come
home for the day, he was drenched from the steam and when he arrived,
his clothes were frozen on his body. He had no ride and walked all the time.
Never did we hear a complaint and it makes my heart weep for this man
who literally worked his fingers to the bone for his family.
That wasn’t the end of his work for in the summer he and mom
tended a huge garden with enough produce to feed an army.
Dad suffered from pleurisy often as he was a smoker and I remember
the mustard plasters mom fixed for him. They really seemed to help.
Dad loved mom’s cooking and for such a small man he could really
put it away. Every Christmas mom baked many of his favourite things
one of which was her cake donuts. She filled an old churn with
dozens of them and dad would always have a snack of two donuts and
a cup of coffee before bed and he ate every last crumb.
Dad could cook too as he was once a cook on the railroad, and I remember
how he’d stew up some chicken wings and use the broth for some
macaroni and rice soup; it was delicious as were the wings.
He knew a lot about the different trees because of his job,
and I recall one day as a little girl making mud pies out on the
back step and dad came by and took me by the hand and we toured
around the property as he named all the different trees for me. It was
a special moment and I’ve never forgotten it.
The neighbours would drop in some evenings and they’d play
Euchre and some got a little out of sorts as they took it all too seriously,
and their knuckles would bang on the table when they played.












Oh the tales that were told around that table, a merrier bunch you’d
never find. We kids took part in the lunch as it seemed we were
never filled. These simple things were happiness personified for us
and we knew God had blessed us with riches beyond compare and
we went to bed at night peaceful in the knowledge that our mom and dad
would always be there and we were secure in their love.
The years passed, we grew up and left home and dad
retired only to find out he had lung cancer, so he didn’t get
to enjoy any time just for he and mom.
You were small in stature dad, but mighty
in your duty as our father.
Thanks dad. (I hope mom’s making donuts in heaven for you).

Margaret Rose Larrivee
May 06, 2007