Tuesday, 30 July 2013

Requiem for an Irish Man


My Dad was born in a little farm house in Ireland. He had six brothers and three sisters. The boys were wild and fought like cats. But my Dad had fond memories of growing up on the farm.

He never did well in school. However, he valued the education of my sister and I. He always said to me “Knowledge was no burden to carry”.

Later in life, he bought a set of World Book encycloypedias. He used to read them in bed. He would come down in the morning talking about canons and camels and castles. We knew he was reading the C book.

When my grandfather retired from farming, the Taylors moved to a big house in town. The boys became fancy dressers who loved big cars. They would come home from church on Sunday afternoon, open the hood of their cars and start changing the oil or fiddling with the carborator in their Sunday best. He continued to do this all his life. My Mom used to get furious at him.

He lived at home until he got married at the age of 36. Apparently, on his wedding night, he sat on the edge of the bed and cried about having to leave home.

Shortly after he married, he and Edwina came to Canada for the job opportunities in carpentry and teaching. He always regretted leaving Ireland. He went back many times to visit. He used to say to people that he has lived in Canada for 50 years but he only lost his accent 10 years ago.

When he left carpentry, he worked in real estate. He would get listings by going door to door. He would talk his way into the house and convince people to put their house up for sale over a cup of tea. One time he was forcefully told to go away in sign language by a deaf couple.

His most famous client was Tim Horton when Tim Horton was starting his famous business in 1966. I remember in 1967, my Dad taking me to the opening of the first Tim Horton's donut shop in Burlington. Tim Horton brought the starting lineup of the Toronto Maple Leafs there just after they won their last Stanley Cup.

He went from real estate into the hardware business. He bought a little Home Hardware store on the Hamilton Mountain. I used to help him on my summer vacations. My aunt and uncle and cousin lived in an apartment in the back of the store. One day my aunt gave us a mattress, she didn't need anymore. We put it on the roof of the car in the morning. In the evening, we got in the car and started to drive home. Pulling away from a stoplight outside the hardware store, my Dad cried, “Oh the mattress!” I looked back and saw the mattress bouncing down the road on its edge before being driven over by a bus.

He learned to play golf with my sister, me and my friends at a little executive golf course in Clappisons Corners north of Burlington. Little did we know that it would become his major passed time in later life. Before he retired and started going to Florida, he even played golf in the winter in Hamilton. He got his picture on the front page of the paper putting on a snow covered green. They had to shovel little paths with their clubs to get to the hole.

My high school friends in Burlington used to tell me about playing golf with a little Irishman who was telling jokes and singing songs who turned out to be my Dad.

His other favourite passed time was taking Sunday drives. He continued that tradition long after everyone stopped doing it when gas prices increased drastically in the 1970's. He loved to take friends and family on long drives in the afternoon to see the sights. He would often drop in unannounced to see old friends and have a cup of tea.

When he could no longer drive, he enjoyed Daphne taking him for long drives to do her errands. He passed that “going out” gene on to Daphne and at least one of his granddaughters. So we know his “going out” and his “love of golf” genes will live on through his offspring.

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