By Bob Brind'Amour
I first met John in the fall of 1972 when he and I had both moved to Prince Rupert to work at the pulp mill there. John and Carol and their three children - Ray, Lori and Allan - had moved from Elkford where they lived for a short time after leaving Kimberley. Linda and I and one son then moved out from Quebec. John and I and our young families soon became close friends, and because neither of us had family there, we became each other’s family as we shared Christmases, Thanksgivings, Easters, summer picnics and many other occasions together. When I took my wife into the hospital to have a baby, it was Carol and John who looked after our older son Roddy. When we joined them in Campbell River in 1980, John and Carol again came to our rescue and were very helpful in settling us into our new home. They were always there to lend a helping hand, and our friendship continued to grow.
During the 70’s in Prince Rupert John and I went through several style changes - from long hair with sideburns to perms, from zoot suits to bell bottoms and boldly printed shirts. In our youth and so-sure-of-ourselves days, we thought we were very macho. Today, the pictures just provide a few good laughs and fond memories of good times with good friends.
In addition to working together, John and I were teammates on a few hockey teams, both in Prince Rupert and in Campbell River. In Prince Rupert hockey was a relatively new thing, the arena having just been built, and people crowded the place just to watch practices. We both played for a men’s league team called Manson’s Jewellers, John on defence and I at centre. This league, along with the town team, provided much entertainment and a wonderful social life.
John had one heck of a sense of humour. His quick retorts and dry sense of humour kept everybody on the team in good spirits. His lucky longjohns were famous, or should I say infamous. They were held together by buttons and a prayer, and poor Carol had to wash them after every game. I often wondered how they ever survived to see another game, but, like the cat, they always came back. No matter how many times Carol threatened to discard them, they always resurfaced.
Another incident that happened on New Year’s Eve, at least 15 years ago now, makes me smile every time I recall it. It had been my family tradition that, on New Year’s Eve, my brothers and I and whoever else was around at the time, would shed our shoes and take a run down the road in the snow, returning to the cheers of family and friends and a drink to warm us. So, in keeping with that tradition, on this particular New Year’s Eve, John and I and several other guys bid adieu to our wives, shed our shoes and took the challenge of running in the snow to the corner of the street and returning to the house to see who was the fastest among us. I had just reached the corner and was swinging around on the streetpost when I felt myself being propelled into a snow bank. Not only did John handily move me out of the way, but I wore the imprint of his foot on the back of my shirt for the duration of the evening. This was a Kodak moment and an example of John’s competitive nature and love of fun and a good laugh.
John was a very conscientious worker, always willing to help a fellow mate at work or at home. He was also one of the main participants in the installation of the automatic door for the Zamboni at the Campbell River arena. Prior to this, the door had to be swung open manually. His effort saved much time and manpower. He also volunteered as a coach for the Special Olympics Ball Hockey Team.
John was a dedicated family man, who loved his wife and children above all else. John treasured those moments coaching his boys, Ray and Allan in hockey, and was very proud of Lori’s figure skating prowess. John was our son Roddy’s first coach. He was kind to the young players, never criticizing but rather gently guiding, and instilled in them a love for the game and good sportsmanship.
Hockey was John’s passion. In addition to coaching and playing himself, in later years for the Willow Point Oldtimers where we were again teammates, he was a referee par excellence and could often be seen at the arena in Campbell River wearing the stripes and calling the shots. One of my last memories of John as I knew him before his illness - over 11 years ago now - was wearing the stripes at the Flying Fathers Game at the Campbell River arena. Another memory that haunts me is seeing John standing and attempting to dance with Lori at her wedding. There was not a dry eye in the house, and he never walked against after that. From a strong, healthy, robust man, John’s motor skills betrayed him, leaving his speech impaired, his legs unable to support him and his hands shaky and uncontrollable. Such a cruel fate for anyone, but I could never understand how something this insidious could happen to such a good man. We are always tempted to ask - "Why him?" But I guess that is not for us to question.
In spite of this dreaded disease, and with the love and support of his family, John bravely faced each new day, never complaining and never losing that wonderful sense of humour. Thanks to the computer on his desk at the hospital, John had access to the outside world via e-mail and the Internet, and he became quite a computer buff. As hard as it was to visit John at the hospital and see him in that state, we never failed to come away inspired by his courage and acceptance. Even as he neared the end, his sense of humour didn’t fail him. He insisted Carol buy me a gift from him - something he wanted me to have in memory of him. What was it? A large green ceramic garden frog in honour of my ancestry. He just couldn’t pass up a chance to make someone laugh. The frog now adorns the hearth in our family room and will serve as a reminder of our good friend.
John had a great many attributes. First and foremost, he was a man who loved his wife, children and grandchildren. They were his reason for living. He was honest, fair, humourous, kind and direct - qualities I much admired him for. It has been difficult for his family and friends to see John decline over the past decade. In all this time, he still maintained his sense of humour and was more concerned about his family than about himself. John was an example to us all. He took what life handed him all in his stride. That was his way.
John, we know you are at peace now -- a well deserved rest. Thanks for your friendship, love and compassion. We are all the richer for having known you, and we’ll miss you.
