Well it’s been interesting…
To start this saga; my father died Jan 5th and I entered hospital the next day, in the morning, by ambulance, in excruciating pain. Luckily for me it was the incredibly unromantic …gallbladder attack. So home again this time with a bottle of magic pills to stop the pain and with instructions to head directly back to the hospital if I start another, I began planning the funeral, to be held in Stratford Jan. 12th.
Here is the sermon/memorial talk I gave:
So why did we choose the hymns we chose?
The tune Finlandia was played through the night as the Nazi army marched into Poland my father, his mother, sister Isobel, and brother Robert, sat listening to the wireless knowing their world had changed. Dad was a storyteller in words and paint. He drew vivid pictures in stories of a time in our history brought about by the kind of isolationist and recriminatory style of politics we see in the ascendant today.
He eventually moved to Canada and married in 1956, Muriel, my mom. In the obituary I wrote that we were co conspirators, we talked about creating a better world – about faith, how war and aggression was the worst of humanity and so we plotted and planned and invented and
marched and organized. The hymn “How can I Keep from Singing” is an anthem that speaks to this part of our lives and dads life. He was on the collective bargaining team for Bata engineering and was on the line when scabs killed a worker. He never forgot that corporations don’t have consciences or souls, only men and women do and so they must be defended. He never saw a difference between himself and the dustbin man, he was truly humble and self effacing. If you called him a gentleman he would strongly object because to do that is to imply that others were not and less than him and he wouldn’t stand for that at all.
From designing factories to decorating Bata headquarters in Toronto to sculpting and writing poetry cutting hay and bringing it in in the back of a brand new Ford Cortina… He loved photography and the family history as court photographers to Queen Victoria, we went to Windsor and enjoyed an afternoon in the royal photographic archives at the behest of Francis Diamond the curator we sat in Windsor castle overlooking the town high up in a tower and I think he was more than a little tickled that he got to do it. We are both FRIPS Fellows of the Royal Photographic Society and dad was also a founding member of the Stratford Art Guild our first meetings were at the home of Gerrard Brender a Brandis and we decided his title should be L’Eminance Gris. He was also a member of the East Central Ontario artists association. Many, many days were spent driving around Stirling and area- mom with a book dad with his paints me also with a book .
He loved jazz the blues, big band swing, musicals, Buffy Saint Marie, Joni Mitchell, Jacque Brel, opera- mom and dad for years had season tickets to the Hamilton Opera. Art and the intersection of politics and faith was my parents passion, we ate nothing but macaroni for weeks to save enough to drive in the Austen Viva to Ottawa to see an exhibit and stay at the Lord Elgin Hotel where the cherry pie tasted just like home made, or we would go the McMichael gallery – our very favourite and spend the day. We would stop along the way and I have memories of a coleman stove on a picnic table with mom warming chili in sub zero weather just so we didn’t have to eat in a restaurant!
He didn’t see limits either to what one could learn to do in a life time- not great famous making things, (he deplored self promotion) or money making things-that mattered not at all to mom or dad, but acts of kindness and giving; of exploration just for the sake of it, doing things that made you happy and made life worth living for others too- just look at the things he tackled- often at the silent urging of mum- we drove up to the house on Patricia Rd. once and mom met us on the step as we approached dad said, “uh oh she’s cute-ing…we’re in for it now.. “Fond memories of being taught traditional songs at bed time only to hear them again when my sons Sam and Zach were young and dad sang them to them. He could sing like nobodies business.
Boling along in the car singing at the top of our lungs dad quoting Kipling or Byron or Milton constantly, most memorably and perhaps traumatically for all of us when my dog died –don’t give your heart to a dog to tear- neither of us made it through! Beware the jabberwok my friend old Uncle Tom Cobly and all..
But I also remember his love for all my cousins from Pam his sister Isobel’s daughter and her daughter Andrea to all the Clappison clan if I named all to whom he was grateful this would be a very long service indeed Philip, Herb and Norma now both gone, oh crap I started I have dad’s memories and moms of Bill, Richard, David, Donny, Bob & Ann Peter, Paul, Rhonda& Garry, Ruth& Jim, Edward, Dorothy, Frances, especially Fred’s mead and he loved being a part of that great sprawling story that was the Clappison Schultz, Lenz Lee epic. Larger than life it is. But dad loved that he got to help mediate and ameliorate as part of that family the various difficult times all families find themselves in, my friends too had the good fortune to be helped by mom and dad.
So we come to “For the Fruit of all Creation”, he with mom taught me to trust my own voice, to love my own voice and to never allow anyone to silence me. To never accept shame as my due no matter the mistakes I made in life, but to turn my back on that darkness and always, always face the light and if I couldn’t see the light? Then to come home and we would find it together, because that what you do as a parent. Your only job according to my dad and mom was to love your child not judge, not bully ,not even improve them. But to teach them to trust that there are 2 places to find the light at home and at home –the church in the company of Jesus freaks and seekers. Love will find you and Everything else can be sorted given time. The child’s job is to further the kingdom of light to remind us of wonders that astound, not to be famous or successful as the world judges that, but be kind, happy, at peace, creative. To Dad, God was all that is Good, all that worked for good and all that existed was somehow good, and therefore of God. If it had life and was life giving it was of God.
Dad loved Sam and Zach with all his heart from your very first day on this planet, I cannot describe the depth and breadth and non judging love and pride he carried for you in his heart and he enjoyed you both so much he always had faith in your goodness the only thing that really mattered to him, you gave him so many opportunities to play and be happy, he got such a kick out of you and later spending time in Kitchener with Terry, Alison, Stan et al his favorite café he even admitted grudgingly that cats weren’t all bad really. Thank you for feeding him…and for the scrabble and conversations I know you must have had.
So many of his dear friends are gone Stan Whip who owned a camera store in Hamilton Dr. John Taylor. Who was his closest friend in Canada and his room mate in England they were kindred spirits and they were matched in intellectual curiosity. Rodney Wright Watson and Mickey.
I’m going to close with the last chapter and a new relationship with my husband Ben, dad didn’t understand Ben at first but as time went on he depended more and more on his help and input he would call frequently from Kitchener and when he moved to Colchester with us for Ben to help him save his dignity in the face of a changing and challenging physical, reality. They became a pair or perhaps a 4some at home while I worked, Ben, dad and Mouse with Zach at home to keep the light on later with Tonka who loved him too. I am grateful for all the love and hard work and time Ben spent making dad’s life just a little better every day than it was the day before if at all possible- he drove the nursing home nuts with his insistence on personalized care for dad and while doing that and attending every Dr.s apt and doing copious amounts of paper work he forged a bond with dad that was one not of son-in law but son. From videos of fly-passes to tours of “The British Museum” and how to build a bomber from the box to helping him write emails to England to bathing him and keeping from his daughter things a father shouldn’t have to share face to face. I couldn’t have done what I’ve done in the last 12 years if first dad hadn’t helped with my tuition and supported this crazy life in the church and if Ben hadn’t been willing to give up his ambitions and stay at home to care for dad so I could with out fear, work. Ben says it was the easiest decision he’s had to make because Jack deserved it- deserved all the help we could give. I’m sure we all have stories and I hope to hear some of them after this service – there will be coffee and tea offered by the kind people of St. James.
So I end with this – dad gave me this on my 16th birthday much better than Albert Camus’s The Plague that he gave me on my 11th!
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.
So for the Wonders that astound us, for the Truths that still confound us, most of all that Love has found us thanks be to God.
Dour Mouse 