Dad
Three weeks ago Dad turned 86, less than a week later he left this world.
Probably the first thing that comes to mind when most folks remember Dad was his
extremely economical use of language. On occasions when others might say “ That is
precisely how I feel, Terry, I concur with your position on the matter quite emphatically!”
– Dad could cover all that with just one word – “Yup.”
Or on occasions when he was displeased his kids (I’m sure Sandi, Lorraine, Naida, and
Will, can think of one or two occasions, as do I) he wouldn’t need to go into a lot of
detail (that was Mom’s job) he could show his displeasure by frowning and packing a
long lecture into a single word like “EH?”
Other times when he felt he just didn’t have anything useful to add to the conversation
he’d just shrug.
Another example of Dad’s visual language was “The Sawatzky Finger”: While sitting
at the dinner table Dad would merely have to point at the salt and one of his kids would
pass it to him. Or if you had your back turned you might get a gentle poke in the ribs, or
if he had just come in from working outside on a winter day you might discover those
cold hands on the back of your neck! And you would turn with a start to discover Dad
laughing at this, simple, wordless fun.
I once saw a documentary of a man called the “Horse Whisperer” – it turns out that
there is no whispering involved with Horse Language, you just have to learn their body
language and watch for the signs... a toss of the head, a turn of the ear closest to you ...
I realized, while watching that show, that I had been watching Dad all my life –
watching for the signs. (No wonder I became an Artist!)
Of course Dad loved horses. If you wanted to hear him talk just get him going on the
subject of horses! Working on Chaddsy’s Farm, or riding horses or the time the horse he
was on fell sideways and he had to lift his leg out of the way, but he stayed in the saddle.
I asked him once how old he was when he rode a horse last – he thought for a moment
and said “Fifteen”. Those big, gentle, animals obviously left a lasting impression on him.
The last time we visited Uncle Jack I sat and listened as he asked Dad “Hey, Ron,
remember that time we moved the barn with horses?” –All “Dad’s side” of the family call
him “Ron” (or Uncle Ron), I remember being a kid and wondering who they were talking
about at first.
Much later, I hoped to give my son, Dylan, the opportunity to hear his Grampa tell a
story, so I asked him about this “moving a barn with horses tale.” Dad just shrugged and
said, “It was just a chicken coop.”
Back in the Summerland days we would often go for a “walk around the block”. The
“block” that we lived on was over a quarter of a mile on the two longer sides, so we
would typically cut through the orchard when we got around to the point opposite our
house on the far side. By then, typically, Dad would be at least thirty feet behind
everyone else, no matter how many times Mom went back to speed him up. Dad liked to
take things slowly, many times I heard him say, “Why run when you can walk?”
I always enjoyed the many visits with the Shramm families; Louis and especially his
brother Johnny, had a talent for getting Dad talking. I especially liked hearing some of his
stories from WW II when he was in the Air Force.
Like, how he would break regulations by taking off his tie while doing aircraft
maintenance and hastily replace it when an officer approached.
Or the time when once, near Kamloops, the train he was on while moving to a different
base, made a long stop. He and some others figured they had plenty of time to go for a
beer. On their way back they noticed the train was already moving, so they had to run and
jump on.
That seems like a lot of UN-Dad-like things in one short tale. Although if you wanted to
see Dad move fast Uncle Arnie’s suggestion was to just say, ”Do you want to go Fishing,
Aron?”
Dad worked at The Summerland Research Station (which we always called the
Experimental Farm, or just ‘The Farm’) for over thirty-five years, doing mostly outdoor
work like picking fruit or spraying pesticides on fruit trees. Although, they sometimes
had unusual tasks due to the ‘experimental’ nature of the place- like tying apples back on
to the trees.
For awhile Dad worked in the lab and recorded data from the weather station, however,
rule changes required him to finish high school in order to continue doing those tasks
which he opted not to do.
In the winter after a particularly heavy snowfall Dad would get an early morning phone
call from work asking him to plough the treacherously icy, snow covered road up the hill
to The Farm. So he would climb into his old two-wheel-drive pickup and drive up that
road to the garage where the snow-plough was kept and THEN plough the road for
everyone else that worked there. Before the regular starting time!
Another ‘special’ job was driving the mail van. This, Dad referred to as Stan’s Job.
Whenever Stan took his holidays Dad would do “Stan’s Job”, a change that he enjoyed a
lot.
When I was a kid, at Christmastime, we didn’t just dust off the fake tree or even go out
and buy one in a lot –We “Hunted” a wild tree. Off we would go to the woods “behind
The Farm”. I remember walking through the deep snow to find the perfect tree and then
Dad would climb up and cut off just the top, and we’d drag it back to the truck (or was it
a car back then?), and bring it home. Those trees that looked tiny in the woods often
turned out to be over nine feet tall.
The things I did with Dad : walking in the woods; picking up prunings; gardening; fixing
machines (lawnmower maintenance comes to mind) ...many of these things have become
some of my favorite activities.
Mom left this world quite suddenly, and unexpectedly, but Dad was taken away slowly,
bit by bit- for about five years his abilities have escaped him - walking, standing, eating, -
breathing...
But now Mom and Dad are together again – with wings! That’s pretty cool, right, Dad?
-Can’t you hear him saying it?-
“Yup.”
