Time, elusive and
in retrospect too often swift in its passage. Looking backward it seems
impossible that the little girl who used to sit and listen so intently
as her Grandpa recounted tales of years gone by has now become this woman
of the 'older' generation that now makes up the family elders. Always
dignified, often serious, but also frequently fun, and most definitely
a man who enjoyed the respect of all who knew him. That was my grandfather,
Tom McGaw. This page is for him and for my grandchildren. I want
so much to share with them just a few of my memories about the wonderful
man they missed knowing from another generation of their family.
One of my fondest memories is of the many
late afternoons or early evenings spent quietly sitting on the end of the
dock, bamboo fishing pole in hand, mimicking that dear man sitting beside
me and attempting to look as if I was an old hand at this fishing game.
No
new - fangled fishing rod for Grandpa ! The challenge of a good catch
and a successful fishing expedition ( when the 6 quart basket was
filled to overflowing with fresh water perch) was so much more satisfying
using his weathered old poles and infinite patience. The hours spent sitting
with that wonderful man on the end of the pier dangling our fishing lines
into the water afforded so many wonderful opportunities for tales
of the past and a glimpse into the life of this man and the heritage which
I now consider a treasure beyond words.
The secret of course to being a successful
fisherman was having enough patience to sit quietly and wait, not an easy
lesson for a chatterbox to learn ! The realization that silence could be
golden was one which was not arrived at quickly and I must have tried
Grandpa's patience on many of those occasions although never even once
did he lose patience with me. Certainly he taught me that silence
shared with someone you love can indeed be a wondrous gift.. When the silence
was broken one had to be certain to be listening carefully as it was a
sure thing whatever Grandpa was about to say would be well worth hearing
and remembering. Seldom, if ever, did he waste energy or words on idle
chatter.
One lesson the value of which he
never quite managed to make attractive for me however was when we
arrived home with those baskets and retired to the back stoop for the scaling
and cleaning chore. That part of fishing was definitely NOT my cup of tea
! He would usually finally give up even trying to share that part
of the adventure with me and would say with a resigned sort of sigh, (
as if he were thinking, 'she is ONLY a girl after all ' ), " go tell
your Grandma she can heat up the frying pan and help her set the table."
Another excellent opportunity for shared quality
time with the special man who was my grandfather was when he was in his
gardens. He spent many hours each day nurturing and caring for his huge
vegetable gardens and was invariably rewarded with a yield sufficient to
feed the entire neighbourhood. Weeds were not welcome amongst his
carefully cultivated rows of nature's bounty. Even tiny hands ( once they
had been thoroughly trained and their owner could recognize the difference
between nurtured bounty and unwelcome intruder) were welcome as an adjunct
to his and grandma's always busy fingers. At 90 years of age he was
still in his gardens every day when the weather permitted. Yes, gardens
is correct. He was not content with one large garden and had an arrangement
with the next door neighbour to have the use of the huge lot dividing their
two properties for the purposes of having additional land which he
could plant to add to the variety of vegetables he would then provide
to all and sundry. My love of gardening is another of those
gifts for which I am eternally grateful in the long list of things for
which I owe him so much.
A memory which never fails to make me smile
even today is the image of Grandpa quietly sitting with jack knife in hand
either outside in a garden chair or in the dining room in his rocker, once
the gardening chores for the day were finished, patiently whittling some
small piece of wood to a finely carved masterpiece. If a piece of
wood was not readily available even the arms of the rocker
would do very nicely. He had both arms of that rocker adorned with many
hours of patient labour and honed to a smooth polished finish without ever
seeing sandpaper or polish. I often wonder if that rocker is
cherished by whoever has it today ? Or if they have any idea how
many hours were spent creating the intricate patterns.
My Grandfather was a man of great faith,
a devout Christian, and a life long Baptist. As such he had certain beliefs
which were frequently at odds with the norms of my teen age years. Dancing
? " Well... it really isn't proper but if you must my girl then I
suppose its all right." ( my Mother never quite reconciled his acceptance
of this in my case as she remembered all too well his absolute refusal
to do so in her case in years past.) I now realize that Grandparents
do indeed seem to acquire a capacity for tolerance which is quite amazing.
Another example of this was when he discovered
his granddaughter was smoking ! Of course this was long before the dangers
of smoking were known. Nevertheless smoking was a NO NO in his book , certainly
for a young lady. He smoked a pipe but no young woman should smoke ! His
only comment to me ? "Are you smoking young lady ? You do know
don't you that if the good Lord had intended you to smoke he would
have equipped you with a chimney ? But, if you must then please do
it in front of me and not behind my back." Of course Grandpa was
the last person on this earth to whom I would have lied so I admitted
to this terrible crime and henceforth did as he asked. Again .. my
Mother reminded me of the amazing increase in tolerance being
displayed by her father.
My Grandmother was as loving and dear,
( although sometimes not quite as patient with a headstrong young girl
) but my bond with my Grandfather was deeper and one which has influenced
much of my life. I was closer to him than to anyone else during my
growing up years. I thank God for the time I was blessed to share
with him. It has made my life infinitely better. And so many
times through the years I have found the strength needed to deal with
problems from something he taught me.
Many times through those years I
would have given anything to be able to spend just one more hour in the
company of that dear man. Just one more hour. Even to hear a lecture
as he pointed out gently but firmly, as only he could do, the error of
my ways.
I came to realize as I grew up how blessed
I was to be his granddaughter. I have spent the years since his passing
with an enormous sense of gratitude for the years I was fortunate
enough to share with this man and remembering at times when most
needed many of the lessons he taught with such love and kindness.
One in particular has served me well on many occasions. ' If you take on
a job my girl always do your best. Never settle for less than your very
best.'
Another which I have always tried to
follow was one taught not in words but by his example. 'Do unto others
as you would have done unto you.' I sincerely hope I have succeeded
more frequently than I have failed.
Jackson
and Thomas McGaw in their garden.
To make traversing
this site as easy as possible I have created this site directory
which is the only method
of navigation to the different pages and sections
MIDI "True Love" courtesy
of Les Gorven
revised January 2006
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