“I’ll see you next week, Daddy,”
I said.
“I hope I’m feeling better then,”
he said.
“I do, too, Daddy. I love you,”
I said as I kissed his cheek.
This week, I hope he is feeling great,
playing tennis in heaven.
.
.
.
This was the 2000th post on ShawnBird.com I’d celebrate, but I’m not quite up to it, for obvious reasons.
Oh, if only those
air conditioner fans would stop
then I could listen to
the summer serenading
of the frogs.
My scheduled time to sit vigil by your bed
was one o’clock this afternoon.
I was there, but you were gone.
.
on this journey
the sun is bright
occasionally it blinds to way ahead
on this journey
bugs occasionally pester us
pepper us with worries
on this journey
there are hills to climb
with slow deliberation
step by step
on this journey
there are wild rides, laughter, and open eyes
on this journey
the destination is secondary
The ground squirrels have been offering endless entertainment
Daily theatre of gamboling fun with whistle accompaniment.
First I saw a lady with a trap
Then all the ground squirrels were gone.
End of the play.
Critics are deadly.
Overheard:
She wasn’t wearing her come-hither garment?
That was his excuse?
Perhaps he should wear his come-hither garment,
it’s not like she doesn’t ask him to all the time.
(Oh dear. For lack of garment, neither he nor she is coming-hither!)
She told you, didn’t she?
You saw it in her eyes and the set of her lips.
She had expectations,
and you, generally so sensible to duty,
ignored overt and covert messages,
and carried on blithely
as steam gathered in her head and shot out her ears
in silent reprobation.
Then you shrugged your shoulders, quirked your eyebrows,
and said, “What?” with a tone that flipped all switches of her self-control
and you were astonished at the explosion of emotion
thus released.
She told you. Why weren’t you listening?
He is silent after the question
and she can hear his thoughts weaving through truths
to find the one he can speak aloud.
She accepts his spoken thought
but is not deceived.
His relief is unwarranted.
The four year old leukemia patient
asked her nurse to marry her, and he said yes.
Then the whole floor got together to make a wedding:
flowers, brides maids, walk down the aisle on rose petals.
Ring pops were exchanged.
“This is the best day of my life!” the child bride exclaimed.
Youtube wedding video shared. Oh how cute! proclaims the internet.
.
I remember being four years old,
adoring the oldest son of our family friend.
His sisters all thought my devotion was adorable.
“I’ll wait for you,” he said with a kind smile.
And I believed him.
Then when I was nine, a wedding invitation came.
“You can’t have thought he was serious!” my mother snickered
at my distress.
I was rude to the bride, and no one understood why.
But I had learned that grown-ups lie and when your childish heart is crushed
they think it’s cute and kind of funny.
I remember, it was neither
for me.
.
.
.
.
Adults need to remember that children’s feelings are REAL, and that what’s ‘pretend’ is not always clear. When adults enter into imaginary play with such enthusiasm, they must do so with great care. I confess, I’ve never quite forgiven that older brother (now 67!!) for crushing my childish heart’s expectation. While I definitely appreciate the intentions of all involved in this quote wedding unquote, I do hope Abby is not as crushed as I was to learn the truth.
Side story: the rudeness was that I told the bride her bridal hat was horrible and no one should wear hats at their wedding. When it came time for my own wedding, I tried on a gorgeous bridal hat that looked fantastic on me. Always sensible to hypocrisy, I chose not to get it. (Looking at wedding photos from my era, I suspect that was probably for the best).
Article about the hospital wedding here.
Shawn L. Bird 
Obituary- Herbert Mosses Duguay
Tags: death, grief, Herb Duguay, loss, mosses, obituary
HERBERT MOSSES DUGUAY
October 25, 1914 – July 25, 2015
Herb Duguay passed away peacefully Saturday, July 25, 2015 in his 101st year. Herb was a devoted father and husband. He was the son of Charlotte Coombes Mosses Duguay and David Owen Mosses, but raised as the son of Joseph Georges Duguay in Montreal. He was married to Alison MacMillan Duguay Baker for over twenty years. He was married to his beloved Lalita Ortlieb Fuson Duguay for fifty-three years. He had one daughter by birth, Shawn (John) Bird, and three children by the heart, Wayne Fuson, Stewart (Gail) Fuson, and Naomi Verbonac. He had 8 grandchildren: Veronica, Shane, Lalita, Jolene, Trista, Charlotte, Nicholas, and Kyle. He had 9 great-grandchildren.
Herb’s first memory was seeing the World War 1 soldiers coming home in 1919. Around this time he was run over by a brand new Model T Ford. We are thankful for their high wheel clearance.
He was an avid Boy Scout and saw Lord and Lady Baden-Powell when they came to Canada in the 1920s.
In the 1930’s Herb worked in quality control at Burroughs Wellcome Pharmaceuticals. As a result, he was a lifetime believer in the power of Polysporin.
He built bombers at Fairchild Aircraft in Montreal during World War 2 because the army didn’t want him. They said he had a bad heart. They were wrong. Herb was all heart.
He moved to Vancouver in the 1950s to start up Maco Industries with Reg Baker. For the next thirty years he travelled through Western Canada selling their products to building supply stores. He was proud of his ethics and the good relations that garnered him respect and openings everywhere, because he only sold products he believed in. He was still selling in the care home, pitching his daughter Shawn’s books to staff and residents at every opportunity.
He was a travelling salesman who never missed a school performance or event of significance.
Herb never walked past a child’s lemonade stand without buying a glass and chatting.
He always had a good dog to keep him company.
He was an avid tennis and table-tennis player throughout his life. Though blinded by macular-degeneration, he still played into his 80s with unerring accuracy. In the last few years, he was the goalie for the award winning Bastion Care Home floor hockey team. Until two weeks ago, he walked up 2 flights of stairs each day.
He was proud of the letter from the Queen for his 100th birthday. He was prouder of the accomplishments of his children and grandchildren.
Herb was friendly, funny, honest, kind-hearted, and loyal. The world is a less gentle place without him in it. He was truly a “man of worth.”
Thanks to the Bastion Care Home staff. You were his favourites.
Herb Duguay (age 85) and Teddy
Herb Duguay (age 70) and Shawn
( ^ In that picture he always reminds me of Maurice Chevalier. Dad loved to sing Chevalier’s Thank Heaven for Little Girls to me when I was little).
Herb (age 40ish) behind Maco with Kinky the dachshund
Herb Duguay tennis champion
He told me he’d won a big tournament in Montreal once. I just received this photo which I had never seen. I wish I could ask Dad about it! No idea of year- somewhere between 1945-55 I’m guessing. Let me know if this trophy looks familiar!
From the cast photo of A Nautical Knot performed Nov 30, Dec 1-2, 1939 by St Andrews Operatic Society Montreal
A Nautical Knot was a comic operetta by William Rhys-Herbert. Dad could not sing a note, but he was filler on stage. He used to laugh about it. I believe it was put on by the St Andrews United Church in Lachine, which held its last service Dec 18, 2011.
Vincent Martin, Herb Duguay, Kenneth Dow Boy Scouts Montreal 1930ish
Vincent Martin joined the Merchant Marine and was killed Sept 1941, age 26.
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