Thursday, May 28, 2009
A note about Grandfather for all to hear... Although I am not here with you this evening, I can well imagine the banter that has ensued over the past few days, for it seems that everyone has a Wall story to tell. Being the oldest grandchild, I have been privy to the “I’m 50 now line” for many years. That was the line he coined when he would arrive home from the road with a shovel in one hand and a lunch bucket in the other, and make into the pinch forks as if the hay was going to disappear if he didn’t make it. The “I’m 50 “ part was supposed to make the rest of us feel useless for our age, and in Grandfather’s own mind, he was simply restating what many great philosophers already espoused, that youth is often wasted on the young. I won’t cower from telling it like it is, since whether compliment or criticism that was what earned me the distinct privilege of hearing Grandfather say, “see, you’re just like me”. For years my opinion was seen as sauce, since I was raised in St. Bride’s, but with age, we both mellowed and my words were simply accepted as, “ I said the same thing”! There was a real joy in sharing common ground with Grandfather. When he was in a pleasant place, his conversations were delightful and fun, but for those of us who were the victims of him thinking out loud in our presence, there was a real poison in experiencing his wrath. But, let’s face it so long as what the cat dragged in was with someone else, it gave each of us a secret pleasure. As you reminisce and share tales remember Grandfather’s mantra, tell it like it is. Tonight it really does not matter if you are a Branch man or a Point Lance Man, or if Grandfather had qualms with you or not, the truth be told he had something that made us all come back for more of his never ending chatter. With our dark side out of the way, there is no denying that in his own way, and on his own terms, he loved us. It was always interesting hearing him talk about carrying my mom across the brook; bringing home treats from St. John’s; telling Dick Dalton what he could do with a bag of candy…yes for those of you who know this man well there are no surprises here! I grew up thinking he did not have much time for the world and then on several occasions sat in awe as he cried his heart out showing compassion beyond compare. In 1985 when Martin and I stopped on the path on the evening of Wayne’s death, grandfather’s truest colours came through when he leaned in over the window and said, “the poor little fella.” Say no more. They were hard times, but raising a family in tough times, he was no stranger to struggle and work. These were the hard-knocks that defined him. He delighted in every venture we took; the fact that he had the most grandchildren around finished university was definitely one of his highlights. He took great pride in many things, but for whatever reason had difficulty letting us know. Rest assured that in our weekly chats he would let me know how great this one and that one was doing. I don’t know who took more delight in us having pension plans, Grandfather or Mickey Brennan. We shared what you might call the gift of gab, so sometimes that meant we were the best of friends and other times it meant we would end our conversations bluntly. Over the years Grandfather entrusted me with many stories; his insight and philosophy of life as it were. So whether you know him as Wall, Mr. Coffey, or the infamous Rockford, it really doesn’t matter. Thank you for being your own man. As my dad would say, Wall never left the house without a bucket or a pocket knife, always prepared whether he was riding a horse and dray or the Cadillac…made no difference to him. And tonight I get the last words, and in consolation I will use some of his famous one-liners, for never more will you be called a little trout or told that a smile costs nothing. No matter where you travel or what you do, remember whose they? Our thoughts and prayers are with you all, Martin, Sandra, Jonathan, and Clayton Careen. Abbotsford , British Columbia.
