Today is remembrance day. A day that for as long as I can remember I have
thought of Pop, my Mom's Dad. It was a day for thinking about Pop because he
served in WW2 and he proudly wore his medals of honor each remembrance day along
with his beret. I wish I had a picture of this.
Some history of Pop: For most of my childhood Pop was there. He came to
live with us briefly when Nanny passed before he moved into a seniors living
home. I spent many hours with Pop. I recall: he smoked regularly and was
rather grumpy. I always thought he didn’t like me but I saw him weekly, he
called nightly and we arranged holiday gatherings around a good time for Pop.
Pop was smart, he enjoyed woodworking, tenis and reading but of course he was
old school in his thinking. For example, Mom insisted I tell him I would be a
doctor because occupational therapist was just not part of his vocab. He
understood lawyer, doctor, nurse and teacher but occupational therapist? forget
it!
While I was growing up my mom took Pop to the food court in Masonville Mall
every Saturday at 11am- SHARP!!! It was always the 3 of us, Mom, Pop and me. We
would sit in the same location, Pop would smoke 10 or so cigarettes and he'd
have a small coffee from Tim Hortons and something to eat. He enjoyed different
foods which made me laugh. There was his phases of poutine from New York Fries,
or the slice of pepperoni pizza from Ms. Vaneilli’s, and then the phase of
Chinese noodles. He even devoured old fashioned doughnuts when the situation
was right. It was our regular Saturday routine and I mostly enjoyed it. I was
the tag along but I’d listen to the senior home gossip, we’d hear the occasional
memory and if Pop was in a particularly good mood, he’d smile and give a little
chuckle. I remember these smiles vividly as they were often unexpected and
subtle. My mom never bat an eye at this commitment and it wasn’t until Pop
passed that she was able to articulate that it was a big weekly commitment that
often tied her down but she did it because Pop looked forward to it.
Sometimes Dad could join us and we would compete for a seated position away
from the cigarette smoke and then one of us would laugh as the smoked travelled
into the eye of the other. This is back when smoking in malls was as common as
drinking water. We’d all smell of cigarette smoking for a day after this, but
Pop lived for this hour out of his daily routine. The habit of smoking
sustained Pop during WW2, in fact that’s when he learned to smoke. It was part
of his daily ration. He tried to quit at 85 years old and he went 2 weeks with
Nicorette by his side. One week we sat in the food court without smoking only
to return the next week with a grumpier then hell Pop who demanded Mom go buy
him a carton- which she promptly did! You didn’t mess with grumpy Pop.
In Pops last years there were a few things that brought him great joy:
smoking and food. There were a few memorable foods that brought Pop joy and my
mom saw to it that we didn't deny him those foods which made him happy.
Pop entered McCormick Retirement Home as a senior looking for a comfortable
livingbecause he had to "pass the time". In his time there, it became a
full-fledged nursing care facility and by the end, he was ready to be gone.
McCormick Home had stopped accepting seniors that smoked and when Pop passed,
the last smoking room in the facility was closed for good- that's right... he
closed it down! The day after he passed away we collected his goods and walked
past the smoking room and it proudly displayed the sign CLOSED!! They should've
named that room after Pop.
Every night Pop called Mom at 6pm on the dot. If we didn't answer the phone
because we were gossiping with a girlfriend on the other line, Pop let mom know
about it. So every night, you made sure you were off the phone at 6pm. He
called from a pay phone and he stashed his quarters in the ripped up material on
the arm rest of his wheel chair- very inventive! The conversations were short
but he liked to check in. These nightly calls grounded us at the end of the
day. No matter what Mom had been through or what our family was doing, it was
important to check in with Pop. It was a moment to pause at the end of a hectic
day.
One visit in June 2002, Mom and I visited Pop in his room because he wasn't
up to a trip to the mall. I sat in the tiny corner and picked up a random book
off his shelf, he asked me, "what ya got ther?"`, it was a poem book written by
Robert Service. Pop paused for a moment, looked at my mom and then back at me
and he started to recite, word for word the poem, "The Cremation of Sam Magee"
and he performed it flawlessly. When he was finished this poem, he started to
recite, "The Shooting of Dan McGrew" . He was sharper than a whip that day and
it was a great day. It was the last visit we had.
It’s now that I’m reflecting back that I realize that I spent the majority of
Saturdays accompanying mom and Pop as I grew up. It is one routine of my
childhood that I will never forget and it likely shaped me in more ways than
one. It's as if Mom was training me early as I have promised my mom the same
unconditional love when the time comes (insert : corner suite, daily chocolate
treats and a friend to chat with every few days – right mom?).
So I learned many lessons from having Pop in my life; take care of your
parents, make time for daily and weekly routines or habits and don't bother
trying to quit something at 85 years of age(Lol). For as much time as I spent
with Pop I find myself wishing I knew more about him now that I have a family of
my own. I wish I had journals of his life, his accomplishments and his
history.
I've had to ask myself, how will I raise my sons differently having had the
experience I had with Pop? and I know that I'd like to have the histories of
our parents to share with the boys. I don't know about Pops childhood, his time
as a prisoner of war, the moment he met Nanny or the years that he worked hard
to bring Mom, Rosslyn and Nanny to Canada.
So, time to get writing grandparents…we want all the details and pictures
too. I want the Quigley boys to know where their grandparents came from, who
they were, what they loved, and what inspired them most.
thought of Pop, my Mom's Dad. It was a day for thinking about Pop because he
served in WW2 and he proudly wore his medals of honor each remembrance day along
with his beret. I wish I had a picture of this.
Some history of Pop: For most of my childhood Pop was there. He came to
live with us briefly when Nanny passed before he moved into a seniors living
home. I spent many hours with Pop. I recall: he smoked regularly and was
rather grumpy. I always thought he didn’t like me but I saw him weekly, he
called nightly and we arranged holiday gatherings around a good time for Pop.
Pop was smart, he enjoyed woodworking, tenis and reading but of course he was
old school in his thinking. For example, Mom insisted I tell him I would be a
doctor because occupational therapist was just not part of his vocab. He
understood lawyer, doctor, nurse and teacher but occupational therapist? forget
it!
While I was growing up my mom took Pop to the food court in Masonville Mall
every Saturday at 11am- SHARP!!! It was always the 3 of us, Mom, Pop and me. We
would sit in the same location, Pop would smoke 10 or so cigarettes and he'd
have a small coffee from Tim Hortons and something to eat. He enjoyed different
foods which made me laugh. There was his phases of poutine from New York Fries,
or the slice of pepperoni pizza from Ms. Vaneilli’s, and then the phase of
Chinese noodles. He even devoured old fashioned doughnuts when the situation
was right. It was our regular Saturday routine and I mostly enjoyed it. I was
the tag along but I’d listen to the senior home gossip, we’d hear the occasional
memory and if Pop was in a particularly good mood, he’d smile and give a little
chuckle. I remember these smiles vividly as they were often unexpected and
subtle. My mom never bat an eye at this commitment and it wasn’t until Pop
passed that she was able to articulate that it was a big weekly commitment that
often tied her down but she did it because Pop looked forward to it.
Sometimes Dad could join us and we would compete for a seated position away
from the cigarette smoke and then one of us would laugh as the smoked travelled
into the eye of the other. This is back when smoking in malls was as common as
drinking water. We’d all smell of cigarette smoking for a day after this, but
Pop lived for this hour out of his daily routine. The habit of smoking
sustained Pop during WW2, in fact that’s when he learned to smoke. It was part
of his daily ration. He tried to quit at 85 years old and he went 2 weeks with
Nicorette by his side. One week we sat in the food court without smoking only
to return the next week with a grumpier then hell Pop who demanded Mom go buy
him a carton- which she promptly did! You didn’t mess with grumpy Pop.
In Pops last years there were a few things that brought him great joy:
smoking and food. There were a few memorable foods that brought Pop joy and my
mom saw to it that we didn't deny him those foods which made him happy.
- Kipper Fish: for real this is the smelliest, most odorous fish in the
world!!! Mom would cook this for Pop and the smell
lingered for
days…weeks…months!! I despised this fish and begged her not to buy it. To this
day she claims, "you couldn't deny Pop this one pleasure in life". I could smell
this fish a mile away to this day- I shudder just thinking about it. - Ready Crisp Bacon. This bacon comes in a red package and doesn't require
refrigeration of any kind! Scary? - Chocolate. There was a time when Pop gave us large Cadbury's chocolate bars
from him each week. This is when I started to love Cadbury's Fruit and Nut
bars. - Sardines. Those salty little devils.
- Non-alcoholic beer. This was started after he gave up the drink for good. I
was young and didn't totally understand why he liked it but if Pop wanted it, it
must have been good.
Pop entered McCormick Retirement Home as a senior looking for a comfortable
livingbecause he had to "pass the time". In his time there, it became a
full-fledged nursing care facility and by the end, he was ready to be gone.
McCormick Home had stopped accepting seniors that smoked and when Pop passed,
the last smoking room in the facility was closed for good- that's right... he
closed it down! The day after he passed away we collected his goods and walked
past the smoking room and it proudly displayed the sign CLOSED!! They should've
named that room after Pop.
Every night Pop called Mom at 6pm on the dot. If we didn't answer the phone
because we were gossiping with a girlfriend on the other line, Pop let mom know
about it. So every night, you made sure you were off the phone at 6pm. He
called from a pay phone and he stashed his quarters in the ripped up material on
the arm rest of his wheel chair- very inventive! The conversations were short
but he liked to check in. These nightly calls grounded us at the end of the
day. No matter what Mom had been through or what our family was doing, it was
important to check in with Pop. It was a moment to pause at the end of a hectic
day.
One visit in June 2002, Mom and I visited Pop in his room because he wasn't
up to a trip to the mall. I sat in the tiny corner and picked up a random book
off his shelf, he asked me, "what ya got ther?"`, it was a poem book written by
Robert Service. Pop paused for a moment, looked at my mom and then back at me
and he started to recite, word for word the poem, "The Cremation of Sam Magee"
and he performed it flawlessly. When he was finished this poem, he started to
recite, "The Shooting of Dan McGrew" . He was sharper than a whip that day and
it was a great day. It was the last visit we had.
It’s now that I’m reflecting back that I realize that I spent the majority of
Saturdays accompanying mom and Pop as I grew up. It is one routine of my
childhood that I will never forget and it likely shaped me in more ways than
one. It's as if Mom was training me early as I have promised my mom the same
unconditional love when the time comes (insert : corner suite, daily chocolate
treats and a friend to chat with every few days – right mom?).
So I learned many lessons from having Pop in my life; take care of your
parents, make time for daily and weekly routines or habits and don't bother
trying to quit something at 85 years of age(Lol). For as much time as I spent
with Pop I find myself wishing I knew more about him now that I have a family of
my own. I wish I had journals of his life, his accomplishments and his
history.
I've had to ask myself, how will I raise my sons differently having had the
experience I had with Pop? and I know that I'd like to have the histories of
our parents to share with the boys. I don't know about Pops childhood, his time
as a prisoner of war, the moment he met Nanny or the years that he worked hard
to bring Mom, Rosslyn and Nanny to Canada.
So, time to get writing grandparents…we want all the details and pictures
too. I want the Quigley boys to know where their grandparents came from, who
they were, what they loved, and what inspired them most.