Large Fierce Mammal

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QH6OOfh7sFs

“My Father, Lawrence, taught me to stand straight and tall, look others in the eye, and that there is a difference between making an enemy and recognizing one. He taught me that a good technician, confounded by his failure to diagnose a problem or to make a thing work, blames himself first, steps back to first principles, and moves forward yet again until he finds his answer. That he always respects and maintains his tools, eschews borrowing those of another, and except in the most dire emergency, never substitutes one tool for another that is best suited to the job. That sometimes a Man just has to put the tools away, stuff the problem into a dark room at the back of his mind with an equally dark piece of his intellect to incubate, pour a sound drink to be enjoyed in his favourite chair, and come back at it tomorrow.

“A self-taught guitarist and accomplished vocalist in the genre then called “Country and Western”, he taught me the joy inherent in making music, in singing, and the doing of both among Friends. He taught me how to recognize when another man has shown disrespect to you; worse, to a woman you are escorting; and worst of all, to your Woman. The subtle distinctions defining when to suggest someone leave, to tell them they need to leave, to assist them in finding their coat and hat, when and how to appropriately show them the door, and not least of all, to know when and how to employ hand, foot, or both in giving them, as he used to say, ‘a send’, in their gracious compliance with your suggestion they depart.

“My Father taught me to tie a neck tie, and that there is no place in life for one that clips on. He taught me to tie my shoes, and how important it is that, no matter how worn an item of footwear might be, or any other item made of leather come to that, it must never appear neglected for one’s gear is a reflection of he who wears it. That a Man must own at least one good suit, it must fit, and he must know when and where to be in it. To know when to remove a hat. How to woo a woman just by showing up with panache, and the social importance of laughter, both giving and receiving.

“He taught me to change furnace filters, lay flooring, hang drywall, work safely on high ladders and scaffolding, hammer a nail straight, and how to solder the most delicate of electronic components to his standards, meaning perfection.

“To have time for a child’s questions.

“He taught me the joy of masterfully crafting necessary and useful items from natural materials – wood, metals, and leather – and that a Man must have the know how, skills, and tools to maintain and mend his kit. That you must think long and hard before acquiring anything that you can’t maintain and repair on your own, but that there is a time to call in a specialist instead of tackling the job yourself.” ~ Wordly Wisdom Wednesday – Education

As you can see from what you just read, a lot of me was hand crafted by my Father. Now get comfortable while I tell you another story, the gravity of which only came to my own full understanding after his death.

For background, my Father ran a successful radio and television repair business in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia throughout my childhood into my own adult years, and even worked with me for a time in technical aspects of my security business. Throughout his professional career, he was routinely consulted by competitors to fix the unfixable, and also took gigs as a sound engineer tasked to assorted bands touring the Maritimes (how I met Joan Baez, but that’s a story for another time), worked for RCA (we had Nipper merch all over the house) as a RADAR and LORAN technician on large ships undergoing refit or repair, and worked in the quality control department of Teleglobe Canada during construction of the their second satellite ground station antenna (shown at left — source: Kings County News). If it was electronic in nature, my Father could make it work and keep it working.

“The satellite station was one of only five in the world at the time – and one of only two in North America. It was built in 1963, just after the Russians launched the Sputnik satellite … (Everything you watched in the 1960s and 70s came through Mill Village, Nova Scotia)

“Mill Village was chosen as the site of the satellite (station) because of its remote location – with very little radio interference – and was also close to railways and roads to bring in the large equipment necessary to build the station. It was dedicated to beaming telephone and television signals from a fixed satellite, and drew in many special events, from the famous hockey match between Canada and Russia in 1972 to Muhammad Ali’s Rumble in the Jungle in 1974.” ~ Special Canada 150 focus on Mill Village satellite station at exhibition

All very laudable and worthy of prominence in any Man’s curriculum vitae, but even a Man of such gifts can make a mistake now and then, and it was in the full realization of his technical prowess that my Father decided to expand into the retail side of consumer electronics.

Only 8 or 9 years old at the time, none of the fallout of that decision really registered on me, and all I really knew was that my Father was rarely home, his repair shop now being in the store instead of in our house as it had always been before the expansion. In fact, family finances had been dealt a devastating blow to the point of ruin if not for the adoption of desperate measures, and the situation had come to resemble picking fly shit out of pepper with boxing gloves on.

The family needed money. A lot of it, and it needed it fast. In the Lunenburg of those days, there was no surer way to make a lot of money in a hurry than going to sea.

Among my Father’s clientele were a wide assortment of seafarers that included most of the fishing Captains and First Mates sailing out of Lunenburg. Two of his brothers also went to sea — one on a fishing trawler, the other a scallop dragger. Getting himself “a chance” aboard any of these vessels was a sure thing. They were always in fierce competition for good Men, and my Father was regarded far and wide as standing among the best of that breed, notwithstanding that he had never gone to sea in his life.

The fly in the ointment was that my Father not only could not swim, but in fact feared the ocean to the very marrow of his bones. And still, he took a position aboard a fishing vessel that he faithfully maintained for two years, every minute of which he did his job unflinchingly in the face of existential crisis. I now know that to say they were two terrible years is to do the word “terrible” a grievous injustice.

But he survived, with all debts paid and money in the bank, and in the end returned a changed Man, in the best of ways. He couldn’t get enough of Family life, and especially us kids. He brought a new, at once relaxed but no less competent, vibe to everything he did, including Fathercraft. In hindsight, he clearly loved Life, the world, and his part in it more than ever before.

I said something here on the Remembrance Day of 2010 that bears repeating here:

“I will not stand for trivializing the sacrifices made by those who fought and often died so I can sit hear speaking the truth as I see it, and to my mind the title of “Hero” is thrown around entirely too easily these days. There are times and situations in history that few of us can even imagine, and those times raise the bar on who gets to wear the “Hero” badge. Some of those we recognize today are Heroes. That having been said, the fact that countless others simply did their duty without ever once meeting that moment of truth demanding of heroism doesn’t make their actions any less worthy of celebration, commendation, and the sincerest of thanks for doing everything they did.” ~ Lest We Forget – A Parting Shot

My reference there was to military service, but we all know, or should, that Courage is not found in the fearless, nor is the call of Duty exclusive to war.

I’ll close today with part of a British Pathé documentary that will give you a glimpse into the world that saved my Father, and through him, all of us who relied on him. When he was briefly home between trips, I remember hearing my parents talking in hushed tones late in the night while my sister and I were supposed to be asleep, and my certainty that my Father was crying. Being kissed goodbye in the early morning dark as he left for another stint at sea, and feeling a tear on my cheek deposited silently because he daren’t even utter a sound let alone speak the words. In those days I had never seen a Man cry, and I asked my Mother about it. She told me it was because he loved us and would miss us while he was gone. I came to know it was much more than that — for him, every goodbye was his last.