DON

What can I say? How do I remember him? This complicated, talented, occasional con man, but always generous and kind to those he loved. A hard worker, an artist who never reached his full potential. Stubborn. Frustrated. A fighter for his beliefs. A gentle soul who masked his delicate core with comedy.
I remember him especially when we were both young.

He was the one who loved animals. When we lived in the country, he adored his pet rabbits. When we lived in the city, he brought home birds with broken wings and nursed them back to health. Painstakingly fed them with an eyedropper. As a Boy Scout he won a city-wide (Ottawa, Ontario) honour for his environmental/wildlife passions. I remember our family gathering around the television watching him receive this award from a long-forgotten civic official. I was so proud of him…my annoying pesky brother being so honoured. Like maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy, after all.

He was a fighter for the oppressed or downtrodden. But that’s probably because he was small for his age while growing up so he knew what it was like to be bullied. I never paid much attention to him when he was bullied. Because, after all, weren’t boys fighting all the time?
He was an entrepreneur. He started businesses at different times: like a printing press and a pet store. Worked hard and then for one reason or another, abandoned them. Or was forced to close when the big box conglomerates moved into town. I was too busy living my own life to find out.

When he moved his family out to British Columbia from Ontario, he stopped in to see us. At that time, we were living on the shores of Lake Huron. He parked his trailer in one of Canada’s nearby provincial parks and invited us (a family with three boys) to share a campfire meal of freshly caught trout. Our sons still remember that outing with Uncle Don to this day.

He was anti-government. And yet, while living in BC he headed the local arm of the Canadian Federation of Independent Business. Even more astounding, because of his success in that position, he was invited to the then-Prime Minister’s office in Ottawa where he, and others like him, shook hands, had photos taken, and enjoyed a day of recognition with the PM. We all got a chuckle out of that.
He, his wife and three children settled into B.C.  For a few years, Don and Claire relocated to Belize. Then, I think, health issues became an issue.

When my husband and I visit one of our sons in Smithers, B.C., we always stop to see Don and Claire in the Oliver/Osoyoos area. Over the years, Don’s health declined. He was against the medical system (of course!) so ignored his wife’s urgings to seek help from a doctor. Gradually his overall health deteriorated. It was painful to see. Hard for his family. Harder still for him.
I remember Don for his generosity as much as for his temper. When he first moved out west, the Ontario wing of his family received extravagant gifts, like Cowichan sweaters. Every year, when the cherries hung heavy, we each received boxes of ripe organic BC cherries.

This man was a dichotomy. He is also my bro…my bro. My bro.
Don, may you rest in peace. Love you forever.