This is a week of unique anniversaries. Monday November 9 was the 50th
anniversary of the 1965 Northeast Blackout that saw almost all of New York, New
England, and Ontario spend varying amounts of time in total darkness. The blackout was caused by poor planning,
coordination, and a resulting chain reaction.
The darkness started spreading in the late afternoon when power surged
across the Niagara River from a Power Authority of the State of New York
(PASNY) facility and hit a relay in an Ontario Hydro switchyard that had been
set too low. That kicked the power back
into New York State and then up to Massena where it went back into Ontario,
again being kicked back into New York and within seconds plunging the rest of
the Northeastern United States into complete darkness at dusk. While utilities scrambled to get the
electricity back on, President Lyndon Johnson ordered a complete investigation
which resulted in a series of reports that have led to much better power
planning and coordination. In the big
cities like New York and Boston, the mood was completely peaceful. There was no looting, no riots, millions
treated each other like friends and neighbours as they spent the night wherever
they had been when the lights went out or the subway stopped moving. And contrary to popular rumour, there was not
a spike in the number of babies being born nine months later.
November 10 was the 40th anniversary of a famous
shipwreck that happened near the centre of North America, not on an ocean. Facing storm conditions equal to a category 1
hurricane, the ore carrier Edmund
Fitzgerald sank in eastern Lake Superior, taking the lives of all 29 men
aboard. One year later, the shipwreck
was made forever famous in the song The
Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot. Some reading this will know I’m longtime fan
of Gordon Lightfoot. I have the album
(yes, a real, vinyl record) Summertime
Dream which the song is featured on.
I’ve visited the Split Rock Lighthouse on the beautiful north shore of
Lake Superior in Minnesota. The
lighthouse was decommissioned in the late 1960’s but is reactivated one day
each year, November 10 when the beacon shines in memory of the men aboard the Edmund Fitzgerald. Gordon Lightfoot refers to “In a rustic old
hall in Detroit they prayed, in the Maritime Sailors Cathedral.” The church is actually the Mariner’s Church—a
historic independent Anglican church in downtown Detroit, located right next to
the entrance to the tunnel that connects with Windsor Ontario. I’ve seen the building from the outside on a
couple of trips to Detroit. And of
course the song has been played and sung during car trips along the
Trans-Canada Highway north of Sault Ste-Marie Ontario where Whitefish Bay, upon
the bottom of which the ship rests, is in full view.
Those are monumental anniversaries, but neither is as
monumental as Remembrance Day as we call it in Canada. It’s still called Armistice Day in Britain in
commemoration of the armistice that was signed on that day in 1918 ending the
Great War/World War I. Remembrance Day
is an emotional one for me because I spend a lot of time thinking of wonderful
veterans who have been a special part of my life. These were/are all men of great integrity who
worked hard, were devoted family men, and contributed positively to their communities. My great uncle Orrie Reid of Thorburn Nova
Scotia turned 90 this past summer. He
served in the Royal Canadian Navy during World War Two aboard HMCS Wetaskiwin, a
corvette that escorted convoys of merchant ships across the dangerous North
Atlantic. Uncle Orrie is a true
gentleman with a big heart. After the
war, he returned home to Thorburn and married my Aunt Lil, my grandfather’s
youngest sister. He treated her like gold
and they raised four children. Thorburn
owes a lot to him for the things he has done for the community over the past 70
years. He established the Thorburn
Veterans Memorial which in addition to serving as the local cenotaph, also
features historical plaques and military equipment in honour of local residents
who served in both world wars. He
maintained the facility on his own for 25 years. In honour of his 90th birthday
this year, Uncle Orrie was awarded a special commendation from the Minister of
Veterans Affairs for his service. In
addition to his support for other veterans, he was a founding member and chief
of the local volunteer fire department and was a Cub Scout leader. Above all of this, he’s the sort of person
who would drop everything to help a neighbour or friend.
William R. Hawkins was my late great uncle and brother of my
grandmother. He served as a navigator in
the Royal Canadian Air Force during World War Two. Like many Canadian men who were in England
during the war, he met his wife there and got married. After the war, he and Aunt Jo returned to
Canada and he earned a business degree from the University of Western Ontario. They also raised four daughters. Uncle Bill was an inquisitive and congenial
gentleman who had the sort of personality that leaders are made of. After graduating, he joined the Ford Motor
Company and quickly rose through the ranks, retiring in the late 1970’s as Vice
President of Ford Canada. His career
included a couple of assignments with Ford’s Australian division too. Becoming a successful captain of industry
never changed him though. His homes were
nice, but never excessive, and even though he likely had the pick of whatever
cars Ford manufactured, it was only occasionally one would see a Lincoln parked
in his garage. In fact, when Ford
debuted the extremely unattractive Aerostar minivan in the late 1980’s, he had
one for a while in order to have space to take his grandchildren on a
trip. On visits to my grandparent’s farm
north of Belleville, he would often don a pair of rubber boots and drop in on
neighbouring farmers to find out about life with land and livestock. Uncle Bill was definitely a modernist. He seemed to love the great scale of
industrial progress and development that was prevalent throughout the decades
after World War Two. When I watch an old
Ford commercial on Youtube and hear slogans like “Ford has a better idea” or “Ford,
it’s the going thing,” I think of Uncle Bill.
My dear late friend Frank Wilcox of Goderich Ontario served
in the Royal Air Force from 1938 until 1945 and was an aircraft mechanic. While many men met their wives while in
England, Frank met his wife in Canada while training at Port Albert, located
north of Goderich. His wife grew up on a
nearby farm. They married during the war
and their eldest daughter was born during that time too. Frank had to return to England for a while
and came back after the war ended and two more daughters were born. His middle daughter is Emmie Bowers, a
longtime friend of my family. Frank’s
first wife sadly died in 1951, leaving him a single father of three young
daughters. Where some men would have
given up the responsibility or not received any support, Frank held firm. With the help of his late wife’s family, he
raised his family. He later remarried but
never gave up his commitment to his children.
I first met Frank in 1995 at the wedding of Emmie and her husband Bill’s
oldest son. My parents couldn’t be there
for the whole day so Emmie took my sister and I to Port Colborne two days
before and Frank, then 77, came along with us.
There was almost something magical about him. He treated my sister and I like his own
grandchildren. He bought us lunch and we
said “thank you Mr. Wilcox,” and he answered “no, I’m Grandpa.” I’ll never forget that. Frank was often a special part of camping,
picnics, and walks with Bill and Emmie.
His solid sense of morality, love of God, and sense of humour was a
wonderful thing to experience. I chatted
with him daily online during his last years, until the day before he peacefully
died. I have a few things in my
apartment that belonged to Frank and hardly a day goes by that I don’t think
about him.
And finally, there’s my grandfather, Reg Chislett. Papa did not serve in any actual war, but was
rather a veteran of the Cold War, serving in the Royal Canadian Air Force from
1952 to 1977, retiring as a Sergeant.
After spending several years in aircraft maintenance and training, his flying
career began in 1967, first as a flight engineer with 412 Squadron aboard the CC-109
Cosmopolitan transporting government leaders and heads of state. He then joined 436 Squadron as a flight
engineer aboard the venerable C-130 Hercules transport aircraft, first at CFB
Uplands in Ottawa and then CFB Trenton.
As some of you may know, Papa is now chronically ill and in a long-term
care home. Seeing and hearing of his
declining mental and physical condition is not easy. Whenever I see a member of the air force in
uniform around Ottawa, or if I’m in Trenton or surrounding area and see a Hercules
fly over at low altitude, I think of him in those best years of his life. Papa always had a strong sense of morality
and a great sense of humour. It’s
difficult to see him decline, but there are those wonderful, wistful reminders
of his life that I am fortunate to see and hear regularly. I recently attended a historical conference
and was so happy to sit through a presentation on the CC-109 Cosmopolitan. The presenter even referred to the planes
nickname “cosmopolitician” because its cargo was elected officials. I suddenly was reminded of hearing Papa say
it years ago.
Military and war service shaped the lives of the four men I
just introduced. I am of the opinion that
it brought out the very best in each of them.
All of them were hard working, moral men who raised families where those
values were passed on. They served our
country and risked their lives doing so and have each contributed to our
society in positive ways. These are
special individuals whose memory cannot be forgotten and in the case of the two
still living, must be shown the highest amount of respect and compassion. Thank you God for each of them. Lest we forget.
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