Better late than never they say.....I hope.
I first met Gerry when I was about 10 years old. He would have been about 23. He showed up at our house with my sister Priscilla (later known as Pat). I said to myself: “How did Pris ever get a guy this good looking??” (Being 10 years old, I didn't think my big sisters were all that attractive.) Then it turns out he's a Mountie, just arrived in town recently. That's when Mounties wore britches and tall leather boots (with spurs I think) and cowboy hats. He was my instant hero. Plus he had a car! Wow!
Much to my surprise, the relationship lasted. Gerry fell in love with my Mum's bread and baked beans and whatever else was on the table when he arrived. And I think she fell in love with him (in a motherly sort of way).
Gerry always treated me and my big brother John like we weren't just kids. More like little brothers. I'm sure we got in the way now and then, but he always seemed to be happy to see us. Like the time we crashed their beach party and he bought us hot dogs and pop.
Pretty soon Gerry was transferred out of town, and next thing I know Pris was gone. Next thing I remember is the news that Gerry Jr. had arrived and Pris is now Pat Morey. Hmmm.
Anyways. Throughout the next 40 years, more or less, whenever myself, my Mum, my sisters or brothers (in fact my Aunts and Uncles) visited the Moreys - in Verdun, St. Regis, Hemmingford, or Havelock – Gerry always treated us like honoured guests.
I used to drop in at the “farm” on my way down east (and back) each summer with the wife, my 3 sons, and sometimes the dog. Somehow there was always room for all of us, even with seven other Moreys now extant.
Those visits are so memorable. One of my favorite images (because I have the photograph somewhere) is of my 3 sons, legs dangling off the end of some kind of wagon as Andrew hauled them off with the tractor for a trip to the sugar bush.
Later, after Pris/Pat's passing, I resumed my visits to the “farm” on my way down east and back (now without the wife, kids and dog). I always got a huge supper when I arrived, and Andrew would get up real early to make me a breakfast of ham and eggs and whatever else was available.
Then before I left, Gerry would load me down with maple syrup, fruit cakes, apples and oranges (Would you like a couple of pears?), and as many egg sandwiches as I would accept – but, Gerry, it's only going to take me 5/8 hours to get there. Oh well, I didn't have to make myself any meals for a couple of days.
I really enjoyed every time I visited my sister, my brother-in-law and my nephews and nieces – the Moreys! Now that Gerry and Pris (and Cathy – God, rest her soul) are gone I hope we all can honour them by the way we live out the rest of our lives – as they taught us to do.
So those are some of my memories of Gerry (et fam.). One hell of a nice guy!