John's memorial went really well, we had about 50 - 60 people show up, considering the weather ,that was impressive!I video taped the memorial (set up the camera and walked away).If possible, I will try to post it.Fred was the M.C. and did a great job.It started off with Caitlin Dean (Rob and Tamara's eldest) and Kiana Ford (Ann & my daughter) reading from a book that Uncle John gave Kieran and Kiana called "Goodnite Moon". Friends and family followed with stories and poem of Uncle John.This is a poem that I wrote to John.
Uncle John
At the age of 18, I first came to the coast, for a little holiday and to find my groove
From another Alberta winter that I had forgotten to move
I came to Vancouver with my Uncle I would stay
I knew little about the man, only that he was gay
He was the nineth of 15 kids raised in steel town
Not quite fitting in with the other‘s around
Growing up wondering what his future would entail
In a time when for just being who you are, you could be sent to jail
He left Hamilton, grew his hair and his beard
To find a place where people wouldn’t find him weird
The 60’s in England, the 70’s in Montreal
It was there he became an actor, he would later tell us all
Acting was your love, your passion and always in your dreams
For some reason you stopped .Forever now it seems
Years past, the world became a little kinder, more accepting of one another
I got to know you, not just as an uncle but as a friend or more like a brother
Many friends were attracted to your intellectual wit and the one liners that you mastered
Others were driven away by your drinking that could change you into a complete bastard
Those who stayed true and saw past the antics that you would rarely recall
Were rewarded by getting to know and love the man whose memory will stay with us all
You left us on your own terms when living was becoming too much to bare
It meant a lot to me that I was able to be there
That one tear that rolled down your cheek shortly before you died
I know was your way of saying one last good bye
It’s been six weeks since I was sitting in traffic & started putting my thoughts to Rime
Its was yesterday I sat on your bed, held your hand that I could see that you were dying
Now your gone, but not in my heart, known to many as John , Jonah or even Jungle ohn
To me and many you will always be our dear sweet Uncle John
Uncle John
At the age of 18, I first came to the coast, for a little holiday and to find my groove
From another Alberta winter that I had forgotten to move
I came to Vancouver with my Uncle I would stay
I knew little about the man, only that he was gay
He was the nineth of 15 kids raised in steel town
Not quite fitting in with the other‘s around
Growing up wondering what his future would entail
In a time when for just being who you are, you could be sent to jail
He left Hamilton, grew his hair and his beard
To find a place where people wouldn’t find him weird
The 60’s in England, the 70’s in Montreal
It was there he became an actor, he would later tell us all
Acting was your love, your passion and always in your dreams
For some reason you stopped .Forever now it seems
Years past, the world became a little kinder, more accepting of one another
I got to know you, not just as an uncle but as a friend or more like a brother
Many friends were attracted to your intellectual wit and the one liners that you mastered
Others were driven away by your drinking that could change you into a complete bastard
Those who stayed true and saw past the antics that you would rarely recall
Were rewarded by getting to know and love the man whose memory will stay with us all
You left us on your own terms when living was becoming too much to bare
It meant a lot to me that I was able to be there
That one tear that rolled down your cheek shortly before you died
I know was your way of saying one last good bye
It’s been six weeks since I was sitting in traffic & started putting my thoughts to Rime
Its was yesterday I sat on your bed, held your hand that I could see that you were dying
Now your gone, but not in my heart, known to many as John , Jonah or even Jungle ohn
To me and many you will always be our dear sweet Uncle John
Comments
Your poem was lovely. I was sad to hear about uncle John. I didn't see him often, but made a point of getting in touch when I was there. When Brian and Holly and Wayne and I were there we had a great visit with uncle John. He was responsible for giving us the tour. We wound up at a lounge in Grannville island with a very large tab. The stories he told us that night are forever etched in my mind. The last time I saw uncle John was at your house when I stayed overnight after Chris Piggott's wedding. Take Care!
Colleen