| SWIFT, Victor Robert Owen (Vic) _ Royal Engineers Veteran (Burma, World War II). Passed away at his home in Orangeville on Wednesday April 23, 2003, in his 84th year. Beloved husband of the late Violet Swift. Loved father of Colin and Claire. ''Adopted'' father of Norman and Karen; also sadly missed by his many loved ones and friends. A Memorial Service will be held at the Dods & McNair Funeral Home & Chapel, 21 First St. Orangeville on Wednesday April 30, 2003 at 1:00 p.m. The family will receive friends one hour prior to service time. As expressions of sympathy donations to the Lung Association would be appreciated by the family. A tree will be planted in memory of Vic in the Dods & McNair Memorial Forest at the Island Lake Conservation Area, Orangeville. A dedication service will be held on Sunday September 7, 2003 at 2:30 p.m. |
| It seems like such a short time ago that we were all gathered here to celebrate Mom's life, and now here we are, to celebrate our Dad. Most people who knew Mom and Dad would remember Mom leading the conversation, with Dad content to nod along and smile in acknowledgment. However, although Mom was the more socially active and outgoing of the couple, Dad also had his moments to shine. Dad was the youngest of a large family, and was the typical 'baby' of the family, in the Edmonton area of London. Dad used to tell us that his main role in the household was to do the fish cart run to get the fresh seafood for dinner. Dad grew up in an era when it was rare for a child to complete much schooling; however, we always felt that if Dad had been given the opportunity to continue, he would have excelled in Mathematics. His ability to complete calculations in his head always amazed us - product of an era when electronic calculators weren't even imagined, and certainly not required. Instead of schooling, Dad followed his brothers into a 7 year apprenticeship as a Sheet Metal worker. His own father was senior staff member of a sheet metal shop, and it was 'the family trade'. Eventually, his training was upgraded at the School of Military Training, Chatham. Dad was still young when called upon to serve in the British Army. In 1940, he enlisted in the Training Battalion of the Royal Engineers. The next 5 years cover a period of Dad's life about which he would say very little. Typical of many war veterans, Dad was very reluctant to talk about his adventures in wartime; only recently did he start to reveal more details about his time serving with the Royal Engineers in Burma. Mom had written a memoir detailing her life in the Service, and we were eager to prise as much info as we could out of Dad. Unlike the "Band of Brothers" imagery of a team of warriors, it turns out that Dad was shipped out to Burma by himself. No one in his chain of command was entirely sure where his unit was located, but they would get him as close as possible. When it came time to land, the nearest airstrip was dotted with planes on fire, as the Japanese had just attacked. The pilot asked Dad to jump out of the moving plane, because he didn't want to stop. So, here was Dad, a stranger standing alone in the middle of a bombed-out airstrip. It's easy to see why he didn't want to dwell too long on those memories. However, Dad was extremely proud of his Burma Star medal; and we are equally proud to display it here today. Upon his return to England after the war, Dad was working in a factory in London. He developed a crush on a young woman, also a veteran, working in the front office. Every time this lady walked through the factory, his friends would rib him about his infatuation. Finally, he worked up the nerve to ask her out. It turned out they shared a love of dancing, and their courtship involved many nights on the dance floor. On April 30, 1949 - 54 years ago today - Victor and Violet were wed. Mom and Dad were a little more forthcoming about these early days. Unlike the wartime, these were happy days for them - not a lot of money, but a circle of very good friends, including 'Pop' and Charles Horlock, a family with whom Dad boarded while courting Mom. When Mom and dad married, they bought a house in Christchurch, just around the corner from Pop and Charles. They continued to spend much time together, giving rise to the family tradition of 'buggered beef for Boxing Day" - putting a roast in the oven, then heading down to the pub for a quick one, returning 'a little later than expected' to find the beef just a tad overdone! It would not be the last time that Dad's experience as a lodger would lead to a long-lasting friendship! With Dad's skills as a sheet-metal worker, he held positions with a couple of aircraft companies in England, first DeHavilland, and then Vickers; when in 1966, Dad heard about opportunities in Canada, as Douglas Aircraft was recruiting in England for their Malton plant. I remember the promotional films about life in Canada shown to the prospective recruits and their families - I remember that, apart from driving on the wrong side of the road, one of the other strange things about Canadians was that their front gardens rarely had fences - how very strange! So, on October 25, 1966, Dad left us in England to stake out a place for us in the New World. He was met at the airport by a young couple who had emigrated a few months before - who had never met him before, but knew of Dad through some mutual friends in England. They would not hear of Dad staying in a hotel, but insisted he come to stay with them until he found a place for the family. As had happened before, these gracious hosts - Stu and Marie Atkins - became family, and our families' lives have remained entwined ever since. As luck would have it, Dad eventually found an apartment for us just down the street from Stu and Marie's place. Dad's stay with Stu and Marie resulted in the discovery of one absolutely shocking and unforeseen difference between Brits and Canadians. For Stu and Marie were coffee drinkers! On the other hand, Dad was as staunch a tea-drinker as the Empire ever produced! His most urgent request of Mom in preparing to fly over to join him, was to bring a kettle. Don't risk 'packing it' - bring it as carry-on! So Mom dutifully arrived at Malton Airport on December 1, with 2 young children in tow (well-behaved children, I must say!) And a kettle under her arm! In our time in Islington, while working full-time at Douglas, through another British friend who had moved to Canada, Dad got involved with the Boy Scouts organization, and helped with leadership of a pack of Wolf Cubs. He continued that association for a few years after we moved up to Orangeville in 1968. Since Dad was no longer doing as much shift work, he and Mom were able to develop an active social life, and started dancing again, at the Anglo-Canadian club, and then at the Legion. They enjoyed many social nights with both groups, and had many friends. Most of our friends know that there has always been a strong love of music in our family. Although Mom, Claire and I are probably better known for it, Dad also had a musical streak. He always amazed us with his ability to pick out a melody on the keyboard. He was very shy, but did in fact perform with 'the Golden Voices' in the early 70s. To some, Dad would come across as a bit gruff; but he certainly had a softer side. He enjoyed many years of companionship with the family cat, 'Cooney'. Although Dad was initially reluctant for us to ge the kitten, he was the one who relented when we met the little darling. He was the one who carried her around the house following her 'operation', and it was on the arm of his chair that she had her favourite perch. Perhaps these two have been reunited now - personally I hope the years away from this mortal coil have improved the old cat's crotchety temperament vis-vis other people! As the years passed, Dad's mobility declined as his old leg injury (from an accident before my birth) flared up. He would often say how he missed dancing. He had a particular problem a few years ago, but this brought his home care team into our lives, a team that subsequently looked after Dad and Mom right up to the end. They have been absolute angels, and Claire and I are extremely grateful for their support in helping us face the inevitable end. Dad was not the world's greatest communicator, (he left most of the talking to Mom, outside the family) but we never for a moment doubted how much he cared for us. He set us a fine example to live by. Quiet but determined, and like Mom, he had a very strong moral compass that he passed on to us. Certainly, there were arguments in the family, but nothing that lasted long, or that ever got cruel. His loyalty to Mom and to us kids was unwavering, and lasted up to the end. He was always there for us when it counted, and we would often hear from friends and neighbours how proud he was of us, even when he didn't tell us directly. Dad missed Mom terribly this past year, and while Claire and I did what we could, we could never fill the void in his life that her passing caused. We can take some comfort in the notion that they are now together again - healthy and happy, and dancing up a storm - with of course, the occasional break for a nice cup of tea! |
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