Friday, May 31, 2019

May 31, 2019

Dad would have turned 100 today, but it was something he neither expected, nor wanted. On the contrary, in his later years he would calmly say, "my shelf life is up," satisfied with having lived quite long enough, thank you.

Murray Fraser would not have agreed with poet Dylan Thomas; Dad was not going to "rage, rage against the dying of the light" and instead went "gently into that good night."


Dad required a birth certificate when he entered the service in 1940. It cost him 25¢.
     
We don't have Dad's birth announcement from the Pilot Mound Sentinel (missing from online sources), but his grandmother Kate Fraser gave it mention in her journal. Kate gives more attention to threshing, but to be fair, newspaper notices were just as brief.


Kate Fraser's journal. "Baby born last day of May. 1919 May 31" Pink highlighting is Dad's notation.
         
Murray, looking very happy and pampered in his mother's rocking chair.
    
Born in 1919, Dad was not baptized until 1921.
    
Dad was the second and last child born to 38-year-old Annie and 43-year-old Pete Fraser. Dad's older sister Jessie was born two years before, on May 10, 1917.

Wiggly Murray clings to his father's pinkie finger and gives a big smile to his photographer mom.

Pete takes a break from the steam engine for a cuddle with Jessie. His face and a shovel suggest he's been burning coal, not wood.    

Gotta love Annie's sense of humour. "Here's Jessie. Find Pete." written on the back of the above photo.
   
Pete stands between his iron horse and a Percheron, and finds that Jessie is equally fearless on both.
    
Unlike Jessie, young Murray probably wishes this horse was a Chevy.
        
Jessie and Murray

Mom and Dad were a terrific team, and were wonderful models for their five kids.

The Fraser kids with mom Hazel.
Karen sports a shiner after wiping out on her bike, and displays a postcard book from a recent family holiday to Niagara Falls.

I think we all remember those itchy wool pants!



Towards the end of his days, Dad was content with having lived a long, productive life. It is hard to imagine the change he had seen over the years. His generation faced challenges we are ill equipped to deal with, including the Depression and WWII. But he always felt "life is good" and the hardships left no scars. His only hope was that he had worked sufficiently hard, treated others well, was a good family man, and had been as honest and caring as his parents had been. His values are evident in the many items he saved in his "Good Stuff" folder. 

Among the clippings he saved is a passage called "People Liked Him." Perhaps he thought it exemplified his father, a friend, or, shucks, even himself.

PEOPLE LIKED HIM
People liked him, not because
He was rich or known to fame;
He had never won applause
As a star in any game.
His was not a brilliant style,
His was not a forceful way,
But he had a gentle smile
And a kindly word to say.
Never arrogant or proud
On he went with manner mild,
Never quarrelsome or loud,
Just as simple as a child.
Honest, patient, brave and true
Thus he lived from day to day,
Doing what he found to do
In a cheerful sort of way.
Wasn't one to boast of gold
Or belittle it with sneers,
Didn't change from hot to cold,
Kept his friends throughout the years,
Sort of man you'd like to meet
Any time or any place.
There was always something sweet
And refreshing in his face
Sort of man you'd like to be
Balanced well and truly square
Patient in adversity,
Generous when his skies were fair
Never lied to friend or foe,
Never rash in word or deed,
Quick to come and slow to go
In a neighbour's time of need.
Never rose to wealth or fame,
Simply lived, and simply died,
But the passing of his name
Left a sorrow, far and wide.
Not for glory he's attained,
Nor for what he had of pelf,
Were the friends that he had gained,
But for what he was himself.
      -- Edgar A. Guest


Another gem from Dad's collection. Perhaps it was written after Mom's passing in 1989.