Thank you, Kat.

I knew your father and his brothers well.  I bunked with your father in a bunk house he had on a surveying job in Czar, Alberta in the 1950's along with his big black lab called Ruff.   I remember old Ruff must have been eating something bad because he often left fowl air in the bunkhouse.  Frank and I would blame each other till we discovered who the culprit was.  

I also recall your father driving every weekend to see your mother in Three Hills* and he wouldn't leave her until it was late and then drive home tired and he often went to sleep until his 54 Olds started kicking up gravel and awaken him.

We also worked on the same survey crews at Clandonald, Dewberry. Resilvia and several other Northern Alberta towns. In one of those Hamlets, after a  day hunting and resting in an old hotel lobby and admiring a stuffed deer head your father, not realizing his gun was loaded, pointed his gun at the Deer and pulled the trigger.  When the manager heard the boom he ran into the lobby and said, "What the hell was that?"  Your Dad said "I shot your deer" to which the manager replied "Didn't you think it was dead?"  

At Edson, a very cold winter with heavy snow that caused us to seek our green cards to move to California. There we both worked for Standard Oil of California at their East Bay service stations. I remember one night at a station in San Leandro when your dad was held up and locked in the bath room. He said the barrel of that pistol looked like a cannon!  

I have many fond memories of your Father and Mother.  Please give my best regards to your mother, Pat  

Gary Harris

*s.b. Two Hills