{"id":444,"date":"2018-01-17T17:07:19","date_gmt":"2018-01-17T22:07:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/?p=444"},"modified":"2018-02-17T23:11:38","modified_gmt":"2018-02-18T04:11:38","slug":"fwd-fwd-you-are-a-goddamn-fool-dad-you-got-that-right","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/?p=444","title":{"rendered":"“YOU ARE A GODDAMN FOOL!” “DAD, YOU GOT THAT RIGHT.”"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n\n\n\n
Subject:<\/th>\nYOU ARE A GODDAMN FOOL!” “DAD, YOU GOT THAT RIGHT.”<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Date:<\/th>\nWed, 17 Jan 2018 22:03:21 -0500<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
From:<\/th>\nAlan Skeoch<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
To:<\/th>\nMarjorie Skeoch<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
\n
\n
\n

“YOU ARE A GODDAMN FOOL!\u201d \u00a0\u201cDAD, YOU GOT THAT RIGHT.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\u00a0DAD SPOKE IN OPPOSITES\u2026IF HE LIKED SOMETHING, HE SAID IT WAS JUNK. \u00a0WHEN HE CALLED ME A DIMWIT, HE MEANT I WAS OK. NOT THAT I WAS GREAT\u2026JUST OK. \u00a0WE LIKED THAT\u2026.NO SLOPPY SENTIMENTALITY.\u00a0 NO KISSING AND \u00a0HUGGING.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
alan skeoch<\/div>\n
Jan. 2018<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
One fine spring day around 1970, I brought this heavy \u00a0corn cutting machine \u00a0to the farm. \u00a0 Dad helped me \u00a0unload.\u00a0 He had a whole string of four letter words when he saw the thing. \u00a0That meant he liked it even though he said it was no goddamn good and the former owner had no right to exploit my stupidity.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
So this story is \u00a0really about Dad and less about the machine.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

“Dad, \u00a0give me a hand with this big corn cutting box\u2026runs off tractor belt or stationary engine in barn.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow what the hell did you buy that thing for\u2026should be in the scrap yard.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Are you out of your GODDAMN MIND\u2026daft\u2026brainless. \u00a0Take the son of a bitch back to the smart ass who sold it to you.”\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cNeat, isn\u2019t it. \u00a0Circular blade \u2026 sort of like a revolving guillotine. Did you ever use one on the Skeoch farm outside \u00a0Fergus? \u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cNo. \u00a0I headed west when I was 14, told you that a long time ago. \u00a0Are you both deaf and dumb?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cHarvest Excursion? wasn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cNo, I got in a \u00a0bit of trouble when I was 14\u2026had to hotfoot it west to Keeler\u2026<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cKeeler>\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cSaskatchewan…spent couple of winters cooped up with 16 horses. Slept in an empty stall. \u00a0No farm house. \u00a0Horses kept the barn warm. No corn feed\u2026lots of hay and some oats. \u00a0No tractor so why the hell would we want a corn cutter? \u00a0So cold around Riverhurst in those winters that a fellow could die fast in the open.\u00a0 Freeze balls off a brass monkey as they say.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cJust you alone with 16 horses.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s right, better company than my two sons that\u2019s for sure.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cGet paid?’<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cJust enough to get me back East with a new pair of boots. \u00a0Then some bastards stole the boots \u00a0when I fell asleep and I had to hotfoot it along Queen Street in Toronto to that old hotel at Roncesvalles.. Came back with nothing. \u201c<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cWhy not go home?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
“Sure as hell wasn\u2019t going back to the Fergus farm.\u00a0 No room for me up there anyway. \u00a0Too many kids\u2026too little money.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cCouldn\u2019t you \u00a0go back \u00a0to school? \u00a0Grade nine?<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cJesus, don\u2019t you ever listen to me. \u00a0Fergus High School was the reason I went west in the first place.\u00a0 I told you about the wood flap at the back of the girls outhouse. \u00a0My schooling ended suddenly when Kelly and I hurled snowballs up that flap in the girls outhouse. \u00a0We thought it was funny.\u00a0 Hit a girl on the ass. \u00a0She \u00a0ran into the school screaming. \u00a0Dizzy. \u00a0We just stood there. \u00a0The principal was not amused, \u201cArnold, you go home right now and get your father over here.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat did your Dad do?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cNever told him. \u00a0Never even went home. \u00a0Hid out in the swamp for a while, slept in neighbours place. \u00a0My sisters\u2026Elizabeth and Greta looked after me…brought me food.\u00a0 Couldn\u2019t stay there so I lit out for Saskatchewan where brother John had \u00a0just got himself married \u00a0and fixed up on a section \u2026 640 acres\u2026nearly seven times the size of our Fergus farm.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cWho put up the money for the fare?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cMaybe mother or big sister Elizabeth\u2026don\u2019t rightly know. \u00a0Think John had something to do with it” \u00a0He wanted us all to \u00a0move west\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
“My brothers Art and Archie each bought farms near Keillor but they \u00a0never lived on them. \u00a0Had crop put in then buggered off \u00a0back to Ontario. \u00a0Let big brother John do threshing in fall\u2026did it on shares.\u201d<\/div>\n
Archie made money beating up \u00a0French Canadians one summer. \u00a0You know how skinny Archie \u00a0is even to this day. \u00a0Skinny as a tent pole. \u00a0 that fooled lots of people.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cIs this the boxing story, \u00a0Dad?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cGod that was great when I heard about it. \u00a0Word \u00a0was spread \u00a0around from Keeler to Riverhurst that\u00a0\u00a0A fist fight was going to happen over near Riverhurst. \u00a0French Canadian against an Ontario \u00a0Scot. \u00a0Skinny Scottish bastard\u2026going to get the shit kicked out of him. \u00a0Put your money on the Frenchy. \u00a0Wrong! \u00a0Wrong! \u00a0Archie could really fight. \u00a0 Knocked the Frenchy down fast and \u00a0the boys \u00a0picked \u00a0up a bundle. \u00a0 Archie became famous for a while.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cHow come you were not involved?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cNever wanted to go back west. \u00a0Try sleeping winters with 16 horses\u2026alone. \u00a0that will knock any romantic notions out of your head.”<\/div>\n
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\u201cScared?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cMore scared of my dad than the idea of travelling to the West.”<\/div>\n
Enough bull \u00a0shit. \u00a0I Bet dollars \u00a0to do-nuts you don\u2019t even know what this son of \u00a0a bitch is supposed to do.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cChops up field corn.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cFor what reason?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cMaybe cut it up green and blow chunks into the silo to make ensilage for winter feed.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cHow did a dimwit like you figure that out?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cFarmer I bought it from told me\u2026he was short a thumb and finger\u2026maybe cut off by this machine.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cHow much did you pay for it?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cThirty dollars. What is it really worth?\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cHe sure saw \u00a0a sucker coming when you arrived. Not worth a goddamn cent\u2026junk\u2026\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cI thought you would like it, dad. \u00a0Flattered .\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cWhere do \u00a0you plan to put it now your barn has collapsed?\u201d (Story to come)<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cThat, Dad, is the big question\u2026I do not know. where to put it.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Wait until your Uncle Norman sees this machine. \u00a0 Shows what a damn fool you are. \u00a0Why in hell he named you as executor of his will defeats me.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
alan \u00a0skeoch<\/div>\n
Ja. 2018<\/div>\n
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<\/div>\n
Stories to come:<\/div>\n
1) The Barn that a Jackas \u00a0built<\/div>\n
2) Dad \u00a0teaching andrew and \u00a0Kevin how to smoke White Owl \u00a0Invicible \u00a0cigars when they were 6 and 8 years old.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
RED SKEOCH\u2026”\u2019BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?”<\/div>\n
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ASIDE: \u00a0Mr. and Mrs. James Skeoch operated a 100 acre farm on outskirts of Fergus (SW) \u00a0and, like many farmers they had a big family. Greta, Elizabeth, Sarah, Lena, John, James, Archie, Arthur, Arnold, Norman. \u00a0 The oldest, James \u00a0Skeoch was killed by artillery shells on one of the lat days of World War One, \u00a0sarah died of the Flu epidemic that followed the war. \u00a0The rest thrived. \u00a0John bought land near Keeler, Saskatchewan and both Archie and Arthur also bought some western land although they never moved \u00a0west. \u00a0Had their families in Ontario. Uncle John looked after things in the west. \u00a0Arnold (\u2018Red\u201d) \u00a0and Artur became tire builders in Toronto. \u00a0They became city boys. \u00a0 Norman, the youngest took over the home farm in Fergus and cared for his mother and father unto their death.<\/div>\n
When Norman died, his will stipulated that each of his brothers and sisters should get an equal portion of the estate. \u00a0This meant that the farm had to be sold and the machinery put up for public auction. \u00a0My cousin John (long John) Skeoch and \u00a0I were named \u00a0as executors. Nasty job.\u00a0 Never met my grandfather Skeoch. \u00a0By all accounts he was a tough man. \u00a0Grandmother Skeoch lived on the Fergus farm util she died. \u00a0She became an oil painter and made sure that all her kith and kin were given one of her paintings before her death. \u00a0There were so many relatives \u00a0that I never really got to know her. Which is too bad. The first Skeoch boys, James and \u00a0John, migrated to Canada in 1846 with their grandfather Mr. Watt. and an aunt who was terrified the boys would fall overboard as \u00a0they spent a lot of time running along the deck of the sailing ship. \u00a0Why were the little boys brought out while their father was not? \u00a0I think he came later but there was a little mystery about the migration. I have never been able \u00a0to convincingly join the dots. \u00a0Trouble \u00a0with\u00a0the family tree is the \u00a0repeated use of James and \u00a0John\u2026from \u00a0generation to generation.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u00a0If you have read this far you might be \u00a0comforted to know there<\/div>\n
was \u00a0only one Arnold in the family, my Dad, but he never went by that name. \u00a0 To everyone he was \u00a0just \u201cRed\u201d because \u00a0he was born with red hair. No sign off red hair when Eric and I were born but the name Red stuck. \u00a0He was Red to everyone \u00a0including my mother. \u00a0She \u00a0had another name for him when he got in trouble which was often. \u00a0Then she \u00a0said, \u201cOh, Red, you Fathead! \u00a0 Her name was Elsie \u00a0but he never called \u00a0her that. \u00a0His name for his wife was \u201cMethooz\u201d, a shortened form of Methusalum. \u00a0Why? \u00a0Because Methusala was \u00a0the oldest person in the bible and \u00a0Mom was \u00a0a \u00a0year older than Dad. \u00a0No I did not misspell Methusala. \u00a0 Dad \u00a0added the \u201cum\u201d because it sounded \u00a0better. It was a love affair that defied reason. \u00a0I think most real \u00a0and deep \u00a0love affairs are like that.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Some people we knew well as boys felt sorry for us. \u00a0They thought we lived \u00a0in a dysfunctional family. Are you kidding? \u00a0We lived inside a cyclone with fascinating things whizzing by every day\u2026and \u00a0remarks that were hard to decipher. \u00a0What? \u00a0Meaning what? \u00a0Indecipherable remarks? \u00a0Sorry, maybe only Mom, Eric and I would \u00a0understand. For instance, Dad never used \u00a0our real \u00a0names, Alan and Eric. \u00a0Instead he always said, I \u00a0have two sons one is a gutsy bugger and the other is as stupid as \u00a0Joe\u2019s dog\u201c \u00a0He never said who these \u00a0terms of endearment applied to. \u00a0Do I sound \u00a0like a gutsy bugger or stupid as Joe\u2019s \u00a0dog?\u201d Your call.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
He had a disparaging label for everyone. \u00a0Catholics were fish-eaters. English people were \u00a0sparrows or cheapers or broncos. Snobs, smooth talkers, educated people who flaunted \u00a0their intelligence and creditors were ,\u2019meally mouthed sons of bitches.\u2019 \u00a0Dad turned a lot of people off. \u00a0But he \u00a0also made a lot of friends for he had \u00a0a twisted kind of charisma. \u00a0As proven, I suppose, by the \u00a0fact he \u00a0remains vivid in my mind decades after is death.<\/div>\n
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Dad \u00a0 That\u2019s him above the day he \u00a0retired\u2026 caught him in a \u00a0pensive mood. \u00a0Rare. Shows a side of \u00a0him he did not want the \u00a0world to see. \u00a0 Much preferred the \u00a0tough guy pose. \u00a0Or the \u00a0cigar smoking arrogant man of the \u00a0streets and racetracks. \u00a0Under all that was the real \u00a0man. Red was strong as \u00a0an ox from his AIaly labour making tires for big trucks. Slapping HEAVY slabs of rubber onto spinning wheel day in and day out. \u201cCareful of that roller boys, saw a guy \u00a0go through that, came out as flat as a Gumby.\u201d \u00a0he told \u00a0Eric and \u00a0I when we visited Dunlop Tire Company week before he retired. \u00a0Dad was proud of his work\u2026he made things with his two hands that our society takes for granted\u2026huge rubber tires. \u00a0Deep down dad probably wished he had gone \u00a0to high school\u2026wished \u00a0he had not thrown those \u00a0snowballs at the ass of that poor girl in the back house. \u00a0Mistakes in life can do damage. If he \u00a0became an educated son of a \u00a0bitch he would have been a \u00a0different man. \u00a0 Eric and I loved \u00a0him the way he was even when he pilfered our wallets for a few bucks to take to the track. \u00a0Or forged \u00a0a \u00a0check that emptied \u00a0my bank account just when \u00a0needed for first year university fees. \u00a0Or emptied that prize bottle of Henessy\u2019s cognac brough back from the job in Ireland. Mom felt the same \u00a0way even though she \u00a0slept on the couch \u00a0in our three room house \u00a0using her purse as \u00a0a \u00a0pillow. Would you lend Dad twenty bucks if he came around to see you. \u00a0Most of \u00a0my friends had been \u00a0hit for a few \u00a0bucks now \u00a0and then. \u00a0They \u00a0seemed to like dad in spite of himself.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
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Dad did not take pictures. \u00a0This shot of his must show the horses \u00a0he cared for in the winter in that lonely barn. The west was won by horses\u2026thousands of them. \u00a0Dad \u00a0kept 16 alive in a frigid Saskatchewan barn when he \u00a0was a kid. \u00a0Alone. \u00a0 Alone!<\/div>\n
This is \u00a0one of the few pictures he ever had. \u00a0Hardly glorious.\u00a0 Hardly glorious.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
WHO WERE WE?<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
In 1846, our wayward branch of the Skeoch \u2018clan\u2019 left Scotland under mysterious circumstances \u00a0that I have never properly understood. Just two little boys, James \u00a0and John Skeoch, with their mom and her father, Mr. Watt. \u00a0 The grandfather was the prime mover\u2026wanted out of the Scottish Lowlands near the west coast… not too far away from the place where Robert Burns had his love \u00a0affairs and wrote his poems. \u00a01846 was a bad year all across \u00a0Europe and Britain. \u00a0Potato crop had failed and starvation stalked humanity like \u00a0the fabled gym reaper. \u00a0 Starvation, however, was not the push factor. \u00a0Old Mr. Watt was an economic migrant. \u00a0He had money. \u00a0I am \u00a0not too sure he felt his daughter had married wisely. \u00a0Hard to understand why his son-in-law, Skeoch, was left in Scotland \u00a0when the children and wife shipped out for Canada.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n
<\/div>\n

The \u00a0Skeoch\u2019s \u00a0had no tartan although tartans \u00a0were made at the Skeoch Mill in Bannockburn for any Scot that wanted one. \u00a0The ruins of this mill still exist \u2026the name Skeoch may have been derived from the village of Skeoch where the mysterious St. Skeoch (obscure \u00a0saint for sure) is supposed \u00a0to have reduced two boys\u00a0from the bloody field of Bannockburn and name them James \u00a0and John \u00a0Skeoch. \u00a0 Is \u00a0this true? \u00a0 I do \u00a0not know but the story has filtered through the family for years. \u00a0The tiny village of Skeoch exists and the convent of St. Skeoch (a tiny place) has been converted into row housing. \u00a0It is so small that I can hardly imagine how it could\u00a0<\/span>have \u00a0been \u00a0a \u00a0convent. \u00a0When we visited the place years ago, it was a stone \u00a0barn. \u00a0Some evidence it had \u00a0once been a home of some kind. \u00a0St Slepcj seems to have been\u00a0<\/span>associated \u00a0with St Ninnian.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

This \u00a0Catholic association was \u00a0severed at one point if it ever really existed. \u00a0By the time the Skeoch boys migrated to \u00a0Canada they were staunch Presbyterians and \u00a0later Skeoch\u2019s were Active in the United \u00a0Church of Canada. Dad was odd. \u00a0In his later years be became good friends with one of our neighbours on Annette Street who was a prominent preacher in the United Church.\u00a0 He must surely have seen \u00a0dad at his worst as well as \u00a0his best. \u00a0One example? \u00a0Dad did not drink much. \u00a0One beer and he was excited. \u00a0 I remember Eric or Mom telling me that Dad \u00a0had \u00a0made a fool of himself shovelling snow. How? \u00a0Dad \u00a0shovelled snow off our front lawn onto the sidewalk. \u00a0The reverse<\/div>\n
of what was expected. \u00a0One woman walking by made a comment. \u00a0To which Dad responded \u00a0calling her Mehusalum (same as \u00a0he called \u00a0mom). She indignantly replied \u201cI am not an old woman!\u201d and \u00a0then she said \u00a0some unpleasant things to him so he proceeded to threaten her with a shovel full of snow. \u00a0She took off screaming. \u00a0 I suppose if that happened \u00a0today he would be in court.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Want another example? \u00a0 The pea shooter incident. \u00a0Bunch of us fired peas \u00a0at the window of a particularly unpleasant woman\u2019s house on the way home from school.\u00a0 I never said we were saints. \u00a0She tracked \u00a0us home\u2026followed us \u00a0but unknown to us. \u00a0Since Our house was first on the route home, she waited \u00a0until<\/div>\n
Eric and \u00a0I \u00a0went upstairs to our apartment. \u00a0Then she hit the dinger hard. \u00a0Dad went downstairs.<\/div>\n
\u201cDid \u00a0you know yours sons blew peas at my window \u00a0on the way home.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cSo \u00a0what?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cSo I want you to do something about it.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI will.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cFirst thing is to tell you to get the hell of my goddamn verandah.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
She left fast. \u00a0What did \u00a0Dad \u00a0do? \u00a0Nothing.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cWho was that, Red?\u201d Mom may have asked<\/div>\n
\u201cA pea collector. \u00a0I sent her on her way.\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Eric and I knew we were always safe at home. \u00a0Any failures \u00a0in life were forgotten as \u00a0long as \u00a0we reached home. \u00a0Some readers will likely find<\/div>\n
this offensive\u2026rude\u2026a bad example for children. \u00a0 \u00a0Should we have been disciplined? \u00a0 Dad was strong as an ox, yet he never once lifted a hand to us in anger. \u00a0We were not spanked\u2026and when older, dad \u00a0was more amused than startled by our transgressions.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Dad didn\u2019t have any strong religious ties although his sisters did. \u00a0 The men in Dad\u2019s family were different from the women in other ways as well. \u00a0Liquor, for instance was condemned \u00a0as sinful by Dad\u2019s sisters, while at the same time on the Skeoch farm, Uncle Norman and \u00a0Uncle Archie \u00a0kept a good supply of Molson\u2019s Golden beer under the hay in the barn stable. \u00a0They always and often<\/div>\n
drank in the barn. \u00a0As a \u00a0kid I rather enjoyed listening to the brothers curse and argue in that stable while downing a beer or two before wandering up to the farm house where conversation was usually on a more elevated level. \u00a0When I got a little older I was even offered a beer but refused because mom drummed into my mind the term \u2018dirty old \u00a0beer\u2019. \u00a0I grew out of that.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\n

We were likely a sept of the Stewarts \u2026Lowlanders\u2026peasant farmers in other words.<\/p>\n

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\n
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My Skeoch grandfather, James \u00a0Skeoch, was the son of James Skeoch, one \u00a0of \u00a0the little boys on board that 1846 ship.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
This story is not a documented \u00a0family tree\u2026instead \u00a0it provides a \u00a0little flesh and \u00a0blood to the family history.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
By the end \u00a0of the 19th century James, son of James, was building an immense \u00a0field stone house \u00a0and \u00a0an equally giant barn on their Fergus farm. \u00a0He \u00a0also seems to have been \u00a0quite busy in the marital bed when darkness fell.\u00a0\u00a0 Mr. and Mrs. James Skeoch operated a 100 acre farm on outskirts of Fergus (SW) \u00a0and, like many farmers they had a big family. \u00a0Greta, Elizabeth, Sarah, Lena, John, James, Archie, Arthur, Arnold, Norman. \u00a0 The oldest, James \u00a0Skeoch was killed by artillery shells on one of the last days of World War One, \u00a0sarah died of<\/div>\n
the Flu epidemic that followed the war. \u00a0The rest thrived. \u00a0John bought land near keillor, Saskatchewan and both Archie and Arthur also bought some wester land although they never moved \u00a0west. \u00a0Uncle John looked after things in the west. \u00a0Arnold (\u2018Red\u201d) \u00a0and Artur became tire builders in Toronto. \u00a0They became city boys. \u00a0 Norman, the youngest took over the home farm in Fergus and cared for his mother and father unto their death. When Norman died, his will stipulated that each of his brothers and sinners hold get an equal portion of the estate. \u00a0This meant that the farm had to be sold and the machinery put up for public auction. \u00a0If you think that was pleasant, then you have a brick for a brain.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Never met my grandfather Skeoch. \u00a0By all accounts he was a tough man. \u00a0Grandmother Skeoch lived on the Fergus farm util she died. She became an oil painter and made sure that all her kith and kin were given one of he paintings before her death. \u00a0There were so many relatives \u00a0that I never really got to know her. Which is too bad. \u00a0The Skeoch boys, James and \u00a0John, migrated to Canada in 1846 with their grandfather Mr. Watt. and an aunt who was terrified the boys would fall overboard as \u00a0they spent a lot of time running along the deck of the sailing ship. \u00a0Why were the little boys brought out wile their<\/div>\n
father was not? \u00a0I think he came later but there was a little mystery about the migration.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
NEVER BROUGHT GIRLFRIENDS HOME\u2026WITH ONE EXCEPTION<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
I had \u00a0a \u00a0lot of girlfriends. \u00a0 Platonic \u00a0girlfriends that would \u00a0never understand \u00a0Dad. \u00a0Many would bolt in fear. \u00a0So I never brought a girl friend home to meet dad \u00a0with one exception. \u00a0Marjorie was \u00a0different. They got along like a house on fire. \u00a0He loved her almost immediately. Both loved horses so they had common bond. \u00a0One of my graphic memories is Dad \u00a0and Marjorie glued to the rail that surrounded the Fort Erie racetrack. \u00a0Racing form in hand. \u00a0Assessing the flanks of race contenders. And she \u00a0understood him even when he \u00a0was at his worst. She found him amusing. \u00a0Warm. \u00a0And he dropped in at our apartment and eventual \u00a0house so often that Marjorie had to give up trying to breast feed the kids because Dad \u00a0kept popping up at the most inconvenient times.<\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

P.S. \u00a0Dad \u00a0had \u00a0a \u00a0few \u00a0poems he had \u00a0memorized such as \u00a0Wordsworth’s Daffodils \u201cFluttering and \u00a0dancing in the breeze\u201d.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\n

[I wandered lonely as a Cloud]<\/h1>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n

William Wordsworth<\/span><\/a><\/span>,\u00a01770<\/span>\u00a0–\u00a01850<\/span><\/h2>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n

I wandered lonely as a Cloud
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That floats on high o\u2019er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0A host of golden Daffodils;
Beside the Lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0When the spirit \u00a0moved \u00a0him he would launch \u00a0into poetry at machine gun speed\u2026so fast that the words were a blur\u2026no sense \u00a0of awe or romance just speed to get it over with as fast as \u00a0possible so he could get to his greatest literary love, The Daily Racing Form. \u00a0Have you ever read \u00a0one \u00a0of these? \u00a0Bet not. \u00a0The racing form is a \u00a0bigger challenge than T. \u00a0S.. Elliot\u2019s poetry.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Sometimes he \u00a0liked to rhyme off this ribald piece. \u00a0Just give you a few lines, \u00a0if requested \u00a0and you have the stomach for the rest, send \u00a0me a note. \u00a0But remember it is rough. \u00a0Dad \u00a0liked \u00a0to shock people \u00a0when possible.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\n
Dad! \u00a0I can hear him now\u2026rhyming off\u2026a favourite poem he could sing…<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cHave you ever been to an Irishman\u2019s shanty<\/div>\n
Where money is scarce but whisky is plenty<\/div>\n
An old wooden door, without any latch<\/div>\n
A three \u00a0legged chair and table to match<\/div>\n
If that don\u2019t rhyme, you can take your \u00a0time<\/div>\n
And \u2026 “<\/div>\n
[last line deleted \u2026 some readers are sensitive\u2026sorry just cannot put it in print)]<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Often as we got older we tried \u00a0to harness dad. \u00a0For instance, we wished \u00a0he would not speak Chinese in Chinese restaurants. \u00a0it was only later that we discovered some \u00a0of his gambling cronies were Canadian \u00a0Chinese who were not offended \u00a0but rather amused.\u00a0 One memorable New Year\u2019s Day at the Black and White Chinese restaurant in Fergus comes to mind. \u00a0Dad was speaking Chinese to the owner\u2026just garbled \u00a0crap. The \u00a0owner slipped a brown bag \u00a0to us as we ate. \u00a0Inside was a quart of \u00a0Crown Royal for us to take straight or pour into our coffee. \u00a0 He knew Dad \u00a0well\u2026no offence taken.\u00a0 Now that was not always true in other Chinese \u00a0restaurants. \u00a0Not all Canadian Chinese are horse race gamblers. \u00a0But quite a \u00a0few were when we were kids with a father who faked \u00a0Chinese. \u00a0 \u201cDad, \u00a0don\u2019t do it here!\u201d was all the encouragement he needed.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
People either loved him or hated \u00a0him. \u00a0Most were amused by him which meant he \u00a0could hit them up for twenty bucks.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
We miss him.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
alan \u00a0skeoch<\/div>\n
Jan. 2018<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Subject: YOU ARE A GODDAMN FOOL!” “DAD, YOU GOT THAT RIGHT.” Date: Wed, 17 Jan 2018 22:03:21 -0500 From: Alan Skeoch To: Marjorie Skeoch “YOU ARE A GODDAMN FOOL!\u201d \u00a0\u201cDAD, YOU GOT THAT RIGHT.” \u00a0DAD SPOKE IN OPPOSITES\u2026IF HE LIKED SOMETHING, HE SAID IT WAS JUNK. \u00a0WHEN HE CALLED ME A DIMWIT, HE MEANT I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-444","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/444","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=444"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/444\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":545,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/444\/revisions\/545"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=444"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=444"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=444"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}