January 14, 2009 at 2:27 pm (Death, Labour)
of planning a memorial for my father. An obituary has run in the Saint John Telegraph-Journal and the Hamilton Spectator:
JONES, ARTHUR EDWIN - After a period of declining health, Arthur Edwin Jones passed away peacefully in his sleep in his ninety-fourth year on Thursday, January 8, 2009. Arthur was born in London, England, in 1915, the eldest child of the late Alfred and Sarah (MacKenzie) Jones. He immigrated to Canada after WWII and settled in Hamilton, Ontario, where he worked as a welder at the Steel Company of Canada until his retirement in 1982. In 1957 he met and married Vivienne Louise Bevan, a nurse and an immigrant from Wales. In 1997 after forty years together in Hamilton the couple relocated to Saint John, New Brunswick, to be near their daughter. They lived in their own home for several years, then at the Admiral Beatty Senior’s Complex, and latterly at the Loch Lomond Villa where Arthur, a saxophonist since his twenties, often entertained the other residents. He is survived by his wife Vivienne; daughters Anna Jones of Oregon, Miriam Jones (Joseph Galbo) of Saint John, NB, and Roberta Jones of Ontario; grandson Alexander; and brothers Norman (Eleanor), Ronald, Robert (Doris) of England, and their families. A special thanks to the staff on Dogwood Lane at the Loch Lomond Villa for their compassionate care. A memorial service will be held in the chapel at the Loch Lomond Villa, 185 Loch Lomond Rd., Saint John New Brunswick, on Friday, January 16, 2009 at 1:00 pm, with a reception immediately following. In lieu of flowers, remembrances may be made to the Loch Lomond Villa Foundation (506-643-7170) or to a charity of the donor’s choice. There is an online guestbook at: http://storiesfromfather.wordpress.com.
But I keep thinking of Joe Hill, who was executed in 1915, the year of my father’s birth, though in November while Dad was born in March. Here is his “My Last Will“:
- My will is easy to decide
- For there is nothing to divide
- My kin don’t need to fuss and moan
- “Moss does not cling to a rolling stone.”
- My body? – Oh. – If I could choose
- I would to ashes it reduce
- And let the merry breezes blow
- My dust to where some flowers grow
- Perhaps some fading flower then
- Would come to life and bloom again
- This is my Last and final Will
- Good Luck to All of you
- Joe Hill
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January 12, 2009 at 4:03 am (War)
My father was born in 1915, the eldest of four surviving children (there were two infant boys who died, and one young child, the only girl, Gloria). One of his first memories was of a downed Zeppelin in London. As the war was over in 1918, he cannot have been much more than three years old. He remembered that the wreckage was enormous, a broken alien behemoth stranded in his city.
[Image: The hulk of a downed Zeppelin lying in the Thames Estuary, from the Imperial War Museum.]
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January 12, 2009 at 3:14 am (This blog)
to Stories my father told me, a blog about my father, Arthur Edwin Jones. It will not take the form of a traditional biography, but rather, will contain various photographs and anecdotes. Please feel free to sign the guestbook, or to comment on the posts.
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