McGhie, Robert
Robert McGhie
January 23, 1923,
to August 21, 2013
It’s taken a year to put my thoughts to paper…. an entire year since our Dad passed. In an early morning hour on August 21, 2013 with his beloved cat, BG, sleeping by his side and in his own bed, in his own home with me, his daughter, in the upstairs bedroom, Bob McGhie drifted into eternal sleep.
Dad lived life to the fullest…not a fullness defined by travelling to exotic places in our world or experiencing untold extreme adventures; but more fully than all that, by making the very most of and overcoming every challenge that he faced in his 90 years and there were many.
To say his growing up years in Fort William, Scotland were challenging is an understatement – think Angela’s Ashes. Indeed upon seeing the film, Dad immediately identified with Frank McCourt, recounting similar hardship and struggle for survival. Much of this hardship began when Dad’s Mom (Annie Little) died very young at 36 years.
Dad was just 5 years old and an overwhelmed, pub frequenting, and generally absent father (John McGhie) became even more so. In the relative freedom of his situation Bob grew up quickly learning how to be resourceful early on. He had to. Dad recalled times of gathering what he could from surrounding fields – a turnip here, a potato there.
He regularly filled buckets of seawater for the older women sitting on the beach to soak their feet. Some compensated him for his efforts, but that was rare. Attending school required that you wore shoes. Dad said his formal schooling ended in late elementary.
At 15, seeking opportunity for a better life, he immigrated to Canada. It was 1938 – part of the wave of juvenile immigrants sent to Canada during the child emigration movement in Great Britain.
Dad was a home child, arriving in Halifax on the Queen Mary, he was met by John and Gertie Eastman, a farming couple from Arnprior, Renfrew County in the Ottawa valley who took Dad in to work on their farm, but quickly regarded him as one of their own.
The Eastman / Rivington family became Dad’s Canadian family and were it not for them and their loving and generous spirit, Dad’s story would be very different.
In May 1942, at the age of 19, he joined the Canadian Army, the Cameron Highlanders of Ottawa, Machine Guns and Mortars, 3rd Canadian Infantry Division. It was on a whim really, lured by a “free” trip home to visit his family, particularly his sister, Margaret with whom he was particularly close. He was homesick. His decision was laughable, no more so than by Dad. Little did he know what lay ahead.
On his first leave, he headed back home to Brampton, England to visit Margaret. AWOL for over 45 days, the Military Police tracked him down. He was handed a gun to guard the other men on their way to prison in neighboring Carlisle Castle, Carlisle, Cumbria. Dad overextended his prison time as well. The officials did not believe his reason for being AWOL – homesickness.
June 6, 1944, D-Day, he landed on Juno Beach, France on a Bren Gun Carrier. His unit was part of the battle for Caen, a decisive defeat for the German army.
Dad recalled, “When we arrived in Caen, what a mess! You’ve never seen anything like it!” He survived and saw action in Belgium, Holland and Germany.
Dad was discharged from the Canadian army on January 23, 1946 – his 23rd birthday. He returned to northern Quebec to clear bush and Ottawa, working as a general labourer building the Prime Minister’s residence. He told stories of then Prime Minister Louis St. Laurent frequenting the work site, joking with the men.
He met Rose Ludwig, our Mom, in Ottawa, who at the age of 18 had travelled by train from her home in Nelson, BC to work for the Canadian government as a secretary for the newly established Unemployment Insurance Commission.
Mom and Dad were married in Ottawa on October 11, 1948. Their children, Bonnie and Bobby were born there. Soon afterward, they moved back to Nelson, BC, making their home in a log house at the corner of Latimer and Cherry Streets where three more children grew up, Donna, Karen, and Cheryl.
It would be fantasy to say our growing up years were a fairy tale. There was some darkness; some misguided steps; some times of disregard, mistreatment and no doubt regret that comes in moments of quiet reflection and with hindsight – learning experiences for parents and kids alike.
But, Mom and Dad provided and cared for us. We were afforded luxuries and experiences of the time. When Dad worked for the National Fruit Company in the 50’s we regularly enjoyed what was, at that time, exotic fruit – bananas, pineapples, cumquats, even!
Later, Mom and Dad worked for the Kootenay Lake School District, and we looked forward to summer road trips throughout BC, across Canada to Kinburn, Ontario and into the western United States, always camping along the way. Indeed, piling in the station wagon every Sunday, with no particular destination in mind, stopping to explore, was routine.
The outdoors was our playground from dawn to dusk and largely unsupervised. In an incidental way, our parents taught us to be comfortable in the outdoors no matter the season; we enjoyed swimming in the creeks, rivers and lakes that define the Nelson area; fishing, mushroom picking, and walking the rails; building bush forts and swings, building ‘bugs’ (i.e., go carts), backyard bonfires, hikes, camping at Schroeder’s Creek, tobogganing, skating on frozen ponds and lakes, skiing, regular picnics with our maternal Granny and Grampa, and aunts, uncles and cousins.
Christmas and Easter were especially family times. Mom even cooked a turkey in the wood stove of a rustic cabin at Schroeder’s Creek one memorable Easter. And birthdays were always special and celebrated with homemade cake. Seemingly small daily pleasures compounding over the growing up years. Yes, our parents provided and cared for us.
Dad had a sharp, inquiring mind, a phenomenal memory, and quick wit. An avid reader of non-fiction, he always had a stack or two of books on the headboard and his armchair.
After Mom died in 2011 and in his late 80’s he was given a used computer and acquired a Facebook account. And he used it! He had opinions – lots of them, and he loved a good argument, not for argument’s sake (well, not always!), but to understand others’ perspectives and to explore issues deeply.
He was gregarious. Anyone was fair game for a conversation. He shared that he liked picking up hitchhikers, especially those who were ‘very different’, those who most of us drive by, as they had the most interesting stories to tell.
He was a generous man; just try turning down a beer or glass of wine when you showed up at the backdoor. His sister, Margaret, recently recalled her brother giving away his suitcase of what little clothing he had at the time to the poor folk of Carlisle.
A natural comedian, Dad laughed readily, often at his own expense. He recognized humor in life’s experiences. Many of his WWII stories had a humorous side and it was that humor that endeared most to him throughout his life.
Life is what you make itand you made your life anything but a farce, Dad! You taught us much: work hard and play just as hard; travel far if you wish, but get to know your own backyard; love the outdoors, an open road, and the wind in your hair; put yourself out there, be curious and seize each day; and see humor in life, as it’s far to short to be angry or to grieve.
Your legacy is treasured and lives on through your family…your 5 children and their life partners, 9 grandchildren, 8 great grandchildren, and 4 great, great grandchildren, and so it goes…
We remember, we love, and we miss you!
Bonnie, Bobby, Donna, Karen, Cheryl
Shared through the experiences and voice of Donna.
Donations in memory of Robert McGhie can be made to the Royal Canadian Legion Branch 51, 402 Victoria St. Nelson BC, V1L 4K5; 250-352-6464
