Hey!! Don't Drink Anymore of That!!

I don’t know whether this will be an autobiography or a love story. I say love story, because Lil just constantly fills up my thoughts. It will be only natural for me to keep interjecting these thoughts in most everything I write about. And that is why I will start with at a time late the in the year 1919. It was then that a lady by the name of Anne Phillips decided to go to Scotland to have her baby. She did this, I was told, because her mother was a midwife and she wanted her to help in the delivery of her child. Lil’s grandfather was the gatekeeper in the Edinburgh Castle in Scotland. So it happened that on December 28^th, 1919, in this castle, a beautiful little girl arrived on this earth (Not too many people can lay claim that they were born in a castle). I did not know then, that later, this little girl would give me fifty-five of the most wonderful and happy years. Anne Phillips named this little miracle "Lily". It appears that "Lily of the Valley" had something to do with naming her; I never found out how this enters into it. When Lily was old enough to have likes and dislikes, she decided that she did not like the name "Lily", as a result she came to be know as Lillian - Lil to her friends and to me.

I was only three years old when she was born, as it turns out that was the luckiest day in my life. Of course I did not know this at that time. I did not find this out until twenty- five years later. In January 1944 I was in an Airforce Hospital, a converted factory on Christie Street. I was having a chronic dislocation of my right shoulder repaired. As a favor to a family friend Pat, she came with her to visit me. As she walked into the room, my heart skipped a beat - It really did, as matter of fact, it skipped several beats - I will never forget that smiling face with those big beautiful brown eyes. I can attest to the fact that there is such a thing as love at first sight. It happened to me that evening.

A person can’t help but wonder if there isn’t someone up there orchestrating the events in a person’s life. What may seem as isolated events at the time, they somehow or other tie in, even after many years have passed. Think of the following events:

1 - What appears as an isolated event - when I was about two years old, my father picked me up with my right arm, which dislocated my shoulder. I can only remember two things; the pain while I was being carried to a Doctor and when they took the bandages off. I remember how surprised I was that it did not hurt. This was the beginning of a chronic dislocation of the shoulder. Over the years I repeatedly dislocated the shoulder, somehow the initial one must have weakened the ligaments or something.

2 - What appears as an isolated event – I was a flying instructor I the RCAF during WorldWar2. Instruction periods in the air were an hour long, necessitating numerous flights a day. Preparation for each flight included putting on a parachute. These were quite heavy and you had to lift it with both arms over your head. This caused my shoulder to go out of joint on numerous occasions. Other than some pain, I was always able to put it back in place and go on with my duties. My Flight Commander was rarely in the hangers; he happened to be there when my shoulder came out of joint. This was not unusual and when I started to put it back in place, he asked me what the problem was. When I told him, he ordered me to report to the MO (Medical Officer). After many questions and a physical examining, he told me, that if I wanted to keep my flying category, I would have to have my shoulder repaired. I chose to have the operation. Having a painful and nagging problem repaired (at no cost may I add), was an easy choice to make. The Doctor arranged to have me admitted to the Christie Street Hospital. This was in January 1944.

3 - What appears as an isolated event - On long weekends I would take the train from Camp Border to spend the weekend at home. On the train I happened to meet Pat. She was an American but had enlisted in the Canadian Army. The trains were always very crowded and seats were difficult to get. I usually met some friends from home when boarding the train at Union Station, in Toronto. Pat was a lot of fun and good company, so we usually saved a seat for her. She became a good friend. When I was scheduled to go to the hospital in Toronto, I was allowed to go home for a couple of days. I had to report to the hospital on a Wednesday. It was most unusual for me to be on the train during the week. While I was looking for a seat, whom should I see, but Pat. For a reason, I have now forgotten, she also was also on the train at that time, also most unusual for her. During the trip I mentioned that I was on my way to the Hospital for an operation, and mentioned that I did not know any one in Toronto, so if she had the time, I would appreciate her visit and maybe bring some friends.

4 - What appears as an isolated event - Pat happened to be friend of Lil’s mother; shortly after I had seen her on the train, she came to Lil’s mother for a visit. During one of these visits Lil came downstairs to go out. Pat asked her to come along and visit a friend in the Hospital. She told her she was visiting a nice Air Force boy and that she would like him. Lil at first declined but after some coaxing, she agreed to come along as a favor to Pat.

Surely someone up there must have been watching, and arranged all of these events to happen, in order that I would meet the love of my life.

Lil was my wife for 52 years and a girl friend for 3 years before that. She was a beautiful person both in looks and personality. She was a Lady (notice with a capital L), loving, generous, and caring.