101-year-old WW2 pilot views Lancaster bomber during RCAF's 100th anniversary flight

Canada's only Avro Lancaster bomber in flying condition made a special stop in Saskatoon on July 18th to honour Reginald "Crash" Harrison, who flew Lancasters in the Second World War. And I, as the author and publisher of the book about Reg's intriguing life (Crash Harrison: Tales of a Bomber Pilot Who Defied Death), was privileged to have a front-row seat at the event. It was a once-in-a-lifetime, unforgettable experience!

More than 7,300 Avro Lancasters were in use at the end of the Second World War. Today, only two are flightworthy - one in the United Kingdom and this one, named after Andrew Mynarski, a mid-upper gunner from Winnipeg who died in service and was the first RCAF member to receive the Victoria Cross.

The Mynarski Memorial Lancaster left its home at the Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum in Mount Hope, Ontario, to fly across Canada in celebration of the 100th anniversary of the RCAF. The Lancaster made a fuel stop in Saskatoon as part of a special tribute to war veteran Reg "Crash" Harrison.

The Mynarski Memorial Lancaster arrived at the Saskatchewan Aviation Museum in Saskatoon on July 18, 2024

In 1944, at age 22, Reg Harrison flew Halifax and Lancaster bombers in the Royal Canadian Air Force from Croft Air Base in England. He completed 19 missions over France and Germany. He received credit for serving a full tour, being released from duty after he survived four aircraft crashes - none of which were his fault - including one in which he had to land a Lancaster on one wheel. His commanding officer did not want to risk that Reg would survive a Crash #5.

Reg Harrison landed this Lancaster in England in November 1944, after bullets from another plane caused one of the Lancaster's wheels to not come down. It was his 4th and final crash in the war.

The last time Reg Harrison flew a Lancaster was in December 1944, just after he was told he was released from service. Before he was sent back to Canada, he wanted to take the plane up one more time, and he was granted permission to do so with an engineer beside him. Reg flew a Lancaster for about 15 minutes that day, his Pilot's Flying Log Book records.

Reg will be 102 years old in mid-August. He has been looking forward to celebrating the 100th anniversary of the RCAF ever since I met him in 2019, when I was interviewing him for Volume 1 of the series Flight: Stories of Canadian Aviation.

Reg had hoped to see this Lancaster in the RCAF celebration air show at Cold Lake, Alberta on July 20th. Unfortunately, Reg caught a strange virus a couple weeks before the event, which left him weak and unable to make the trip to Cold Lake.

Fortunately, some fine folks in Saskatchewan's aviation community were making arrangements with the Warplane Heritage Museum to see if the Lancaster could stop in Saskatoon on its way to Cold Lake. A generous local donor paid for aviation fuel, ensuring that the Lancaster stopped for refuelling and a public viewing in Saskatoon, and a burger lunch contributed to a successful fundraiser for the Saskatchewan Aviation Museum as well.

Even more fortunately, Reg Harrison is a tough human being, and we wasn't going to let a virus keep him away from seeing the bomber. With the help of his daughters Marion and Laurie and his sister Sylvia, plus a huge amount of determination and a little stubbornness, Reg rebounded remarkably well and was at the aviation museum to see the Lancaster arrive.

The Saskatoon Airport Authority drove Reg, Laurie, and Sylvia out to the runway area so Reg could enjoy watching the aircraft land. Then their vehicle followed the plane in.

What a sight it was to see that big, loud aircraft taxi in toward the museum. 

As a retired journalist and the author of the book about Reg's life story, I couldn't just stand back and watch from the sidelines. Reg and I formed a strong bond during my interviews and writing process, and I wanted to stay close to him and the action during this day's events. (I am grateful to my author friend (who is also Reg's friend) Mary Harelkin Bishop, for handling my book sales table as I did things like run out onto the tarmac and convince the guard to allow me to join the family and working media members under the airplane's wing. Sometimes I just have to call on my extroverted ex-journalist persona to do what I need to do.)

At one point, I saw Reg standing alone under the airplane's wing. I was moved by the scene and I snapped these special photos.

Reg had tears in his eyes. So did his daughter and sister.

Fl. Lt. (Retired) Reginald "Crash" Harrison recalls his wartime experiences as he looks up at the Mynarski Memorial Lancaster bomber in Saskatoon, SK, July 18/24

Fl. Lt. (Retired) Reginald "Crash" Harrison gets emotional as he remembers wartime while viewing the Mynarski Memorial Lancaster in Saskatoon, SK, July 18/24

In general, it was a fantastic event for Reg Harrison. He was spry enough to spend 5 hours at the museum that day, including that long walk out to the aircraft and answering questions from journalists and others in the 35-degree Celsius heat. He did this all while wearing his uniform too! Reg cheerfully chatted with numerous visitors, including people who had a connection to his farming community and family, and he told many stories of his time in the service.

Reginald "Crash" Harrison speaks with media under the wing of a WWII Lancaster bomber in Saskatoon, July 18, 2024

Reg was delighted by this special day. He said this was an early birthday gift that topped all the surprises he's had in his life!

Come along and enjoy these photos of a terrific event that was designed to honour the people who served and their sacrifices in the Second World War.

As Reg Harrison says, he is grateful to be one of the lucky ones. Let us not forget those who served, especially those who did not come back. I thank Reg and all those who served. We must endeavour to never forget.

Author-publisher Deana J. Driver with Reginald "Crash" Harrison and the Saskatchewan Aviation Museum's Brian Eikel, July 18/24 

Reg Harrison chats with the Mynarski Lancaster pilots

Reg Harrison with the crew of the Mynarski Memorial Lancaster, July 18/14

Media scrum with Reg Harrison under the wing of the Lancaster

Reg "Crash" Harrison with author-publisher Deana J. Driver, Saskatoon, SK, July 18/24

Reg Harrison with Greg Yuel and Brian Swidrovich, who were instrumental in getting the Lancaster to stop in Saskatoon, July 18/24

Reg Harrison with his daughter Laurie Harrison (left) and sister Sylvia (Harrison) Acton

Walking back to the hangar and out of the sun

Author Deana Driver standing under the bomb bay of the Mynarski Lancaster

The cockpit of the Mynarski Lancaster with undercarriage open

The four-engine Avro Lancaster has a 31-metre wingspan

Reg "Crash" Harrison with the Mynarski Lancaster in the background, July 18, 2024, at the Saskatchewan Aviation Museum, Saskatoon, SK

Thankful today and every day

There are many people in my life for whom I am grateful – old friends and new, family and those I call family, authors, book buyers, coworkers and colleagues, and so much more.

My work life as an author, editor, and book publisher has been greatly enriched this past year, so I have a few new blessings to add to my already blessed life.

I am grateful to have met and become friends with 101-year-old Reginald “Crash” Harrison of Saskatoon, who survived four plane crashes while serving as a bomber pilot with the Royal Canadian Air Force during the Second World War. Reg grew up on a Saskatchewan farm and went off to war in search of adventure and to serve his country, like his father and uncles did before him. He flew 19 missions and survived four crashes – none of which were his fault.

Upon his return to Canada, Reg stopped in Ottawa to visit the fiancée of a fallen airman friend. Reg’s dramatic war story turned into a beautiful love story – all of which I’ve documented in my new book Crash Harrison – Tales of a Bomber Pilot Who Defied Death (available on my website). To Reg, for painstakingly recalling all the details and trusting me to share his fascinating life story, I am grateful. I also appreciate the assistance of many people who helped me see this book through to fruition, including Lisa Driver, Mary Harelkin Bishop, Dani Driver, Don Acton, Laurie Harrison, Sylvia Acton, Susan Harrison, Pete Colbeck, Thomega Entertainment, and Creative Saskatchewan.

Reg "Crash" Harrison and author Deana J. Driver, August 2023

I’ve had the privilege of talking about the Crash Harrison book alongside Reg Harrison at numerous events in Saskatoon and to Saskatchewan media – including CTV News Saskatoon, CBC Radio Saskatchewan Weekend, and the Saskatoon Star-Phoenix. Plus, he’s been interviewed twice on the John Gormley Talk Radio show! (See the links on our News & Events page.)

My Crash Harrison book has been #1 on the Bestsellers list at McNally Robinson Booksellers Saskatoon, and I recently found out from a friend that the book has been nominated for Best Book in the Prairie Dog Magazine’s Best of Regina 2023 contest! For these honours, I am grateful.

Those who know me personally will tell you that the last seven years have been a time in which I’ve been rebuilding myself after the unexpected death of my husband Al from cancer. Grief will always be with me and my family. We are learning to grow and find happy moments alongside it. And we are eternally grateful for the life and love of Al Driver.

As a retired journalist, I admire those who are gifted wordsmiths. On the topic of gratitude, one of my favourite pieces was written by the late Ron Petrie, whom I was privileged to work with while publishing a collection of his Regina Leader-Post newspaper columns. His Running of the Buffalo book was one of the first of about 100 books I have created since I started on this publishing journey.

So Ron gets the last words here about being grateful.

(His "Giving Thanks for a Great Life" column was published in 2007 in the Leader-Post and again in 2010 as the final chapter, "Thankful," of our book. The newspaper column was also buried in the 100th anniversary time capsule at the Saskatchewan Legislative Building in December 2012.)

Enjoy!

 

Thankful 

Whether one day of humility makes up for 364 of selfish bellyaching is a question best left to theologians and ethicists. The point of this weekend is to take stock.

So let it be known that I am grateful.

Grateful to be where I am, for starters.

As a younger man, brash and full of swagger, I considered my calling to be Vancouver, Montreal, even New York. Only now do I appreciate that what I actually fancied was merely the idea of my farmboy self destined for the big city that, in reality, traffic jams, restaurant queues, cut-throat office politics, six-dollar cups of coffee, shoebox apartments and crammed elevators are not for me and never were.

Where I am is Saskatchewan. Thank goodness. With the possible exception of the Maritimes, nowhere in Canada can one find folks with a keener feel for the absurd, with a  more grounded sense of purpose and place, the confidence to enjoy the gift that is a good laugh at one’s own expense. The job description calls me a Saskatchewan humour writer. Hardly. I am a stenographer. I simply take notes.

That my Saskatchewan grows the food that feeds the world makes me guilty of a deadly sin. Pride.

Chances are that in the coming weeks and months, Saskatchewan will be called upon to install both a provincial and federal government. Unlike in too many other parts of the world, this will be accomplished through words, not blood. I am thankful for our British system of parliamentary democracy, for its longstanding tradition that holds my role, political satire, as an indispensable safeguard against the threat of pompous and overbearing authority.

I give thanks for my home. Droopy eavestroughs, cracked driveway and ill-fitted door jambs notwithstanding, I live in comforts unknown to three-quarters of the people of the planet and with conveniences unimagined before the 20^th century, not even by kings, emperors and czars. A hot shower, on tap every morning remains, for my money, one of the greatest accomplishments of mankind.

I am grateful for a wife who, after early shopping for a Halloween supply of miniature Kit Kat bars, hides the bags where only she and I can find them. Also for pretending that she doesn’t know that I know where.

To the men and women of the Canadian Armed Force, I say thank you. The mission our soldiers accepted halfway around the world is reminiscent of the dangers of two world wars that my parents’ generation and my grandparents’ generation had no choice but to face down. Canadians of my own pampered vintage, conversely, have known nothing but peace.

I am indebted to the 2007 Saskatchewan Roughriders, for posting an 8-5 win-loss record and relieving me of the usual journalistic obligation every fall to write snarky wisecracks about my lifelong favourite football team.

For those moments I spend with my kids at our favourite fishing hole, at dance and music recitals, in hockey rinks or on the golf course, I am beholden. It is fashionable among experts in child-rearing to lecture that parents ought not to live vicariously through their children and shouldn’t derive their own happiness from the activities of their sons and daughters.

I am thankful my kids do not read books written by child-rearing experts.

I am grateful for the wherewithal that allows me to provide my children with everything I know they need, if not always for everything they think they want. Putting a child to bed with an empty stomach and with nothing humanly possible to dry the tears must be a parental nightmare beyond all scope of the Canadian imagination.

Likewise, I am thankful for a rising group of young work colleagues who challenge each other through excellence, not gossip or backstabbing; for refrigerated transport, putting fresh asparagus on my plate where, as a boy, there would have been, blech, canned peas; for good friends who laugh too much; for a westside address with its view of the Prairie sunset; for the memory of my mom and dad; for our land of variety, of four seasons, even if the white one is a tad on the long side; for pain-free dentistry; for disposable contact lenses, for, for…

As a professional bellyacher, perhaps I should be most thankful that, on this rare occasion of listing what’s right in life, not wrong, I’ve run out of space.

There’s too much. Here and now, there’s just too much.

 

October 6, 2007

Remembrance - Bob and Sue Elliott and their Little Coat

Every year since November 2009, when I published Alan J. Buick’s book The Little Coat - The Bob and Sue Elliott Story, I can’t help but think of Bob and Sue Elliott on Remembrance Day.

They were unsung Canadian and Dutch heroes of a sort. Until Alan’s book, of course, which helped thousands of readers worldwide learn their names and something about the sacrifices made by them and people like them who served in and/or lived through the combat zones of the Second World War.

Bob enlisted in the Canadian Army in Calgary when he was only 15 years old. My oldest grandson is close to that age now and I can’t imagine the fear and worry of being unable to do anything but watch that young man go off to war as Bob did, having told recruiters that he was 20 years old and wanted to follow in the footsteps of his older brothers.

By age 19, Bob Elliott was a tank commander in the Canadian Army and was fighting the German army in the Netherlands. There, he met a feisty, 10-year-old Dutch girl named Everdina “Sussie” Cretier. Sussie had earlier saved her father from a German firing squad and their whole family had just escaped to the safety of the Canadian army after running across a field dotted with landmines.

Sussie - soon known as Sue - became a good-luck charm for the Canadian soldiers, especially those in Bob’s troop, who wanted to give her a Christmas gift. On Christmas Day 1944, Bob presented Sue with a child’s coat that the soldiers had asked a local seamstress to sew out of a wool Canadian Army blanket. The buttons on the coat came from the soldiers’ tunics.

Sue cherished that gift and kept it for decades, long after she and Bob reconnected and she moved to Canada to be with him. Alan Buick saw the coat on display at the Royal Canadian Legion in Olds, Alberta, and began asking questions about it - which led him to write his award-winning book, The Little Coat.

Bob Elliott passed away in February 2013.

We learned today that Sue Elliott passed away in May of this year. We express our heartfelt condolences to their families and all who loved them.

I was privileged to meet and talk with Sue and Bob during our launch of The Little Coat book from the Royal Canadian Legion hall in Olds, Alberta in November 2009. They connected with us by video, long before that became an everyday occurrence. Alan Buick and I were thrilled that the subjects of Alan's book could participate in our launch and visit with their family members and friends in the audience via video chat. 

In 2013, I was thrilled to meet Sue in person in the Netherlands, when I travelled there on a vacation with my late husband, Al. I wrote a blog about that adventure, from the perspective of the book talking to us. It was great fun and Sue was, as always, energetic and full of laughter.

Bob and Sue’s story and sacrifices will never be forgotten. Nor will those of thousands of others who served and placed themselves in danger in the name of freedom.

We will remember them. Rest in peace, dear friends.

 

Bob and Sue Elliott in 2010 with a tank
resembling the one Bob used in the war

Alan Buick, author, views The Little Coat ("child's coat")
on display in the Canadian War Museum, Ottawa, 2010

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More of my blog posts about Bob and Sue Elliott:

Seeing this "Little Coat" inspired a country singer to write an award-winning book, Dec 2017

Viewing The Little Coat at the Military Museums, Calgary, Alberta, August 2015

Liberation Day Netherlands 70th Anniversary and The Little Coat book, May 2015

Remembrance - Bob Elliott and The Little Coat book, Nov 2014

From Blanket to Coat to Book to Painting, June 2013

The little coat is 67 years old! Dec 2011

Sad news - Passing of 9-time cancer survivor Dionne Warner

Beautiful, extraordinary, fun-loving, nine-time cancer survivor Dionne Warner passed away on Monday, February 1, 2021. She was 55. Her husband, Graham, shared this eloquent obituary. It will come as no surprise to anyone who knew Dionne that she co-wrote her obituary with Graham, and she also made decisions about what her last day on Earth would look like.

Dionne Warner was a remarkable woman. Strong. Courageous. Inspiring.

Since her first cancer diagnosis in 1995, Dionne chose to be upbeat, positive, and grateful for every moment of every day. Through eight more diagnoses over the next 25 years, Dionne shared her hope, laughter, courage, and strength with thousands of people in Canada and around the world. With every new diagnosis, she gave herself 24 hours to say, "Why me?" and then she focused on "Why not me? And what am I going to do about it?"

Dionne Warner went into her first chemotherapy treatment
for her Stage IV cancers dressed up and ready to fight, Dec. 17, 2009

I am honoured to have written and published part of her story - up to her seventh cancer diagnosis - in Never Leave Your Wingman - Dionne and Graham Warner's Story of Hope. This book is a book of hope, courage, laughter, and love. It will live on for generations, and I am very proud to have put it out into the world for all to enjoy.

Author Deana J. Driver with Dionne and Graham Warner at one of Dionne's chemo treatments, July 2010

Author Deana J. Driver with Dionne and Graham Warner at the book launch
for Never Leave Your Wingman: Dionne and Graham Warner's Story of Hope, June 16, 2011

Dionne and Graham Warner dance into one of Dionne's chemo treatments, July 2011

I will always cherish the many hours of sitting with Dionne at book signings and laughing and laughing - with each other and with folks who stopped to buy the book or just visit with us. Weird for a cancer story, I know, but that was Dionne's story and that's how we approached this adventure. Those 24 hours of feeling sorry for herself had long passed.

Dionne Warner and author Deana J. Driver at a
Never Leave Your Wingman book signing, Feb. 7, 2013

Dionne Warner and author Deana J. Driver at a book signing, "Movember" 2016

Dionne's story has helped many people during their cancer battles. This includes my family as we lost my mother and then my husband to cancer. I shared Dionne's story with my mom while I was finishing writing the book in 2011, and Al quickly decided he would "fight like Dionne" when he was diagnosed in 2015. Many of us gained strength and courage from Dionne's story. Knowing her story took away some of the fear and brought us more peace on that path. I will forever be grateful to Dionne for showing us the way.

We all need hope. We all need love. We all need courage. We all need laughter. This was Dionne Warner to the core.

There is a moving poem about what cancer cannot do. It was read at my husband's memorial service and it applies again and again. Paraphrasing the pieces of one version that speaks to me today: "Cancer cannot cripple love... shatter hope... kill friendship... shut out memories... silence courage."

Cancer can never take away Dionne Warner's "Live your life to the fullest - No regrets!" mantra or the exuberant "Woo Hoo!' that marked her entrances and celebrations. It will never diminish the good work she did in raising funds for cancer research or in raising the spirits of thousands of cancer patients and their families. Many will remember that forever.

I extend my deepest condolences to Dionne's wingman, Graham, and their family and friends. Dionne was much loved and will be sorely missed.

Fly high and free, Angel D. Thank you for the light you shone in our lives. We will never forget you. We will continue to carry that light for you.

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Buy the Never Leave Your Wingman book from DriverWorks Ink

Buy the e-book: Kobo, Amazon Kindle

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An article in the Regina Leader-Post on Dionne Warner's passing
An article by CBC Saskatchewan on Dionne Warner's passing

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Seeing this "Little Coat" inspired a country singer to write an award-winning book

Canadian soldier Bob Elliott and his crew asked a Dutch seamstress to make this child's coat from a Canadian Army blanket. The buttons came from the soldiers' tunics. The soldiers gave the coat to their "good-luck charm", 10-year-old Sussie Cretier, on Christmas Day 1944.

Alan J. Buick was a full-time carpentry instructor and a part-time country singer when he noticed the unique child's coat in a case on display in Olds, Alberta. Here is  what the first glimpse of that little coat meant to him:

Seeing the “little coat” for the first time - at the Royal Canadian Legion in Olds, Alberta in September 2004 - filled me with bewilderment more than passion. I asked a friend, who had come to hear my wife Carol and I play music that night, why this coat with Canadian Army buttons was displayed with all the wartime memorabilia; it was far too small for a soldier to have worn. My friend proceeded to relate some of the story behind its creation – it was a Christmas gift in 1944 from Canadian soldiers to a 10-year-old Dutch girl who had become a good-luck charm for them; she later brought the coat to Canada.

It was then that my passion for this tale began.

The most powerful moment was when I learned that the little Dutch girl who wore the coat and the soldier who gave it to her were not only still alive in 2004, but married to each other! I knew I had an epic by the tail! I had to find out more.

I contacted Bob and Sue Elliott - the Canadian soldier and the Dutch girl - who were at that time living in the Netherlands. The email address I'd been given for them failed, so snail mail was the only other choice. They replied to my letter and the journey to turn their story into a book began.

These were Sue's words: "I have no problem telling you what it was like growing up under Nazi rule, but good luck when you get to Bob!”

She was right. Bob, like many veterans, preferred not to talk about the horrors of war; the recollections opened old wounds long forgotten.

Bob and Sue and I met face-to-face at the Royal Canadian Legion hall in Olds, Alberta in October 2005 to discuss the procedure for writing this book. It was a truly amazing day. Just talking to these two wonderful people who had endured so much was an awe-inspiring experience for me.

 

Bob and Sue (Sussie) Elliott in 2005 with Sue's little coat on display at the Royal Canadian Legion in Olds, Alberta, Canada.

I knew I had not collected all the information I needed that day. The journey I had chosen was both humbling and difficult. I was dealing with 65-year-old memories! A good example of this was the day before my publisher, Deana Driver, was to send the manuscript off to print, Sue told me of the German soldier who visited with her family frequently. This information had to be included in the book as it showed how not all German people were evil.
​
At the close of our 2005 meeting, Sue asked me what she should do with her little coat. I said it should be in a museum, where it would inform future generations of the compassion and generosity Canadian soldiers had for the emaciated and spiritually worn-down peoples of the Netherlands. They contacted the Canadian War Museum, which promptly sent two representatives to the Olds Legion to carefully prepare this ancient garment for the long flight to Ottawa.

 

Alan J. Buick, author of the award-winning, Canadian best-selling book The Little Coat: The Bob and Sue Elliott Story, available from www.driverworks.ca

  

Prior to the official book launch, scheduled to take place at the Olds Legion on November 11, 2009, a pre-launch gathering was held at the Armoury Officers' Mess in Regina. As strange as it may sound and with fate in our corner, one of the officials from the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands happened to be present that night, Hans Moor. We gave him a copy of my book, The Little Coat: The Bob and Sue Elliott Story, and he read it on his flight back to Ottawa.

A few weeks later, I was invited by him to attend a function at the Canadian War Museum in Ottawa to honour the Canadian soldiers of World War II who repatriated the Netherlands. This was an amazing evening. There was I, a New Zealand farmboy, rubbing shoulders and chatting with Dutch Ambassador Wim Geerts and General Charles Belzile, retired commander of the Canadian Forces! A truly humbling and memorable experience.

My most touching moment on that trip was seeing "the child's coat" in its restored state and mounted in a beautiful glass case, complete with a bronze plaque briefly explaining what it was and what it represented. It literally brought me to tears. The War Museum staff had done an excellent job of presenting this wonderful artifact.

 

Alan J. Buick seeing the child's coat at the Canadian War Museum.
(Photo courtesy of Hans Moor, Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, Ottawa, ON) 

It is difficult to pinpoint any incident I told in The Little Coat book as being more significant than another but, if I were to pick just one, it would be when Sussie's (Sue's) family escaped on foot for two kilometres to the safety of the Canadian lines while her family was under fire from German soldiers.

The Little Coat is a perennial story, a story of love and compassion, of terror and human relationships – a perfect gift for men, women, and children ages 10 and up, or even just because. Once you read it, you'll understand the gratitude the Dutch still have for Canadians today and forever. This book captures the true compassion of the Canadian soldiers for the Dutch people in their darkest hour.

Editor's note: The Little Coat: The Bob and Sue Elliott Story was awarded Honourable Mention, 2010 Hollywood Book Festival. $4,500 from sales of The Little Coat has been donated to the Royal Canadian Legion Dominion Command Poppy Trust Fund. $1 from every book sold from 2013 on is donated to the Canadian War Museum, the new home of the 'child's coat' in this inspiring war story turned love story.

Our 40th Wedding Anniversary - From A Hospice Bed

Today is our 40th wedding anniversary. Strangely, we are celebrating that today for the first time in 40 years.

You see, Al and I were married twice - to each other both times. December 29th is the date of our first, legal marriage ceremony. January 17th is the date of our second, church ceremony.

We've never celebrated on December 29th before, but this year is different. This year, my husband is dying from cancer and it is important that we take every moment possible to celebrate whatever we can in whatever time we have left together. Even though he is lying in a hospice bed, getting weaker every day, we celebrate that we've been married – happily – for 40 years. That is a big accomplishment these days and we’re proud of ourselves.

Al and I met in college in Calgary, Alberta in the fall of 1973 and we became best friends before we began dating in January 1974. Al went home to Regina, Saskatchewan to work at the Regina Leader-Post newspaper for the summer of ’74 and I stayed in Calgary to work at summer jobs. Those were excruciatingly lonely months without him, but he phoned me often, in the middle of the night, using the Regina Leader-Post's long-distance phone plan. (Thank you, former sports editor Bob Hughes for being so kind as to allow these calls between two lovesick youngsters.)

The first thing Al said to me when he returned to Calgary in August 1974, for our second year of journalism school, was, "Will you marry me?"

I eagerly said, “Yes.” I couldn’t imagine a life without him.

We didn't officially get engaged until the following spring, at the top of the Calgary Tower, a few days before our two-year journalism course ended. Al had a job waiting for him in Regina and I only had him, so we agreed that I would move to Saskatchewan. It was an excellent decision on my part.

Our first wedding was a legal ceremony performed by a justice of the peace at the Regina Court House on December 29, 1975. We did it for the money.

One of Al's dad's friends informed us that if we got married before the end of the calendar year, Canadian income tax rules (in those days) would allow Al to claim me as a dependant for the entire year. This meant a significant tax benefit for a young couple who had nothing.

I was working as an invoice typist for a company that sold paper. I lied to my boss and said I had a doctor’s appointment that morning. (I had to lie - I needed them to still give me time off for our "real" wedding a few weeks later.) I left work at 11 a.m. to meet Al, his parents, his sister Linda, and one of our male friends, Terry, at the Regina court house. I didn't have any friends in Regina yet and Al's sister was still underage, so Al's mom signed the marriage documents as my witness. Our friend Terry signed for Al. (Strangely, Terry was an usher at our church wedding and not one of our best men. Our best men were likely both working that day and we must have decided not to bother them with this trivial event since Terry was available during time off from his job.)

The marriage ceremony lasted less than 15 minutes. Al took my wedding ring out of a box and put it on my finger at the appropriate time, as I did with his; we signed the papers; put the rings back in the boxes; took a couple photos; then went for lunch at a nearby pizza restaurant. I couldn't even eat much lunch because it took a long time coming and I would have been too late going back to work.

December 29, 1975.

Al's mom is wearing red. Al's dad is in the background.

Linda, Al, me, Terry.

Al continued to live at his parents' house while I lived in an apartment that became our first home as husband and wife after our "real" wedding weeks later.

On January 17, 1976, we had our church wedding in my hometown of Athabasca, Alberta. We made our vows in front of God, our families, friends, and many people we didn’t even know who were invited by my parents. That’s what good Ukrainian weddings were like in the 1970s.

January 17, 1976.

We have always considered January 17^th to be our wedding anniversary. December 29th was quickly forgotten.

Until now.

It’s unlikely that my beloved Al will be alive on our January 17^th, 40^th wedding anniversary. His colon cancer has spread to his bowels and he has been unable to eat for most of the last few weeks. It is sad, maddening, distressing, and heartbreaking to watch, but we have had many precious moments these past 12 days since we heard the news of the failed surgery attempt to remove his bowel blockage.

We have said all that we need to say to each other. I have read him dozens of tributes about him written by family, friends, co-workers, school chums, and more. We have seen many wonderful glimpses of his life and his impact on others through their eyes, and it has been good. Very good.

Al is strong mentally, when the painkillers wear off a bit, and he has surprised us many times over these past few days: waking to watch the world junior hockey games (hockey is his favourite sport); asking us to bring him an Orange Crush and then absolutely savouring the taste of it; providing a suggestion on how to further streamline our accounting processes for our book publishing business; telling our children, children-in-law and grandchildren that he loves them; and, as usual, correcting my verbal errors when I say the wrong name as I tell a story, and, I am sure, mentally rolling his eyes when I say dumb things. He has opened his eyes and wished me “Happy Anniversary” twice today, including after I read him what I intended to post on this blog. He is a good man.

And we have laughed. A lot.

Al watching world junior hockey with our
son-in-law Kyle, son Dave, and daughter Lisa.

Enjoying Orange Crush, with our
daughter Dani.

Al has been at peace with the notion that he is dying. Everyone dies. It is apparently his time. 

He wanted to make it to Christmas, which he did.

Al was able to come home for a few hours on December 22, to
celebrate an early Christmas with our beautiful family

He wanted to make it to our anniversary, which he did. 

He has lived a good life and, as he told me a few months ago before we knew how mean this cancer would become, “We’ve had a good run.”


Yes, we have, my love. Forty great years. Happy Anniversary.