Penny Pincher

“I used to call him Penny Pincher.”

Says Dad, after reading Pat’s letter.

Another old friend died. Dad met Roy in Grade 9 at Central Junior High in 1946. The needling nickname is a clear indicator of Dad’s deep fondness for Roy.

Roy1

“I’m glad you two renewed your friendship in these later years. I think it meant a lot to him.”

Writes Roy’s wife.

“Sounds like you were the original ‘Wild and Crazy guy’!”

Standing on stage for the high school graduation ceremony with Roy and the rest of their class, Dad’s flask of whiskey fell out of his pocket and shattered on the ground.

Roy and Dad lost touch for many years. Life got busy and took them in different directions.

Roy2

“I hope life  is treating you okay. I could say well, but it gets tougher when one reaches ‘a certain age’.”

Pat writes.

“But you also have a great sense of humour and hopefully that will carry you through all the problems that life throws at you.”

Responding to Pat, I’m told to tell her he doesn’t want to share any of his old stories about him and Roy for fear of making a young, new widow die of laughter.

Roy3

“Although I miss him very much after our 45 years together, I consider it a blessing that he did not have to suffer any longer.”

Pat writes.

Roy4

“We were friends for a long time.”

Says Dad.

 

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About Morbid Optimist

My name is Katryna Mary Brooke Ormiston. I am 35 years old and after living in Vancouver for a decade, I am returning home to my 81 year old father’s hobby farm on Vancouver Island to care for him in the final stages of his life. This blog is to document my journey, process my experiences along the way and hopefully share and feel connected to a community beyond the three and a half acres I find myself on. A message in a bottle in the cyber-sea.
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