Donald David Boyd

Sean Boyd's eulogy for his father follows the obituary.

BOYD, Donald David – 82, passed away peacefully Jan 8, 2009, at home in Enfield, N.S. surrounded by his loving family. Born in River Bourgeois, Cape Breton, he was the son of Donald David and Katharine (McIsaac) Boyd. After attending St. Mary’s College High School, he enlisted in the R.C.A.F. serving overseas during WWII where he completed a tour of operations as a mid-upper gunner in Lancaster aircraft. He returned to Canada in 1946, retiring as a Warrant Officer First Class. Following his service career Don was employed as an Air Traffic Controller with the Federal Department of Transportation. He was one of the first Controllers at the Halifax International Airport in 1960, where he worked until he retired in 1976. From 1973 to 1985, as President of Rondon Developments Ltd, he was one of the driving forces behind the development of Alderney Park Subdivision in Enfield. With Ron Smith he was co-founder of the original East Hants Jr. Penguins Hockey team in 1967. In the early 1960s, he was instrumental in the establishment of several athletic venues in the village of Enfield: an outdoor hockey rink, a Little League baseball field, a senior baseball field, and a regulation size football field. He organized, coached and/or managed many of the teams that played at these venues over the years. Don was a life member of the Royal Canadian Legion Enfield Branch 133. He became an avid golfer after joining the newly constructed Oakfield Golf and Country Club in 1962 where he played until the age of 78. Don was a loving husband, father, grandfather and great grandfather. He was predeceased by his wife Leona (Blanchard), sister Eileen Donahoe, brothers Arthur and Colin, he will be deeply missed by his brother Edmund, daughters Deborah (Mike) Wood and Donna Boyd, sons Gerald (Hughena), Sean (Wilma), Gregory (Judy), and Mike (Cathy), and by his 17 grandchildren and 15 great grandchildren. Many thanks to Donna for the special care she provided over the last few years, to Dr. Bruce Montgomery who was always there for Dad, to Janice Smith and the nurses during his last days, to Bea Ledwidge for her spiritual visitations and Communion, and to Ron Smith for his lifelong friendship. Cremation has taken place and funeral arrangements are under the direction of Ettinger’s Funeral Home. Visitation will be at St Bernard’s church, Enfield 6pm-9pm Sunday, Jan 11. The funeral will be held at St Bernard’s church, Monday Jan 12 at 11am, Father phil Thibodeau officiating, followed by a reception at the Royal Canadian Legion, Enfield. Friends and family may visit Don's Everlasting Memorial where they may view cherished photographs and also leave a written or spoken message to honour him.

BOYD, Donald David – Eulogy by his son Sean

I would like to start this eulogy to our Dad by quoting a sage philosopher… Yogi Berra. Yogi was a famous catcher for the New York Yankees in the 1950s and he is well known for saying some pretty quirky things. One of his most famous Yogi-isms was: “it’s like déjà vue, all over again”. Well, this eulogy is like déjà vue all over again for me because it was only 3 short years ago that I was standing here delivering one for Mom.

Quoting Yogi Berra is appropriate because he was one of Dad’s favourite baseball players, and he lived in an age and played one of the sports that Dad truly loved. As a youngster, well before the age of High Definition TV and 500 sports channels, Dad would get his sports fix listening to the radio. He would listen to Vin Scully broadcasting Brooklyn Dodger games or to Foster Hewwit Hockey Night in Canada. Suffice to say that Dad was a certified sports nut and this played a big role in his life.

Another Yogi-ism and also appropriate to this event: “You should always go to other people's funerals, otherwise, they won't come to yours.” In that light, I’d like to thank everyone for coming today and for sharing thoughts and stories about Dad. These all point to the influence he’s had on so many people, directly or indirectly. Most people here are locals but some friends and relatives came from far away, even a few from CB where Dad spent much of his youth. Thanks for making the effort especially in such lousy conditions.

Despite Dad’s loss and the work that needed to go into making all the arrangements for the funeral, it hasn’t been all doom and gloom. In fact, we’ve had fun practicing songs, dredging up photos, hashing over stories, meeting old friends, and simply being together… of course, with suds and wine to help soften the blow. You know that the Boyd clan in Enfield likes to party and will use any excuse.

I’ll be talking for 15-20 minutes but if there’s anyone in the crowd who would like to share something about Dad, tell a story (funny or otherwise) then please come on up to the microphone after I finish.

Aside from his children, there were a number of special people in Dad’s life. Dad often found it difficult to show his appreciation or affection. In fact, when I talked to him on the phone the night before he went into a semi-coma, I told him that I loved him, that we all loved him, and that he didn’t need to say anything in return because I knew that that was difficult for him. I know he got the message because he thanked me then and, after one of his great-grandchildren Cory gave him a kiss that same night, according to Mike he opened his eyes, turned his head, and said: “Everybody loves me”. Now, Dad was known to be sarcastic at times and this could have been one of those times, but I doubt it.

- The first and foremost person in Dad’s life was of course his life partner Leona (our mother). There’s no question how important she was to Dad and the family for close to 60 years. Mom did all the domestic stuff and that freed Dad to make his contributions to the community as I will describe a little later.

- Donna devoted the past 3 years to caring for Dad, during a very difficult time in his life. Donna would arrange for his pills, meals, doctor appointments, etc. and Dad would joke to the doctors, nurses, and even strangers that Donna was his ‘manager’, as if he was a rock star.

- Dad’s brother Edmund, the only remaining sibling now, was special in Dad’s life. I know he appreciated everything you did for the family Edmund, for being a good uncle and a good brother.

- Ron Smith (Smitty) and Dad did many things together over the past 50 years, from hunting, horse-racing, and the stock market (all of which I believe weren’t terribly successful) to real sports like hockey, baseball and football. They were also partners in developing Alderney Park in Enfield. Pretty well every day for the last 5 years, Smitty visited Dad, dropping off his mail and spending time to chat about the latest stock market scam. Ron, if you were Catholic you’d stand a good chance of being promoted to sainthood.

- Finally, on Dad’s behalf, we’d like to thank:

1) Bea Ledwidge for visiting Dad almost every Sunday, giving him communion,

2) Janice Smith (Ron’s niece, caring must run in the family) who gave Dad an unbelievable amount of support in his last days,

3) All the people who dropped off food to the house; there’s so much food that I swear I already had to loosen my belt twice and may have to throw it away altogether! There are too many names to mention here but you know who you are and we thank you.

4) Cathy Garden for inviting overflow family members into her house.

5) Dr. Bruce Montgomery for taking such good care of Dad over the years.

6) Father Phil and Father Andrew for their involvement in the funeral.

7) Alan MacLeod Sr. and Jr. and the rest of the staff at Ettinger’s for doing such a professional job on the funeral arrangements, and finally,

8) The women of Enfield for preparing the food for this event.

Now, I would like to say a few words about Dad, to highlight some of his highlights. Some of this is in the obituary but here’s a bit more detail:

- Dad was born in River Bourgeois, in Cape Breton in 1926. He and his brother CF spent a few years in a boarding school in Cheticamp, he attended St. Mary’s college, and in 1943, at the ripe old age of 17, he enlisted in the R.C.A.F. He said the reason he did this was because he wanted to skip school. I don’t doubt that for a moment but I’m also quite sure he wanted to serve his country. He was stationed with Wickenby Squadron just outside London, completing an entire tour of operations as a mid-upper gunner in a Lancaster bomber. A tour consists of 30 sorties or bombing runs, each one lasting 7-10 hours. More on this later.

- After the war, he worked in the income tax dept where he met a lovely lady from NFLD named Leona Blanchard. They married in 1948 and had 6 children, who in turn had 17 children of their own, who in turn had 15 children of their own, many of whom are here today.

- Dad worked as an Air Traffic Controller, spending most of his career at the Halifax International Airport until 1976. The average career span of an ATC is somewhere around 12-15 years but Dad hung in there for about 20. When I was 15, I worked a summer job at the airport, cleaning floors, emptying garbage etc. Often I would have to climb the spiral staircase up to the control tower, sometimes when Dad was working. I have to say that I was proud of him then because that was just about the only time I ever saw him looking business-like in a shirt and tie and being an Air Traffic Controller, well he was in control of all the air traffic… in other words he had ultimate power. He could tell pilots, who were making 5 times his salary, where to go. He was responsible for the lives of hundreds of people, in charge of flight paths, altitudes, take off times. That certainly impressed this 15 year old at the time.

- In 1967, he co-founded the East Hants Jr. Penguins Hockey team with Ron Smith and was on the executive for several years. All 4 of his boys played on the Penguins under coaches Hap Hansen and Jim Thompson and both girls were on the cheerleading squad. Those were good years, we even came close to winning a few championships and of course we learned a lot of life skills and made some good friends.

- Dad was a life-time member of this Legion. There’s no question that he spent a lot of time here… oftentimes to the chagrin of our mother. Mom would phone and get the standard response from Joe Scavetti: “Yes, Leona, he just left”. Then it would take Dad up to an hour to drive home. When I was young, I thought the legion must have been very far away because it always took him so long to get home.

Dad and sports:

- Dad simply loved sports. When he was a youngster growing up in Cape Breton, he never had the opportunity to see the Boston Red Sox squeak out a win over the NY Yankees or the Montreal Canadians clobber the Toronto Maple Leafs. Dad never learned how to snap a wrist shot, how to throw a slider, or how to kick a field goal. But, he tried his best to ensure that we had the every opportunity possible to experience those things… and isn’t that what a father is supposed to do? When we moved to Enfield in 1960 there were limited opportunities for organized sports. Dad helped change this almost overnight. With help from others like Jack Garden, Tom and Lou Parker, Cliff Isenor, and Ron Smith he built an outdoor hockey rink, a Little League baseball field, a senior baseball field, and a regulation size football field, all in the span of 4-5 years and all this while holding down a permanent job. These were some of his most important contributions to the community. In my mind’s eye I can still see Dad standing in the middle of the rink on a cold, dark night, illuminated by a couple of light bulbs, spraying the ice with a small hose, going back and forth, back and forth…just before having to rush off to the airport to work the mid-night shift.

- We learned a lot of important life skills from these sports, including how to lose and what it takes to win. Some of you in this room may recall our very first half-pint football game, when we were only 12-14 years old. It just so happened that our opponent was one of the best teams in the maritimes, the Halifax Bears. They even sounded scary… what a way to start. We were pretty green, didn’t have much of a clue how to play the game, and it showed in the final score… we lost 110-0. Every time they got the ball, they scored and every time we got the ball, they scored. But, we worked hard under the coaching of Bill Spurr, and gradually improved. At the end of the season we played, guess who… the very same Halifax Bears for the NS championship. I have no idea how we made it to the finals but we did and we played a great game. We lost by a score of 12-0 and for us it was like winning the Super Bowl, it was huge. We would never have had the opportunity to develop and test our abilities if it wasn’t for the efforts of a few people like Dad who invested so much time and energy in building all those facilities.

- Golf: Dad took up golf relatively late in life, when he was in his 30s. He never figured out how to perfect his swing, how to use his legs for power… he was all arms. But there was one thing he did perfect, one thing he enjoyed more than hitting a 200 yd drive down the center of the fairway or sinking a 50 ft put… and that was finding lost golf balls. He would spend more time rummaging around the forest edge or poking in water hazards than actually hitting and chasing his own ball, often much to the consternation of the foursome behind us. We joked about it all the time. He never ended 18 holes with fewer golf balls than he started.

Dad and the war:

I want to spend a little time talking about Dad and the war, which I believe had a profound effect on him. A couple of years ago the author Kurt Vonegut died. He wrote a novel entitled ‘Slaughterhouse 5’ which had to do with the night the German city of Dresden was bombed. It was a historical moment in the war, up to 1,000 Allied bombers were involved, the city was literally burnt to the ground, and about 40,000 people died. I happened to have Dad’s log book and when I checked the date sure enough his crew had been one of the aircraft involved that night. I never asked him about this but often wondered if that had had any effect on him, knowing that so many people died, especially innocent people. Of course the Allies were doing their job, obeying commands from above but you have to wonder.

Ernie Baird was the skipper of Dad’s bomber crew during WWII. The crew survived an entire tour of duty (again, that’s 30 sorties) when, on average, somewhere around 60% of all crews didn’t survive their tour. In fact, 120,000 Allied crew members were lost during the war… so to be one of the survivors you needed to be very lucky or very good or both. I spoke to Captain Baird recently and thanked him on behalf of the family for being so lucky or so good or both. Dad’s involvement in the war, at the tender age of 17-18 (!), must have had had a significant and lasting effect on his life. This is something that very few of us, living the sheltered lives we do, can appreciate.

Ernie sent a few pictures and a story that I’d like to relate to you. Some of pictures were taken by one of the crew members on their very last bombing run to Berchtesgaden. This was Hitler’s 'hide-away' in 1945, on the peak of a high mountain in the Bavarian Alps. Hitler had a chalet there that could only be accessed by way of an elevator shaft from the valley floor. The intention was to drop a bomb right down the elevator shaft. Alas, they weren’t successful but, according to Ernie, they gave it a good try… and this turned out to be an interesting historical tid-bit.

Ernie also wrote this short note about one incident during a bombing run. These trips were dangerous because of enemy fighters, exploding flak, and mid-air collisions. At nighttime, Dad said that the sky over their targets would be lit up like a torch because of all the search lights and flak. He saw many of his colleagues lose their lives, some due to mid-air collisions. The following story relates to the latter and I will quote Ernie verbatim:

“As I had mentioned earlier, our crew operated as a single unit, we each had our own specific job to do, no one was more important than any other. The gunners, besides fighting off enemy fighters, were the extra sets of eyes so essential, especially when flying at night or in cloud to warn of other planes coming too close. Mid air collisions were an ever present threat, from the sides, above and below as well as from the front. On one occasion both Don and I simultaneously spotted another Lancaster, out of the dark, crossing our bow on a collision coarse. Don called out and I threw the plane into a violent dive passing directly under the other plane with only inches to spare; probably the closest call to oblivion that we ever had, and no others in the crew saw it, although they knew it when they hit the ceiling as a result of the dive.”

Ernie also sent this note: “Don was a good man, honest and true. I consider it a real privilege to have known and shared with Don that very special time, though short, when we young so long ago.”

A few stories about Dad:

I asked each of the siblings to relate at least one short story about Dad that describes some aspect of his character:

Gerry: Two summers ago I took Dad to Point Pleasant Park for a ride on his scooter around the many paths that wind through the woods and along the shore. Dad thoroughly enjoyed the view across the water and the cool breeze in his face. When we returned to the car, I discovered that the driver’s door was unlocked. I wasn't alarmed until I realized that my wallet was missing. I remember having it on the front seat beside me on the way into town. I concluded that I must have left it there and someone saw it, stole it, took the money, and possibly threw it in one of the garbage cans nearby. After checking all the cans, I notified the police and phoned home to Hughena to cancel all my credit cards. I was having trouble remembering what other cards I might have to cancel, so I turned to Dad and asked him to check his wallet to see what cards he had. He pulled out his wallet, opened it up, turned to me and said with a puzzled look on his face "this isn't my wallet"? No it wasn't. It was mine. Case solved.

Sean: In the early 1960s, Dad decided to trade our old Chevy station wagon in for a new model. While waiting for the new car to arrive, the old one developed a distinct clunk in the transmission and Dad figured that if the dealer heard it he may back out. Well, I went with Dad to drop off the old car and pick up the new one. Now, the dealership happened to be at the bottom of a hill so, about 500 ft from the parking lot, Dad turned the motor off and coasted to a silent stop in front of the dealership. I remember thinking that this was a sneaky move, that Dad was pretty smart. I’m sure the dealer must have thought he was taking Dad for a ride, not the other way around.

Greg: A few years back we came to visit mom and dad. The kids were relating a scene they saw on T.V. about "Mr. Bean", who was trying to get out of an underground parking lot without paying the required fee. He checked the height of the barrier arm and compared it to the height of his car to see if he could exit underneath. Realizing that this would not work he waited until an in-coming vehicle raised the barrier and passed by him. He then raced through before the arm came down. At this point we noticed Mom and Dad looking sheepishly at each other. Then mom said to Dad "that sounds like us". They proceeded to tell us how they had just been to the hospital and when they tried to exit the parking lot they couldn’t because they were suppose to pay inside the hospital. Not wanting to backtrack, Dad got out and measured the height of the barrier arm and the height of the car. Nope, it wouldn't work. Like Mr. Bean, they waited until someone came into the parking lot and they raced out before the arm lowered, almost causing an accident.

Deb: I always enjoyed taking Dad to his specialist appointments at the hospital. Because Dad was on a pureed diet he couldn’t wait to get out and enjoy some real food. His most favorite was a cheeseburger, even a cheeseburger from the hospital! I never saw anyone enjoy a meal like that. On the way home Dad would say “Now, we won’t tell Donna, will we?” So when she asked what we ate, it was always soup. I’m sure the mustard on his chin gave us away. I hope you have all the cheeseburgers you want now dad…Enjoy!!

Mike: Whenever you entered the room or if you asked a question that required a simple “YES” answer, Dad would tip his head back and a bit to the side and shoot you with his finger. That’s how he said HELLO or YES with a minimal amount of energy expenditure. Interestingly, Mike was sitting in Dad’s chair the other day and he did exactly the same thing, proving that behaviour can easily be passed from one generation to the next.

Donna: In the last few years when the phone rang next to Dad, he would pick it up, study the caller ID for a long, long time, and then pass it onto to somebody else in the room to answer. More often than not, he took so long studying, analyzing, and assessing the caller ID that the caller had already hung up or left a message.

Gerry: When I was 17 years old, I borrowed Dad’s car with the understanding that I would be home by the time he had to go to work. I didn’t make it home in time so Dad decided to ride my small Kawasaki motorcycle to work. There was only one problem with this idea: he never rode a motorcycle before. After having some difficulty getting it started, he found first gear and headed down the driveway. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to use the brakes. Lucky for him there were no vehicles on the main road as he sailed right across and into the building on the other side (currently Shooters). After picking himself up, and realizing that there wasn't much damage to the motor cycle, he decided to finish what he had started, and headed off to the airport. Halfway up the airport hill, the motor conked out (perhaps because he didn’t know how to get it out of first gear) and Dad was forced to hide the motorcycle in the woods and hitch-hike the rest of the way. He wasn't very jovial the next time he talked to me.

Mike: When the weather was warm, I would take Dad out on the scooter for a little fresh air. He sometimes didn’t want to go through the effort but I would coax him into it. Once he was on the road though he loved it and often commented on how nice everyone was to him. People would say Hi to Dad no matter if they were young or old. However, I had to be attentive when he waved because he would often veer off the sidewalk and I would have to grab the side of the scooter to keep it from tipping over. Dad would comment that he was trying to avoid something on the sidewalk! He didn’t want me to think that he couldn’t even handle the scooter! In retrospect, the walks were harder on my nerves than his. Funny thing, just a few weeks ago when he could barely navigate his way from the living room to the kitchen, he said that he was going to drive up to the bank by himself… in the car!

Deb: This happened the day before Dad passed away. At the time there were just the 2 of us in the room and Dad was in and out of consciousness. At one point I asked him if would like me to sing him some songs to which he opened his eyes and responded quite matter of factly: “Not particularly.” Dad always did speak his mind. Was that a hint Dad? …Should I quit the choir?

The end:

I want to end with a final quote from our old friend Yogi: “It ain't over till it's over” which reminds me of a story Gerry told me the other day. It’s about 2 old guys who loved the sport of baseball. One of the old codgers in fact was our Dad, Don Boyd. Dad and his friend loved baseball so much that they continued to play up until their 80s, at a slower pace than previously but nevertheless they still played whenever they could. Well, Dad’s good friend became terminally ill and died a few weeks ago. But before he departed Dad asked him to send some kind of sign from heaven, to let him know what it was like there and, more importantly, if they could still play baseball. Sure enough, about a week after he died Dad’s friend came to him as an angel in a dream. “Don”, he said: “I’ve got some good news and I’ve got some bad news. The good news is that heaven is a wonderful place and yes indeed they do play baseball. The bad news is that you’re pitching next week”. Have a good game Dad…. good luck with the no-hitter.

HALLELUJAH (sung by Mike Boyd and family)

I've heard there was a secret chord (Words by Leonard Cohen)

That David played, and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do you?

It goes like this

The fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah….

I did my best, it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you

And even though

Some things went wrong

I'll stand before the Lord of Song

With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah…

He asked me on one lonely night (Words by Mike Boyd)

What might come next….what is it like?

I wonder if I’ll make it there to see him

But now he’s seen the other side

He’s finally seen the blinding light

It’s so pure and glorious… Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah…

Born as a Cape Breton boy. (Words by Wilma Boyd)

They called him Donald David Boyd.

His life was marked by highlights, do you see now?

He did so much and was around,

to make a change in our home town,

He had ideas and knew just what to do there ....

Hallelujah, Hallelujah…