Something of Dad

My father: James Robertson, born 1914, died 1998. He was a great guy and I miss him a lot. He didn't say a lot, but his brain was always engaged. He had to be dragged to a party, but once he got there, he enjoyed himself. He didn't like being around argumentative people - Mum and I must have driven him bonkers because we went through a few years when we didn't agree on anything!

He loved his family, but he wasn't openly demonstrative. I think he felt deeply, but because he was brought up in an era where men didn't show emotions, he held a lot inside. He was a great mentor to me, but unfortunately, I didn't realize the extent of his mentoring until after he had died. He was always there for me, even when he didn't really understand or agree with my course of action. He was so darn pleased when I passed my 5 year working anniversary at UNB! He would have been so pleased when I bought my house - that would have proven finally that I'd grown up and settled down.

This is just so much him. This was taken on a beach somewhere in Florida. Not sure when since I was living out west at the time. That hat. His plaid shirts. His brown pants!

This was taken when Mum, Dad and David took a trip out to Alberta and BC. Dad did not like to tent so they stayed in Motels along the way, as far as I know. But he liked to picnic. That camp stove got a workout. I loved that navy sweater of his.

Dad kept two hives of bees for years. He loved the honey, and we ate it on toast and he used it to sweeten his mead. He also strongly believed in the healing powers of honey. He had a paperback written by a doctor who practiced in Vermont who wrote about the remedies used by the local people. Honey was used in many ways beyond soothing a sore throat. One of the stories was about a man who cut himself quite badly when he was chopping wood out in the forest and an elderly woman slathered the wound with honey, wrapped it up, and sent him off to the hospital. He had to walk for 3 days to get there (this was back in the olden days). When he did, the doctors told him he was already healed enough that they couldn't stitch the wound. To contain the healing enzymes apparently, the honey should be unpasteurized.

Here, they are smoking the bees to make them dozy and less likely to sting while they remove the supers in preparation for extracting the honey from the frames. This is at the end of the summer, so the hives will die out after this. It was not worthwhile keeping the 2 hives over the winter, so Dad would buy two new swarms each spring. One year, the queen of one of the hives died, and to keep the hive from dying out, Dad ordered a new queen. It had to be put in with the workers within a few days. The queen was delivered by a man driving a big semi, but she came in a little box with wire screen sides, wooden ends, and with a honey plug in one end. The little box is put in with the workers in the hive, and normally they would kill a strange queen. But to get to her, they had to eat out the honey plug and by they time they got into her little box, her smell and theirs was mixed, and she was accepted. I loved the first honey of the season - came from apple blossom and dandelion!