Courage

Harvey was a strong and hard working fellow. He spent the majority of his life in a tiny outport community shadowed by the rugged set of coastal mountains which stand guard upon the Western shores of Newfoundland. Like most of his kin, he lived directly off of this imposing landscape. He hunted for moose in the fall of the year--an annual adventure which was always anticipated. Spring and summer brought the promise of another cod and lobster season. Many an hour were spent frolicking on a snowmobile in the winter--no matter what the weather, Harvey found great joy in the outdoor open air.


As a child, I recall him coming to live with my family for a period of time. He was jovial, easy-going and ever true to his Newfie heritage, which made him irrepressibly funny. He also adored his country music. When Harvey launched into a sing-a-long with certain favourite tunes, head bobbing and feet stomping, he would miss half the lyrics and always mangled the songs. These 'demonstrations' never failed to garner howls of laughter from my sister, brother and I.

His favourite meal was a Jigg’s dinner. This traditional Newfoundland dish typically consists of a combination of pickled salt beef, boiled potatoes, carrots, cabbage, turnip, and turnip greens. Bread pudding, dressing, peas pudding, and a cooked turkey, chicken or beef roast, (for good measure) results in a literal cornucopia of food. The entire list of ingredients is boiled together in the same pot for hours on end, and it makes for a truly hearty blend. Since becoming vegetarian, I can appreciate that the whole jumbled mess might easily strike some as unpalatable, but nonetheless, such were the makings of many a happy family meal! Even after Harvey moved out of our house, he continued to graciously accept our invitations to join us on Sundays for the weekly feast. His kind spirit was a welcome addition to any occasion.

What I also recall from those years was how much enjoyment Harvey took from Christmas. Although he was a man of modest means, he never failed to provide generous and exciting Christmas presents for us kids. His eyes gleamed as he watched us open our gifts on Christmas morning. And of course, his eyes gleamed again later in the day when we were served yet another coveted Jigg’s dinner for Christmas.

I was contacted by the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation on the morning of December 12, while still at work, and I am constantly amazed by how life manages to unfold. After getting off the telephone, I thought to myself: What am I thinking, agreeing to this? Me? I am not a blogger, and certainly no writer, either. I am a community activist. I had gone and gotten myself snared by the moment again, only this time, perhaps, I had bitten off more than I could chew! What would I possibly write about, and how silly would I sound to those people who have directly experienced the coldness of cancer? Could I do them justice? Nevertheless, I concluded that the worst that could happen was that I would end up looking ridiculous (again!) and the lovely people at the Courage Campaign would learn a valuable lesson about being careful with whom they ask to blog for them in the future.