In 1965, before I was born, Dad wrote to Mum to say that he was thriving as the Chief Engineer at CFQC TV in Saskatoon. It sounds to me as if Dad was new in his job, establishing himself professionally, and maybe setting up their home.
At this time, my Mum was back home in Victoria with her parents. Anticipating her arrival, Dad told her about their new car and his recent successes at work, and how happy they would be together. This was him at his first career peak at 44, enthusiastic for an exciting future, in love with his wife, and eager to share his joy and success with her.
While transcribing his letter, I enjoyed hearing my Dad’s voice again. It’s so sweet to share someone’s joy, even posthumously, but especially from a time and a personality that you never knew. I think I’ve never really heard his voice that way before.
Life changes you. This was a sweet surprise…
My Dearest Ange,
I know that I have a fat lip coming for my letter writing (or rather my lack of it) but I’ll try to brazen it out.
I didn’t have that much crust. I’m a selfish, thoughtless old bugger, and should be hung up by the tiddler for fourteen minutes.
I was so pleased to talk to you the other day. I hope that you’ll not regret leaving Victoria too much.
I have the new car, and I’m determined that before I even have time to be selfish, you will get your learner’s license and soon be telling me how to drive. It’s such a nice car, and you could get a regular license for that car in nothing flat. Then we’ll have the whole summer to wander about, and you can get lots of practise.
The last week has been a time of ups and downs for me, as I was held on tenter hooks as far as cameras for my new station were concerned. We closed the deal today, and much to my satisfaction. What we’ve ordered will be the envy of every chief engineer in Canada. I’m even going to offer a paper at the next convention (you’ll have to come to Regina to hear the old man address the convention.)
From now on, (after the new plant) most things I create will be anti climax. This is my moment of glory.
We had a real windstorm which has lasted for three days. Egad!! Such filth — Of course you will remember the one we had a couple of years ago. Hours of work just to make the place presentable.
All the dresses, etc. about which we spoke are all clean and packed. You’ll receive them shortly. I have also sent your mouton coat in for cleaning, repairs and storage. While it would be nice to say that we could afford new coats, come the fall, you would certainly get much use from your old coat, especially for the $20 it costs to have it tiddlied up.
In the last week, I’ve been wined and dined by the chaps from Canadian Marconi Ltd. I could very easily become accustomed to martinis and “small steak” for lunch. Of course, then I can’t eat any supper (unless I’m offered a filet mignon). (The offers of lovely meals will disappear with the last of the orders.)
I just got a phone call from the Morgans — Damn! They will be over in a couple of days. I have had to think of garden tools, as someone pinched the shovel and fork. Now I have to buy new ones — Damn!!
Well, pet, I must go. I have a roast of pork roasting and I’m drooling all over the house.
I’ll write again, honey, and not as far from this letter. I love you, and wait for your arrival with not much patience.
Please give my love to your Mom and Dad.
PS. – (X)