Happy Birthday George H. Smith

My Dad would have been 104 years old yesterday. He was born and reared in Canada. He was a great Dad and I still miss his form even though he passed to the other side years ago. Recently I was invited to speak at a gathering in Canada and they asked about my Canadian connection. I wrote the following poetic explanation. The theme of the conference was "Rocks and Roots."

From Canada my Dad did come

Across the border to the states.

He came for work when youth was done,

And also found his love’s embrace.

His Father came from Britain’s heart

A midlands village in the West.

He lived a path he did not chart

For tragedy left life undressed.

He lost his family in a fire

And moved his roots to Canada.

T’was there he found another pyre

A fiery gal, my grand mama.

From them my Dad was given life

And grew to manhood on the coast.

New Brunswick’s living had its strife

But it became my Father’s host.

But rocks and roots must oft let go

And Dad began his quest for more.

And to the States, with oats to sow,

He set his hopes on Boston’s shore.

When I was small and just a shard

To Canada we thus would go.

One Uncle was a border guard

And others farmed so long ago.

So now you know why I can say

O Canada, your rocks and roots

Are part of me this very day

And to your country I salute.