A Day Of Remembrance

I remember spending a lot of time at the townhouse in Waterloo that housed my Uncle Ken and his family after they moved up from Windsor when I was a young teenager in the early 1970s. My seven counsins formed a noisy, rambunctious crowd so different from my own small family and I loved spending time with them. My cousins Marggie and Teresa became the sisters I never had. I knew I qualified as family simply by being Uncle Bob's daughter. But the love and attention shown to me by my Uncle Ken and Aunt Theresa indicated that I had become an honourary member of their brood as well.

I remember the late nights at my childhood home with my parents playing cards with my Aunt and Uncle for hours. I remember the sound of my Dad banging the cards on the kitchen table, the clink of highball glasses and the smell of my Uncle Ken's cigarettes. I also remember the commotion that resulted whenever my Mom and Aunt Theresa beat my Dad and Uncle Ken at euchre. The men loudly accused the women of cheating in order to win and this caused a lot of laughter. I struggled to stay awake so I could listen to them laughing.

I remember the road trips I made with Maggie and T-Bird to London after my Aunt and Uncle moved there in the early 1980s. Aunt Theresa often had some story to tell us about her latest attempt to scare Uncle Ken by hiding behind the door at the top of the stairs, then jumping out and yelling "BOO". Uncle Ken always had some homemade craft to show me, like the infamous "footstool" with real running shoes on the legs of the stool. I never found it difficult to sweet talk him into making me one of his lemon meringue pies.

I remember a visit from my Uncle Ken after I moved to Ottawa, before he retired from the Post Office. He was in Ottawa on business and he took me out to dinner at a revolving restaurant. We had a grand time talking about family and the "olden" days. We laughed like hell when we discovered my purse had remained intact on the window ledge while we circled the restaurant for over an hour.

I remember my Dad and I meeting my Uncle Ken, along with Aunt Theresa and many of my cousins on King Street in Waterloo across from the Ali Baba Steakhouse to watch the Oktoberfest parade every Thanksgiving Monday. My Dad and Uncle Ken entertained the crowd with their jibes and catcalls to participants in the parade, especially the mayor and hockey celebrities. I can still see the pride on my Uncle Ken's face and the tears in his eyes as he sat at attention in his wheelchair, saluting the dwindling number of veterans marching past us.

I remember going to see him in the London Veterans Hospital after his stroke and seeing the sparkle in his eye and the smile on his face when he saw me. His mind remained sharp as did his tongue. I pitied the nurses from my exalted status as his niece. I tried to talk him into moving closer so we could see him more often but he was stubborn to the end and insisted on ending his days in London.

I remember my cousin Mark running up to our car in the church parking lot after the funeral for my Dad's older brother on that cold November day and handing my Dad a photo through the open window. I remember my Dad looking at the photo and then telling Mark, "Your Dad was my hero".

In loving remembrance of Kenneth Montagano who died November 2, 1998. You are still missed.