Not in the book — written March 7, 2017, and read by Walter at the funeral of his great friend Roy Gibbons
A Big Man with a Big Kind Heart
Hello. My comments will be quite long, but I believe my friend is worth it. I’ve entitled this Adventures with Roy.
Roy was a big man with a big kind heart. He had a big circle of friends in this church, in his neighborhood, around their cottage in Ontario. Roy had enthusiasm for life. When Roy retired from Superior Propane in 1990, maintaining the church property here became his main focus, along with Roy and Vera’s house. At the church, he was constantly trimming, sweeping, building, even cleaning the church roof and eaves troughs. Roy wasn’t afraid of heights.
Every summer, Roy and Vera took turns driving to their cottage near Goderich on Lake Huron. It took about four days driving and four days returning, a total of 8,400 kilometers each year for 30 years. That makes a total of 252,000 kilometers, without a mishap, as far as I know. At the cottage each year, Roy planned a major project. He got help from Dennis, the son Roy and Vera lost in 2014, but also from his son Dave and Vera and son-in-law Milton and each member of their family. Throughout the summer, all of their children and their grandchildren visited them at the cottage. Roy loved his family and every grandchild and their two great-granddaughters as well.
A Pickup Truck and a Kindred Spirit
I met Roy after his retirement when Jeanie and I began attending Coquitlam Presbyterian Church. I helped Roy with the maintenance of the church property. I liked him immediately. It also helped that I had a pickup truck. We were hauling branches and clippings to the recycling yard very regularly.
Actually, I discovered that Roy had similar work ethics and skills as I had. Well, times ten. Roy also began doing renovations and repairs of all kinds for people in the church. I hauled plywood or drywall or long lumber for some of his big projects. I soon realized that Roy was not your average Mr. Fix-It. Roy had remarkable, even amazing engineering and architectural skills that were just a part of him. He built things strong and to last a long time. He was always cheerful and optimistic. He didn’t lose his temper. He never swore. He very seldom even got discouraged or frustrated.
He liked to be busy. He liked working outside. A favorite expression of his was, “an hour in the morning is worth two in the afternoon.” When he phoned me, always at exactly 8:30 in the morning, he would often say, “I’ve shaved, I’ve had my Kraft peanut butter crunchy, I’ve made the bed, and I’m raring to go.” Later on in our times together, he would tell people, “We can fix anything, but the impossible takes a little longer.”
Who else in Coquitlam has a tiled garage floor? Who else in Coquitlam has an overhead heater that son Dave helped install so that he could work in his heated garage all winter? Who else in Coquitlam replaced their entire house network of water lines before they began leaking because they were of inferior quality? Roy liked tiling and he liked plumbing. Right now I’m going to ask all the people here who have ever had Roy fix or build something in their house and yard to please stand. I’d like all the family to look around and see.
The Three Musketeers at Camp Douglas
One time Roy, Clayton Herron, and I worked on the church cabin at Camp Douglas near Sechelt. It took several days. We called ourselves the three musketeers. We ate well with all the food our wives had sent along. We did a lot, fixing up the cabin. We had a good time.
Birdhouses for Grade Ones
Roy and I made packages of pre-cut ready-to-assemble birdhouses for the grade one students at Mountain View School. Several other men from the church helped with the assembling process at the school. Last November, Roy and I made up another 18 pre-cut birdhouse packages for a new group of grade ones to assemble this March. Roy won’t be here to see it happen, but his birdhouses will be around for a long time.
The Cottonwood Tree: Getting Something for Nothing
One year a large rather dirty cottonwood tree was taken down on the Blue Mountain side of this church. Roy found out that Scott Paper would buy the wood if it was cut into 24-inch blocks. We cut and loaded the wood on my truck. Roy was doing the stacking. The load was higher than the cab, right down to the laid-down tailgate. It was the biggest load I had ever hauled on that pickup.
When we got it to Scott Paper and unloaded it, it weighed 2,600 pounds, and the church got a cheque for about $126. Roy was really pleased. We got something for nothing. Two words — say it together.
Home Dehpot — and a Little Boy’s Correction
What was Roy’s favorite store? Home Depot. I once told Roy that if he backed out his Vibe onto the street and put it in drive, took his hands off the steering wheel and stepped on the gas pedal, it would go right to Home Depot.
We were building a deck on our son Dale and his wife’s house in Surrey. We were having lunch on the partially completed deck. Dale and Darice’s son, who was about four years of age, and his younger brother Devon were watching us work. They liked Roy. Roy said, “Walter, we’re going to need more deck screws. You keep working and I’ll run down to Home Dehpot and get more.”
Home Depot was just building a lot of stores in the lower mainland. It had already become Roy’s favorite store, but he always called it Home Dehpot. Jayden walked over to Roy who was sitting down. His face was the same level as Roy’s. Jay couldn’t say his R’s when he was small. “Woy,” he said, “it’s not Home Dehpot.” His face was just about touching Roy’s. “It’s Home DEEEpot.” Roy blinked. “All right,” he said, “it’ll be Home DEEEpot from now on.”
Light the Night: Walking for Jayden
Fourteen years later when Jayden contracted acute lymphoblastic leukemia, Roy and Vera walked with us and all of Dale and Darice’s family and most of Dale and his partner Don’s employees of their company Safe Software in the Light the Night walk in Stanley Park in support of those living with and the survivors of cancer.
One year later, last November 2016, Roy and Vera walked again with all of the family and employees of Safe Software and with Jay, as he’s called now, as a survivor after receiving a bone marrow transplant from his younger brother. Their support was deeply appreciated by Dale and Darice.
Handy Men at Safe Software
As the computer mapping company that Dale and his partner Don started, Safe Software, grew, Roy and I went there fairly regularly. We assembled computer desks. We hung cork boards, white boards in every office. We installed keyboard trays under the desks. We fixed chairs. We put up pictures and posters. Roy got to know a lot of people at Safe Software. Everyone liked him. Roy and Vera and Jeanie and I were invited each year as though we were employees of Safe Software to the Safe Software Christmas party in downtown Vancouver. A number of the Safe employees stopped by our table to visit, especially with Roy and Vera.
An Ingenious Low-Tech Door Closer
Dale asked Roy to do a special job for him. His office door was always open, but could Roy come up with a way that Dale could make the door quietly close while Dale was sitting down at his desk? Roy began thinking and planning and measuring. Dale said he made three special trips to his office to prepare all the needed items at home.
I came with Roy and his prepared stuff to install the device. There was a wooden door hook latch that fit over the door. We took off the door and replaced the hinges with three spring-loaded, perfectly fitting, just the right size, adjustable hinges. Roy ran some sash cord up from the door latch through the ceiling tiles across to the side of Dale’s desk. There the cord came down through the tiles again to a curtain pole hanging beside Dale’s desk. When Dale pulled on the sash cord, it lifted the door latch and the spring-loaded hinges quietly pulled the door shut perfectly. When the door was manually opened and pushed against the wall, the wooden door latch again dropped over the door.
It was an ingenious low-tech invention in a high-tech office. It worked perfectly. Several of the male employees saw it being tried out and working. The word soon got around. Dale said for most of the following morning, he was showing groups of two or three employees his automatic door closer.
“It Was the Holy Spirit”: The Recycling Station Railing
Together, Roy and I hauled a lot of green waste, mostly from the church, but also from each of our yards and our neighbors to the Coquitlam recycling station. We were there so often, we were recognized by all the employees.
One time on the way out after unloading, Roy shouted, “Stop, stop, back up, back up.” There beside the road was a discarded floor model of a small porch and stair railing. It was made of heavy white plastic. It was from Home Depot. “It’s exactly what I need for Dave and Jean McComb’s porch and stairs. It’s exactly.” We backed up and looked at it. It was exactly what Roy needed. But all around us were signs saying: All items are the property of the GVRD, Greater Vancouver Regional District. Absolutely no scavenging.
We drove slowly towards the scale. “Let’s just ask,” I said. “We just can’t take it. They won’t let us take it,” said Roy. “They just won’t let us take it. Look at all the signs.” We stopped at the weigh scale. We sort of knew the fellow there. I explained the situation. “It’s for an elderly couple in our church for their back step. My friend Roy here said it would fit perfectly.” The man in the office took a deep breath. “I’m really not supposed to do this, but go ahead and take it,” he said.
“The Lord hath provided. The Lord hath provided,” he said again, as we drove back and loaded up the display railing. We drove back across the scale. The fellow smiled and waved us through. We got back on the road. “It was the Holy Spirit,” said Roy. “It was the Holy Spirit that talked to him and let us have that railing.” We drove on a little further. “And maybe because you give them cookies each time we come here, that might have helped a little too.”
You folks that know Dave McComb might be nice to visit him again sometime. Take a look at the Home Depot display railing. It’s still there. It fits perfectly. Roy again made something out of nothing.
Gopher Hunting at the Vineyard
Roy and Vera’s daughter and son-in-law, Diane and Milton, purchased a part interest in a new vineyard and winery in Winfield near Kelowna. Roy asked me to go along with him to do some work at the vineyard. We put smooth wire on each side of previously driven fence posts to support the new seedling grape plants.
That year, the vineyard was overrun by a plague of gophers who dug holes and made burrows between the rows of new grapes. Several solutions to get rid of the gophers were attempted unsuccessfully. The latest was a propane barbecue tank with a hose and wand which was inserted into the burrow. The operator released a small amount of propane, then pulled the trigger, which ignited the propane and caused a small explosion. The concussion of the small explosion immediately killed the gopher well down in the hole.
The operation took two men and it took time. I drove an old Toro jeep-like vehicle. Roy was in the passenger seat with the wand, and the hose ran to the back of the vehicle and the propane tank. As soon as Roy or I saw a hole, I stopped. Roy jumped out and put about three or four seconds’ worth of propane into the hole and pulled the trigger. There was a small explosion and we moved on to the next hole.
Roy was a propane man. I began to notice that he was putting in more and more propane into each hole. The explosions were getting louder and louder. Dirt and dust were coming back out of the hole. Roy was enjoying the job — Superior Propane or not. “Just making sure,” said Roy.
We stopped near a very large hole beside a newly planted grape stalk. It looked like a dog or a coyote had started digging and then stopped. Roy put a lot of propane into that hole, then pulled the trigger. There was a huge explosion. Clumps of dirt and a cloud of dust flew into the air. The little grape plant came right out of the ground and landed on its side several feet away from us. “Wow,” said Roy, “I think I put in just a little too much that time.” “Roy,” I said, “I think you broke windows in Kelowna.” We replanted the grape stalk. We had a good time at the vineyard.
Superior Propane Tanks and John Deere Tractors
Roy came often to our cabin. One time on the way through Cache Creek, approaching the cabin, Roy spotted a propane tank. He said, “There’s another Superior Propane tank.” Just past Cache Creek, there was a John Deere tractor. We drove a little further. Roy said, “You know, Walter, I think I saw every Superior Propane tank and truck since we left Coquitlam, and you saw every John Deere tractor.”
The Catwalk That Could Support an Elephant
Roy built a catwalk in our cabin near Clinton that spanned two loft bedrooms, one of which was accessed by a set of stairs. We called it a catwalk, but it would have supported an elephant because Roy Gibbons built it.
Three Jobs Before Monday Morning
Roy phoned me every Monday to tell me about a job that he had picked up after church on Sunday. One Monday, he told me excitedly, “I picked up three jobs yesterday. It’s going to keep me busy all week.” Roy and I built fences and gates. We straightened retaining walls. We built furniture. We hauled appliances.
Chickens, Lambs, and Border Collies at Joyce’s Acreage
Our daughter Joyce and her husband Dave and their three girls purchased an acreage east of Abbotsford. Joyce wanted to have chickens. Soon Roy and I were building chicken roosts, chicken nests, and a chicken fence. We cut holes in buildings for chickens and turkeys. Joyce got two lambs. Roy talked to the chickens and he petted and talked to the lambs. Joyce’s girls loved Roy. At the OK Ranch, he petted and talked to all of the border collies. Roy loved animals. No wonder all of Roy’s children, I believe, own a dog.
Kauai: Fixing Up a Bicycle and Rounding Up Cattle
In 2010, Roy and Vera came to Kauai and rented a condo a few doors down from our unit. We traveled all over Kauai and showed Roy and Vera some of our favorite places. But Roy was restless. There were no fix-it jobs there. Roy and I found a big old clunker bicycle in the storage basement of the complex where Jeanie and I had found our old clunkers. We fixed it up, pumped up the tires. Then Roy and I rode the bikes every day. The circles from our complex got bigger and bigger. We rode as far as Koloa, a small town about four miles away. We rode to the old abandoned sugar mill built in 1854 and closed in 1996.
One day, my ranch friend Duke phoned up and said, “We’re going to round up cows and calves tomorrow. You want a ride?” I explained about Roy. “Bring him along,” said Duke. We met the ranch crew at the corrals at eight o’clock — just right for Roy — the next morning. He didn’t have a horse for Roy, but he would have been ready to ride. “Can you drive a standard?” asked Duke. Roy nodded. “Take the old ranch truck down the highway just past a tunnel of trees. That’s where the cows and calves are. Park the truck beside the highway. Walk in and climb up to the pasture towards the mountain. Sit down on the grass and wait for us. You’ll have a good view of all the action.”
Roy headed out in the old Dodge ranch truck. We mounted up and headed for the cows at the end of the pasture. We got to the pasture with the 90 cows with calves. We were approaching the herd, but the cows were still a long distance away. We noticed some movement in the herd. Some cows were bawling and the calves were running. Our horses perked up their ears at the noise and commotion in front of us. Duke, Stan, and I leaned forward in our saddles and looked. It was Roy.
He was walking, swinging his arms behind the cows. He was getting them up, moving them to the center of the field. He was dressed in his khaki shorts, short-sleeved white shirt, and his Tilley hat. Those Hawaiian cows weren’t used to a big haole — that’s the Hawaiian word for stranger, foreigner, tourist, or white person. They were heading in front of him to the center of the field, joining the other cows and starting back towards the corral.
I didn’t say anything. Duke and Stan were watching it all very closely. Duke turned to me. “Hey, Walter,” he said. “That friend Roy of yours is going to have the job half done before we get there.” We rode on. Now Roy had all the cows and calves together and was coming slowly towards us. Duke turned to Stan. “Hey, Stan,” he said. “We find four more guys like that guy, we don’t need the horses.”
We took over and Roy headed back with the truck. We all arrived back at the corrals and got the cattle in. Roy and I sat and watched as they processed the calves. Duke took Roy and me to lunch in Koloa. Duke told Roy he was born in Toronto in March of 1932. Roy was born in May of the same year, 150 miles away. They were immediately drawn to each other.
Mexico: A House, a Rooster, and the Can-Do Kid
In 2007, the Coquitlam Presbyterian Church sent a group of adults on a house building mission in Mexico. Roy and Vera, Jeanie and I, were part of the group. Ron and Jeanette Zap were the leaders. We got to our destination south of Tijuana. We found our lodging and the group meal building next door to one of the Mexican ladies who were hired to work for us. We found our rooms. Roy and Vera were right next to Jeanie’s and my room.
I awoke with a start. It was pitch dark, but a rooster had just crowed very loudly, very close by. There was sudden stirring in Roy and Vera’s room. Then all was still. Less than 30 seconds later, the rooster crowed loudly again. This time there was big action and stirring in Roy and Vera’s room. Then Roy shouted in a loud voice, “Hey boys, did you hear the rooster? It’s time to get up and get to work.” It was the talk of the breakfast table. Roy even mimicked the rooster. We got a lot done the first day. Ron drove to a Mexican Home Depot in a larger town close by to get more supplies. Roy ordered several tubes of caulk.
On Tuesday, the rooster crowed again at exactly 5 a.m. Roy was up immediately and the rooster was again the main topic at the breakfast table. Tuesday was such a stormy day with a fierce windstorm at the building site, we just could not work. We gave up and went back to our dormitory. “Walter,” said Roy, “I’d like to see the rooster. I just want to see that rooster.” We found him. He was a big all-black rooster. “Look at him, Walter,” said Roy. “Isn’t he a beauty? Just look at his feathers, how shiny and full of color they are.” Then he talked to the rooster. “You’re a fine rooster,” he said. “You’re doing a good job. Just keep up the good work. Boy, we need you.”
The next day we all got back to work and we worked hard. We had to sweep and shovel out the little shell of the house that we had built on a pre-poured cement pad. That cement pad was not perfectly level and not even, but we had to be realistic. It was quite likely we would not be able to finish the house before Sunday. Ron was right — he was realistic. We wouldn’t be able to finish. Silence and gloom filled the room. Everybody was breathing audibly.
Suddenly Quinn spoke up. “I sense a feeling of defeat. Defeat isn’t here,” he said. “And I don’t like it. I believe we can finish the job. We’ll start earlier, we’ll take less time for lunch. We’ll work until dark. I believe we can do it. We can do it.” That little pep talk was all that Roy especially needed, as well as the rest of us. Roy affectionately called him the can-do kid. We got that little house totally completed with some extras added. The ladies found the right size and shape of rocks for a border along the sidewalk. The rocks were even painted white.
Good Genes — and Missing My Buddy
This world still needed Roy Gibbons. It needs more people with a heart like Roy Gibbons had. You, his children, and each grandchild are a part of Roy. You’re half of Roy. You’re a quarter of Roy. You share his genes. They’re good genes. They’re genes you can be proud of. All of us could emulate the qualities that Roy Gibbons had and that Roy Gibbons lived. All of us are poor without him.
Ross Manthorpe was a retired minister with a great sense of humor. He spoke often during absences or holidays of our minister Terry Hibbert. Roy and Vera were good friends with Ross and his wife Agnes. Roy often did jobs for him. After a Sunday service near the end of June, quite a few years ago, Ross walked up to me with a very serious expression on his face. He lifted my glasses with his left hand and he got a handkerchief out of his pocket with his right hand. “I know that Roy and Vera left for Ontario this week,” he said, dabbing at my pretend tears, “and I can see you’re missing your buddy.” Then he laughed.
I assured him that Roy and Vera would be back in two months. “We’ll be back together,” I said. “Roy even has more projects already planned for us.” It was funny then, but right now I wish Ross Manthorpe was waiting at the back of the church with his handkerchief because I’m really starting to miss my buddy.
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