No pop from Pop, but a million things from humourous songs of the early 20th century, to serious classical, to hymns and anthems (very Anglican), to stuff he wrote for church liturgy, choirs, and childrens groups. Even heard him and some opera singer demonstrate singing harmony a semi-tone apart without screwing up. Besides sightsinging like a pro, he could improvise various styles of harmony.

After several strokes of varying severity, Dad became virtually mute. Days, even weeks, would pass where he'd barely utter a sound, much to Mum's sadness. When he was well enough to be taken out, off to church they went. Dad struggled to his feet and sang as if he'd never stopped. It seems it's a different part of the brain that operates singing. Of course, in church everyone thought it was some sort of miracle, and in a way it was. It so happened that he still remembered entire hymns, bass lines, melodies, words, just as he always had. We knew then that inside the newly quiet man there was still the memory that used to amaze us with its ability and sheer volume. Until the day he died, Mum continued to play music for him, read to him, hold one way conversations with him, and take him about on daily life. I'm sure it sustained both their lives.

I have 45 year old memories as clear as this morning of rolling around in our little skiff on the waves of Georgian Bay, going to and from fishing spots, with Dad loudly singing, "...we fired salutes at the captain's boots in the teeth of the blooming gale...". What a man he was, and I can't begin to describe how I miss him!

Thanks for the memories.

Peace, Mooh.