KEN W. TAYLOR

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KEN W. TAYLOR If you want to know who my Dad was, you need to consider three items: Ex-Lax, half of a golf ball and a hand of cribbage. Growing up in Minnedosa, born April 12, 1933, and the son of a railroad man, you had to know that between driving a honeywagon and working at Winnipeg Photo, there would be some time on the tracks somewhere on his resume. And you have to know that working on the train means working among some real characters. He might have been one of them, but this story is about Harry Somebodyorother, a conductor who often shared time on the same train. Harry, it seems, always made a big production of needing his hot chocolate before bedtime. Sure enough, this started to grate on Harry's colleagues after a while. On one trip, my Dad just happened to bring a fresh, whole box of chocolate Ex-Lax on board. It was just a coincidence. Really. Perhaps. Harry always had his hot chocolate quietly after that trip. Years later, pursuing what would one day become his main pastime, golf, my Dad found his partner's ball before he did. Whether his partner was bragging about the great shot he made or how well he was going to do on this shot, something possessed my Dad to replace his partner's ball with one in his bag that had somehow been broken in two halves. It's amazing the noise that half a golf ball can make when it's been struck well with a three-iron and is wildly careening off the fairway. Never one to miss the chance for a good belly laugh with friends and family or to have one at the expense of friends and family my Dad was the kind of person, it seemed, everybody loved. My Dad died Friday, May 29, 2009 after a surprisingly brief battle with cancer. He was surrounded by those who loved him the most and slipped away peacefully. Ken Taylor was a Minnedosa boy through and through. He never missed a chance to visit his home town. The eldest son of Fred and Mae Taylor, Ken grew up with his sister Edith and brother Reg. He regularly swam and skated at Minnedosa Lake. He skied down the valley often and regularly reminisced about 25-cent movies, popcorn and a drink included, at The Lyric Theatre, often while he was commenting how expensive movies had become, usually just after shelling out so me and my friends could watch Star Wars or Earthquake or Towering Inferno. After leaving the railroad, he moved into Winnipeg and landed a job at Winnipeg Photo, a company that was the driving force in photofinishing in Winnipeg until the digital age took over. Winnipeg Photo would provide him with some of the best things in his life, not the least of which was my mother, Vera. She was a retouching artist at the time, and they married in 1962. Four years later, I came along. Dad remained at Winnipeg Photo until it was sold to Lifetouch and treasured the time he spent working for Joseph Ehrlichman and later Mr. Ehrlichman's son-in-law Hartley Gale. He considered the company a model employer. The year 1969 brought a defining moment in my Dad's life: along with my Mom's sister Cec Dawson and her husband Roy, our families purchased Camp Whiskey Jack in Northwestern Ontario. Collectively, we ran the camp until 1991. Here is where some of my Dad's deepest friendships were formed, including a lasting bond with Roy and Cec. We always considered each other our favourite brothers-in-law, Roy said. And we never had an argument. Our guests became some of our closest friends. Whether it was guiding fishing trips in spring or just lazing on the beach in July, none of us who experienced Camp Whiskey Jack will ever forget the people and the sheer joy that magical place invoked. That positive energy must have been what saved it from the devastating Dogtooth Lake forest fire. While that fire destroyed hundreds of thousands of hectares and licked within inches of one of our buildings, we suffered not a single loss. The remaining green patch around our camp made it an island of green in a sea of destruction. Camp Whiskey Jack was never a roaring success as a sideline business, but it paid its bills and provided myself and my cousins, Lance and Tony, with the best summer vacations a kid could ever hope to have. Later life brought many bus trips to American casinos with his friends from the Army and Navy Hall on Empress Street, where Dad put in many hours in the kitchen preparing sandwiches and other food on many a Saturday night. There was also plenty of golf with friends Bert, Jonesy and his late cousin Stan Taylor (or Lou, as he was known). River Oaks Golf Course may never be the same, particularly with some of the divots my Dad took out of those fairways. Dad was predeceased by his father, Fred, in 1967, his mother Florence Mae in 1987, his sister Edith in 1998, his beloved wife Vera in 2000 and his brother Reg in 2008. He leaves to mourn his son Kelly (Sandy) and grandsons Spencer and Austin (A.J.), as well as his third grandson Tyler Dudar, my nephew. Also mourning are Cec, Roy, Tony and Lance Dawson, special friend Shirley Penner and her beau Glen, neighbours Wendy and Jamie and numerous friends. A celebration of his life will take place on Thursday, June 4 at 10:00 a.m. at Chapel Lawn Funeral Home, 4000 Portage Ave. A private interment will take place. Flowers are gratefully declined. In lieu of flowers, friends and family are welcome to donate to Kelly's Biking to the Viking cycling trip in support of the MS Society of Canada. Visit www.msbiketours.ca and follow the links to pledge a rider. Kelly is riding in the RONA MS Bike Tour 2009, Stonewall to Gimli. Wondering about the cribbage hand? Well, Dad was such a master at crib that he could count a hand having seen it for less than a second. I never could match him on that, and likely never will. Here's to many 29's, Dad. Chapel Lawn 885-9715

As published in Winnipeg Free Press on Jun 03, 2009