William Paul Cameron, known as "Bill Sr.", was born in Toronto, Ontario, on July 28, 1893, a birth date he would share with the younger of his two great-grandsons, Michael Richard Huw Thomas (1977-2013), 84 years later. Bill was married for 40 years to his wife, the former Florence "Flossie" Ethel Smith (1893-1961). They were married in Toronto on April 6, 1920, following the First World War, where Bill fought courageously and valiantly with the 1st Canadian Army Artillery, having fought at Vimy Ridge (9-12 April 1917), as well as many others. Their only child, son William Brant Cameron, known as Bill Jr., was born in Toronto on September 15, 1921 (died November 24, 2010). On January 4, 1944, he married Eleanor Catherine Gurr McIntyre (1919-2011). A little over a year later, on January 6, 1945, Judith Louise Cameron was born. Little Judy was the apple of her Grandpa's eye, his pride and joy. A retired fire captain, he died in Toronto of a stroke on April 5, 1959. Less than two years later, in February 1961, his Flossie would join him in death, resting side by side forever.
In Loving Memory of William Paul Cameron (1893-1959)
by Rebecca Thomas
My name in life was William Paul Cameron, and I was many things to many people.
To my Mother and Father, I was their beloved son Bill.
To my siblings and to my many friends throughout the years, Bill, brother and friend.
To my Flossie, with whom I shared so many loving years, I was "Your Hubby Billie".
To my fellow Firemen, I was Captain, receiving respect, but always first to show it.
To my only child, I was proof of what true manhood is, what he himself would never be.
To my son's wife, to her grave she took her cruel ways, but I went to mine with a loving heart.
To my beloved little Judy, I was Grandpa - what love I felt and what joy she brought me! In Death still, for it only lifted my emotions to a better place, their true home.
To the great-grandchildren I never knew in life, I am the Grandpa they deserved, and from my vantage point, I have loved and cared and I have hurt for them.
To sweet baby Charles, I am, to him, a loving, protective presence in the Spirit World, dwelling in peaceful harmony, waiting for those we love to be with us again.
To troubled Michael, who shares both my birthday and my countenance, I only wish your journey to manhood I might have guided, for I would have given you what my son denied you.
To loyal Rebecca, whose love for her Mother is the greatest force in her soul, know that I am proud for you to wear my war medallion, for you wear it with love and respect. I see this where I am.
To Canada, I am a War Veteran, having served King and Country with the 1st Canadian Army Artillery in the Great War. I was young and I was terrified as all our young men were, but, just as they did, I fought with all the strength and courage in my soul. And I survived to come home, thank the Good Lord. But so many, oh, so many, did not. I was able to build a life for myself where others never got the chance. I could now have a career. I had the chance to find and love my soulmate until death did us part. To spoil my little Judy, always the apple of her Grandpa's eye. To watch over my great-grandchildren, wishing I was alive to protect them and their mother from pain none of them should have experienced. This is William Paul Cameron's legacy, his story.
Keep alive in your hearts for always, the memories and terrible sacrifices of those who did not return alive to Canada's shore. May God Forever Keep Them Safe.
A Firemen's Prayer
Author Unknown
When I am called to duty, God, wherever flames may rage
Give me the strength to save some life, whatever be its age
Help me embrace a little child, before it is too late
Or save an older person from the horror of that fate
Enable me to be alert and hear the weakest shout
and quickly and efficiently to put the fire out
I want to fill my calling and to give the best in me
To guard my every neighbour and protect their property
And if according to your will, I have to lose my life
Please bless, with your protecting hand, my children and my wife.
In Flanders Field
Written by Lieutenant Colonel John Alexander McCrae, MD (November 30, 1872 – January 28, 1918)
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
In Loving Memory of William Paul Cameron (1893-1959)
by Rebecca Thomas
My name in life was William Paul Cameron, and I was many things to many people.
To my Mother and Father, I was their beloved son Bill.
To my siblings and to my many friends throughout the years, Bill, brother and friend.
To my Flossie, with whom I shared so many loving years, I was "Your Hubby Billie".
To my fellow Firemen, I was Captain, receiving respect, but always first to show it.
To my only child, I was proof of what true manhood is, what he himself would never be.
To my son's wife, to her grave she took her cruel ways, but I went to mine with a loving heart.
To my beloved little Judy, I was Grandpa - what love I felt and what joy she brought me! In Death still, for it only lifted my emotions to a better place, their true home.
To the great-grandchildren I never knew in life, I am the Grandpa they deserved, and from my vantage point, I have loved and cared and I have hurt for them.
To sweet baby Charles, I am, to him, a loving, protective presence in the Spirit World, dwelling in peaceful harmony, waiting for those we love to be with us again.
To troubled Michael, who shares both my birthday and my countenance, I only wish your journey to manhood I might have guided, for I would have given you what my son denied you.
To loyal Rebecca, whose love for her Mother is the greatest force in her soul, know that I am proud for you to wear my war medallion, for you wear it with love and respect. I see this where I am.
To Canada, I am a War Veteran, having served King and Country with the 1st Canadian Army Artillery in the Great War. I was young and I was terrified as all our young men were, but, just as they did, I fought with all the strength and courage in my soul. And I survived to come home, thank the Good Lord. But so many, oh, so many, did not. I was able to build a life for myself where others never got the chance. I could now have a career. I had the chance to find and love my soulmate until death did us part. To spoil my little Judy, always the apple of her Grandpa's eye. To watch over my great-grandchildren, wishing I was alive to protect them and their mother from pain none of them should have experienced. This is William Paul Cameron's legacy, his story.
Keep alive in your hearts for always, the memories and terrible sacrifices of those who did not return alive to Canada's shore. May God Forever Keep Them Safe.
A Firemen's Prayer
Author Unknown
When I am called to duty, God, wherever flames may rage
Give me the strength to save some life, whatever be its age
Help me embrace a little child, before it is too late
Or save an older person from the horror of that fate
Enable me to be alert and hear the weakest shout
and quickly and efficiently to put the fire out
I want to fill my calling and to give the best in me
To guard my every neighbour and protect their property
And if according to your will, I have to lose my life
Please bless, with your protecting hand, my children and my wife.
In Flanders Field
Written by Lieutenant Colonel John Alexander McCrae, MD (November 30, 1872 – January 28, 1918)
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
William Paul Cameron, known as "Bill Sr.", was born in Toronto, Ontario, on July 28, 1893, a birth date he would share with the younger of his two great-grandsons, Michael Richard Huw Thomas (1977-2013), 84 years later. Bill was married for 40 years to his wife, the former Florence "Flossie" Ethel Smith (1893-1961). They were married in Toronto on April 6, 1920, following the First World War, where Bill fought courageously and valiantly with the 1st Canadian Army Artillery, having fought at Vimy Ridge (9-12 April 1917), as well as many others. Their only child, son William Brant Cameron, known as Bill Jr., was born in Toronto on September 15, 1921 (died November 24, 2010). On January 4, 1944, he married Eleanor Catherine Gurr McIntyre (1919-2011). A little over a year later, on January 6, 1945, Judith Louise Cameron was born. Little Judy was the apple of her Grandpa's eye, his pride and joy. A retired fire captain, he died in Toronto of a stroke on April 5, 1959. Less than two years later, in February 1961, his Flossie would join him in death, resting side by side forever.
In Loving Memory of William Paul Cameron (1893-1959)
by Rebecca Thomas
My name in life was William Paul Cameron, and I was many things to many people.
To my Mother and Father, I was their beloved son Bill.
To my siblings and to my many friends throughout the years, Bill, brother and friend.
To my Flossie, with whom I shared so many loving years, I was "Your Hubby Billie".
To my fellow Firemen, I was Captain, receiving respect, but always first to show it.
To my only child, I was proof of what true manhood is, what he himself would never be.
To my son's wife, to her grave she took her cruel ways, but I went to mine with a loving heart.
To my beloved little Judy, I was Grandpa - what love I felt and what joy she brought me! In Death still, for it only lifted my emotions to a better place, their true home.
To the great-grandchildren I never knew in life, I am the Grandpa they deserved, and from my vantage point, I have loved and cared and I have hurt for them.
To sweet baby Charles, I am, to him, a loving, protective presence in the Spirit World, dwelling in peaceful harmony, waiting for those we love to be with us again.
To troubled Michael, who shares both my birthday and my countenance, I only wish your journey to manhood I might have guided, for I would have given you what my son denied you.
To loyal Rebecca, whose love for her Mother is the greatest force in her soul, know that I am proud for you to wear my war medallion, for you wear it with love and respect. I see this where I am.
To Canada, I am a War Veteran, having served King and Country with the 1st Canadian Army Artillery in the Great War. I was young and I was terrified as all our young men were, but, just as they did, I fought with all the strength and courage in my soul. And I survived to come home, thank the Good Lord. But so many, oh, so many, did not. I was able to build a life for myself where others never got the chance. I could now have a career. I had the chance to find and love my soulmate until death did us part. To spoil my little Judy, always the apple of her Grandpa's eye. To watch over my great-grandchildren, wishing I was alive to protect them and their mother from pain none of them should have experienced. This is William Paul Cameron's legacy, his story.
Keep alive in your hearts for always, the memories and terrible sacrifices of those who did not return alive to Canada's shore. May God Forever Keep Them Safe.
A Firemen's Prayer
Author Unknown
When I am called to duty, God, wherever flames may rage
Give me the strength to save some life, whatever be its age
Help me embrace a little child, before it is too late
Or save an older person from the horror of that fate
Enable me to be alert and hear the weakest shout
and quickly and efficiently to put the fire out
I want to fill my calling and to give the best in me
To guard my every neighbour and protect their property
And if according to your will, I have to lose my life
Please bless, with your protecting hand, my children and my wife.
In Flanders Field
Written by Lieutenant Colonel John Alexander McCrae, MD (November 30, 1872 – January 28, 1918)
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
In Loving Memory of William Paul Cameron (1893-1959)
by Rebecca Thomas
My name in life was William Paul Cameron, and I was many things to many people.
To my Mother and Father, I was their beloved son Bill.
To my siblings and to my many friends throughout the years, Bill, brother and friend.
To my Flossie, with whom I shared so many loving years, I was "Your Hubby Billie".
To my fellow Firemen, I was Captain, receiving respect, but always first to show it.
To my only child, I was proof of what true manhood is, what he himself would never be.
To my son's wife, to her grave she took her cruel ways, but I went to mine with a loving heart.
To my beloved little Judy, I was Grandpa - what love I felt and what joy she brought me! In Death still, for it only lifted my emotions to a better place, their true home.
To the great-grandchildren I never knew in life, I am the Grandpa they deserved, and from my vantage point, I have loved and cared and I have hurt for them.
To sweet baby Charles, I am, to him, a loving, protective presence in the Spirit World, dwelling in peaceful harmony, waiting for those we love to be with us again.
To troubled Michael, who shares both my birthday and my countenance, I only wish your journey to manhood I might have guided, for I would have given you what my son denied you.
To loyal Rebecca, whose love for her Mother is the greatest force in her soul, know that I am proud for you to wear my war medallion, for you wear it with love and respect. I see this where I am.
To Canada, I am a War Veteran, having served King and Country with the 1st Canadian Army Artillery in the Great War. I was young and I was terrified as all our young men were, but, just as they did, I fought with all the strength and courage in my soul. And I survived to come home, thank the Good Lord. But so many, oh, so many, did not. I was able to build a life for myself where others never got the chance. I could now have a career. I had the chance to find and love my soulmate until death did us part. To spoil my little Judy, always the apple of her Grandpa's eye. To watch over my great-grandchildren, wishing I was alive to protect them and their mother from pain none of them should have experienced. This is William Paul Cameron's legacy, his story.
Keep alive in your hearts for always, the memories and terrible sacrifices of those who did not return alive to Canada's shore. May God Forever Keep Them Safe.
A Firemen's Prayer
Author Unknown
When I am called to duty, God, wherever flames may rage
Give me the strength to save some life, whatever be its age
Help me embrace a little child, before it is too late
Or save an older person from the horror of that fate
Enable me to be alert and hear the weakest shout
and quickly and efficiently to put the fire out
I want to fill my calling and to give the best in me
To guard my every neighbour and protect their property
And if according to your will, I have to lose my life
Please bless, with your protecting hand, my children and my wife.
In Flanders Field
Written by Lieutenant Colonel John Alexander McCrae, MD (November 30, 1872 – January 28, 1918)
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
