Remembering and Honoring
Fred Sage, 89
by Rev. Randy Banks
Grace United Church
Frederick Dalton Sage was raised in a very large family that was very connected to the land along what is now Whistlebare Rd. and some of it now occupied by a golf course. From these beginnings, Fred derived that rugged pioneer work ethic that meant you could count on a day's work and then some from Fred. He would be the person working for 10 hours. Fred developed and nurtured through life the qualities of giving an honest day's work; self-sufficiency and independence; and determination (which has a first cousin named 'stubborness'). If there was work to be done (and God knows there was always something to be done, especially when you are clearing land for a campsite by hand with a scythe or digging fence post after fence post into gravel beds) or a problem to be solved, Fred found a way to work perseveringly through it, overcome the odds, and get the job done, usually in a particular way which could be called, for simplicity's sake, 'his own way.' I see now why it was so important for him to come to the sun porch to visit when people like me came. It was something else that he worked hard at doing, making his way there with a walker or cane because it was the right, proper and hospitable thing to be doing, even if I said to Lillian that it was quite all right if he stayed where he was and kept resting.
As I listened to his family who loved him very much talk about Fred's long and active life, I couldn't help but hearing that old song playing in my head complete with images of hands covered in grease and sweat dripping from the brow - 'I've been working on the railroad, all the livelong day.' That would be a song applied to any work that he did on any given day of any given month of any given year. And, speaking of those hands, my, weren't they a big pair of mitts - great for doing hard work, shaking hands, or extending a helping hand. Having said that, this is what typified Fred - 'the helping hand'. He was there for everybody with those helping hands be it for family, friend, neighbor, or stranger. We at Grace United Church are thankful for the many times year after year that Fred and Lillian invited us to hold our church Father's Day picnic at the campsite picnic grounds, another example of the helping hand of the Sage's at work. People who know Fred undoubtedly have a story of how he helped them at some point. Later, in life, many of those people would be there to help him which is proof that what we sow is what we reap.
Fred interrupted his career with the Canadian Pacific Railway to lend his expertise to the army engineer corps in World War II. He was hard at work keeping the railway moving for the war effort. Those army engineers kept up their relationship with annual reunions, a couple of which Fred hosted here.
Fred deeply and dearly loved the place where he had lived most of his life. His grandfather's farm which he moved to after marriage has been in the family for 150 years and counting. I can understan his motivation to want to be back there instead of in the hospital or a long-term care facility. It is where his heart was. It is tough for family and care-givers in situations like that to be the ones to say that something like that cannot happen under the present circumstances. On the family farm, he was truly part of the landscape. A good deal of his blood, sweat and tears was mingled with the graveled soil of his part of God's creation. He thrived on being near his workshop and his tools and pot-bellied stove where he could hold court with friends who came calling to share old war stories about hunting and fishing and the outdoors. And then there was his shack that also occupied hallowed ground and was basically a haunt for men only. Fred lived and breathed his home. I now have a deeper appreciation of just how much the place was calling out to him while he was in hospital for much of the past five months.
But above and beyond all this I have just said, what mattered most was family. The word 'family' is emblazoned on the photo displays made by grandchildren. That's the theme that stands out when all else is said and done. I can actually see the light in his eyes in those photos where he is involved with family, whether it was a baptismor seated beside his brother Bill at the Dickie Settlement reunion last year. Even though the photo of him talking to Ryan who was in Japan at the time, by computer and webcam, shows only the back of his head, I can see his eyes lighting up at the wonderment of such technology but more so for the joy of being brought closer to his grandson.
Fred and Lillian took numerous trips to places like Japan and Australia and New Zealand and to western Canada and Alaska, often with brother Bill an his wife; again, enjoyment centered around family.
While in hospital, whenever we had conversations, Fred would talk lovingly and happily about his Lil, Ron and Terrie, Lyndsay, Ashley and Ryan, as well as many of his close friends. You see, it was people who mattered most to him.
If you spread blessings around, you receive blessings back from those who are grateful and gracious. And so Fred was the recipient of many blessings of love and friendship despite failing health and the limitation that went with it in the last years of his earthly life.
One of the quotations on the display reads;
Having a place to go is a home.
Having someone to love is family.
Having both is a blessing.
That seems to speak directly and accurately of the kind of home and family that has bee the Sage family.
Ashley, you mentioned that once your Papa said he felt it was time for another trip. He knew what he was saying. He was on another trip - the big journey, the journey of all journeys to the Promised Land, or the place prepared for him by God his maker and redeemer where he will experience the joy of God's loving presence forever.
******************************************************
Remembering Papa, by Ashley Sage, granddaughter.
I've heard many stories about my papa over the last few days and each one seems to have a common theme. May papa was a hardworking, loving man who would do anything for anybody.
Looking through numerous photo albums, I've been amazed to see how much work my papa did on the campgrounds. As my dad says, he can't even keep up to the work my papa did by hand using modern day equipment. Papa not only created Sage Camping, he was responsible for the reforestation around the property and the development of the horse shoe pits, picnic grounds, and the ponds, which brings me to one of my fondest memories of my papa. May papa, along with his dear friend Ed, taught may brother, sister and I how to fish in our fish ponds at the back. We all learned quickly, and instantly loved this pastime, not just because we go to spend quality time with our papa, but because we always caught so many fish. We thought we were expert fishermen. We had our papa and Ed running from one pond to the next taking the fish we caught off the hook so we could cast and catch our next fish. Then one day our dad tried to tak us fishing at the Waterford ponds. The fish weren't biting and we didn't understand why. Later we found out the real reason we were such good fishermen. It turned out that our papa stocked the ponds, and when we would be visiting, he wouldn't feed the fish for a few days so when we went fishing, all we'd have to do was cast and we'd catch a fish.
Back to the work papa did at the campgrounds. Whatever work he did, papa did it with the "Fred Sage Flare." Might it have been getting rid of the weeds by using a propane torch, starting a fire by undoing the gas lid of the chainsaw and pouring the gas on the fire, or using a tractor with no brakes so it ended up in the pond, papa had his own way of getting a job done. Thank goodness Bob Marshall was always there to lend a hand.
Our papa was a tall and mighty man and we learned this from a very young age when he would give us a friendly pat on the back that we would have to brace ourselves for. A nurse made a very fitting comment about our papa; she referred to him as a gentle giant. How true, he was a big man, with very large hands and a big heart.
I've always admired my papa's love for my Nana. and their over 50 years together. I remember a few Easters ago, while at nana's and papa's, papa proudly pulled out this giant (very old) Easter egg and proceeded to explain the story behind it. It turns out that before my papa left for the war, he gave my mama this large chocolate Easter egg. My nama saved it and wrapped it up and every once in awhile they pulled it out to reminisce.
Even when my papa was getting weaker and wasn't able to leave the house, he always made sure my nana was taken care of , so with a little help from his personal shopper Terrie, nana always received a beautiful gift from papa on special occasions.
But my very favorite memory of my papa's love for my nana is from our visits to the hospital. Every time we took nana to see papa, he would pull nana in for a kiss and wouldn't let her go!
************************************************
Granddaughter Lindsay remembers
Growing up I always remember my papa showing me his extensive collection of pictures from the war that to this day I cannot figure out how the man got so many! Over the last two years I became very interested in the stories behind the pictures so I would spend countless hour talking to my papa about his time overseas. I discovered that papa spent a large amount of time in Paris. I was lucky enough to travel to Paris in my graduating year of college. Papa was thrilled to hear about my adventures and we would talk about the many sites of Paris. Almost every time after I got back, my papa would greet me with a huge smile and a BONJOUR, COMMA CA VA? When I think of him I can smile and know WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS!
I don't know about tomorrow; I don't know about today, but I do know that I could not have asked for a more perfect man to be my papa.
He taught me many things that I needed to know to become the little lady that I am today...he taught me everything like, fishing, cutting grass, destroying weeds, driving tractors qand that hard work and a little determination goes a long way. He also taught me that it doesn't take a lot to be happy. All you need is a roof over your head, family and a few great friends.
So God and the rest of heaven brace yourselves, and as my papa used to say so often ARE YOU READY FOR FREDDIE?
Fred Sage, 89
by Rev. Randy Banks
Grace United Church
Frederick Dalton Sage was raised in a very large family that was very connected to the land along what is now Whistlebare Rd. and some of it now occupied by a golf course. From these beginnings, Fred derived that rugged pioneer work ethic that meant you could count on a day's work and then some from Fred. He would be the person working for 10 hours. Fred developed and nurtured through life the qualities of giving an honest day's work; self-sufficiency and independence; and determination (which has a first cousin named 'stubborness'). If there was work to be done (and God knows there was always something to be done, especially when you are clearing land for a campsite by hand with a scythe or digging fence post after fence post into gravel beds) or a problem to be solved, Fred found a way to work perseveringly through it, overcome the odds, and get the job done, usually in a particular way which could be called, for simplicity's sake, 'his own way.' I see now why it was so important for him to come to the sun porch to visit when people like me came. It was something else that he worked hard at doing, making his way there with a walker or cane because it was the right, proper and hospitable thing to be doing, even if I said to Lillian that it was quite all right if he stayed where he was and kept resting.
As I listened to his family who loved him very much talk about Fred's long and active life, I couldn't help but hearing that old song playing in my head complete with images of hands covered in grease and sweat dripping from the brow - 'I've been working on the railroad, all the livelong day.' That would be a song applied to any work that he did on any given day of any given month of any given year. And, speaking of those hands, my, weren't they a big pair of mitts - great for doing hard work, shaking hands, or extending a helping hand. Having said that, this is what typified Fred - 'the helping hand'. He was there for everybody with those helping hands be it for family, friend, neighbor, or stranger. We at Grace United Church are thankful for the many times year after year that Fred and Lillian invited us to hold our church Father's Day picnic at the campsite picnic grounds, another example of the helping hand of the Sage's at work. People who know Fred undoubtedly have a story of how he helped them at some point. Later, in life, many of those people would be there to help him which is proof that what we sow is what we reap.
Fred interrupted his career with the Canadian Pacific Railway to lend his expertise to the army engineer corps in World War II. He was hard at work keeping the railway moving for the war effort. Those army engineers kept up their relationship with annual reunions, a couple of which Fred hosted here.
Fred deeply and dearly loved the place where he had lived most of his life. His grandfather's farm which he moved to after marriage has been in the family for 150 years and counting. I can understan his motivation to want to be back there instead of in the hospital or a long-term care facility. It is where his heart was. It is tough for family and care-givers in situations like that to be the ones to say that something like that cannot happen under the present circumstances. On the family farm, he was truly part of the landscape. A good deal of his blood, sweat and tears was mingled with the graveled soil of his part of God's creation. He thrived on being near his workshop and his tools and pot-bellied stove where he could hold court with friends who came calling to share old war stories about hunting and fishing and the outdoors. And then there was his shack that also occupied hallowed ground and was basically a haunt for men only. Fred lived and breathed his home. I now have a deeper appreciation of just how much the place was calling out to him while he was in hospital for much of the past five months.
But above and beyond all this I have just said, what mattered most was family. The word 'family' is emblazoned on the photo displays made by grandchildren. That's the theme that stands out when all else is said and done. I can actually see the light in his eyes in those photos where he is involved with family, whether it was a baptismor seated beside his brother Bill at the Dickie Settlement reunion last year. Even though the photo of him talking to Ryan who was in Japan at the time, by computer and webcam, shows only the back of his head, I can see his eyes lighting up at the wonderment of such technology but more so for the joy of being brought closer to his grandson.
Fred and Lillian took numerous trips to places like Japan and Australia and New Zealand and to western Canada and Alaska, often with brother Bill an his wife; again, enjoyment centered around family.
While in hospital, whenever we had conversations, Fred would talk lovingly and happily about his Lil, Ron and Terrie, Lyndsay, Ashley and Ryan, as well as many of his close friends. You see, it was people who mattered most to him.
If you spread blessings around, you receive blessings back from those who are grateful and gracious. And so Fred was the recipient of many blessings of love and friendship despite failing health and the limitation that went with it in the last years of his earthly life.
One of the quotations on the display reads;
Having a place to go is a home.
Having someone to love is family.
Having both is a blessing.
That seems to speak directly and accurately of the kind of home and family that has bee the Sage family.
Ashley, you mentioned that once your Papa said he felt it was time for another trip. He knew what he was saying. He was on another trip - the big journey, the journey of all journeys to the Promised Land, or the place prepared for him by God his maker and redeemer where he will experience the joy of God's loving presence forever.
******************************************************
Remembering Papa, by Ashley Sage, granddaughter.
I've heard many stories about my papa over the last few days and each one seems to have a common theme. May papa was a hardworking, loving man who would do anything for anybody.
Looking through numerous photo albums, I've been amazed to see how much work my papa did on the campgrounds. As my dad says, he can't even keep up to the work my papa did by hand using modern day equipment. Papa not only created Sage Camping, he was responsible for the reforestation around the property and the development of the horse shoe pits, picnic grounds, and the ponds, which brings me to one of my fondest memories of my papa. May papa, along with his dear friend Ed, taught may brother, sister and I how to fish in our fish ponds at the back. We all learned quickly, and instantly loved this pastime, not just because we go to spend quality time with our papa, but because we always caught so many fish. We thought we were expert fishermen. We had our papa and Ed running from one pond to the next taking the fish we caught off the hook so we could cast and catch our next fish. Then one day our dad tried to tak us fishing at the Waterford ponds. The fish weren't biting and we didn't understand why. Later we found out the real reason we were such good fishermen. It turned out that our papa stocked the ponds, and when we would be visiting, he wouldn't feed the fish for a few days so when we went fishing, all we'd have to do was cast and we'd catch a fish.
Back to the work papa did at the campgrounds. Whatever work he did, papa did it with the "Fred Sage Flare." Might it have been getting rid of the weeds by using a propane torch, starting a fire by undoing the gas lid of the chainsaw and pouring the gas on the fire, or using a tractor with no brakes so it ended up in the pond, papa had his own way of getting a job done. Thank goodness Bob Marshall was always there to lend a hand.
Our papa was a tall and mighty man and we learned this from a very young age when he would give us a friendly pat on the back that we would have to brace ourselves for. A nurse made a very fitting comment about our papa; she referred to him as a gentle giant. How true, he was a big man, with very large hands and a big heart.
I've always admired my papa's love for my Nana. and their over 50 years together. I remember a few Easters ago, while at nana's and papa's, papa proudly pulled out this giant (very old) Easter egg and proceeded to explain the story behind it. It turns out that before my papa left for the war, he gave my mama this large chocolate Easter egg. My nama saved it and wrapped it up and every once in awhile they pulled it out to reminisce.
Even when my papa was getting weaker and wasn't able to leave the house, he always made sure my nana was taken care of , so with a little help from his personal shopper Terrie, nana always received a beautiful gift from papa on special occasions.
But my very favorite memory of my papa's love for my nana is from our visits to the hospital. Every time we took nana to see papa, he would pull nana in for a kiss and wouldn't let her go!
************************************************
Granddaughter Lindsay remembers
Growing up I always remember my papa showing me his extensive collection of pictures from the war that to this day I cannot figure out how the man got so many! Over the last two years I became very interested in the stories behind the pictures so I would spend countless hour talking to my papa about his time overseas. I discovered that papa spent a large amount of time in Paris. I was lucky enough to travel to Paris in my graduating year of college. Papa was thrilled to hear about my adventures and we would talk about the many sites of Paris. Almost every time after I got back, my papa would greet me with a huge smile and a BONJOUR, COMMA CA VA? When I think of him I can smile and know WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS!
I don't know about tomorrow; I don't know about today, but I do know that I could not have asked for a more perfect man to be my papa.
He taught me many things that I needed to know to become the little lady that I am today...he taught me everything like, fishing, cutting grass, destroying weeds, driving tractors qand that hard work and a little determination goes a long way. He also taught me that it doesn't take a lot to be happy. All you need is a roof over your head, family and a few great friends.
So God and the rest of heaven brace yourselves, and as my papa used to say so often ARE YOU READY FOR FREDDIE?
Remembering and Honoring
Fred Sage, 89
by Rev. Randy Banks
Grace United Church
Frederick Dalton Sage was raised in a very large family that was very connected to the land along what is now Whistlebare Rd. and some of it now occupied by a golf course. From these beginnings, Fred derived that rugged pioneer work ethic that meant you could count on a day's work and then some from Fred. He would be the person working for 10 hours. Fred developed and nurtured through life the qualities of giving an honest day's work; self-sufficiency and independence; and determination (which has a first cousin named 'stubborness'). If there was work to be done (and God knows there was always something to be done, especially when you are clearing land for a campsite by hand with a scythe or digging fence post after fence post into gravel beds) or a problem to be solved, Fred found a way to work perseveringly through it, overcome the odds, and get the job done, usually in a particular way which could be called, for simplicity's sake, 'his own way.' I see now why it was so important for him to come to the sun porch to visit when people like me came. It was something else that he worked hard at doing, making his way there with a walker or cane because it was the right, proper and hospitable thing to be doing, even if I said to Lillian that it was quite all right if he stayed where he was and kept resting.
As I listened to his family who loved him very much talk about Fred's long and active life, I couldn't help but hearing that old song playing in my head complete with images of hands covered in grease and sweat dripping from the brow - 'I've been working on the railroad, all the livelong day.' That would be a song applied to any work that he did on any given day of any given month of any given year. And, speaking of those hands, my, weren't they a big pair of mitts - great for doing hard work, shaking hands, or extending a helping hand. Having said that, this is what typified Fred - 'the helping hand'. He was there for everybody with those helping hands be it for family, friend, neighbor, or stranger. We at Grace United Church are thankful for the many times year after year that Fred and Lillian invited us to hold our church Father's Day picnic at the campsite picnic grounds, another example of the helping hand of the Sage's at work. People who know Fred undoubtedly have a story of how he helped them at some point. Later, in life, many of those people would be there to help him which is proof that what we sow is what we reap.
Fred interrupted his career with the Canadian Pacific Railway to lend his expertise to the army engineer corps in World War II. He was hard at work keeping the railway moving for the war effort. Those army engineers kept up their relationship with annual reunions, a couple of which Fred hosted here.
Fred deeply and dearly loved the place where he had lived most of his life. His grandfather's farm which he moved to after marriage has been in the family for 150 years and counting. I can understan his motivation to want to be back there instead of in the hospital or a long-term care facility. It is where his heart was. It is tough for family and care-givers in situations like that to be the ones to say that something like that cannot happen under the present circumstances. On the family farm, he was truly part of the landscape. A good deal of his blood, sweat and tears was mingled with the graveled soil of his part of God's creation. He thrived on being near his workshop and his tools and pot-bellied stove where he could hold court with friends who came calling to share old war stories about hunting and fishing and the outdoors. And then there was his shack that also occupied hallowed ground and was basically a haunt for men only. Fred lived and breathed his home. I now have a deeper appreciation of just how much the place was calling out to him while he was in hospital for much of the past five months.
But above and beyond all this I have just said, what mattered most was family. The word 'family' is emblazoned on the photo displays made by grandchildren. That's the theme that stands out when all else is said and done. I can actually see the light in his eyes in those photos where he is involved with family, whether it was a baptismor seated beside his brother Bill at the Dickie Settlement reunion last year. Even though the photo of him talking to Ryan who was in Japan at the time, by computer and webcam, shows only the back of his head, I can see his eyes lighting up at the wonderment of such technology but more so for the joy of being brought closer to his grandson.
Fred and Lillian took numerous trips to places like Japan and Australia and New Zealand and to western Canada and Alaska, often with brother Bill an his wife; again, enjoyment centered around family.
While in hospital, whenever we had conversations, Fred would talk lovingly and happily about his Lil, Ron and Terrie, Lyndsay, Ashley and Ryan, as well as many of his close friends. You see, it was people who mattered most to him.
If you spread blessings around, you receive blessings back from those who are grateful and gracious. And so Fred was the recipient of many blessings of love and friendship despite failing health and the limitation that went with it in the last years of his earthly life.
One of the quotations on the display reads;
Having a place to go is a home.
Having someone to love is family.
Having both is a blessing.
That seems to speak directly and accurately of the kind of home and family that has bee the Sage family.
Ashley, you mentioned that once your Papa said he felt it was time for another trip. He knew what he was saying. He was on another trip - the big journey, the journey of all journeys to the Promised Land, or the place prepared for him by God his maker and redeemer where he will experience the joy of God's loving presence forever.
******************************************************
Remembering Papa, by Ashley Sage, granddaughter.
I've heard many stories about my papa over the last few days and each one seems to have a common theme. May papa was a hardworking, loving man who would do anything for anybody.
Looking through numerous photo albums, I've been amazed to see how much work my papa did on the campgrounds. As my dad says, he can't even keep up to the work my papa did by hand using modern day equipment. Papa not only created Sage Camping, he was responsible for the reforestation around the property and the development of the horse shoe pits, picnic grounds, and the ponds, which brings me to one of my fondest memories of my papa. May papa, along with his dear friend Ed, taught may brother, sister and I how to fish in our fish ponds at the back. We all learned quickly, and instantly loved this pastime, not just because we go to spend quality time with our papa, but because we always caught so many fish. We thought we were expert fishermen. We had our papa and Ed running from one pond to the next taking the fish we caught off the hook so we could cast and catch our next fish. Then one day our dad tried to tak us fishing at the Waterford ponds. The fish weren't biting and we didn't understand why. Later we found out the real reason we were such good fishermen. It turned out that our papa stocked the ponds, and when we would be visiting, he wouldn't feed the fish for a few days so when we went fishing, all we'd have to do was cast and we'd catch a fish.
Back to the work papa did at the campgrounds. Whatever work he did, papa did it with the "Fred Sage Flare." Might it have been getting rid of the weeds by using a propane torch, starting a fire by undoing the gas lid of the chainsaw and pouring the gas on the fire, or using a tractor with no brakes so it ended up in the pond, papa had his own way of getting a job done. Thank goodness Bob Marshall was always there to lend a hand.
Our papa was a tall and mighty man and we learned this from a very young age when he would give us a friendly pat on the back that we would have to brace ourselves for. A nurse made a very fitting comment about our papa; she referred to him as a gentle giant. How true, he was a big man, with very large hands and a big heart.
I've always admired my papa's love for my Nana. and their over 50 years together. I remember a few Easters ago, while at nana's and papa's, papa proudly pulled out this giant (very old) Easter egg and proceeded to explain the story behind it. It turns out that before my papa left for the war, he gave my mama this large chocolate Easter egg. My nama saved it and wrapped it up and every once in awhile they pulled it out to reminisce.
Even when my papa was getting weaker and wasn't able to leave the house, he always made sure my nana was taken care of , so with a little help from his personal shopper Terrie, nana always received a beautiful gift from papa on special occasions.
But my very favorite memory of my papa's love for my nana is from our visits to the hospital. Every time we took nana to see papa, he would pull nana in for a kiss and wouldn't let her go!
************************************************
Granddaughter Lindsay remembers
Growing up I always remember my papa showing me his extensive collection of pictures from the war that to this day I cannot figure out how the man got so many! Over the last two years I became very interested in the stories behind the pictures so I would spend countless hour talking to my papa about his time overseas. I discovered that papa spent a large amount of time in Paris. I was lucky enough to travel to Paris in my graduating year of college. Papa was thrilled to hear about my adventures and we would talk about the many sites of Paris. Almost every time after I got back, my papa would greet me with a huge smile and a BONJOUR, COMMA CA VA? When I think of him I can smile and know WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS!
I don't know about tomorrow; I don't know about today, but I do know that I could not have asked for a more perfect man to be my papa.
He taught me many things that I needed to know to become the little lady that I am today...he taught me everything like, fishing, cutting grass, destroying weeds, driving tractors qand that hard work and a little determination goes a long way. He also taught me that it doesn't take a lot to be happy. All you need is a roof over your head, family and a few great friends.
So God and the rest of heaven brace yourselves, and as my papa used to say so often ARE YOU READY FOR FREDDIE?
Fred Sage, 89
by Rev. Randy Banks
Grace United Church
Frederick Dalton Sage was raised in a very large family that was very connected to the land along what is now Whistlebare Rd. and some of it now occupied by a golf course. From these beginnings, Fred derived that rugged pioneer work ethic that meant you could count on a day's work and then some from Fred. He would be the person working for 10 hours. Fred developed and nurtured through life the qualities of giving an honest day's work; self-sufficiency and independence; and determination (which has a first cousin named 'stubborness'). If there was work to be done (and God knows there was always something to be done, especially when you are clearing land for a campsite by hand with a scythe or digging fence post after fence post into gravel beds) or a problem to be solved, Fred found a way to work perseveringly through it, overcome the odds, and get the job done, usually in a particular way which could be called, for simplicity's sake, 'his own way.' I see now why it was so important for him to come to the sun porch to visit when people like me came. It was something else that he worked hard at doing, making his way there with a walker or cane because it was the right, proper and hospitable thing to be doing, even if I said to Lillian that it was quite all right if he stayed where he was and kept resting.
As I listened to his family who loved him very much talk about Fred's long and active life, I couldn't help but hearing that old song playing in my head complete with images of hands covered in grease and sweat dripping from the brow - 'I've been working on the railroad, all the livelong day.' That would be a song applied to any work that he did on any given day of any given month of any given year. And, speaking of those hands, my, weren't they a big pair of mitts - great for doing hard work, shaking hands, or extending a helping hand. Having said that, this is what typified Fred - 'the helping hand'. He was there for everybody with those helping hands be it for family, friend, neighbor, or stranger. We at Grace United Church are thankful for the many times year after year that Fred and Lillian invited us to hold our church Father's Day picnic at the campsite picnic grounds, another example of the helping hand of the Sage's at work. People who know Fred undoubtedly have a story of how he helped them at some point. Later, in life, many of those people would be there to help him which is proof that what we sow is what we reap.
Fred interrupted his career with the Canadian Pacific Railway to lend his expertise to the army engineer corps in World War II. He was hard at work keeping the railway moving for the war effort. Those army engineers kept up their relationship with annual reunions, a couple of which Fred hosted here.
Fred deeply and dearly loved the place where he had lived most of his life. His grandfather's farm which he moved to after marriage has been in the family for 150 years and counting. I can understan his motivation to want to be back there instead of in the hospital or a long-term care facility. It is where his heart was. It is tough for family and care-givers in situations like that to be the ones to say that something like that cannot happen under the present circumstances. On the family farm, he was truly part of the landscape. A good deal of his blood, sweat and tears was mingled with the graveled soil of his part of God's creation. He thrived on being near his workshop and his tools and pot-bellied stove where he could hold court with friends who came calling to share old war stories about hunting and fishing and the outdoors. And then there was his shack that also occupied hallowed ground and was basically a haunt for men only. Fred lived and breathed his home. I now have a deeper appreciation of just how much the place was calling out to him while he was in hospital for much of the past five months.
But above and beyond all this I have just said, what mattered most was family. The word 'family' is emblazoned on the photo displays made by grandchildren. That's the theme that stands out when all else is said and done. I can actually see the light in his eyes in those photos where he is involved with family, whether it was a baptismor seated beside his brother Bill at the Dickie Settlement reunion last year. Even though the photo of him talking to Ryan who was in Japan at the time, by computer and webcam, shows only the back of his head, I can see his eyes lighting up at the wonderment of such technology but more so for the joy of being brought closer to his grandson.
Fred and Lillian took numerous trips to places like Japan and Australia and New Zealand and to western Canada and Alaska, often with brother Bill an his wife; again, enjoyment centered around family.
While in hospital, whenever we had conversations, Fred would talk lovingly and happily about his Lil, Ron and Terrie, Lyndsay, Ashley and Ryan, as well as many of his close friends. You see, it was people who mattered most to him.
If you spread blessings around, you receive blessings back from those who are grateful and gracious. And so Fred was the recipient of many blessings of love and friendship despite failing health and the limitation that went with it in the last years of his earthly life.
One of the quotations on the display reads;
Having a place to go is a home.
Having someone to love is family.
Having both is a blessing.
That seems to speak directly and accurately of the kind of home and family that has bee the Sage family.
Ashley, you mentioned that once your Papa said he felt it was time for another trip. He knew what he was saying. He was on another trip - the big journey, the journey of all journeys to the Promised Land, or the place prepared for him by God his maker and redeemer where he will experience the joy of God's loving presence forever.
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Remembering Papa, by Ashley Sage, granddaughter.
I've heard many stories about my papa over the last few days and each one seems to have a common theme. May papa was a hardworking, loving man who would do anything for anybody.
Looking through numerous photo albums, I've been amazed to see how much work my papa did on the campgrounds. As my dad says, he can't even keep up to the work my papa did by hand using modern day equipment. Papa not only created Sage Camping, he was responsible for the reforestation around the property and the development of the horse shoe pits, picnic grounds, and the ponds, which brings me to one of my fondest memories of my papa. May papa, along with his dear friend Ed, taught may brother, sister and I how to fish in our fish ponds at the back. We all learned quickly, and instantly loved this pastime, not just because we go to spend quality time with our papa, but because we always caught so many fish. We thought we were expert fishermen. We had our papa and Ed running from one pond to the next taking the fish we caught off the hook so we could cast and catch our next fish. Then one day our dad tried to tak us fishing at the Waterford ponds. The fish weren't biting and we didn't understand why. Later we found out the real reason we were such good fishermen. It turned out that our papa stocked the ponds, and when we would be visiting, he wouldn't feed the fish for a few days so when we went fishing, all we'd have to do was cast and we'd catch a fish.
Back to the work papa did at the campgrounds. Whatever work he did, papa did it with the "Fred Sage Flare." Might it have been getting rid of the weeds by using a propane torch, starting a fire by undoing the gas lid of the chainsaw and pouring the gas on the fire, or using a tractor with no brakes so it ended up in the pond, papa had his own way of getting a job done. Thank goodness Bob Marshall was always there to lend a hand.
Our papa was a tall and mighty man and we learned this from a very young age when he would give us a friendly pat on the back that we would have to brace ourselves for. A nurse made a very fitting comment about our papa; she referred to him as a gentle giant. How true, he was a big man, with very large hands and a big heart.
I've always admired my papa's love for my Nana. and their over 50 years together. I remember a few Easters ago, while at nana's and papa's, papa proudly pulled out this giant (very old) Easter egg and proceeded to explain the story behind it. It turns out that before my papa left for the war, he gave my mama this large chocolate Easter egg. My nama saved it and wrapped it up and every once in awhile they pulled it out to reminisce.
Even when my papa was getting weaker and wasn't able to leave the house, he always made sure my nana was taken care of , so with a little help from his personal shopper Terrie, nana always received a beautiful gift from papa on special occasions.
But my very favorite memory of my papa's love for my nana is from our visits to the hospital. Every time we took nana to see papa, he would pull nana in for a kiss and wouldn't let her go!
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Granddaughter Lindsay remembers
Growing up I always remember my papa showing me his extensive collection of pictures from the war that to this day I cannot figure out how the man got so many! Over the last two years I became very interested in the stories behind the pictures so I would spend countless hour talking to my papa about his time overseas. I discovered that papa spent a large amount of time in Paris. I was lucky enough to travel to Paris in my graduating year of college. Papa was thrilled to hear about my adventures and we would talk about the many sites of Paris. Almost every time after I got back, my papa would greet me with a huge smile and a BONJOUR, COMMA CA VA? When I think of him I can smile and know WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS!
I don't know about tomorrow; I don't know about today, but I do know that I could not have asked for a more perfect man to be my papa.
He taught me many things that I needed to know to become the little lady that I am today...he taught me everything like, fishing, cutting grass, destroying weeds, driving tractors qand that hard work and a little determination goes a long way. He also taught me that it doesn't take a lot to be happy. All you need is a roof over your head, family and a few great friends.
So God and the rest of heaven brace yourselves, and as my papa used to say so often ARE YOU READY FOR FREDDIE?
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