At 12 years old, my life was pretty routine; school, church, TV, sports, playing with my pals, the usual stuff.
Alone time with my Dad came at a premium. By then my 3 older brothers had left home and my youngest brother, Bruce, was barely a year old. Dad had a very demanding job, working 6 days a week, 10 to 12 hours a day. He was also active in a number of service clubs and enjoyed golf and curling. This didn't allow for a lot of one on one time for us, but my friends all had similar relationships with their fathers, so I didn't think much about it at all.
Dad was there for me when I needed him, of course, but I certainly would have enjoyed doing more things together. One evening he did something that changed our relationship forever.
The first difference between this Wednesday evening and the norm was my Dad's arrival home, around 4:30 p.m. instead of the standard 6:30 to 7:00. His first words to me were, "Bub, is your homework done?" I said it was. "Can you be ready to go in a half hour? We'll eat on the way."
"Where are we going?" I asked. "You'll see, Bub." He mussed my hair and went off to change his clothes.
30 minutes later we were out the door, in the car and on our way. We stopped at the neighborhood "greasy spoon" for burgers and fries. I didn't think Dad even knew where this joint was but I was beginning to sense there was something entirely different about this night. Still, no matter how much I quzzed him, Dad wouldn't give away our destination.
Eventually we arrived at what I thought was the biggest building in town, maybe all of Canada; the Edmonton Gardens. "Are we going to see the Flyers, Dad?"
"So it seems." Dad had a grin on his face like I'd never seen before.
I'd been to the Gardens on Sunday afternoons to watch our Junior team, the Oil Kings, but I'd never been to a night game nor seen the Edmonton Flyers, the Detroit Red Wing's top farm team. Just going to this game was a huge deal for me.
Watching the warmup, I recognized a few players, mostly former Oil Kings; Len Haley, Jack Price, Eddie Joyal and Bruce MacGregor, but there was one player I definitely hadn't seen before.
A little taller than the others, this particular guy had sloping shoulders, a unique stride and displayed a compact ease with the puck. Suddenly, he flicked a nasty wrist shot half the length of the ice, straight into the top corner of the empty net at the far end of the arena, then he skated right by our rinkside seats. I almost passed out. It was Gordie Howe.
Howe had suffered a broken wrist and as part of his rehabilitation program, he'd been assigned to Edmonton for 3 games to get back into shape. My Dad figured this was the only time I'd ever get to see my favorite NHL player, so he broke every weeknight rule in our household to make it happen.
The actual game is a blur. I can't even remember who the Flyers played, but they won, big. I do recall reminding myself to breathe every time Howe took a shift, and to say the man did not disappoint would be an understatement. His skill level was so much higher than everyone else's, the difference was absolutely tangible!
As Howe's meteroic career continued, I did see him play again, but not until he was in his 50s, playing with his sons for Houston of the World Hockey Association.
It's odd how one event or one evening can change everything. From that night on Dad and I had just a little more than the usual father son relationship. Intentionally or otherwise, we'd forged a kinship, a closeness we'd never had before and I'm pleased to say it continued until his passing.
I discovered later he'd done similar individual things with each of my brothers, which went a long way in explaining just what an exceptional father he was. This very special gift from my Dad is something I'll treasure for the rest of my life.
