Keith and Doris Angus

They loved to tango and they danced so beautifully together. They were married in 1943 during the war. 

67 years together.We took these pictures at their 60th wedding anniversary dinner and dance on top of Burnaby Mountain where so many family and friends attended.

On Friday June 30th we are gathering to remember them.

They left the planet at the same time. 

Keith Angus

May 16, 1916 -June 23, 2010

Doris Angus nee Monck

February 20th, 1921 - June 24, 2010

Its all about Food and Family and Friends

We are going to celebrate Mum and Dad's life with a gathering of family and friends....it will be July 30th in the afternoon at my house.
In honor of Dad it will be about food and family.
In honor of Mum it will be all about family and friends.
 Dad was a man who loved his grub. He could be seen at gatherings or parties not more than a foot or so from the buffet table, circling like a shark. He was always ready to try anything I don't remember Dad turning down food except for cucumbers and always ready for second helpings if Mum wasn't watching. So often he would be reaching for just one more homemade cinnamon bun only to receive a quick slap accurately delivered by Mum on the back of his outstretched hand. He got to be quite adept at slyly snatching one more cookie or one more piece of pie if he thought Mum wasn't looking. She always was though, her goal was to keep Dad healthy inspite of himself and she did, he made it to 94. He wouldn't have made it to an age even close to that had been solely up to him.
She could never sit still for long, always moving, always with a project of some kind on the go. She was the one who got them up mountains and down rivers, on many of their adventures. She did the planning and the packing and even sewed a tent a couple of times. She never shirked her load either. The one time and last time that she let Dad do the packing was when they climbed Mt Robson and at the end of the first day of slogging up the mountain she took her back pack off only to discover that Dad had put the cast iron fry pan in her pack.
We will have so many stories to share about them on that day.

They called me Deed

That is a name I may never hear again. My parents were the only ones who ever called me Deed. I guess it was a childhood baby name that only parents remember and use. I would answer to it as I would to my given name. My head would snap back as if I was on a leash. Funny, no other voices will be able to do that for me.

  

 Pansies were my mother's favouite flower, she loved their little faces and would often try growing them, surreptitously pinching off and pocketing a seed from a particularly charming little pansy that she fancied in someone's garden.
When I returned home from the coast,  I went to a couple of green houses and got just the right pansies to create  couple of pots. It is just one small way of remembering my parents this summer. I know there will be many many more little things that will come along as time goes by that will bring them back into focus for me. But for now, I see them in the little faces of pansies.