The Bridge with Peter Mansbridge - Your Turn -- In Honour of Father's

Episode Date: June 12, 2025

With Father's Day coming up, your thoughts about your father in particular. The Random Ranter is here too but his message is very different.

And hello there, Peter Mansbridge here. You're just moments away from the latest episode of The Bridge. It's Thursday. That means your turn and the random renter. Your turn today is about Father's Day. Better get your hankies out. Coming right up. And hello there. Welcome to Thursday, welcome to Your Turn. Now I said at the tease of the top, the program today, it's not like the Your Turns we've

had for the last few months. It's not heavy duty politics. It's heavy duty you and your feelings about your father. Father's Day coming up this weekend. And so we wanted to try something a little different. And quite frankly, I thought, you know, people are not going to really get into this. There's not going to be many letters. I was wrong again.

There have been a lot of letters. And people are going along with the 75 words or less. There were only a couple that were longer than that. And people, most of them, are remembering the 12 noon Eastern time deadline on Wednesday, there were a number of stragglers that came in after that and I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do about it because the process moves on and the vetting and collection of the letters and the deciding which ones make it or not. And that's always tough because we probably had two or three times more letters than we needed.

And they're all good. They're all good. Thoughts and memories about fathers. And when I say good, they're all emotional. Some people have had difficult relationships with their fathers and there's few of those in there too. But we should get going so I can get as many of your thoughts and letters in as possible and we'll also have the random rancher here today. So let's get started. Ian Hebelthwaite from Moncton, New Brunswick is first up on the list

this week. To be frank, my father was a good guy, but uninvolved and selfish. However, when I emigrated to Nova Scotia, I lived with a grandfather who showed me how to be a man, a father, and a grampy. The long gone, he is who I think of most when thinking of Father's Day. Christine McDonald on LaSalle, Ontario. I'm 68 years old and had my dad until January 3rd, 2021. My dad was orphaned at 10. My dad could make something from nothing. He told us stories at night, dried our tears,

and was the template I used to find my husband, who I lost on June 13th, 2023. The mold no longer exists. Don DuFour in Ottawa. On June 12th, 2016, my father left, two weeks shy of his 85th birthday. He taught me and my children about nature, friendship and how to persevere no matter what comes your way. One lesson dad taught us is to never stop doing what you love.

We watched him chop wood, tend to his garden and walk the dogs as Parkinson's slowly crept in. He's an icon and he's missed every day. Linda Volpini in Niagara Falls, Ontario. My father taught me how important it is to help others. He always had his toolbox in hand to repair things for family and friends. I have my father's 1945 mantle clock that he received from an old farmer as a payment for doing him a favor. The clock still chimes reminding me of my father's words. He taught me many things, how to skate, how to swim, how to ride a bike. He was always giving. 35 years ago this week my father passed away and still is dearly missed.

A lot of people talk about missing their dad in these letters that we have this week. Gregory Heller in Thornbury, Ontario, that's on Georgian Bay. I was lucky to have my father for 65 years. I lost him in 2022, but his lessons continue to guide me. He taught me never to sit on the sidelines while others carry the load, whether coaching, serving on parent council, or helping a neighbour, he gave his time selflessly and without seeking credit. He believes strong communities are built through shared effort. I try to honour him by showing up and giving back. Carolyn Black in Waterloo, Ontario.

This Father's Day is the second anniversary of my dad's death. My dad is remembered by everyone for his kindness, knowledge of the world, and ability to have a meaningful conversation on just about anything. A few years ago, we were heading to Amsterdam in early May. My dad commented that we must see Kukenhof Gardens. I may have pronounced that wrong. Even though he had never been to Holland, he knew about those gardens. We would have missed a highlight of that holiday if he hadn't seen them. We miss him so much. Those gardens, by the way, are about an hour outside Amsterdam,

and they are a spring garden, open only from about mid-March to early May. Wendy Cecil in Toronto. My dad taught me to get up before sunrise, appreciate the celestial glory, then squeeze all the juice out of every day. I still delight in the rewards of this habit seven decades later. He insisted I become comfortable public speaking, which continues to bring me countless unanticipated opportunities and pleasures. I bless him silently every time I step up to a microphone, feeling... you know, it's funny reading this because it's so true,

so true about how you can feel and get engaged in public speaking. Anyway, Wendy, sorry to interrupt Wendy's letter there. I bless him silently every day. I step up to a microphone feeling a rush of joy, not terror. What lasting gifts. Thanks, Dad. Chrissy Solich in Winnipeg. As a teenager, I snuck in late, way past my curfew. While my mom was furious, my dad calmly kept the peace and took me to my brother's hockey game at the local arena the following night. I'll never forget how much I admired him for that simple little gesture. And yes, my brother's team won their game. Doug Hubbell in Guelph, Ontario. My father passed away last year at the age of 87.

What I will always remember about my dad was that he could fix anything. Dad was a welder, a millwright. When something broke around the house, he fixed it with his own tools. If he couldn't fix it, he always had a buddy that could help him figure it out. Robert McMillan in Hope River, Prince Edward Island. That's near Cavendish. That's Green Gables territory, right? Words from my dad.

No matter how well you budget your money, there will always be something at the end of the month that will change it. I passed this on to my own kids 45 years later. Liam Lay in Aurelia, Ontario. on to my own kids 45 years later. Liam Lay in Aurelia, Ontario. I grew up a Maple Leafs fan and vividly remember the first time my dad took me to see a Leafs game at Maple Leaf Gardens versus the St. Louis Blues in the late 1970s. I was only seven years old.

I was thrilled to see my childhood heroes, Daryl Sittler, Orias Salming, and Lanny MacDonald. I loved every minute, except the outcome. St. Louis won the game six to two. On the way home, I was so upset by the Leafs' loss that I recall asking my dad why the Maple Leafs lost the game. He looked at me warmly, smiled, put his arm around me and said, because they're the Maple Leafs, son.

Dear. Madison Dewettering in Brinsley, Ontario. That's northwest of London. Unwavering support for his children and anyone around him, regardless what bonehead pickle we got ourselves into, we all knew that we could call dad and he would bail us out, literally or figuratively. Many of his children, nieces, nephews, and friends

took him up on that. It's something that I hope to be known for with my children, just like they know they will always be able to count on him for as long as he is around. Tom Smith in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. When I was growing up my father often said, Tommy it's a job worth doing, it's worth doing right. My dad had that saying too, a version of that. A job worth doing is worth doing well. In many years of disagreeing with him, I have yet to see him be wrong about anything. Not once.

Leona Boyd in Toronto. That's right, that Leona Boyd. My dear father changed my life without knowing it at the time. When I was six years old he carried on his back in a rucksack the inexpensive classical guitar we brought back to England brought back to England as a souvenir after holidaying with his parents who lived in northern Spain. Seven years later, it became the Christmas present that began my lifetime journey with guitar, an obsession with music. Thanks for sharing that, Leona.

Peter Arato in Toronto. Without English, my father, a skilled electrical engineer, started repairing appliances and later TVs when we arrived in 1957 as Hungarian refugees. Our first car in 1951, Studebaker's transmission, failed. He fixed it referencing a borrowed manual. Years later, he lifted our cottage with hydraulic jacks to replace rotted beams. His career soared from technician to head engineer to university professor. Using his mind and hands, he taught me intellect and patience paves the way. Janice Voss in Edmonton At 50 years old, Dad went back to school to study accounting. He

enrolled at Mount Royal College where I was studying accounting. After receiving his diploma, he enrolled in the Certified General Accounting Program, the same program I was in. Eight years from his first day at Mount Royal, Dad and I graduated and received our CGA accounting designation. We walked across the stage together to receive our certificate. So proud of my Papa. Carrie Thurston in Nelson, BC While working on a family history project, I uncovered a story that reflects the deep sense of safety and dependability I feel about my dad. As a Japanese Canadian, he was incarcerated with his family in B.C. during World War II.

After the war, they were forced to relocate and started over in Ontario. With his father unable to work, my dad became a mechanic and bought the family home at just 25. Paula Gratton in Merrimachine, New Brunswick. This is the first Father's Day without my dad. He was very quiet until he had something clever to say that would make everyone laugh. My favorite memories of him are from going out for Sunday drives, just him and me. No words, just comfort and love.

A shared can of pop and a little bag of chips. George Strait playing on the radio. What I wouldn't give for one more drive. John Sutherland in Calgary. I miss my father. He was always a hero to me. He was stern with me as a child, but he had been a Navy man from age 18 to 1939 until he retired in 1951. He was an artist, a woodcarver, and a great salesman. He never criticized the choices I made in life, good or bad. When he was 58, he and I hiked into the crater on Maui. We slept overnight on the crater floor and then walked out to the south coast. It was our great adventure together. I never

fell closer to my dad. I still carry the walking stick he carved from that trip. Chris Culhane in Kemphill, Ontario. It's about a half hour south of Ottawa. The greatest gift my dad gave me was the unwavering sense that no matter what I faced, he was always and still is in my corner. There were hard conversations, tough lessons and consequences, sometimes all three. But I always knew he'd be there to support me and help me through. It's a gift I now work to pass on to my own son, to be present, steady, and always in

his corner. Tristan Harmson and Tristan's riding from from a ship I've been on spent time in the Arctic on the Canadian Coast Guard icebreaker Amundsen. It's a research vessel, Arctic research vessel as well. Some of my strongest memories with my father are the moments of connection we enjoyed when we worked together on the boat that we sailed on Georgian Bay, which he just put in the water for the season. We would tackle a job, go get an ice cap from Timmy's, sometimes go for a swim to cool off after a hard day's work. Probably not taking too many swims Tristan off off the Amundsen in the in the Arctic these days but you never know.

Christine O'Reilly in Port Franks Ontario, it's on Lake Huron. He taught me how to polish leather shoes. The smell of the Kiwi black polish, the sound of the two bristled brushes, the soft cloth to bring up the shine. He learned well. A member of the household cavalry, with those high black leather boots, polished to perfection. Before that he'd lied about his age, joined up at 14 and experienced World War II. It marked him and affected us. I understand more now.

Thanks, Dad. Derek Forsyth in Edmonton. This will be my first father's day without my dad who died from cancer in March. He was a great dad. He taught by example the values of working hard, honesty, serving his community, and most importantly the importance of family. Family was everything to him. He was happy through good times, never complained in tough times.

I miss him every day. Julie Smith Allen in Lethbridge, Alberta. Dad was an early adopter of technology. He had a giant phone in his car, and in his 70s, he was first in the family to get a personal computer, signing his emails from the poor old destitute pensioner. People used to say, I walked like him. That still makes me proud, except when I catch a glimpse of myself,

a petite woman in my 60s, walking like I just got off a horse. Oh dear. Shelley Hoffman in Kelowna, BC. So many memories, a little mixed but overwhelmingly wonderful. The best, my epic walks with dad. He taught me how to walk fast. He was very tall and I was short and I had to keep up.

I still love walking. Anne Marie Klein in Toronto. In 1996 when he was battling liver cancer my 70-year-old father told us he'd been one of five members of his platoon to come home from World War II at age 19 and that he'd had a great life, many had not. When he died in 2001 from a brain tumor, we found his renewed passport, his bald post-chemotherapy face smiling back at us. He taught us gratitude and optimism from start to finish. Joshua Winters, Surrey, BC. My father and I had a difficult relationship. He was loud, he was outgoing. I was quiet and introverted. We clashed often.

When I was a child, my father crossed a line no parent ever should. I carried that pain in silence for years. When my parents separated, we became estranged. It was only after he died that I learned he had been abused as a child, too. I had spent decades focused on the one day he failed me, and yet I'd never considered the thousands of days he didn't. What he did was not excusable, but it became somehow understandable. It made him human. Feuds, I've come to learn, are so rarely about hate.

They're about pain. So if you're estranged from your father, or hurting because of him, this is your reminder. Pick up the phone. Be the bigger person if you have to. You'll more than likely be glad you did, because the one thing worse than pain is regret. Kathy Newens in London, Ontario.

My dad taught me so many things, but my favorite has to be, you are never alone if you have a good book. Those words inspired my lifelong love of reading that I watched spill over to my own children. My dad has been gone almost 15 years, but I know when I sit in his spot at the cottage and read, he's right there with me enjoying the view. Tony Miller in Victoria. My father was a wonderful, funny, loving human being.

Not a day went by that he didn't compliment me or tell me how much he loved me or tell me how beautiful I was. He taught me to always compliment people or show genuine interest by asking about them. He said showing interest in others was free and made them feel valued. I'd love to sit with you and spend hours telling you

about him. Patrick Ross in Stratford, Prince Edward Island. One of the most important things my father instilled in me was politeness. Holding the door for people was something he always did and is something I passed on to my children. A simple yet impactful gesture. When I hear comments from people about how polite my children are, I instantly think of my father because it is the result of him teaching me to be polite

and doing kind things for people. Brian Ross in Kincardin, Ontario. I have many memories of my dad and one I particularly remember. Each harvest, my dad would drive his model LA case tractor to bring home the threshing machine. When I was around eight years old, he allowed me to steer the tractor under his guidance. He said, you're never too young or too old to learn a new task.

John Dunne near Cowley, Alberta, southern Alberta, west of Lethbridge. As an immigrant, my father fully embraced Canada. In the mid-60s, our family felt a very long way from our native Scotland. While there was a local Scottish club, he never took us there. We were immersed in new Canadian adventures from mundane weekly visits to Canadian Tire to experiencing the unbridled optimism of Canada at Expo 67 and everything in between. He would, I think, be pleased that Canadians are now appreciating that we, appreciating that we can't take our amazing country for granted.

It is amazing. Sean Bennett in Saskatoon, we haven't always had the best relationship, but I always think about the times we would play sports and video games together when I was younger. We might not communicate as well and as often as others with their dad, but I know he loves me and he knows I love him. We still try in our own way to be close and I still cherish the things he's done for

me. Barb Demere in Vancouver. My father was a very busy professional and therefore got overly involved in our lives. He owned a law practice and eventually was appointed to the Supreme Court of B.C. He did though have a big impact on my life. He often said, no matter what, tell the truth. Those words have been forever embedded into my soul. Michelle Dextre in Kanata, Ontario.

My father was a true feminist. He did not just help with daily family tasks. He fully participated. Saturday was housework. Friday evening was grocery shopping. We cleaned our rooms under his supervision. He set up the supper table. When we were little, he gave us our baths and prepared us for bed.

It was what family life was, and his son, son-in-law and grandson, have followed his lead. I miss him every day. I miss him every day. Bill Chitterart in Grand Bend, Ontario. It's Lake Huron. My parents were part of World War II's greatest generation, but never saw the door of a high school, but were intelligent beyond their years. My career has been in sports from day one as an athlete and coach, 16 times as coach of Canada's senior curling teams. I stood on the top

step of the podium to hear, Oh Canada! My athletes were effusive in their praise of my sports smarts, especially my sense of calm. Very nice to hear, but both were a gift to me from my dad. I should take a break pretty soon here, but let's get a couple more in. Catherine Benson in Toronto. My father, a busy University of Waterloo professor, uniquely bonded with his daughters through baseball. He took us tweens to the Sky Dome in 1989, new to the sport. This small act became a profound bonding experience. We still watch and discuss baseball today, creating priceless memories.

It shows that sometimes seeming frivolous sports can forge powerful lasting connections. I love cheering on the Blue Jays with my dad. Well, the two of you must be having a great time right now because they are winning a lot of games. Jim Ray and Mark Montario. Every day, dad immediately changed out of work clothes, play with me and my brother, walks hockey, board games, stargazing. It wasn't easy growing up, neurodivergent in the 1970s, but my dad's calming presence made us know he loved us exactly as we were. He passed away when I was 12, a hole that never fills. But his spirit lives on in the joys I experience with my amazing neurodivergent

nerdy kids. John Normando in West Kelowna, BC. A special memory I have with my dad is the way he shares stories and local history from around BC. Whether we were out for a Sunday drive or just running errands, he always had a story, often about a road he helped build or a project someone in our family worked on. He spent his life working outdoors and has a deep love of nature. I think that's where I got mine from too. Maria Linda Migliacci in Montreal. My father immigrated to Canada from Italy in 1950 with a small suitcase and a few dollars

in his pocket. He established the pathway for the rest of his family who joined him a few years later. He was known for his courage, hard work, generosity and kindness as well as being a true gentleman. Okay, I said we should take a break and take a break is what we'll do. We'll come back with the random ranter and then more of your letters. But first, this. ["The Last Supper"]

And welcome back. You're listening to Good Talk, or not Good Talks tomorrow. You will be listening to Good Talk tomorrow. You're listening to The Bridge, Thursday episode. It's your turn. Your thoughts on Fathers as we come and approach Father's Day in a couple of days. You're listening on Series XM Channel 167, Canada Talks are on your favorite podcast platform. Time now though, for you know who, it is time for the random renter.

I know with everything going on in the world right now, it's probably not the right time to take a shot at poor Pierre Poliev. But he keeps talking about something that really gets me going. And no, it's not axing the taxes. It's his take on hard work and the naive notion that it should somehow get you a nice house, good food, and a great life in a safe community. If only life was that easy. But it's not.

His notion on the rewards of hard work are in reality nothing but a pipe dream, an entitled fantasy, just another of his boiled down, simple Simon solutions for all the world's problems. But sadly, it doesn't work that way in the real world. Because while you owe it to yourself to work hard, hard work itself? It owes you nothing. Hard work is not the secret to success. It's the prerequisite.

Let me put it to you like this. You can't succeed without hard work, but you can certainly work hard and not succeed. It happens to people everywhere, every day. To pretend otherwise is disingenuous. To sell that to the electorate? Especially our youth? Well, that's flat out irresponsible. Look, I'm concerned about our youth.

I'm not one of those people that derides younger generations like so many do. I've got empathy for them. Because it's tough to be young these days and face the prospects of our very complicated world. There's so much pressure and so many unrealistic expectations out there. It's tough. I mean, think about it. Depending where you live, your best chance of affording a home as a young person is probably to have your parents die. That's dark. But for many young people living in Toronto or Vancouver, that's probably the reality. Then there's the job market. Youth unemployment is way up, but even if you're lucky enough to have a job and manage

to be getting ahead, well, hard work be damned, there's no guarantee AI won't come and take it all away at some point. Look, this hard work stuff is all part of the greater fallacy that champions individual freedom and self-reliance over interdependence and community. To me it's a giant crock because no one, no one succeeds entirely on their own. Anyone who tells you they have has zero gratitude for all the help they've been given, or is just deluding themselves.

All those people that claim to be self-made, they're not fooling anyone, they're just cheating at golf. Look, success requires having a certain amount of luck along the way. It involves someone giving you a break. It requires someone, somewhere along the line, seeing seeing something in you and then believing their eyes. It's not just hard work. It's falling down and getting back up. It's perseverance in the face of challenge.

That road to success, it will involve failure. There will be setbacks, blind corners, and bumps in the road. Despite what you may see on social media, life is not easy. And the thing is, it's never been easy. And that's where I think we do our youth a disservice, because we're never really 100% honest with them when we talk about it. We're so obsessed with projecting an image of perfection that we tend to focus

on the end of the story and skip over all the struggles it took to get there and all the people that helped us along the way. We take too much credit for our own successes. You know, I really think the key to everything is gratitude. And it's not enough to just have gratitude. As a society, we need to start showing it to each other, so that all the people out there who are working hard, but getting nowhere, can see that their frustrations have been shared, that their situations are not that much different from anyone else's, and that there can be a light at the end of the tunnel.

So look, if you're successful, good for you. Don't take all the credit for yourself. Share your knowledge, show some gratitude, and when you see someone working hard to make something of themselves, do what someone no doubt did for you once and help them out. There he is, the random renderer for this week. You know, some of that, some of it fits with what we were talking about and what we're talking about through your letters. Because for many of us, it's clear that that help you got came from both your parents.

We're just having to be doing Father's Day this week. We'll do Mother's Day next spring. Anyway, that's your ranter. That's your rant. Now, I've been speaking slowly, I guess, because of the nature of some of these letters. They're beautiful letters, all of them. But even though we've cut back on the number, these letters, they're beautiful letters, all of them.

But even though we've cut back on the number, you know, because we can't fit them all in, we may not even get the ones that we'd hoped for here because I've been...I'll try and pick up the pace a little bit, but I don't want to destroy some of these, they're beautiful. Lisa Spalak from Penticton, BC. One of my best memories of my dad is his infamous quote about income taxes. He would always say, I wish I had to pay $100,000 in taxes every year.

Meaning he understood he would be fortunate to be earning a very high income. I can still picture him doing his income taxes every year on his old Underwood typewriter. He would never handwrite his annual tax return. Now I often quote him whenever I hear rumblings about paying taxes in this great country of ours. Aaron Lazar in Toronto. My dad was born in Montreal and was store manager for Steinberg's. It was a supermarket, right? Which was a union shop. In 1979 we moved to Toronto where he was store manager for Food City. Not unionized. Nine

months later he was fired. Why? He brought employees together to help them unionize. Mom and family were upset and perplexed, but not me. Let us all be our brothers and sisters, keepers like my hero, my dad. Beth Graham in living in Cole Harbor near Dartmouth and of course the hometown of Sidney Crosby and Nathan McKinnon. But she says she's a Kate Breitner at heart. My father has persevered through life's problems. Born to a 45-year-old mom of six in 1951, who was widowed that same year, I marvel at how much he overcame and accomplished.

This includes a successful career in construction, building lighthouse cottages from scratch with mom, along with our home. Now he persists in overcoming his ailments and keeps the same attitude. Try your best. Blair Zilke in Toronto. Our dad is an ordinary guy, built a career, lifelong friendships and helped create a family life filled with love. He saved his best for our mom over 63 years of marriage. On Tuesday he settled his wife into a

personal care home to continue her vascular dementia journey. Dad feels guilty. He feels empty and sad. Blessings to all the dads out there touched by this disease. Andrew Talbot in Toronto. My father passed away three years ago. The words of the celebrant captures my thoughts on Father's Day. He had all the qualities one associates with a traditional father. He was loving, caring, kind, and encouraging. And although he could never be described as overly strict, he did have values and standards. He was keen that his children

shared. Sadly, I feel this is lost in today's society. Ellen Schaffner, near Halcourke, Alberta. That's east of Red Deer. Growing up in a little suburbia in the 60s and beyond, I had the best life living with a pacifist and well read dad. One of my favorite memories is of him putting down his newspaper and asking me my thoughts on any given topic. Christine Aquino in Ottawa. March 30th 1981 I was seven running home in Wawa, Ontario. You know that date? You know what it is?

March 7th, 1981. He ran home to watch Scooby-Doo. Oddly, my dad was there watching TV, but I wanted to watch cartoons. He said, one day you'll realize this is more important. It was coverage of President Reagan getting shot. I credit that day my dad for my obsession with current events in politics, leading me to work as a Parliament Hill staffer and a career in communications. Reagan was shot that day, but as we know, he survived that shooting.

It was close. Constance Menzies in Nero, Manitoba. My dad, what an altruistic and spirited person he was. Adopting me and caring for me was my great fortune. He moved us to Churchill as kids, played hockey with us, and kept us in sports, talked politics with us, and education was paramount. Thinking of other people was also his mantra for us.

He could be quite stern, but such humor and wit. Ian Gorman in Ottawa. My father subscribed to some electronics magazines, coached me through the construction of a crystal radio and introduced me to some ham radio operators. My subsequent interest in electronics put me on track to university. Almost 70 years later I still have the crystal radio and the memory of our joint activity in building that radio. God, I remember that crystal radios had one too. Don't think I built it though. David Seller in Langley, BC. A couple of my father's thoughts on life. Don't tell people

how good you are, show them. Doesn't matter how much money you may have, you never have enough to waste. Thank you, Dad. Marilyn McQueen in Mount Forest, Ontario. That's north of Kitchener. My dad was always grateful and quick to smile, grateful to Canadians for their part in World War II, which allowed mom and dad to immigrate to Canada's newlyweds in 1951 from the Netherlands, grateful to raise eight kids and run a successful small business in a supportive community. In later years he was grateful for every visitor. Dad had a beautiful

smile. We're grateful for the many pictures we have of him smiling. He passed away in June of 2024, one month shy of 98. one month shy of 98. Joe Dempster in Pouch Cove Newfoundland. It's on the Northeast Avalon Peninsula. My father was the director of protocol for the province of Newfoundland for 30 years. He showed me to greet people kindly even if you don't know them., taught me the best ways to deal with difficult people and demonstrated to keep work at work and be present and loving with your family at home. In 2022, my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. As the disease takes memory after memory from him, amazingly, he still knows all the words to the songs that were on the radio in Scotland in the 1960s. These days, I cherish every moment I get to sing along to Beatles songs when I'm driving with my dad. Oh, God.

Michelle Kaufman in Toronto. My dad passed away on April 6, 2023, with his mind intact with a very tired body. He was 94. The night before, we had a family dinner with his kids and grandkids around the table. The following night, after he brushed his teeth, he took my mom's hand and said, Holding her hand, he laid down and took his last breath, a well-deserved beautiful death, and he earned it. Blaine Gates in Logadeque, Georgia. That's the country, not the state. Blaine grew up in Calgary, which is where I am today. My father was born in Australia,

spent a few days in a British school, was baptized in Toronto, and crossed the country to Lethbridge before the age of 15. His father cooked pastries in the Northwest Territories. Always a leader, my father was a salesman and a manager. He listened to people in his church office talk about their problems. He supported his community. He loved his family. He was kind. Kate Wilson in Toronto. I didn't know my dad, but I had a wonderful grandfather who

fulfilled a lot of that role. Given he had 11 children, Gramps was darned experienced looking after kids. I remember the time when I couldn't afford to pay my last semester in nursing school. When I asked him for a loan, he refused to be repaid. Instead, gifting the money he could, he'll afford to part with. My grandfather knew it wasn't just about the money, it was about fulfilling a dream to make a difference in the world. He sure made a difference in mine. Marilyn Wallace, Fanny Bay, B.C. My father was a self-taught musician who loved to play old-time dance tunes on his antique piano. He was the ultimate amateur entertainer,

having never taken a single lesson. Even near total blindness and profound hearing loss could not slow him down. He supported years of expensive classical music training for me, even as he grumbled a bit about my musical taste. But I could never come back, or I could never come close to his natural born talent. Wes Filson in Regina, Saskatchewan.

My father was a teacher, coach, farmer, rave, and a terrific athlete who is now retired and plays golf on the guitar for his church. I'm proud of all his accomplishments in the community, his love to his family, and making me into the man and father I am today. I'll never forget playing catch with him when I was 10. He accidentally drilled me in the face with a baseball.

It happens. Sandy Esposito in Aurora, Ontario. Wherever we sat down at the kitchen table, the cribbage board was always nearby. I can't recall when I first learned to play, but it became a cherished tradition. My siblings and I often bickered over our turns against him. Even now, every game brings back memories of laughter,

friendly competition, and the inevitable skunked moments he loved to tease us about. My husband remembers that board well. My dad would eagerly ask every guest they played, if they played Crib. Pat Wharton in Vernon, BC. I never knew how special my dad was until I was an adult. Born in the 50s, growing up dad always let me tag along. I learned to change oil, chop wood, and small engine repairs.

Starting a family of my own, I realized how lucky I was that dad nurtured my interests, letting me do boy things. As a result, I raised my boy and girls to pursue any interests they chose. Laura Plant in Chilliwack, BC. My dad comes in the door from work after a long commute. I'm eagerly waiting for him. Baseball glove in hand and our dog at my side. My dad takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie before following me out the back door to play catch again.

I'm sure he just wanted to get into his comfortable clothes and have a cold drink, but he never hesitated to follow me. Donna Hughes in Calgary. Once again, that's where I am tonight, or today. Some wisdom gleaned from my career as a psychotherapist. To all fathers with daughters, like your daughter, don't just love her. Like her and spend your time doing things with her. From this she acquires self-esteem and is far less likely to choose a partner who does not regard her as her father did. My dad liked me, therefore I had the best father.

Tom Chaput in Winnipeg. My father was a Titan, steadfast, strong, full of integrity. His true impact became clear after his passing. The man I am today as a father, husband, and human being, is shaped by his character, love, and faith. His words carried weight and he met life's trials with courage and grace. His legacy lives on in me and I carry it with pride, forever honored to be his son and continue what he began. Sean McQuiston in Esquimalt, BC. I lost my father in the last few weeks. This will be my first Father's Day without him. All I will say is that I never imagined

that I would miss like I do right now. Well, a lot of us know exactly how I feel, Sean. A lot of people who have written in this week know how you feel. Rhonda Mulligan in Sturgeon County, Alberta. My father was truly one of a kind. He was passionate about poetry and music, especially musicals. He told me and my three siblings that he loved us every day. He adored our mother and often danced around the kitchen

with her in his arms. Having only a grade 8 education, he worked tirelessly to see that we had piano and dance lessons. I could write a book on all the life lessons he shared. I loved him deeply and miss him more than words can ever say. Ben Suzmak in Regina. In the 1960s, my father was just another immigrant with an accent and moody spells. I eventually realized he was a hero, a POW from the Russian invasion of Poland in 1939. A Siberian labor camp survivor, a veteran of the Second Polish Corps. He had demons his entire life, adapted to a new country,

raised a family, and loved Canada almost as much as I loved him. Valerie Butler's in Nolten, Quebec. It's in the Eastern townships. In my early childhood, the dawn would shake as my dad flew over our house in his Voodoo. I was an F-101. Voodoo was a supersonic jet fighter used by Canadian forces from 61 to 84, exemplifying Canadian top gun skill right above us.

It's a challenging time in the world. We must dream big, do hard things, and hold our Canadian heroes close. My 12-year-old son and I are lucky. We have my dad to remind us what the Canadian dream looks like. Ralph Lay in Toronto. At the age of 71, I am deeply affected by the loss of my father in 1995. He remains a constant presence in my thoughts, embodying the qualities of a hero. My father was a remarkable individual who survived World War II, served as a tail gunner in the RAF. His unwavering determination to combat fascism during the war left a lasting impact on him.

Throughout his life, my father was a steadfast and reliable source of support. His exceptional carpentry skills were instrumental in providing for our family, despite our modest financial circumstances. Norma Jack in Stouffville, Ontario. I remember my dad with fondness, a good man, a soldier in World War II, and an extremely hard worker for his family. However, my grandfather was the one who made the big difference in my life. An amazing man who inspired my love of reading the classics, always ready for a visit to the park and a game of cards.

A self-educated man who went to work when he was 10 years old. So very wise. Kyle Murray in Truro, Nova Scotia. I lost my dad to cancer at 16. He was a warm and loving person who I miss every day. Fast forward 30 years, I submitted an ancestry test to help with my family history research, only to find out that he wasn't my biological father. And more shocking, I've been told he almost certainly knew that. It never changed the way he cared for me. Thank you, Dad. I love you. Thank you, Dad. I love you.

I've only got room. I'm sorry for one more. It's a shame. There's so many great letters here. I'll blame myself. I was reading slowly. But these letters, they need a slow read. Joseph Murdoch Flowers recently moved to Ottawa. One way dad and I have connected over the past few years is by listening for each other on your turn. You've read letters from Bill Flowers in Amherst, Nova Scotia and from Joseph Murdoch Flowers from McAlivy Nunavut. It's always a delight to hear my dad on your show and for him to shoot me a text when he hears me. I love you dad.

So many great letters. And thank you to all of you. And I'm sorry that, you know, there's so many of you didn't make it into the program today, but so many of you did. And you touched all of us with your letters and made us think about our own dads and our own families and the good things and sometimes the difficult

things that that has meant. So that's going to do it for this day and this week on Your Turn and The Random Rancher. Tomorrow it is Good Talk, Chantelle Bear and Rob Russo will be here to go through some of the things of the week. I'm sure we'll have a good time doing exactly that. It's been great being in Calgary this week. Be heading back to Toronto later today. That's it for this day. I'm Peter Mansbridge.

Thanks for listening. Talk to you in about 24 hours.