Saturday, February 17, 2024
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My Uncle Brent passed away on February 13. I didn’t expect to hear this news, and I’ve spent the day thinking about him.
Uncle Brent served as an RCMP officer for many years in NB and then Newfoundland. He was proud of that, and I’m proud of that, too. He loved dogs and people - and they loved him. I vaguely remember his German shepherd, King, and of course, the first dog I ever loved - Tugger. Uncle Brent had a radiance about him that people were naturally drawn to.
Lizzy Gresh and I were fortunate to visit with him in Nfld. when Liz was pregnant with Quinn, our first child. After a few nights in St. John’s, we took the bus across Nfld. to Uncle Brent’s house in Cornerbrook.
When we were staying with Uncle Brent, he put on the ritz. When we arrived, he showed us to our room and told us he was going to start dinner. We soon learned that he stocked up on the Nfld. essentials. He made us cod tongue one night, and an amazing salted cod chowder the following evening. It was absolutely delicious and we felt like we really experienced authentic Nfld. cuisine. (I don’t know how often Uncle Brent cooked, but he sure did roll out the red carpet for us.) Uncle Brent also took us out to a beautiful restaurant overlooking the bay. One of our favourite memories was when he arranged for his friend Greg to take us up the Cornerbrook ski hill - Marble Mountain - where the views were breathtaking.
On our last night, while we were taking a walk around his homestead, he pointed out and cursed at a hornet’s nest that hung under the roof. He said it had been there all summer. Of course, we’d had a couple rums, so I was feeling quite confident that I could remedy this problem for him. I told him I’d take the hornet’s nest down with a shovel. He tried to convince me not to try. I went inside, dawned myself with pants, long-sleeve shirt, and a hat. Then I wrapped a t-shirt around my face, leaving only enough room for me to see. I walked out to the shed with Brent watching from the window. With a bit of liquid courage, I quickly scooped off the nest from the roof and darted as fast as I could down Uncle Brent’s street like a thief in the night. He laughed and laughed. When I returned, he said he was going to have to call the neighbours to let them know it was his nephew, and not a hooligan running though their streets.
Uncle Brent was an avid fisherman (and he told stories like a fisherman, too). I have some great memories from my time spent with Uncle Brent, like this one:
My brother, Andrew and I loved to fish with Uncle Brent. One day while we were fishing, Andrew decided to go to the store. While he was out, my Uncle Brent ran into the house, grabbed a salmon he had just caught and tagged, and hooked it on the end of my fishing rod. My brother loved to fish as a kid, and he always took pride in catching a bigger fish than me. You can imagine the look on Andrew’s face when he rolled up in the driveway and saw his 8 year old brother with a huge salmon on the end of his rod. We had a good laugh over that one.
Another story he once told us is that, as both RCMP and salmon fisherman, he led Pierre Trudeau down the Miramichi River in a canoe. The story involved Uncle Brent and our former Prime Minister having such a good time that their boat capsized!
Our visit to Uncle Brent’s house in Cornerbrook rekindled our relationship. The next year when Quinn was born, uncle Brent came to visit us in Fredericton. While in town, Brent told me that the one thing he had to do was to get a steak at the infamous Red Lantern Tavern. I was happy to take him to lunch there, as it is one of my favourite places in Fredericton. He was so proud that the staff knew me by name!
The next year, we were honoured to have Uncle Brent join us at our wedding in Rothesay, NB. He drove all the way from Nfld. just to see us get married, and then he drove back after visiting home for a few days.
Lizzy and I stayed in touch with Uncle Brent through phone calls every so often. We shared a passion for the Blue Jays and we would often “coach” them over the phone together from our respective armchairs.
We will miss him. A lot.
Matt McGuire