Rothenburger — How I became a pallbearer for Doug Hardy

COLUMN — I was a pallbearer this week for a man I never met.

He was James Douglas Hardy, who died Aug. 11 at the age of 87. They buried him at the Pleasant Street cemetery, near the main gate.

Two people were there from the funeral home, and a pastor, and a fellow with a cowboy hat. And me.

“We didn’t expect anybody to come,” said one of the people from the funeral home. “We’re waiting for the City to get here.”

I knew of him only as Doug Hardy, a man who once owned the house I now live in. I thought it would be appropriate to see him off.

I have no idea what he looked like, what his voice sounded like, what kind of a man he was. I’ve heard some colourful stories about the years when the family farmed here, especially in the later years, but that’s all.

“Would you mind acting as pallbearers?” the funeral home employee asked. “Rather than wait for the City?”

So I put down my umbrella, the other guy took off his hat and put it on the ground, and he, the two Schoening’s employees and I lifted the casket — which was surprisingly light — out of the hearse, carried it the few steps to the grave, and lowered it onto the hoist.

“He was a slight man,” one remarked.

The pastor spoke, quoting the Bible and noting that, as evidenced by the small gathering, Doug Hardy hadn’t built a lot of relationships during his time here on Earth, but hopefully he could build one with God.

Doug Hardy’s obituary, published a few days earlier, offered no clues as to who he was. It said simply that James Douglas Hardy passed away at Ridgeview Lodge at the age of 87 and that there would be a graveside service at Pleasant Street Cemetery.

I can offer little more about him. I do know he had a brother they called Paddy, whose given name was William, after their father. The family moved from England, apparently to Alberta, then farmed in Pritchard, later taking over the Black Pines farm of my great-grandparents Alex and Margaret McLean, which is how I know of the Hardy family.

Farming wasn’t an easy way to make a living. In March 1928, the Vancouver Milling and Grain Co. wrote William Hardy to remind him he was behind in his payments for oats and he could probably get $19 a ton for his hay.

“We would be glad when you are able to sell some of your hay if you would forward some cash as you suggested as our Head Office will be making inquiries about the account, as a part of it is now several months old, and they do not like to see them outstanding too long.”

In November 1932, William Hardy bought a Hampshire ram at a City of Kamloops auction for $5.

Doug took a high school correspondence course in the 1940s. I think Paddy was in the war. Doug served in the air force and was stationed at RCAF Station Foymount in Ontario and at Cold Lake for awhile.

“Dad and Paddy,” he wrote home in November 1963. “We still are having warm weather with occasional rain but no snow except for some about two weeks ago which melted right away.”

He was thinking of buying a war surplus tarp for his car, figuring he could get one for about $12. Some of the other airmen were going fishing.

“That’s about all for this week; bye for now. Doug.”

William Hardy seems to have written to his son quite often.

“Dear Douglas, Well there is quite a change in the weather, cooler and wet but I think we will be able to get the hay yet we are all cut out front. I hope you arrived back quite safe. It has been so dark here for days we can hardly see. Whispering Pines are working on the water. I think they are putting in a storage tank. I am a little better myself. I hope it will clear if we can get the hay I intend to sell a lot of them all being well I can hay some more in the spring…

“Not much news today so good luck and Bye Bye. Dad.”

After their father died, Doug and Paddy ran the place until they couldn’t look after it anymore and moved into care facilities in town. By then, the farm house was in tough shape. Last night, I found an obit for Paddy — William Edward — who died at Kamloops Seniors Village May 11, 2012, at the age of 91.

Like Doug’s obituary, it provided no other clues about his life, except that he was born Oct. 28, 1920 in Calgary. Like Doug, Paddy was buried with a graveside service, though he rests at Hillside Cemetery while Doug is at Pleasant Street.

Thursday, at Pleasant Street, the hoist was lowered, we shook hands, and we prepared to leave as two guys in a City truck pulled in. I was glad I’d been there.

Doug Hardy has relatives somewhere. The family used to exchange mail with a niece named Mary Jane Ashwalt in Manchester, and an Audrey in Leicestershire. They sent photos and newspapers back and forth in the ‘50s and ‘60s.

Maybe, some day, somebody from that branch of the family will come looking for the Hardys of Black Pines, or somebody who knew them will remember, and Doug Hardy and his brother Paddy will get proper obituaries.

armchairmayor@gmail.com