John

To me John was all about music.
When we met on the steps of the Forest Insect Lab in Sault Ste Marie, he made some remark about an item he was reading in The Globe and Mail and I called him a cynic. He later told me he had decided right then to marry me.
On our first date, he sang me the whole of The Pirates of Penzance as we walked around the Soo with streetlights shining through the leaves of the trees. He also told me the story of his life, so that I would know all of his good and bad points up-front. I later told him that I married him because of the serenade, and because of his great legs.
The first year he taught, at Riverside C.I. in Windsor, he had 14 different classrooms. He was a science specialist, but he was teaching math, geography and history. The following year he had no more history and he only had 7 classrooms.
We didn’t want to raise children in Windsor, so when we were expecting Chris, we moved to Stouffville. John would spend the next 22 years teaching Math and Sciences at Uxbridge S.S.
His teaching didn’t stop with academics, he taught the students to love musicals. He began with Trial By Jury and continued with 22 more offerings ending with his favourite Guys and Dolls
While we lived in Windsor, we belonged to the W. Light Opera where he was involved in shows from Camelot to the Chocolate Soldier, with his finest performance in another favourite, She Loves Me, as the gypsy violinist! Of course he couldn’t play a note, but he practised with a stringless violin while the real violinist played.
John’s love of performing music began in childhood, continuing into high school where, as a lyric tenor, he began singing romantic leads in G. & S. This led him to Eaton Operatic, Simpson Ave. United Operatic, and other G. & S. companies.
When we met he told me his name was John, (though his family called him Jack), and asked my name. I told him my nickname was Micki. He asked me what that stood for, and I said Michelle, but that I was called by my first name Sharon. Because he was deaf, he didn’t hear the last part, and began calling me Michelle.
When we married I’m sure his family must have wondered who the participants were as Sharon and John, not Jack and Michelle, were pronounced husband and wife.
All through our lives together he tried to promote social justice, awareness of needs of those less fortunate than we, and the love and care of the environment. We always tried to minimize our ecological footprints. This social conscience made him feel very guilty at Christmas, when so few of the world’s population had enough to eat or a safe place to live. Only the shining faces of our excited children made him happy.
When our children were baptised at ten o’clock services, they were usually hungry. They would fidget and fuss, making me a wreck, eventually I would hand them to John, on whose shoulder they would contentedly go to sleep.
His accomplishments in this community were many. When all the town’s waste was going to landfill, he realized that someone had to start a recycling depot. So he spent a year hunting for a place that could accommodate a divided bin, and not make the neighbours crazy. When he located an old garage on property owned by CIBC he wrote an open letter to the Tribune asking people to join him in forming a plan and presenting it to Council. The rest you know.
He helped coach soccer teams and went faithfully to all the games.
Along with other recycling executives, he organized 2 clean-up Stouffville Days, A recycled art workshop at the library (along with his buddy Sheila McLeod) and donated a scholarship to the high school from the recycling profits. With the help of the Spademan Company he organized a recycling float in the Santa Claus Parade. Children of the recycling group stood on wooden bases on a ¾ filled bin.
He was a staunch supporter of People or Planes and of the Save Stouffville group who were trying to save Class 1 farmland from becoming tarmacked runways. Through these organizations we met many like-minded people who wanted to preserve the Oak Ridges Moraine
He also found time to serve a year on the town’s tree committee; to be the ‘Dame’ in several of Sheila McLeod’s pantomimes; not to mention acting and directing several plays with the Stouffville Players.
We were never ‘well-off’ but John thought that he was richest man in the world because he had us. His wife and four wonderful children
There is so much more to him that I could go on about, but your behinds would not last! We loved him. – and by the way the real reason I married him? ……..It was those sexy legs of course!

Sharon Michelle Garbutt

Tributes to Dad

Below is my tribute to my father which I read at his funeral earlier today.

-- Chris

1 Corinthians 13 (New King James Version)

1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. 2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.
4 Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; 5 does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; 6 does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; 7 bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
8 Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part. 10 But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.
11 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.
13 And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

--

What is it to be a man? What is it to be a brother, a husband, a father, an uncle, a grandfather? What is it, indeed, to live? And what is it, to die?

Today, we come together to celebrate my father, John Richard Garbutt, who was my guide, my hero even, when I had big questions like this.

A family man. Who made time for his children.

A funny man. Where I got my sense of humour.

A musical man. Musicals, songs for every comment.

A tragic man. Ilnesses, the last year of his life.

A curious man. So interested in his children. So excited by a child’s question, or my first road trip. “Why is the sky blue?” He explained the answer in detail.

An inspiration. All of us have been inspired by his curiosity, and each of us children have found a way to learn from him and take what we’ve learned into the world.

Down-to-earth. Literally.

A loving man. He loved us kids. And the way he felt about my mother was a love stronger than any I have ever seen.

Today, we celebrate my father’s life, but I have to say that as much as I agree that it’s better that his suffering has ended, it hurts that he’s dead. It hurts a lot. All of these things that I loved about him – I want them back. I want him alive. I want to talk over big questions with him.

And yet, as I look back on how hard it was to see him suffer over the last year and the last days of his life, as I think about the hardships he suffered (and he did suffer hardship, especially with his health), all I can think about is how lucky I am.

In the last year of his life, he told me stories. In one, the mafia had him holed up in the offices of the Stouffville Tribune, and he couldn’t figure out why. He sang songs. And even when he couldn’t remember who I was, he was always delighted to see me on my bi-weekly visits. He greeted me with a wave and a big smile, and would often say, it’s so good to see you!

As he was dying, probably the hardest, saddest moment of my life, we watched him struggle to breathe, and then, with three of his children and his wife holding his hands, he then let go. And yet, among all this pain, this loss, I feel strangely uplifted. To have seen my father out. To have been with him when he had decided it was enough. What a privilege to be there during this last year, and during this last week. And to be up here talking about him to all of you. And to have been loved by such a man.

My father loved us fiercely. And when I think about how I don’t want him to be dead, I remember. He’s here right now, in all of the people he’s touched. I’ve felt it every minute of every day – his life continues. Thich Nhat Hahn talks about how you can see a cloud in a sheet of paper, because the rain from that cloud goes into the ground and into the trees which is turned into the paper I’m using right now.

The same goes for my father.

When I feel my heart beat, I remember the gift of life my father and mother have given me. I breathe because of them. My blood flows because of them. I am alive because of them and I have love because of them. I only hope to be half the man my father knew I was capable of being – kind, honest, hopeful, strong, curious, loving. I bring all of you all of my love, to this room, right now, because my father gave me many gifts, but the greatest of these was love.

Some details

The following ad was placed in the Toronto Star and local newspapers:

Garbutt, John Richard (Jack) --
(Retired Teacher, Uxbridge Secondary School) (Director of 22 musicals at U.S.S. Founder of Stouffville Recycling Depot). At Markham-Stouffville Hospital on July 25, 2007 in his 78th year. Beloved husband of Michelle. Loving dad of Chris (Mary), Tracey, Holly (John) and Tim (Lindsay). Proud granddad of Kyle. Brother to Bob, Joan Kinnersly, Reg, Jim and the late Lenore Duncan. Friends may call at O'Neill Funeral Home, 6324 Main Street, Stouffville, (905)642-2855, on Sunday from 2-4 & 7-9 p.m. Funeral service will be held at Christ Church Anglican, 245 Sunset Blvd., Stouffville, on Monday at 11 a.m. If desired, donations may be made to Homes of Learning Development or the Alzheimer Society.

We'll miss him

On Wednesday, July 25 at 1 p.m., John Garbutt, Michelle's husband and dad to Chris, Tracey, Holly and Tim, died peacefully at Markham-Stouffville Hospital.

He took a turn for the worse on Friday, and this time was simply unable to bounce back. He had a great deal of trouble breathing, and yesterday, with his immediate family with him, he let go.

We'll post more details here as we get them. There will be a visitation on Sunday and the funeral will be held Monday. Times, location etc. to follow.