September 11. 2020

September 11 is a date that lives on in many people’s minds and hearts. For me, the date is etched in my soul as my father’s birthday. For much of the world, it is the day the World Trade Center fell crashing to the earth. It is a day full of reflection and sadness for me but also filled with gratitude.

I am grateful that I had the fortune of being raised in a giving and loving home. It wasn’t always that way. At one point in life, I was an ungrateful teenager full of angst and rebellion. Now after fifty years on this planet I have the fortune to appreciate the gift I was given when I was adopted by Blair and Mary-Ann Barr. My dad survived eighty-four years on the third rock from the sun and in those years he saw much change.

Victor Blair Barr was born in Fort Macleod Alberta on September 11, 1930, to Victor and Sophia. He entered the world when it was in turmoil. The great depression had a firm grasp on the world. Farming in southern Alberta was full of challenges from drought to grasshoppers and harsh winters. He learned from an early age to save what he had and never take anything for granted. He quit school in grade nine to help out on the farm. Life in the forties and fifties wasn’t easy. As a young man, my father worked hard to get ahead. Starting with the railroad and then moving into a career with the City of Calgary.

I often admired his strength and determination carving out a career as a supervisor for the City. He never had an education beyond grade nine yet went on to become a leader of men. He then was on the leading edge of computers buying a TRS80 from Radio Shack when the first home PC’s came out. Imagine being born in the depression, raised under the cloud of a world war, and living to see mankind reach the moon and beyond. He never forgot his humble upbringing and never threw anything away. He was a child of a time when people used the three R’s; reduce, reuse, and recycle. Today’s world could learn from my dad’s generation.

We went through a lot of tough times together. He had to deal with a teenage son that rebelled, grew his hair long, and started smoking the devil’s weed. Then at the young age of fifty-four, he had an operation to replace a valve in his heart. In the middle of my teenage rebellion, Dad fought for his life; I never knew then how close it was. He survived, and his pig’s valve would last him another thirty years. We never thought it would be my mom who would be taken suddenly from us.

Life is unpredictable and cruel sometimes. After fighting back from open-heart surgery, Dad retired early. Only to have his soul mate and wife rudely ripped from his life by a sudden and fatal heart attack. 1989 is a year of glory and sadness. Mom’s beloved Flames brought home the cup to Calgary and one month later God took my mother to be with him. Dad was devastated, she was only fifty-three and far too young to die.

A lesson I took from the early loss of my mother is that life is short and we must make the most of every moment we have. Dad carried on and had the fortune of loving again. No one could ever replace mom in his life but at least he had companionship in the end. His neighbour of forty years, Frankie, was a wonderful friend and partner at the end. For that I am grateful.

The world changed in an instant on September 11, 2001. Terrorists hijacked three planes and destroyed the sense of security the western world had. Dad’s birthday was lost in the insanity of the day. I will never forget the absolute shock everyone felt watching those monolithic structures collapse like a house of cards.

His final chapter in life was bittersweet. He finally saw his son get married, managing to stave off the inevitable so he could be at our wedding. His valve was failing after thirty years and we knew his time was short. In a mere six weeks, we planned our wedding and organized the celebration so dad could fly out to Kelowna and be there with us. With inner strength he fought his way there and celebrated an amazing weekend at our wonderful community of Big White. The fire department, the Doctor, and the entire community helped make that event an amazing way for my dad to say his last goodbyes.

Now as I sit in reflection on this day of turmoil, I remember a life well-lived. I wonder what he would have thought about this viral infection that has altered our world. He lived through many changes from the great depression to 911. I miss his calming influence and presence. I draw upon my memories of his life and his strength. He would have told me to stay strong in my heart and follow my dreams.

Rest in peace my father, this too shall pass.