The heart of a poet

Dad had the brain of an engineer, but the heart of a poet. His library included books on tool-making and mechanical engineering, alongside volumes of poetry. The poetry books were often the most worn.

Among Dad's papers are folders entitled "Good Stuff" that contain poems, scribbles of jokes, clipped articles, quotations, wise words, and more -- much like the scrapbooks and journals the Fraser women before him kept. Likewise, Dad kept a variety of small notebooks.

Dad committed several short verses to memory, and recited a select number of these even more frequently in old age. We knew to nod and allow him his chuckle, even though we heard these repeatedly.

Complain about someone at work, and Dad was sure to reply, "Non illigitimi carborundum," mock Latin meaning "Don't let the bastards grind you down." There are several versions of this. One theory states it originated in World War II by British army intelligence. Perhaps Dad picked it up in the RCAF.

Conversely, if he was having a great time (often enjoying a meal out), Dad would say, "I wonder what the poor people are doing." This is a quote from a fellow at Bristol Aerospace, and it always tickled Dad to say it, usually while flourishing a spoonful of ice cream. We were flattered to hear it because it meant Dad was thoroughly enjoying himself.

You could not pass a fireplace without Dad reciting an excerpt from William Wordsworth's "Personal Talk":

To sit without emotion, hope, or aim,
In the loved presence of my cottage-fire,
And listen to the flapping of the flame,
Or kettle whispering its faint undersong.

"In the loved presence of my cottage-fire..."

In recent years, Virginia took Dad to visit Edmund in Kingston a few times, and they stayed at the Hochelaga Inn, a cozy historic inn that boasted a double-sided fireplace. I suspect the proprietor heard this recitation, oh, about one thousand times. (Ironically, Dad didn't covet a fireplace of his own - he knew the dirty work they require.)

An oft-quoted verse was by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950):

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light.

I am certain this has long been a favorite passage of Dad's. In a tiny notebook from 1945, there is a simple sketch among pages of grocery lists, addresses, travel notes, and assorted reminders. The drawing is obvious if you know this quotation. The engineer and poet converge.

My candle burns at both ends...