Thomas David Laing

It is with great sadness that we must announce the sudden passing of our father, Thomas Laing, on Oct. 17. Tom was born on Aug. 1st, 1937, in Waverley, Nova Scotia, a small, magical village that served as the setting for hundreds of hair raising and hilarious stories of his youth. In those days, and to this day by many, he was known as Bud or Buddy, as he shared a first name with his father. Bud was a precocious child. By the age of five he was shooting pool from atop a Coca Cola crate and could name every make and model of car on the road, which was important in Waverly, as whose Chev beat whose Ford while racing to church on Sunday was always a hot topic of discussion. Bud sailed through grade school in record time and graduated from St. Peter’s High in Dartmouth, where his infrequent attendance could only partly be blamed on the fact that he had to hitchhike to school. By this time, naming cars was not nearly as important as driving them fast, which resulted in the wrecking of his father’s 1953 Meteor. To pay back his dad, Bud left Waverley and joined the Merchant Marines, where he spent his first Christmas away from home choking back tears of homesickness below decks. He then joined the R.C.A.F., where he was posted in Northern Ontario for several years before coming home. Bud was still a little wild, but that would all change when he met our mother, Ruth White, the prettiest girl in Hants County, at a dance in Enfield. His cocky demeanor earned him a firm “no” on his first request of a dance, which brought on hoots of laughter from his gang, and chuckles from hers. Noel Road girls don’t impress that easily. Tail between his legs, he tried again later, got a “yes,” and that was the beginning of a true love story. Several months later, their engagement was announced, with wedding to take place in the “near future.” A family was soon started. Dad got a job as a stock taking clerk at the dockyard and worked part time at Exhibition Park racetrack, next to the Forum, then later for many years at Sackville Downs, where many of us kids got our first jobs. They bought a house on Cedar Street which they couldn’t afford, then a cottage in Whynacht’s Point they really couldn’t afford. The family grew. We kept boarders. Dad built an apartment in the basement. Doubtless there was no money, but there was never a feeling of it. There was always all the hockey gear and ball gloves we needed, the best backyard rink anyone could want, and 8 weeks of summer in Whynacht’s Pt. Mum and Dad were fixtures at every rink and ballpark in Metro and despite working two jobs, Dad rarely missed a game. In the end there were six kids. Tragically, Dad became a widower in 1984 when our mother died after a heart wrenching battle with cancer which left a whole community devastated. In all their years together, we never heard a cross word pass between them. Dad, with the kind help of his cousin Sr. Catherine McGowan, Patsy Ettinger and Uncle Larry Turple, truly stepped up after this. He quit smoking, mastered Noel Road baked beans, boiled dinner, and could dry out a turkey like nobody’s business. In life, most people are lucky to find love once. Later, Dad found it again, in the form of Ruby Theriault, a feisty Royal Bank teller and proud Newfoundlander. Dad and Ruby have been life companions and best friends for over 30 years. She is a treasured part of our family. When Dad retired from the dockyard, after 35 years of undetected crime, mostly time theft, he renovated the family cottage into a home, where he enjoyed 25 years of happy retirement. His home is our family treasure, where family dinners of 25-30 people are the norm. Dad dug out the basement of that cottage with a pick and shovel, stopping only when he came to a rock the size of a Volkswagen. He used the rocks that came out of it to build our wharf, an engineering feat second only to the pyramids, to hear him talk about it. It was his favorite summer hobby and proudest accomplishment. It might have gone even faster, if he didn’t have to wheel one of the kids back up the hill in the wheelbarrow after each load. Our dad loved life. When we were kids, there was an element of magic to him. He could swim a mile underwater, make a life jacket out of a pair of pants, flick lit smokes from his palm into his mouth with the slap of a finger, and play drum licks on the dash while he was driving. He loved black rum, bridge, shooting pool, crosswords, rowing, swimming, and going for drives. Mostly though, he was a family man. He loved his kids (Terry (MJ), Sonja (Paul Gray), Tom (Sue), Trent (Cathy Sapp), Chris (Bianca Ridler) and Mary), his grandkids (Ruth, Luke, Raymond, Sam, Charlotte, Noah, Fischer, Lily, Fiona and Cohen), his brother Bill (Rose) and sister Heather (Carl Wintermeyer), and even his grand dogs and cats. A lifelong learner, he even picked up hugging in his later years. While not overly spiritual, he was an inveterate churchgoer and definitely a man of faith. “Don’t forget to say your prayers” he would always remind us, even into our forties. Say a prayer for him now.

Celebrate Dad’s life with us anytime between 2:00 and 5:00p.m., Saturday, October 28th, at Snow’s Funeral Home, 339 Lacewood Dr, Halifax. There will be a service at 2:00 followed by food and fellowship. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the Canadian Tire Jumpstart Foundation, or a charity of your choice.