J.W. Charles Charlie Thomas

Passed away at his residence in Campbellton on February 4, 2015 at the age of 64, Charles Thomas, husband of Ida Chouinard. Born and raised in Campbellton, on March 27, 1950, son of Beatrice Robertson and the late Joseph Thomas.

He leaves to mourn his wife, Ida (Chouinard) Thomas; his mother, Beatrice Thomas of the Campbellton Nursing Home; his sisters, Iris Doucet of Glen Levit and Peggy Thomas (Doug) of Campbellton; his brothers, Dennis Thomas of Fredericton and Edward Thomas of Moncton; his many nieces and nephews, Jeff Doucet (Nancy), Laura Doucet, Sara Weber (Theo), Isaac Anderson, Autumn, Amelia and Merrick Thomas; grand nieces and nephews, Audrey, Lacey, William, Gabrielle, Jeremy, Joe and Andrew. He also leaves to mourn many supportive friends and colleagues.

The funeral mass will be held at St. Thomas Aquinas Church, Campbellton, on Saturday at 11:00 am.

Visitation at Maher’s Funeral Home, 33 Lansdowne Street, Campbellton, Friday from 7pm to 9pm and Saturday from 9:30am until time of funeral.

Donations to the Tree of Hope or Friends of the Healthcare Foundation would be appreciated by the family.

Funeral arrangements are in the care of Maher’s Funeral Home, Campbellton.

(506)789-1699 or toll free (855) 404-1699 email: [email protected]

Est décédé à sa résidence à Campbellton, le 4 février 2015 à l’âge de 64 ans, Charles Thomas, époux d’Ida Chouinard.

Les funérailles auront lieu à l’Église St-Thomas d’Aquin, Campbellton, samedi à 11h00.

Visite au salon funéraire Maher, 33 rue Lansdowne Campbellton, vendredi de 19h00 à 21h00 et samedi de 9h30 jusqu’à l’heure des funérailles.

Des dons à l’arbre de l’espoir ou Aux amis de la santé seraient appréciés par la famille.

Les arrangements funéraires ont été confiés aux soins du Salon Funéraire Maher de Campbellton.

(506)789-1699 ou sans frais (855) 404-1699 courriel: [email protected]

Sea Fever

BY JOHN MASEFIELD

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.