About a month ago, a hockey buddy and I went out for a round of golf at a nearby course. He’s a member there, but this was just a casual round for a bit of relaxation, conversation and refreshment after the round. Through most of the game, I’d had no luck hitting the greens with my tee shots. Since most of the holes are par threes, my problem was critical.
“Try this,” Geoff Gaston said and he handed me a hybrid golf club.
It looks like a small driver, but lighter. I tested the club’s weight, teed up the ball and sure enough I drove the green. First try.
“That fixed that,” Geoff said. And – thanks to his club and his tip – I consistently drove par three greens all afternoon.
As he and I sat enjoying that refreshment after the game, I pondered my golfing breakthrough. More important, I thought about the guy who’d fixed my problem. In many ways, that’s the story of Geoff Gaston’s life. Whether in his work, at home or in his relationships, Geoff has very often been “the fixer.” Just ask anybody he met while on the job in recent years at Zehrs, the local grocery store. Can’t find something? Need a hand? Geoff provided it, and not just because it was his job either. It came naturally.
Geoff was born in England, but emigrated with his family to Canada in 1949. Raised in the Markham, Ontario, area, Geoff was a typical high school kid in the 1960s – loved baseball and hockey, played rock ‘n’ roll guitar (he excelled at all of them) and knew a good job opportunity when he saw it. He joined Bell Canada in 1966 and worked virtually his entire career as a splicer with the phone company.
Just last week, when Geoff and I were having a visit at his home, former Bell co-worker Les Smith dropped by. Before long, he and Geoff were reminiscing about “the good old days” – splicing phone lines, dealing with customer complaints and staying on top of the latest telephone technology.
Their toughest problem? Fighting company policy that allowed Bell splicers to work alone in street manholes. Les pointed out that (among others) Geoff campaigned to have the policy changed. Today, Bell splicers use the buddy system in such situations. A potentially life-threatening problem … fixed.
In 2002, after 33 years of loyal service, Geoff retired with hopes of spending time with his wife Gail at their trailer up north and the rest of his summers golfing. Within a year he was diagnosed with throat cancer. It took heavy chemotherapy and radiation, but he fixed that too – for a time.
Within a year or so, he’d built up his strength enough to rejoin the Uxbridge Oilies, the oldtimers hockey club he’d co-founded in 1983. Some of us noted that his health setback had slowed his skating down, but not his laser snap shot. Just ask local goaltenders; they tell you. Nor did the cancer hurt his sense of humour in the dressing room.
“Now I can even drink crappy beer,” Geoff said. “When your taste buds are gone, who can tell the difference?”
I remember my first days with the Oilies. I was the new guy, until Geoff took me under his wing. One Wednesday night, as we suited up for our weekly scrimmage, in front of everybody, Geoff strode over to me, took my stick and pointed out that it needed “an Oilies tape job,” which he promptly delivered. It was my initiation. He’d fixed things to make sure I belonged.
“Almost five years to the day after the throat cancer,” Gail told me, “Geoff’s cancer came back.”
But from then on, he seemed resigned not to go the chemo and radiation route again. At first, it didn’t seem to hamper his style. He was still fixing wherever he could. By this time, his daughter Laura was living with them and Geoff managed his health while helping Laura take care of her kids. The family always enjoyed each other’s company. Even last Thursday – with Geoff in hospital – his family was close by to acknowledge his 63rd birthday.
I visited him Monday morning. He was on a ventilator – his eyes closed. I couldn’t tell if he could hear me or not. But I thanked him for the hybrid golf club (he’d given me for my birthday). I told him I’d used it on the first par three in a golf game last Friday and put my tee shot on the green.
“You fixed things for me one last time,” I told him.
Geoff Gaston, died Monday evening, with his wife Gail at his bedside. Try as we might to repay him, his cancer was one thing none of us could fix.
