Janet and I each wrote our own eulogy. We then asked family friend Chris Flemming to combine the two (cut and paste) with common themes. He did, then we edited it again. Janet and I stood side-by-side to deliver and A=Ardeth and J=Janet.

A] On December 15th, 1916 Frederick Murchie Emerson, first born of Harry and Florence Augusta Orr known as Della, arrived at the family farmhouse in Greenock, the beginning of Emerson generation number four. It must have been a pretty wonderful Christmas—new baby—but a busy household.
All three hundred acres of that farm, handed down through the generations, was Dad’s lifetime love. He took great pride in his beloved woods and was pleased to share his woodlot with the marketing board reviewers which resulted in his receiving a Lifetime Achievement Award for Woodlot Management earlier this year from the YSC Wood Marketing Board.
In his younger years Dad raised milk cows, pigs and hens, grew and tended beautiful vegetable gardens and our own small blueberry and cranberry patch. His truck, tractors and farm equipment provided opportunities within the community to earn money by baling hay, trucking, planting oats and spreading manure. He drove a school bus and did road work and his favourite cutting and hauling wood. Dad had a multi-service business. Hmmm.... this is beginning to sound familiar. You do marry your father!
J] My earliest memories of Dad centre around Sunday. It’s said that time and tide wait for no man. Dad would tell you that cows, gardens and pulp wood don’t wait for anything. Six days a week Dad was up, had completed the morning farm chores, made his breakfast and armed with a substantial lunch box had left for his day’s work long before we were out of bed. Sunday morning was the only morning of the week that Dad was in the kitchen when we came downstairs for breakfast. Sunday was a day for church, family, a drive and perhaps an afternoon nap. I have a very clear picture in my mind of Dad in the kitchen smartly dressed in his suit and tie putting money in his church envelope. And if you’re thinking, “Good grief! The poor man had to make his own breakfast?” No, the poor man didn’t have to. He wanted to. Being a quiet man he liked the silence of the early morning and the time alone to think.

A] Dad was a man of great curiosity. That ranged from fixing his own equipment, from a large tractor to the day we took apart the Electrolux to fix the retractable cord that would no longer retract. In case you have ever wondered about the insides of an Electrolux, a flood of I’m sure thousands of ball bearings came rolling out of that thing that took hours to settle back into place. And it did work except for about two inches that refused to go back in.
His curiosity was piqued when a young woman by the name of Marjorie Thornton came to teach at the school across the road from his parents house. They were married in September 1940 and lived with his parents until 1948. With the news of Janet’s impending arrival, trees were felled, sent to the mill to be sawn and their house was ready for her arrival in September 1948.
Dad’s long-term thinking ensured that even though power had not yet come to Greenock, he wired the new house against the advice of his father. It took a couple of years before the power arrived but he was ready for it. In 1954 on a trip to Boston hauling Christmas trees Dad purchased a black and white TV in a beautiful mahogany cabinet for $127.30.
J] When Dad moved to McLay’s Senior Care Home in September 2011 he really didn’t have room for his cd player. That problem was solved with the purchase of an iPod nano. At 94 he was very impressed that all his fiddle music was in that tiny machine that fit in his shirt pocket. I was very impressed that he not only could operate the thing but he understood the principle of how it worked.
A] Dad was always interested in learning new skills - including welding. Two hard-bound books were ordered from the Family Herald, a rural magazine full of things from new apron patterns to how-to books to the latest in farm implements.
Welding was an adventure: Dad bought the equipment, Mum sat in a wooden kitchen chair by the old well pump and would read, explain, then down would go the flap over the eye-piece mask, and sparks would fly. They made a great team—teacher and student.
That led to Dad and Doug Richardson making pallet bodies for the truck. Two pallets meant one could be left with a client to be loaded while the second one would be taken to market. I often went on those excursions in the spring before the road closed so load number three could be taken to get cash flow to last through the summer. I was taken as a little chatter box ensuring he did not fall asleep. Not much chance with me along!
J] Dad loved his music: country, bluegrass, gospel, celtic. He would listen to it on the radio, play it on cds, and watch it on television. Best of all were live performances with local artists. In his younger days Dad played the harmonica and he was quite good at it. Mum would get Dad a harmonica for Christmas. On cold winter evenings he would  stoke up the wood fire, have a couple of Ganong chocolates, get down the harmonica and play for an hour or so. Whenever I hear a harmonica music a warm, secure feeling washes over me.
A] Before Mum’s arrival he went six nights a week square-dancing and was always up to milk the cows at 6am. He found it hard to understand why young people today are always so tired.
This attitude was why he was dressed every day except his last in hospital. One does what needs doing. When Dad was moved Tuesday morning at 8am to a palliative care room the nurse came in and said: “How are you this morning Sunshine?” His response: “I’m feeling a little cloudy.”
Dad was an explorer and in fact we referred to him as Chrissy—nicknamed that after Christopher Columbus. No greater treat could be given Dad than to pack a picnic lunch and go for a drive. And it was an unwritten rule you never came home the same way you went - even if it meant fording a stream.

Dad was brought up in a household of women so was then and even to his final breath surrounded by women. He tuned us out by times aided in his latter years by simply putting his hearing aid in his pocket.
Being around women meant he had a spirit of appreciating women. He was the best hugger and those baby-blue sparkling eyes combined with his spirit of grace endeared and drew women to him like bees to honey.
J] One of my favourite family stories involves bags of lime and the infamous Mike Kerry Hill. It was in the spring of the year, still cold, still snow in the fields. In the morning Dad had gone to Saint John with his wood truck to get a load of lime for Art Giddens Store. Mum had gone along for the ride. In the afternoon on the trip home everything was going fine until the ascent up Mike Kerry Hill. Part way up the load of lime shifted. Mum shrieked. Dad used all his skill to keep them on the road. The load shifted further. Mum shrieked again. The truck tipped over and landed with Mum’s side of the cab in the ditch. Dad had to roll down his window, climb through it out onto the side of the truck. He then reached back down into the cab pulled Mum out of her seat, past the gear shift and the steering wheel, and out his window. He dusted snow off a big rock in the ditch, perched Mum there before leaving to walk up the hill to the nearest house to call for help. This was long before the days of cell phones. In due time In the gathering darkness and dropping temperatures help arrived. The truck and the load were abandoned for the night. Mum and Dad went wearily home to a late supper of slightly burned stew. The next morning Dad came into the house to tell Mum that he had made arrangements to go out to the hill, get the truck back on the road, get the lime reloaded and did she want to come with him? Mum turned from the kitchen sink with the light of fury in her eyes and proceeded to make it clear that she most certainly did NOT intend to go with him, that was NOT her idea of a good time and she would NOT be doing that again for quite some time if ever!!! Dad said nothing, calmly put on his hat and left the kitchen. A couple of minutes elapsed. Dad stuck his head around the kitchen door and said dryly, “Marjorie, I don’t think you should give up so easily.”
A] He once told me after Mum died that the house no longer had warmth. He continued to live his routine and remained a part of the living.
Several years after Mum’s death Janet and I began comparing notes. Have you talked to Dad lately? No, no answer when I called. Me too. Have you seen Dad this week. No, you? No. And then Dad confessed that he had a girlfriend. “Do you think I am a foolish old man?” No! Everyone needs someone from their peer group, especially to say things like—my daughters are driving me crazy! With Shirley McMahon, warmth was again back in his life and thus into ours too.
Dad was a very contemporary man. He had friends from several generations, related and unrelated. He read the Telegraph and the Couriers cover-to-cover and studied his Bible Devotions. He found it hard to buy bananas at 99 cents but thought nothing of buying a new car every couple of years.
J] As all children know parents have a tendency to give you the impression they were perfect in their own youth. However, as you get older and hear stories from aunts and cousins you get a more realistic picture. Things like Murchie used to love to tease his sister Muriel to see how quickly he could get her hopping mad and spitting fire. Murchie liked to drive his father’s truck v-e-r-y fast. Murchie and Addison Emery would race their vehicles across the Pennfield Flats in the dark without the lights on. It has been told that Dad at the age of 12 swore at his Mother when he was not allowed to go to Murphy’s Dance Hall.

A] Dad found it hard to speak love out loud but every gesture, deed, and kindness let you know you were dearly loved. He rarely judged and kept his own counsel. He was a man of the earth, grounded in a deep understanding of God’s love by simply living on earth to do no harm—to self, people, or Mother Earth. There was always a demarkation line— if you crossed that then justice would be served.
J] Dad was a quiet man and Mum was a very chatty woman so they got along well. While Mum usually announced the family decisions, as kids we knew that both parents had discussed the situation out of our hearing and reached a decision. They were a united front and we knew there was no use in trying to appeal to one against the other. The royal “we” had spoken.
A] Dad and Mum worked as a team, whether working on the art of welding, or Dad teaching Mum the art of darning socks which she never mastered. Well, maybe it had something to do with the fact he did not like bright red yarn on his black socks. He continued to do his own darning.
The door to our family home was always open - giving comfort, rejoicing over accomplishments or sharing sorrows. Tea and whatever the latest baking treat would be served. The only family meal I do not remember eating at the kitchen table was the day Mum kept us home from school to watch President Kennedy’s funeral on TV eating off tray tables. It was deemed history in-the-making.
J] Dad was a self-employed man and knew what it was to work hard for a day’s pay. He was into multiple careers and multi-tasking long before it was fashionable and he did it all without a cell phone or an iPad. Dad didn’t have a lot of formal education, but like many men whose work is connected to the earth and nature he had an innate understanding and respect for times and seasons, ebb and flow. He believed that life is a partnership in which you work to the best of your ability with a willing heart and God will do the rest. He was a keen observer of humanity, a man who saw life as it is and told it the same way. He was a shrewd judge of character and did not suffer fools gladly.
A] When he was in his late 60’s Mum and Dad thought they would go on a coach tour. One called California Dreamin‘ was almost a month long. I happened to be there one day when they were debating whether they should do this or stay home. It sounded like something they would like to do. No, too much money. My response was this: please don’t go then there will be more to inherit. And probably the first thing I might do is buy a fancy ring then take a world cruise with Jeff because after all it will be found money. They booked the next day, and had many other trips - an Alaskan cruise, a trip to England, Newfoundland, and little sojourns around the Maritimes.
J] Being a practical man Dad wanted to give Ardeth and Jeff a practical wedding gift. So after due consideration and a discussion with Mum, Dad delivered his present in the form of 5 cords of first class firewood for their fireplaces. The gift was renewed each fall for as many years as Dad was able to go to the woods. My personal opinion is Dad was afraid that Jeff might try to send Ardeth back home and the firewood would be a sufficient inducement for him to keep her in St. Andrews. Just my opinion, of course. Dad put a high value on his firewood so the fact that the gift was renewed each year was proof positive that Jeff had passed the son-in-law test with flying colours.
A] Dad was a man before his time. Women were seen as equals. I spent time outside with Dad learning to drive equipment, helping hay and garden, and learning about the woodlot. When I wanted to get my driver’s license I had to learn to check the oil, change a tire and fuses and pump gas. If you were to be given a responsibility like driving the family car you also had to learn how to take care of it. And always leave a dime in your shoe in case you need to phone home.
After Dad moved to St. Andrews we enjoyed going to the farm, would get out the mule and tour our fields and forests.
J] As you can probably tell by now Dad was a man who believed in practicing wise money management which included having some cash saved for a rainy day. A couple of years ago I had to replace my refrigerator. I was telling Dad about the new one I was getting. He asked me how much it was going to cost and when I told him he said, “Cripes, that’s a lot of money. How are you going to pay for that? Are you going to buy it on time?”  I said, “Dad, of course I’m not going to buy it on time. I have the money saved to pay cash. Isn’t that what you taught us all our lives?” “Well, yes it is—I just wasn’t sure if you were listening.”
Murchie Emerson’s Advice for Life:
1. If you don’t have the cash don’t buy it. If you really want it save the money for it.
2. Always count your money before you leave the bank and check your bank book.
3. Always keep your property, your house and your vehicles in good repair.
4. Always always pay your bills and keep your receipts.
5. If you don’t have the cash don’t buy it. If you really want it save the money for it.
6. Support your family, your church, your community and help your neighbours.
7. Always be ready to share with others.
8. Good food and good fellowship make good times.
9. If you don’t have the cash don’t buy it. If you really want it save the money for it.
10. A man who can’t keep his wife in a good coat is a pretty poor provider.
11. A man who burns green wood in the middle of winter is a darn poor provider.
12. A man who doesn’t know how to look after his woodlot shouldn’t have one and finally just in case you did not get it - If you don’t have the cash don’t buy it. If you really want it save the money for it.
A] As a family we were also brought up in faith and the importance of community, which always began with our own family unit. Living on a farm brings knowledge of the circle of life: birth, life and death; and the beauty and orderliness of nature.
J] As members of the 5th generation of Emersons in Charlotte Co. we are blessed to share our common heritage with all the members of our families, those older, those younger, those near and those far away. Faith and family give a person roots—roots that go deep into the soil of life and ground each of us so that we can bend within the ever-changing circle of our lives.
A] While we may feel this great loss of both our parents we rejoice for them as they have been reunited.
We thank all those who have been a part of Dad’s life, particularly these the last six years. When he could no longer drive Dad’s life changed. But not for long for others came, drove, invited, included, and visited him whether Rollingdam, St. Andrews or more recently McLays.
His Extra Mural nurses were just the best from not only his perspective but ours too. The owners, staff, residents and volunteers at McLays added a social richness to his life.
It was only in the last few hours of his life that Dad admitted that his day was a little cloudy. And that day the sky was full of clouds: small scud clouds, large fluffy white ones, dark clouds. The sunset and Dad faded together - harvest time for our Steward of God’s Creation.