Obituary of Wilson Andrew Turner

Passed away peacefully at Mattawa Hospital on Friday June 8, 2018 at 88 years of age.  Beloved husband of Fran for 43 years. Loving father of Kenneth Turner (predeceased), Richard Turner (Anita) of Timmins, Steven Turner of Timmins, Lori Ann Turner also of Timmins, Keven Turner (Jessica Godin-Doucette) of Fredericton, N.B., Catherine Tennisco (John Bryce) of London, Deborah Tennisco (Stan Bond) of Maple Ridge, B.C., Michael Tennisco (Gert) of Victoria, B.C., Christopher Tennisco of Toronto and Clayton Tennisco of Vancouver, B.C.  He will be sadly missed by many grandchildren, great grandchildren and nieces and nephews. Also survived by his sisters Grace Langlois and Georgina Alexander.  Family will receive friends at Martyn Funeral Home (North Bay) on Tuesday, June 12^th from 2-4 and 7-9 pm.  Funeral service will be held in the chapel at Martyn Funeral Home on Wednesday, June 13th at 1 pm.  Private internment will follow at Forest Lawn Crematorium.  Donations to the Royal Canadian Legion Br. 23 would be appreciated or charity of your choice in lieu of flowers.

Eulogy offered by Mike Tennisco during the funeral service;

Good afternoon everyone.
When Mom asked me to say a few words today, I was willing but a bit nervous. Usually, I’m fairly comfortable with public speaking, but this is different, so please bear with me.
Wilson Andrew Turner was born November 16th, 1929. He passed away June 8th, 2018 at 88 years of age.
I have been blessed in my life to have had 2 dads. The first created me, gave me a name and blood, a family and a wonderful childhood. The second gave me a larger family, values, ethics, a sense of love and honour, and a calling to do good things and be a good man. It is his example by which I have tried to live my life and raise my own family. Dad taught me to work hard, do your best at everything
you set your hand to, take pride in your work and always finish what you started. Dad was a man of songs. He would often be heard, quietly humming or singing one of his favourite tunes, usually appropriate to whatever he was doing at the time.
   'Hang down your head Tom Dooley'
Many of you know me, and know that I may have tried my parents’ patience a time or two as I was growing up. I learned early that, once I had been caught in one of my escapades, to go to Dad and confess. It wasn’t that he would be any easier on setting consequence than Mom would be, but that you could almost see that little twinkle in the back of his eye, even while he was giving you heck, that
hinted on how he was remembering the day he had done something similar. His hidden sense of humour always showed me that he understood me better than I understood myself. I’m sure that he would go off by himself and have a good laugh at my shenanigans after we finished one of our “talks”. By example he taught me to laugh, to love deeply and gently, and to care for my loved ones with all heart. My daughter Marie reminded me that her Grandad always cherished his loved ones and always made sure that they knew he appreciated them. She brought to mind the Christmas that our family gathered at our house in Victoria, when Dad opened up the present which she had gotten for him. To her horror, she had accidently mis‐labeled the present, and Grandad’s name was on the one intended for Auntie Debbie. Dad’s look of surprise and
pleasure was unfeigned as he held the beautiful earrings up to the side of his head and exclaimed “I love them! It’s me!?” Dad made an impression on everyone he met, and generated wonderful memories for the children that he knew. My son Eddie spoke about his first memories of Dad:
“My earliest memory is fishing with my granddad at 3 years old. I remember being scared of the fish in the bottom of the boat but I was so excited to be there with him. So many great memories. Best granddad.”
I remember that trip, as it was the first one that I was able to take my son on with my Dad. Dad showed so much patience and care for Eddie, making sure that the little boy was safe and having fun. It was my first experience as a parent in seeing how a Grandad should be with his grandkids, and I continue to attempt to emulate him with my own grandchildren now.
   'O Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,'
Dad was an amazing craftsman, who could set his hand to almost anything. Welding, wood work, carpentry, electrical, plumbing, mechanical … He had a tradesman’s hands, a craftsman’s eye and an engineer’s heart. He could see in his mind how he wanted to do things, and if he didn’t have a tool to accomplish the task, he made a “jig” that would do it for him. The log house on Airport Road in Timmins was built using his “jigs” and a chainsaw until well into the second story, when we finally got electricity to the property. My brother‐in‐law Henri was amazed and a little frightened to see us working on the improvised scaffolding
that Dad had engineered out of wood and scraps from log siding. I admit, it was a bit wonky, but it worked! The plumbing was run in the house under his direct supervision, with my brother Ken doing the copper soldering to join it all together.
   'It’s a long way to Tipperary,'
For several years when we lived in Southern Ontario, Dad would make an annual expedition back to the north country for hunting trips. He made sure to take one of the kids with him each trip, and I can remember the year that it was my turn. I was very excited as we got everything ready to go, loaded up the car and headed out on the long road to Manitouwadge. Uncle Satch and Aunt Jean were always happy to see Dad arrive with a kid in tow, and Satch was happy to have a partner to hunt with. We spent the good part of a week combing the bush, looking for game. I shot my first partridge that year. Finally, it occurred that we were driving in Satch’s truck when Dad said, “Stop, back up a bit.” He then got out his binoculars and looked up the hill, into the bush. Leaving Uncle Satch and I at the truck, he stepped into the bush and disappeared into the fall colours. Uncle Satch and I waited impatiently on the road, and then, all of a sudden  BANG – BANG!
We looked at each other and up the hill. Then again  BANG – BANG! Satch started to try to figure out what was happening. “They’re running!” he said, and then we heard  BANG … … … BANG! Both Satch and I were confused, and then, floating down on the fall air came the words: “Hey Satch, come on up. I got ‘em.” Mom reminded me that this cow and calf were the last moose that Dad ever brought home.
   'Blue skies, smiling at me,'
Dad was a clever fellow with a quick wit! He was up early every morning, even after he retired! He always worked hard and there were days when he would come home tired, ready to rest. He could often be found in his great easy chair, eyes closed and slightly snoring. We would carefully tip‐toe around him making sure not to interrupt his snooze, but we would also be a bit silly about it. When it came time to do something, we would go to wake him up. Asked whether he was sleeping, he would always reply that he was “just resting his eyes.”

   'and like that lucky old sun, give me nothing to do, but roll around heaven all day,'
Dad’s best friend in Abitibi Canyon was my father Eddie. When we moved to the Canyon, they quickly found that they were kindred spirits, and happily shared adventures. My memories of that time are still a bit foggy but I can imagine the fun they had together, hunting and fishing in what must have seemed like paradise to them. When my father passed away, I’m sure it was very difficult for Dad as well, losing his best friend so quickly. He always honoured Eddie and helped to keep him as part of my life, doing so many little things to show that while he wasn’t there to replace my father, he was there to help and support me
in any way that I needed. My oldest son is called Eddie, but his full name is Edward Wilson in honour of both my remarkable fathers. Dad showed me that a responsible man stood up for his beliefs, but didn’t force
them on others; a mature man upheld his responsibilities, not shirking the load when things got difficult; a caring man cherished and loved his family and spent his days ensuring they’re well being. Although our lives have differed in so many ways, in my heart I have always tried to conduct myself in ways that would make him proud of me and make me the kind of example to my children as he is to me.
   'I am the living legacy to the leader of the band,'
He is my Dad, and I miss him.