There are so many photos here and I know there are some that include Murray, just don't know where to look for them. There are memories of him too, but the ones that matter to me don't involve cars or the painting of them.

   Murray was left-handed. Hallelujah! When we attended dinners at Aunt Evelyn's and Uncle Percy's, Murray would sit at the corner of the table so he wouldn't elbow anyone and I was placed next to him so that I wouldn't elbow him. I had been taught to use my left hand for fork and spoon in the European style, as my grandmother had learned in Scotland. He and I were meant to eat side by side.

   When my so wonderful left-handed granddaughter came into our lives, I remembered those dinners and knew why Leonard Cohen wrote Hallelujah. As Fiona began that trip into no one else  is left-handed, feeling wierd about herself, I could share those dinner memories with her. Suddenly she was not the only one and could smile about sharing this difference with a family member. Her head went back up and she began to feel sorry for ordinary people. Thank you, Murray.

   One summer when I was perhaps ten Daddy Ken, Momma Peg, and I took off for a month of touring around Ontario. We spent a few days with Uncle Perce, Aunt Evelyn, and Murray at their cottage. During that time Murray introduced me to Little Richard (oh but his mother did not love Little Richard). From Little Richard I would move on to a vast knowledge and love of Rhythm and Blues. (As an artist I would later interview said, "R&B was actually Rock & Roll, but Rock & Roll was done by white artists. You could leave it on the dresser for your parents to see. R & B was done by black artists. You hid it in the dresser dawer.") Murray taught me to love Rock and R&B. He never dreamed he was opening up the career of my dreams. Thank you, Murray.

    I remember a number of Open Houses at the house on Indian Trail when Aunt Evelyn invited the family and the distant family into her home in honour of, for instance cousins Hoyt and Edna Elliot, missionaries in Pakistan,  home on sabbatical and touring family and friends and their church in hopes of donations. There was an afternoon session followed by an evening session for the lite as I viewed it, the closer Gemmels. 
   During the afternoon I had heard enough of the brutal tales they had shared. As far as I was concerned if such horrors happened to their converts they should get of Dodge and stay out. Now there was the whole evening ahead. I found a book on the bookshelves and tried to find a place to hide with it. Along came Murray and his girlfriend suggesting we go for a drive. Oh, thank you, Murray.

   One of those affairs was for my grandparents who were leaving Canada for three years or so in Pakistan, lent by Ontario Hydro to the Canadian Government so the government could lend him to the Columbo Plan. I was not happy about this. So it was a major honour to be asked to head up the Canadian team, so what? thought I. I would not see him for three years, perhaps more. And I kept remembering the things the Elliots had described. The afternoon was long and the evening loomed ahead. Then along came Murray. "Let's go for a drive."   As we walked out the door, the missionaries were walking in. He timed that oh so perfectly. Thank you, Murray.

   The last memory that dances through my mind this evening, is that very good looking guy, Murray. He wore his hair in the same way our Douglas did -- the same way Elvis did but it was not an Elvis copy; it was the in thing before Elvis made his presence heard.                                                Cousin or not, he was high on my list of great looking lads, so high that I always compared the guys I met with Murray. If a lad asked me out, he had to be as good looking (or better) as Murray. If not the answer was no, thanks with the hope he wouldn't ask for a reason. There were several and life was fun. Then there was the one who not only was as good looking as Murray, he was able to accept me for who I am and wanted to be and had the same sense of fun as Murray. I married that one. Thank you, Murray