Gordon Lockhart

Remembering Gordy

July 31, 1947 – May 29, 2015

Gordy was my boyhood’s best friend. We grew up in Cumberland and Comox Lake.

We were part of the camp gang – some mischievous kids running wild – playing knocky-nine doors, then running for our lives, hearing the homeowners opening their doors and shouting after us, “you little buggers!” – sneaking into unlocked basements to steal homemade Italian wine.

In our teens we dreamed of being frontiersmen, having read books like “Last of the Mohicans”. We paddled Comox Lake, crept noiselessly through the bushes, and threw hatchets. Even today you can see the scars on an old cedar tree down by the lake.

A few years later, Gordy and I ventured out on a five month, 2500 mile canoe trip, portaging over snow-capped mountains and crossing ice-filled lakes. Just two island lads – what did we know about the north country? – surviving and arriving home with many stories to share with family and friends.

Life went on, and we drifted apart, but Gordy you are always with me, ‘till we meet again.

Fred.


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