Sunday, October 3, 2021
Gail, Ruth, Alan and families; most sincere sympathies and condolences for your loss.
Where to begin?
I first met Vic when he was hired by the Town and would come in to the store to see Dad - he was the Reeve then - to sign the checks; I was introduced, and imagine the coincidence - and my total shock - that not only did he referee hockey, but that we BOTH knew a certain guy from Atlanta named Doug, and that the two of them were responsible for bringing hockey to the Peach State!
A pretty REMARKABLE feat, accomplishment and legacy!
That started a long friendship; somewhere I have pictures of us refereeing together in Atlanta, the after-tournament parties at Doug’s and a few others from those days - one year we were even roommates!
And ONE very memorable night; a bunch of our hockey “gang” were staying at our house before heading to Toronto for referee’s school - my grandparents hosted a “social gathering” at their house in the rec room bar to start things off - then dinner at Duffy’s to finish up back at our place - it’s a legendary epoch of my dad, Vic, another referee named Johnny, and a 40 oz bottle of Irish Mist - it’s classified - I’m sworn to secrecy!
All I WILL say is that was fodder for “reminiscing” for YEARS!
Or lots of times, whether it was after golfing or just on a Friday night, we’d go to Dom Polski, meet up with his buddy Stefan, shoot pool, eat GIANT Polish dills and kielbasa, have a few “pops” and just get stupid (NOT drunk-stupid!), and tell all kinds of hockey stories.
NOBODY made kielbasa like his dad though - Vic made it a point to invite me over countless times after a new batch had been smoked and cured - those were the times when I was the closest to showing my REAL Ukrainian heritage (that has a bit of Polish with it) to eating stuff that was “good for me”!
We’d have a few drinks, he’d sit down with his father to play Pinochle and TRY to teach it to me - but I was too dumb to get it!
Sadly, careers and individual life paths didn’t allow me to spend as much time or to connect as often as I should have in the last number of years; that is a shame, and times that will never be recovered.
I just hope he’ll have a clean sheet of ice, a pair of sharp skates, a loud whistle, a black and white striped sweater (that fits!) and some great kielbasa and ice cold “refreshments” waiting for me so we can work together again and straighten some folks out!
RIP my friend.