Friday, December 31, 2021
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I am deeply saddened by the recent death of my uncle Joe Walsh. My uncle Joe had a tremendous influence on me during my formative years. Between 1958 and 1969, I spent my July and August school vacations on the Walsh family farm in Asphodel. During those enjoyable summers, through his example and encouragement, he taught me a number of essential life skills that have served me well throughout my life. From my uncle Joe, I learned the value of hard work, perseverance but to have fun at the same time. I was always struck by his work ethic; he worked long hours, seven days a week but never complained, even while suffering from seasonal hay fever and enduring a chronic arthritic ankle, the result of a cow-induced fractured foot when he was a young man. I specifically remember one morning Joe, my grandfather Stafford and myself starting into a 15-acre to stook countless rows of freshly-cut shieves of oats. Despite the task looking insurmountable from the gate entrance to that field, Joe simply said, "if we just peck away at it, we can get it done." From my uncle Joe I learned an occupational pluralism that has inspired me to endeavour to be self-sufficient throughout my life, whether caring for livestock, doing construction work or repairing broken machinery. Joe taught me to milk cows both by hand and machine; boy could he hand-milk cows! When I was just fourteen, he taught me to drive his new B-275 International tractor and the 1950 blue dodge truck with a standard transmission; what a thrill for a young boy. As I got older, he contributed to my self-confidence by assigning me increasing responsibilities, such as allowing me to drive the tractor pulling the Massey-Harris grain binder operated by my grandfather. In the summer of 1969, with my grandfather in and out of the hospital, Joe unhesitatingly elevated me to binder operator to fill in for my grandfather while uncle Joe drove the tractor. From a livestock husbandry perspective, Joe taught me to be careful around cows and horses as they could seriously injure their caregivers but at the same time gave me the self-assurance to work with them safely, a skill I came to value daily as a large-animal veterinarian. Joe also taught me that hard work had its rewards; a long hard day of farm work meant a trip to Phone Heffernas's store for pop, a chocolate bar or an ice cream cone, and possibly some kidding around with neighbours like Tommy Quinlin. Joe had a fondness for listening to 1960s country music on Chex radio in the truck or at the barn, an appreciation he transferred to me. Under my uncle Joe's and grandfather Stafford's tutelage, I developed an understanding of the importance and complexity of farming that gave a city-slicker the fondness and confidence to pursue an agricultural career. Over the past ten years, with both of us retired, Joe and I enjoyed many hours of telephone conversation where we recalled the hard work and enjoyment of farming in the 1960s. For these practical life skills and my chosen agrarian career path, I owe a debt of gratitude to my uncle Joe. May he enjoy his heavenly reward, hay-fever and pain-free, in the company of his beloved wife Teresa and the extended Walsh, Herr and Doherty family. Michael Maloney
