Peter Maher

A few memories and thoughts from Harry Joyce in Australia

Peter enriched my life, as he did for so many others.

We met 50 years ago when, newly arrived in Canada, he appeared in a General Motors toolroom in Oshawa where I worked.  We struck up a friendship as I too was a recent migrant – and because we shared the same values and a similar sense of humour.

Socially, we mostly went our different ways as Peter was a rugby player and I played tennis.  We did, however, go to Toronto for the odd soccer game and to a few Saturday dances at the 'Y', and at the Autoworkers Hall in Oshawa.

We also went fishing together.  In recent times Peter surprised me by claiming that I had introduced him to the Saugeen River.

I was always made welcome by Peter's widowed mother, Flo, to the Maher home.  There I met Peter's four sisters – and, later, Austin when he arrived from England.

Our paths separated for a while after he moved to another GM toolroom; I got married; and he did some international travel – including to Australia.  We only met occasionally when visiting his Mum, who treated Annette and I – and our two girls – as part of the family.

Later in the 1960's, Annette and I used to visit Peter and his girlfriend, Chrissy Kaminsky, in Toronto.  I recall going to see '2001: A Space Odyssey' with Peter while the women went shopping, and being introduced to Peter's new Beatles 'Abbey Road' album while Chrissy made a beautiful Polish dinner.  And then there was the lovely wedding – with the yet-to-be-famous Rita MacNeil…

Peter too was on a creativity pathway.  He had addressed his urge to invent and create.  I believe this was his 'copper' period, as all of his friends and rellies suddenly had sheet-copper clocks on their walls.  Little did I know of Peter's potential for writing and cartooning that would emerge later.

But then our paths really parted…  Annette and I moved to Thunder Bay in 1971, and then to Australia – to thaw out!  We next met Peter here in Australia in 1990 when he came to visit his Mum, who was critically ill.  Then last year we saw Peter, and finally met Sue, when he visited Mary and Beau in Tasmania when Kath and Ed also visited.

Little did we know that our reminiscing about 'the old days' and joking about (sparking off one another as always), would not be repeated.  After that we continued with our email exchanges about soccer – especially as to how his beloved Everton was doing.

Sadly, it was through these emails over the past few years that I got glimpses of Peter's troubled frame of mind – particularly, I assume, when he had been drinking late at night.  I put some of his irrational anger down to the frustration he had experienced from not being able to fully express his artistic drive over the decades.  But no doubt it was a lot more complicated than this.

However, no matter Peter's faults (and don't we all suffer from imperfections?), he was a richly engaging person who was a very welcome part of my life.  I especially enjoyed his company when as young men we were so optimistic about the unknowns of the life in front of us.

My last days with Peter had both sweet and sour elements.  It seemed appropriate, therefore, that when news of Peter's death came Annette labeled the marmalade she was making: Mahermalade – a name last used when Flo was around to enjoy it.

Memories are fleeting, as indeed life itself is.  I just hope that the people who knew Peter will remember his exuberant good nature – and will overlook those less attractive characteristics that trapped him in the course of his life.

Vale Peter…