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Alfred Beattie Boyce Alfred Beattie Boyce - or ÒAlfÓ as he was known by his friends - passed away peacefully Friday, October 24, 2008, at the age of 77 at the Northern Lights Manor in Flin Flon, Manitoba, after a long battle with AlzheimerÕs Disease. He is survived by his wife Fern; stepchildren Tana (Henry) Kluba, Dick (Chris) Nelson, and Robert (Connie) Nelson; grandchildren Michael, Matthew, Tyler, Michael, Ryan, Kayla, and Jaimie; brother Ivan; brothers-in-law Lloyd Elder and Bill (Joanne) Bater, as well as numerous other relatives, friends, and special niece Meryl (Larry) Guymer. Greg Bauman gave the following remembrance which aptly describes the man we all knew as Alf Boyce: I would like to thank you all for coming here today as we celebrate the life of Alf. Alfred Beattie Boyce was born at the R.M. of Shell River, Manitoba, on March 18, 1931, to parents Harvey and Evea Boyce. He grew up in a typical country setting during the Depression. In his early years he loved the outdoors and liked to hunt, roam the hills, and collect arrowheads and such. He had three siblings, his brother Orville who predeceased him, his brother Ivan who is here with us today and his sister Irene, who unfortunately was taken from this world just last Sunday. I remember seeing a photograph of Alf when he was a young boy. He was dressed in coveralls and had a mutt dog at his side, both enjoying the outdoors. The thing that sticks out in my mind about the photograph was the twinkle in AlfÕs eyes. His twinkling eyes were generally present throughout his life. Alf moved to Winnipeg after school and started work as a fireman with CP Rail on a train that went to Kenora, Ontario, and so began a lifelong love of trains... so much so that to this day, there still hangs in the house a locomotive whistle that he took great pleasure in sounding when visitors came by. It was in the early Õ50s that Alf met Shirley. He left CP Rail and began working for her parents jewellery firm, Gibbs and Bater. He was a travelling salesman and did much of his travelling by train, which of course he enjoyed. He travelled far and wide through Manitoba and Saskatchewan. I recall him telling me about one time when he was heading by train from Prince Albert to Nipawin and got stranded by a blizzard for three or four days at the Shipman Hotel, of all places. There were only about ten buildings in the whole town and only two or three rooms in the hotel, which of course had to be shared, due to the blizzard and all the people being stranded. Luckily for Alf the hotel had a pub so being stranded he made the best of his circumstances. He set up shop in the pub with his wares and either traded or sold jewellery so that he had enough to eat and drink and could comfortably wait out the blizzard. I am not sure if this is where he learned to pour his famous Òtwo fingered shotÓ. He would say, ÒI will only make it weakÓ or ÒJust a wee one, only two fingers,Ó that twinkle in his eyes. Alf was very proud when he was honoured as a 50 year member of the North West TravellersÕ Association, in recognition of his travelling salesmanship. In the early Õ60s Alf and Shirley bought the jewellery store that became BoyceÕs Jewellers, here on Main Street in Flin Flon. They moved here with their young son Michael. Flin Flon became home. Alf and Shirley became involved in the community in many ways. Alf volunteered many years with the Trout Festival and belonged to the Masons and the Shriners, he became an avid fisherman and was very proud of the two master anglers he caught at Kississing Lake. ThatÕs not all he caught though. One spring just after the ice was off, Alf decided he was going to catch a trout out in front of the cabin. With a carefully bated hook, he cast out in the lake and then secured the fishing rod, so the fish couldnÕt drag it away, and then went off to bed. The next morning he got up and sure enough the rod was bending over and he could tell he had caught something really big. He ran down to the lake and started reeling. The line was several hundred yards long, had been completely pulled out of the reel with only a few wraps left. Alf fought the monster for a good half hour and was shocked when he finally landed a loon! Well, the loon was not happy about being dragged up on shore by fishing tackle, and Alf had an even greater battle in getting the hook out and setting it free. Alf liked to hunt, and there are few stories that I can safely relate. He was lucky when it came to hunting... ÒThe luck of the Irish,Ó he always said. Who else would come upon two giant white tailed bucks that had locked their horns together in a fight and couldnÕt get loose. Wow, what a trophy! And how much luckier could you get than the stuffed heads of the two locked bucks fitting perfectly into the corner of your sitting room! One time we were hunting down near San Clara in AlfÕs old stomping grounds. It was a very foggy day, and it was very hard to see. Alf took up position in one small bush, and I was in another. Peering through the dense fog, I could see a nice buck making his way right to the bush where Alf was. He got closer and closer and closer, but there was no shooting. Suddenly there was a loud bang, his rifle went off followed by three more quick shots. Next thing I know the deer came running towards me, and I bagged it. Puzzled, I went over to see why Alf hadnÕt bagged the deer. ÒWhat happened?Ó I asked. ÒOh,Ó Alf replied with that twinkle in his eyes, ÒIt was too small, so I let it go.Ó I was curious as to why Alf was covered in snow like he had been laying on the ground. He finally confessed that he had found a stump in the small bush and dozed off. When the deer came it startled him, and he had fired straight up in the air. The recoil knocked him off the stump into the snow, and three more shots from the semi-automatic were also air borne. We were having a good laugh about this when we turned around, and sure enough standing out in the field, broad side was a giant buck which Alf was able to bag. ÒThe luck of the IrishÓ had prevailed. Alf became an avid wine maker and enjoyed all aspects of the preparation of the brew right up to the final act of bottling it. Sometimes the result was not what was expected, as the time when he got a good portion of the wine all over Henry and TanaÕs kitchen and ended up corking 17 bottles of wine when he should have got 28! Alf was a long serving and proud member of the Flin Flon Rotary Club. I am glad to see so many Rotarians here today to celebrate his life. He enjoyed the camaraderie and opportunity to serve the community. It was a toss up at the Rotary pancake breakfasts as to who made the best Òorange juiceÓ for the Rotarians putting on the breakfast, Alf or Mickey Perepeluk. Alf was a proud recipient of the Paul Harris Fellowship Award from Rotary. I am not sure how this happened. Many times Alf would start off for a Rotary lunch meeting but would get side tracked and end up at Ernie ChocholikÕs apartment. Ernie always had something on the stove or in the oven for ÒlunchÓ. Oh, and lots of cold ones in the fridge. ErnieÕs cream chicken was to die for, and he always made hamburgers that we called ErnieÕs cannonballs, because they were so big. Often Alf would lay a local neighbourhood waif, pay him a dollar or two, and get a cannonball delivered back to the store for the girls to enjoy lunch. The cannonballs were so big that one was enough that the girls could share for lunch. The girls at the store knew that once a cannonball arrived, Rotary had been missed and Alf would not be soon back to work. Often times these legendary lunches lasted well past store closing and later. Alf boasted of being of Irish heritage, and there was one time that he got tangled up in a financial deal with a Scotsman (whose name shall not be repeated). Alf wanted to buy this fellowÕs property, but the Scotsman wanted more than Alf thought he should pay. No matter how hard he negotiated, the Scotsman wouldnÕt budge on his price. Finally, Alf relented. A day or two later he approached the Scotsman with a very large paper bag. ÒWhatÕs in the bag?Ó he was asked. Alf replied, ÒIÕve got your money.Ó ÒGo on!Ó wa the ScotsmanÕs reply. ÒIÕll not take it, you must give it to the lawyer. But before you do, can I just look in the bag?Ó ÒSure!Ó said Alf, the twinkling in his eyes, as he opened it up to reveal that it was stuffed with one dollar bills, enough to cover the entire purchase price of the property. He took the bag to the lawyer, and a few hours later the Scotsman got a call from a very angry Pat Ferg, his lawyer, demanding to know why Alf Boyce had bought the property with one dollar bills and the lawyer had to spend all afternoon counting it out, one dollar at a time. Alf always signed his name ÒA.B. BoyceÓ, and so we all took to calling him Abie. He always claimed that his hometown was Makaroff, not nearby San Clara or Togo or Roblin. So we also nicknamed him ÒSmirnoff from MakaroffÓ. Alf loved to garden. He was always proud of having the best tomato plants in the area. ÒHow do you get them to grow so big?Ó we always asked. Of course, with a two finger drink in one hand and those twinkling eyes, he would say, ÒI give them birth control pills!Ó Sometime after Shirley passed away, Alf and Fern went on to spend AlfÕs retirement years together. Sadly Michael passed away a number of years ago, and Alf took it quite hard. When Alf and Fern went on a trip and returned home, they would unlock the house and say to each other, ÒHere we are, safe and sound,Ó then Alf would go and get the luggage and bring it in, and they would hug and hold each other, and Alf would say, ÒWe have a nice home here, donÕt we.Ó Alf and Fern would make trips with Ralph and Judy Kilmack. Fern especially wanted me to make mention of Ralph and Judy Kilmack because they were so good to her in driving Fern to see Alf when he was at Selkirk. We lost the Alf we all know several years ago, due to the ravages of that insidious disease, AlzheimerÕs. Through it all, AlfÕs loving Fern stuck with him, a daunting and traumatic task. No matter through, even up to the last time I saw him, those twinkling eyes were always present. When I was a teenager and nearing adulthood, my grandfather too me aside and asked me ÒHow do you tell if a man is rich or not?Ó I did not know, but my grandfather went on to explain that you could tell a rich man by the number of friends that he has, not by the dollars that he has in his bank account. Judging by the great many friends that are in attendance here today, to celebrate AlfÕs life, it can be truly said that Alf was a very rich man. We are all better people for having known, loved, been friends with, done business with, hunted and fished, and shared a two fingered drink with Alf. He is at rest now and will always occupy a place in our hearts. Now he is free Free from sadness Free from pain Free from confusion And the life he would never have wanted. He is with us now in a better place Able to walk and run for miles Ride the train on endless rails. He can speak a mile a minute And laugh that deep belly laugh Truly at peace And proud to have finally been set free The twinkle in his eye will forever be. The Reverend Greg Parker presided over a serve held on Wednesday, October 29, 2008, at 11:00 a.m. at the Northminster Memorial United Church. Honourary pallbearers were Greg Bauman, Evelyn McKay, Doug OÕBrien, Bunny Burke, Graham Craig, and Murray Smith. Attending the guest register was long-time friend and employee Charlene Langan. Mark Kolt accompanied the United Church Choir while they sang I Come to the Garden Alone and Amazing Grace. Immediately following the service a luncheon was served by the United Church Women in the Northminster Memorial United Church Hall. At this time, we would like to thank Darren Grant and Bayley Maynard of Dadson Funeral Home for all their compassionate assistance. (We missed you, Dana.) Your professionalism precedes you. You are wonderful people. We would also like to thank the Reverend Greg Parker for a beautiful service; long-time friend Greg Bauman for a remarkable remembrance of Alf; another wonderful friend Charlene Langan for attending the guest register; the United Church Choir for their lovely renditions; and Mark Kolt for your joyous touch on the piano. Also many thanks go out to the thoughtful people who called, sent cards, flowers, meat and cheese trays, and dainties. Your kindness was appreciated. Alf would have loved it all!! Always in our hearts, Fern and Family
