Harold Lorne Lincoln

14 JAN 2014

Message from D'Arcy Lincoln,

Mr. Salmers, I have just found your entry in the Regina Leader Post obituaries and I would be very pleased if you would enter my father's obituary in the regiments history. My dad's service was an important part of his life and we are all proud of his sacrafice to his nation. If there is anything else I can do please contact me at the above e-mail.

Sincerely, D'Arcy Lincoln.

26 Jan 2014

Hi Greg,

I have attached a photo of my Dad just before the war when he was at Agriculture College in Saskatoon, a photo from 2007, his obituary from the Leader Post and a copy of his eulogy. Please use what you like. Also we have buried somewhere a couple photos of him at training in Shilo, and in England if you would be interested. Let me know and please send me the link where you use this information, I’m sure it would be interesting to view.


D’Arcy Lincoln

Eulogy for Harold Lorne Lincoln, March 27, 1919 – January 18. 2013

Reverend, Ladies and Gentlemen, family and friends on behalf of my sisters and I please let me welcome you to the celebration of the long and full life of our father Harold Lorne Lincoln.

Dad was born on March 27, in the year of our lord 1919 to my grandparents Alfred Lincoln, an English immigrant and Jessie Laing the daughter of William Laing a Scottish settler who homesteaded the family farm in 1882. Dad grew up running wild and riding horses in the lee of the Moose Mountains with local boys, Wellington, Burns, Walter, Willis and Freeman. Idyllic would be a stretch but uncomplicated it was. Dad attended the one room country school of Glenn Adelaide, getting there by horse back in the summer and cutter in the winter. During those years I think dad had a greater interest in tromping through the bush hunting rabbits and deer and fishing in the local lakes than learning the three R’s yet, in later years, I was always impressed by his meticulous book keeping, tidy handwriting and snappy arithmetic, even in his last days when we were discussing things in his room at the Lodge and dementia was ravaging his mind he still was a whip with numbers.

My father’s formative years coincided with the Great Depression, a time of austerity for all who lived through it. He learned the true value of a dollar, which was a scarce commodity then. He learned as others of that time that you had to earn everything you got and work hard to get it, but if someone was truly in need then as a member of the community, you rallied together to help, a trait common to prairie people of that era. You can always spot people of that generation, rarely fancy always dependable.

At the age of 18, like all boys, dad needed to get off the farm and enrolled in the Agricultural College in Saskatoon. It was a year long adventure, little of which was relayed to us as his children but since I spent my own time in university I think I know why.

When that year of study ended the greatest calamity in our world’s history began with the declaration of war by England and its Allies on Germany and the Axis nations. Dad, like so many from this community, answered his country’s call to arms and joined the volunteer army of Canada by mustering in Weyburn with the South Saskatchewan Regiment. He trained for a short time in Shilo, Manitoba and then his regiment joined the Canadian Expeditionary Force in England at a time when invasion was considered imminent. And there he stayed for four years, training, soldiering, touring London, visiting Grandpa’s family, partying with his mates, getting into trouble and peeling potatoes, earning stripes losing stripes, peeling more potatoes, activities Canadians were so well known and loved for by the English people.

Dad missed his regiment’s mission in Dieppe, which we kids owe our existence to, but so many of his friends did not. He knew them all and grieved for those who did not return and I am sure worried endlessly about his cousin Roy who was captured. When an opportunity arose to enter the fray in Italy as a heavy truck driver, a skill born to all prairie boys of that, time he jumped at it. He served for a year in active duty with the combined British and American 5th division as it marched its way north along the west side of the Italian boot. Dad in later years related some of his experiences of those days; some terrifying, many tragic, but occasionally funny, as when he and few buds “liberated” a farmer’s barrel of wine by shooting a hole in it and sampling its contents…all of its contents; so very Canadian.

Dad left Canada as a kid looking for worldly excitement and returned a hardened veteran looking for peace, and a life free of the horror of war. He had been forever changed and I know it affected him greatly for the rest of his life.

On returning home dad spent a little time at a logging camp in Alberta but his heart was on the farm so he made his way back and, with the help of the veteran’s support program, started the life long process of taking over the family farm.

Dad was a lucky guy, he lived through the depression, the man made hell of war and in December, 1949 he married Dick and Helene Delarue’s fourth daughter Joyce, who turned out to be one of the best farmers in the district. Together they had five children, one of which, Michelle, a beautiful bud of life, they lost after a year of love. I am sure it was a terrible time for them but they had us to raise so they covered their heartache and kept us on track. We did ok.

Dad and mom loved to entertain, and our youth, and their busy time, was filled with family gatherings and community get-togethers. There were large bond fires which Pop would build, excessive amounts of good food, kids running wild everywhere and a lot of laughter. Dad loved to play cards, especially poker and the outlaws were always willing to give him a friendly game after Christmas and Easter dinners.

Every once in a while we got a glimpse of Dad’s wild side that I’m sure prevailed when he was young, like the time he tried to ride John Boehmer’s scooter like his army motorbike and decorated his knees and elbows with driveway gravel or like the time, already in his sixties when he was racing Kenny Lincoln’s truck on the snowmobile but forgot about Kenny’s approach, man that John Deer could jump.

Dad was not one to lecture, that steely stare and loud bark got your attention, enough said, but he taught us through example. He worked hard every day the sun shone and persisted through every crop failure and market collapse. He and mom encouraged us all to get an education and we all did. They were both involved in community service and dad was the founding president of the Wawota and District Lions Club, a group he was a member of for many years and which has done so much for this wonderful community.

Dad had an active mind and loved to read of current affairs and was a bit of a history buff. Those who knew him well will recall his willingness for lively discussions on a wide variety of these subjects, especially if related to “damn taxes”. Pop had a love of fun, a good sense of humor and a master’s ability at story telling.

In later years Mom and Dad became Aggravation aficionados and had so much fun playing with friends. I will always remember those rousing games with Phil and Flora, Barbara and Eric and any other poor soul who wished to take on the sneaky Joyce and the lucky Harold. He was crafty.

In July of 2005 my dad had to endure his last great tragedy when he lost the love of his life when mom died in a senseless car accident. Although he endured this calamity and continued to live on the farm with the help of my sisters, members of the community and his best friend Jasper, he aged markedly. Parkinson’s disease strengthened its relentless grip and with failing health dad had to leave the farm and spend his final days in the Wawota Deerview Lodge, a refuge of quiet comfort, enduring care and peace. We, as a family, can not begin to express our heart felt gratitude for the care of our father by the staff and management of this wonderful facility.

And so the life of our father came to an end on December 18th peacefully and quickly, with genuinely compassionate people surrounding him. This man who was a community leader, farmer, father, husband, soldier and son of the prairies has left us to be with his lord and clan.

He had a good life and he lived it well.

Goodbye Pops.

DL/gcs 15Feb2014