A Eulogy for Vincent Louis Pavelich

By Tracey Taylor

This has been quite a week. It feels like the ground has somehow shifted under my feet or the centre of gravity has moved. A few years ago, Vincent got really sick and ended up having to have some of his toes removed. When he was back on his feet again, he would often comment that he couldn’t believe how much just losing that small part of himself threw him so off balance. I think that perhaps we all now know a little of what he meant. Because in losing Vincent, we have lost a piece of ourselves, and it is going to take a while for us to get our footing again. Vincent was baptised in the church, he came here as a boy and learned his catechism, he was married in this church and it is right that we come here today, to this church, to say good bye and be comforted.

Years ago, Trudy phoned me and said; “Dad’s okay, were just planning his funeral and he wants you to do this”. I said; “sure, but I thought I would be tied up for the next 20 years or so, so he’d have to wait until I was ready”. Well, ready or not, here we are. Vincent and I used to talk about what I was going to say when this day arrived. His advice to me went like this, he would lower his voice and say, “bar the door, then just start laying it on thick, really let them have it”. Then he would laugh and start in on his best southern hell fire and brimstone preacher impersonation, “If the devils on your back, if he’s trying to get a hold of you…you gotta shake him off, just shake him off!” Which is actually a pretty good sermon. I often thought Vincent would have made a pretty good priest, he loved to visit people and he had a way of just being present and listening when you needed him. But when he lowered his voice and those dark eyebrows, he could strike the fear of the Lord into even the hardest of hearts. He may not have chosen the life of a priest, and he would laugh at the suggestion, but he definitely had an important ministry throughout his life. Vincent had a love of neighbour and a ministry of visiting. Visiting is a dying art, and one that he mastered and perfected, he loved to visit and share fellowship with the people he loved.

The word Eulogy is a Greek word that simply means, “to speak well of”, today I have been given the honour of standing here and speaking well of this man we loved and to share his stories. There are so many stories! Vincent loved to tell stories and share the memories of the people, animals and events that shaped his life. His mother and dad, his brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews, their families, every kid who ever rode his bus, every person he met, every over worked nurse, doctor, waitress, or janitor he teased a smile out of, every pet, every horse he loved and the ones that frustrated him, even the cows, chickens and ‘mothers turkeys’ were lovingly woven into the stories that he told and the life that he lived. His most important and most beloved stories were those of his family, his precious girls; his wife Pat, his daughters and granddaughters and his ‘boys’ they married and then the great-grandchildren; the offspring. You were his greatest story and you filled his heart to overflowing and all the, extra overflowing love he had, he poured out to the rest of us, so thank you.

Vincent was a man of many stories, and his own story began on the family farm on March 15, 1938, he was the 10th of 11 children born to Pete and Eva Pavelich, a large family of six boys and five girls. The story of his birth was told to him and he, in turn told it to us and it goes something like this. In his own words, “Annie Sorotski came over to help mother when I was born, she used to tell me; ‘boy, son of a gun you were a big baby, over 10 pounds, darn near killed mama,’ you know how she used to talk.’” according to the story, his skin was all chapped and Mrs. Sorotski slathered him in butter and laid him on the oven door. Vincent grew up on the farm where he was born. We’ve probably all heard the stories of his childhood and youth, this prairie boy who grew up doing chores, milking cows, torturing his siblings, going to town in the sleigh, visiting and playing with neighbour’s and riding and driving horses. Vince had a way of bringing people back to life through stories, even though I never met his mother and dad I know that Pete was a patient, hard-working man who got up early and enjoyed cream, sugar and bread in his coffee. Mother was an amazing cook and made the best bread. She was smart, resilient, and resourceful. “You know,” he would say, “She could taste a cake and then go home and make it, without a recipe.”

Growing up Vinny developed a great love for horses, an affliction that they never could find a cure for. He told the story of a smart little black pony that he would ride to school on. The pony knew the way there and back and little Vincent was really just a passenger as he made his way to school, but he would remark, “I felt like I was on top of the world riding that pony”. [You know how he used to talk]. Vince would often have a team of horses in the barn and when they heard him coming down the hill, they would give a nicker because they knew their friend was on his way. Vincent’s barn was warm and inviting, it smelled of horses and hay and that infectious, horse loving disease, was spread to many who spent anytime there. Many horses came and went; Pilgrim, Buckshot, Sandy, Shadow, Goldie, Bobby, Babe, Moon just to name a few…riding horses, driving horses, colts and nags, he loved them and he both taught them and learned lessons from them. Sometimes he was on top of the world, other times he hit the mud, but he always managed to climb back up.

In the late ’50s Vincent’s life story took a romantic turn when a certain young school teacher came to teach at Brigg’s school. When the dashing, tall, dark and handsome young Vincent turned on the charm, I’m pretty sure that the young Miss. Patricia Russell didn’t stand a chance. Vincent and Pat were married on October 24, 1959 and a new chapter in the story began and together they built a farm and a life. They were blessed with three healthy girls; Anne, Sonia and Trudy. When the girls got married, Wayne, Les and Shawn were added to the family and more and more girls kept coming. Vincent and Pat’s story continues in the life of this family who just keeps growing and now includes; in laws and outlaws, eight granddaughters and eight great-grandchildren and much to his surprise, finally a boy. Vincent would laugh and say, “boy you never know what kind of trouble you can start once you get going.”

Vincent worked hard throughout his life. He was a farm boy and was proud of the farm that he built. He always had horses and a few cows, sometimes chickens, turkeys, pigs and even a goat from time-to-time. He loved the farm, but he also wasn’t afraid to venture out and try his hand at different things. He worked climbing poles, building elevators, he was the RM pest control officer and mower operator, and worked moving buildings. He was a business man and for a while he had both the café in town and the Petro-Can. He and Pat and their family ran Travellers service for nine years.

Vincent would often say that he was a jack-of-all-trades and a master of none. But here is the rare time that I am going to have to disagree with the man. He was a jack-of-all-trades, but he was indeed the unsurpassed master at something! Vincent was the master bus driver! For 37 years Vincent took our most precious possessions and carried them with love, and care, safely, to and from school. For 37 years driving that big yellow bus Vincent was on top of the world. I was trying to do the math on this and the numbers were starting to hurt my head…but if you are between 20 and 69 years old and lived in our district east of town, chances are Vincent was your bus driver, if not for your whole school career, at least for some of it. Not only did he drive generations of kids to school he drove two generations of the same families. If Vincent was your bus driver or if you ever rode on Vinny’s bus, put up your hand. Vincent knew and cared for every single kid on his bus and you all were woven into his stories that were told and re-told. Kids on Vincent’s bus were not just treated like friends, they were his friends and many of those friendships lasted for a lifetime. He made a point of saying good morning and goodbye to everyone. He would say that you never know what trouble they had that morning or what stress they had at school and he wanted to make sure that they knew that when they were with him, on that bus, everything was okay. He didn’t miss much on the bus, all you had to do was look up and you would see those eagle eyes looking back at you in the rear-view mirror. Vincent never had trouble on the bus, but when someone bigger tried to pick on the small kids on the bus Vincent would say, “just remember, I’m his tag team partner.” You knew he had your back, and with those big old hands you were pretty sure he could do some damage!

He was always a careful driver, he was the kind of driver that you could set your clock to…. you just had to set it a little bit faster on the first Wednesday of every month. That was Saskatoon horse sale day and it didn’t take long for the kids to realize on that day you just had to hold on a little bit better at the corners. He was just keeping the kids on their toes. But even in a rush Vincent would never forget to give those two little honks on the horn as he was leaving. When Vincent retired 15 years ago and Sonia took over his route, he was so pleased because he still had that connection to his bus and all his kids and he knew his friends were in good hands.

Young or old, Vincent was a friend to many. When he first moved to town from the farm, he said that he really couldn’t see himself going to the café for coffee everyday. It didn’t take long for him to change his mind. Coffee row, and the friends he had there, were a godsend for him, it got him out of the house everyday and he enjoyed every minute of it. Coffee row or not, Vincent still managed to keep up his strict visiting schedule. He made sure to check up on everyone, usually once a week. This summer we had a barbecue for Morgan’s grad and at one point I looked over and there was a circle of young people all 18-20 and in the midst of the circle was Vincent, just visiting with his friends. That night as Vincent was leaving there were only a few of us left sitting around the fire and as he backed up, he gave his two little honks and the day was complete.

We will miss Vincent, it is hard to imagine that he is gone, this time he didn’t honk twice to let us know that he was going but he will always be a part of our stories. There are so many stories to share that it’s going to take a lifetime to tell them all. A long time from now his great-grandchildren, and my grandchildren, will meet him and know him through our stories that we will keep telling and retelling. Stories of a big hearted, kind, loving, horse crazy, often just plain crazy, quirky, stubborn man who never missed a birthday and who could charm and tease a smile out of almost anyone. When Vincent would leave after an evening of visiting, he would say, “I best be going, kick me in the rear, point me in the right direction and I’ll be out of here…. thank you for the coffee and the lunch and all the good things.” So, ready or not I guess it’s our turn to say goodbye. So, goodbye Vincent, thank you for the love and friendship and for every moment you shared with us. Until we meet again, and thank You for all the good things.