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Young Terry.
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Me and Terry with a new addition to the family - 1964.
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Circa 1967 - Me with four precious brothers who are no longer with us.
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Circa 1968 - A Christmas-time photo of all eleven of us.
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Circa 1999 - The last family photo of all eleven of us.
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A fun photo of the nine kids.
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Given the size of our family and the
fact that all the members liked to voice their opinions, our family
get-togethers were lively. Mostly we liked to have singsongs and play games,
but inevitably there would be a lively discussion about religion or politics or
gardening or anything at all that might warrant an opinion. I remember one time
when a number of us were throwing out our opinions about something typically
insignificant, when my dad (who was the one listener in the family) sighed with
frustration and said, “If only you would stop and listen to each other.” But no one heard him, except for me, only
because I was right beside him.
Terry had the most radical opinions. He
loved to challenge all our beliefs about every single issue and to play the
devil’s advocate. The following email that I received from my brother Frank,
who was a year younger than Terry, touches on the impact that Terry sometimes
had on family get-togethers.
2001/03/26
Subject: good
morning (it's morn in m.j.)
good morning
sis. it's a reasonable morning here in the jaw. + 2 right now - it's almost
noon, so it should get alot warmer. terry was down yesterday, so the family got
together (no feelings were hurt - surprise, surprise). … let me know when you
will be in red deer next and i will coincide. luv to do a trip to the rockies
with you guys. going to end this now... bye for now ... frank.
Despite
the occasional hurt feelings, we all loved having Terry around. He played the
guitar and would lead us in singsongs. He had a marvelous sense of humor and
usually had us all laughing. As time went by and as some of us moved away from
Moose Jaw, complete family gatherings were a rarity. I remember one family
reunion a few years before Terry’s disappearance when my parents’ little house
was absolutely full with visitors – cousins, grandchildren, in-laws, neighbors,
a few strays that happened to be passing by – and my mom was sitting in her
favorite chair, crying. When asked what
was wrong, she sobbed, “If only Terry would have come!” I can’t imagine the
emptiness she felt when she realized that Terry might never be visiting again.
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And he played the piano too.
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Terry leading us in a game of "Who Stole the Cookies".
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I
have some wonderful memories of Terry. As the oldest boy in the family, he
adapted well to the “big brother” role and was truly a leader. He would
organize all of us to perform skits and concerts for our parents. He would set
up our dark and dirty cellar to be a “House of Horrors” on Halloween. There is
a game called “Four Hundred” where a batter hits balls to a number of catchers,
and the first to four hundred becomes the next batter. Terry often took up the
bat and called to us, “Who wants to play Four Hundred?” He never had trouble
getting us to participate in his activities. He always made them fun and funny,
and he made his best effort to ensure the littler ones weren’t left out or
overwhelmed.
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A cedar keepsake box that Terry gave me when I was a teenager.
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Terry
introduced me to the word “antidisestablishmentarianism”. It was once the
longest non-coined and nontechnical word in the English language. It means
opposition to the withdrawal of state support or recognition from an
established church. I have never seen it used in a sentence, except in this
blog.
This
is just a little example of the impact Terry had on my life. I still remember
that word, and was thrilled to find lots of hits when I did an internet search.
Anti-establishment
is another word I associate with Terry, although I don’t think he was so much
against the establishment as he was against some of the nonsensical rules that
the establishment sometimes forced down our throats. If there is some rebel in
me, I think it is largely due to Terry’s influence. At different times in my
life, Terry’s thinking made a difference to my religious beliefs, political
stand, child-rearing methods, music preferences, diet, level of trust in
authorities, and art appreciation. When I moved away from Saskatchewan, we grew
apart and I was no longer influenced much by him, but we stayed in touch.
During one phone conversation, we were having a debate about some unimportant
aspect of life, and I admitted to being wishy-washy. Terry sighed and said to
me, “There’s something to be said for being wishy-washy.” Was my big brother
becoming tired of being a rebel?
He
didn’t start out a rebel. Terry was a model student, an altar boy, a paper boy,
took piano lessons, was an Air Cadet, learned the Morse code, and was my mom’s
number one pick for being a priest. He never did enter the seminary – that was
left up to my brother Frank (who didn’t stay there long). Terry went to
university in Regina and became a teacher. He married a beautiful small-town
girl who was also a teacher, and I figured they were going to live happily ever
after.
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Looking like a perfect candidate for the seminary.
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Terry’s
life took a turn when the school system introduced sex education into the
curriculum. Terry’s approach with his students was, “If you have the guts to
ask a question, I will give you an honest answer.” The administration didn’t
like this approach. They gave Terry numerous warnings but he stood by his
promise to his students. Eventually, the constant harassment from the
administration wore him down, and Terry resigned. He told me that he wrote his
resignation letter on a Playboy foldout. I wanted to be proud of him when he
told me what he did; instead I became worried about how Terry’s future was
unfolding.
I
shouldn’t have worried. Upon his resignation as a school teacher, Terry’s
artistic talents became unleashed. Music, art, gardening and cooking became a
big part of his life. He would eventually become a Cordon Bleu chef and a
member of the Canadian actors’ guild, and starred as General Strange – an
Indian Chief – in the Canadian movie “Big Bear”. His rich, deep voice earned
him a spot on a number of radio commercials.
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I have a recipe from Terry in his own handwriting.
(The Tabasco hint is mine). |
Terry
also home-schooled his daughter Ajineen for many years. He was one of the first
“house husbands” that I knew, although today he would be called a stay-at-home-dad.
When I gave birth to Dylan, my plan was to get back to work as soon as possible
so that we could pay off student loans and save for a house. Terry came to the
rescue. For six months, he took care of Dylan while he stayed at home with
Ajineen, who was three years older. The fact that he lived in a city forty
miles away didn’t matter. Darrel and I lived in Moose Jaw at the time, but
Darrel was working in Regina, where Terry lived. So Dylan commuted to Regina
every week day with Darrel. I think it was a good bonding time for them. Dylan
sat in his car seat in the front seat of our Chrysler Cordoba, facing Darrel,
who chatted with him all the way to and from Regina. Every day, Terry and I
would exchange notes about how Dylan was doing, what we were feeding him, any
new developments (teeth, crawling, etc.) and how much sleep he got. I still
have those notes. Terry was a fabulous caregiver and we were disappointed when
his life got too busy and he had to quit being our babysitter.
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Some pottery that Terry made for us.
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It was a special "won ton" night at their place.
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Darrel
and I both felt close to Terry and his first wife, Alice. I think both Darrel
and Alice felt overwhelmed by us Sagals, and would often huddle together at
family get-togethers. While we yelled about religion and politics, they
whispered about art. Darrel’s alliance with Alice helped the four of us bond as
couples, with Terry and Alice playing the mentor role. To us, they were a
happily married couple, on the road to spiritual and financial success, and
excellent parents. Although we grew apart when we moved out of the province, we
were still close enough that each of them phoned us to explain when and why
their marriage broke apart. Darrel was less surprised than I was.
I
can’t imagine how hard the breakup was on Terry, especially the reduced custody
of his daughter Ajineen. These were the days before internet, the days of
expensive long-distance telephone calls, so we relied on letters. I have to
admit that Terry revealed little of his feelings in his letters and instead
revealed his comic side.
Terry
came to visit us in Prince Edward Island in August of 1990 with his daughter
Ajineen. He seemed very happy at that time, and was immensely proud of his
daughter. She sang for us, played the piano, and delighted us with her beauty
and sense of humor. Terry himself
entertained us with his music, art, and comedy. He made us bread, salad
dressings that took forever (Darrel had to drive to the store for an ingredient
and all the while he was gone, Terry was drizzling oil into vinegar), and other
culinary delights. He loved the fact that we had a clothes line, and always
made a big fuss about how fresh his dried laundry smelled. He was overwhelmed
by the beauty of Prince Edward Island and was constantly taking photographs,
especially with Ajineen as the centre-piece. It was a memorable ten-day
get-together. I tried to talk Terry into moving to P.E.I. – it seemed like it
would be a very good fit. It is a safe, comfortable and artsy little island
that provides plenty of opportunity to display ones talents – whether it be
acting or pottery or cooking or whatever. But Terry’s roots were too deeply
imbedded in Regina. He just laughed at the idea.
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| A happy reunion at the PEI airport. |
After
that visit, Terry and I communicated irregularly, with a letter or phone call
from time-to-time. When internet finally became popular, I started exchanging
emails with Terry. His were always very entertaining. They were happy, chatty,
and sometimes sarcastic emails about mostly insignificant things. One contained
a recipe for lemonade.
The
next real visit together was in July 2000, just after our youngest brother
Christopher committed suicide. Terry
picked me up from the airport, took me to his place so I could have a visit
with him and Susan, and then he drove me to Moose Jaw. We had an interesting
discussion about death, life after death, funerals, and families. Terry did not
see the point of funerals, and did not attend Christopher’s. I respected his
decision, but I think it caused much grief for our mother, who believed that no
type of family get-together was meaningful unless absolutely everyone was
there. But Terry had long ago stopped shaping his life to suit our mother’s
approval … beginning with the refusal to become a priest.
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| A touching photo of Terry with the portraits of Dad and Mom in the background. |
That
next summer, the summer before Terry’s disappearance, Darrel and I had decided
to stop celebrating Christmas in a commercial fashion. No more gifts, no more
decorations, but maybe just a bit of Christmas music (not Darrel’s choice). Our
son had moved away and the holiday had become less significant for us. We
decided that instead of celebrating in the usual fashion, we would volunteer at
the Soup Kitchen. I mentioned this to Terry in one of our phone calls. He
congratulated me, but wondered why it took so long for me to come to my senses.
We chuckled. We had no idea what Christmas 2001 would be like for us.
That
same summer I received an email from Terry that now brings me much sadness. It
tells about a time when Terry and his wife visited our grandparents’ graves and
about how our dad had made a grave marker for our brother Christopher, who had
died in July of 2000.
2001/06/13
Hey
lil sis,
Thanks for the boat and weather and
household chore update...these are the type of e-mails we clip and save.
Susan and I drove into Marquis last
week for our once-every-three-year visit. The elevators are gone...almost drove
right by! We had a breakfast picnic beside grandma and grandpa's graves, and
then we walked around the town.
Then we stopped in at mom and dad's
for our once-every-two-months-when-it-isn't-winter visits. We stayed til they
started arguing about the garden. I guess a winter visit would preclude that
type of argument. Dad proudly showed us the stainless steel cross he had made
as a grave marker for Chris. I think the inscription reads, "Spirit in the
Sky" because of Chris' love for sky diving. We have two grave markers in
our garden. Susan's grandparents were buried with gravestones, but they never
used the individual markers "mother" and "father". She
found them out at her dad's and brought them home…they're now stepping stones
in our lily and iris bed.
Susan is into her second week of
holidays. We walk alot, look at the garden alot, visit nurseries alot, and she
works on her thesis. Did a neat supper the other night with the garden
lettuce...which almost melts sweetly in the mouth. I mixed up cream cheese with
garden baby dill and spread it on the lettuce and rolled it, and did the same
with cream cheese and smoked salmon...yummy. I expect my peas to flower this
week.
Ajineen should be off to Kimberley
for her two month stint, and she expects she may visit Regina in August before
rehearsals for Music Man begin in Vancouver.
Ciao for now,
Have fun this weekend,
xxoo Terence
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Six months later, Terry would disappear from our lives forever.
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The grave marker for Christopher now also commemorates Terry.
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The cross that Dad made for Chris.
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| The cross now commemorates Gus, Rose, Christopher, and Terry. |
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| My dad and his five sons. |
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This was taken after Christopher's death,
one of the last reunions before Terry's disappearance.
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