I first met Bert in December 1971. The father of a dear friend, Jeannie Gilbert, he was at the time still a loyal employee of Her Majesty's Mail Service in Bexhill-on-Sea, England. I think it took all of two minutes to feel like I'd always known him. Bert – other than in this image – was a tease, a jester. We bloomed for a month in the nurturing hospitality he and his wife, Margaret, bestowed on us.
I saw him in '79 and a few times when they came to visit Jeannie & Paul here in Manitoba. Too few times.
Rarely without a roll-your-own, he loved to walk his dog on Bexhill's seashore, his metal detector always casting over the sand in search of vintage or ancient treasure. My daughter, Jill, is the proud trustee of some gold coins Bert melted down into a convoluted nugget necklace. I have a ring he made with a thrupenny as its feature, and his Royal Navy woollen tunic shirt. Bert, now deceased, has my undying love and respect.
And Bruce Springsteen never pulled off this look so well.
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