Old Photo #83 – Bert Freeman 1

I loved Bert. His weathered, canyoned postman's face told some of what lay beneath: humour, playfulness, caring... and some pain. He was easy to love. He gave so freely of himself – at least that's what my family experienced. He adored my daughter, Jill. She still has a gold-lump necklace he gave her when she was about 2 years old. She has love spoons he carved for her. And there he was in Bexhill-on-Sea and, we, in landlocked Manitoba.

He loved his seaside. He & pooch would head down most every day, metal detector and cigarette-making components in hand, for a spot of exploring. Then up to the local for a pint of Guinness and home to his shop in the backyard, where he fashioned jewelry out of what couldn't be salvaged as either coin of the realm or historic artifact.