I have to tell you a little bit about my father, whose name is one of my gifts from him. John Stubbs was an Englishman of character, as independent and determined as Englishmen often are. He was born in Carlisle, near the Scottish border, in 1885.
 

His scholastic record shows that he was never late, and never missed a day of school. Typical.

Without going into a whole lot of detail, my father joined the British army on March 4, 1910 at Newcastle-on-Tyne. He was 24. He served in Baghdad, where he was in charge of the Baghdad Police Training School. I have a letter of recommendation from his superior that shows he did a good job. He returned to England in 1923. He married my mother and emigrated to Canada soon after.

We lived in the junction district of West Toronto. In the early 1940's, when I was in my teens, I often played snooker at the Junction Billiards. One time, as I was going out to play snooker, my father suggested that he would like to come along. So he did. When we got there, he asked if I knew how to play English Billiards. When I said "No", he offered to teach me.

Teach me he did. He was very good. He finally confessed that he had been a club champion in England in former times. I once potted his cue ball. He smiled. "Gentlemen don't do that", he said in a very kindly way. That won't mean anything to those who don't play billiards, but I haven't forgotten.

My father was strong, patient and kind. Maybe the kindest man I've ever known.

This picture of my father hangs on the wall of our billiard room. I never play on our new table without remembering him fondly. J