By Teresa McTavish
My name is Teresa Mctavish and I live with my husband Campbell in the state of Victoria, Australia. I have a brief explanation, a story, and a deep thank you to make.
Owen Cook was my father. He came to Dunnville from Melbourne Australia in 1943 to get his wings as part of the empire training programme. He graduated and went on to pilot Lancasters out of Mepal, England, survived the war, and lived until the grand old age of 100. He told me his days in Canada, flying over the grand landscape and seeing the mighty lakes from above, were among the happiest days of his life.
My husband and I recently visited the United States and as we were going to Niagara Falls, we decided to drive to Dunnville, just to see where dad had been all those years before. We knew our itinerary was tight and had looked up the No. 6 RCAF Museum. We saw that there wasn’t any way that we could visit on an open day, but decided we could at least drive to the town and maybe see the old airfield from the road.
So, on April 29 we arrived in Dunnville early. Wanting a coffee, we asked a passing lady where we could get a good cup of Joe. (I believe her name was Cyndi but I apologize I didn’t write it down.) She asked where we were from and we told her our tale. She asked how long we were going to be at the coffee shop and we said a while, as we were also having a bite to eat. She said if we could give her an hour, she might be able to find someone with some more information on the museum. We thanked her and sure enough, an hour later she arrived back, with a gentleman joining soon after. His name was John McKay and we talked about the training program and the airfield. He then so generously ordered to take us out to the museum and let us see the ground that my dad had trodden so long ago. When we arrived, not only did John open the museum but he gave us a full tour of the amazing treasures. It was an act of such generosity from Cyndi and John, my husband and I remember it as one of the best days of our entire trip. As we were nearly finished, John brought out a register my father had signed on the day he got his wings and then, as the grand finale, a class photo with my dad in it. A photo no one in my family, including dad, had ever seen. Dunnville, which had been nothing but a recalled memory that no one but my father could experience, had suddenly become a tangible reality that I could now share with the memory of my dad, thanks to the generosity of two chance encounters on the streets of Dunnville.
So, I have two thank yous to make.
The first is long overdue and comes from 1943. It is to the people of Dunnville and the empire training program of Canada, which dad always said was the single best program of any in the world. You trained him to be a great pilot and taught him how to always bring his crew home. An achievement of which he was always proud. We now understand why dad remembered his time in Dunnville with so much joy.
The second thank you is to Cyndi for your act of kindness, for which we will be eternally grateful, and to John McKay for giving us what, to you is your time but to us is a reality and a connection to dad that only walking in a man’s footsteps can bring. We will never forget the generosity of you both. Thank you to you both and to the town of Dunnville.
Kind regards,
Teresa and Campbell McTavish,
Victoria, Australia
