All Things St. Jacques, NL

Phonse Farrell 1959-2015

There is a voice inside of you
That whispers all day long,
“I feel this is right for me,
I know that this is wrong.”
No teacher, preacher, parent, friend
Or wise man can decide
What’s right for you–just listen to
The voice that speaks inside.”
― Shel Silverstein

And listen he did! He listened to the rhythms of rushing waters and lapping waves, wintry winds and the choirs of evergreens dripping in spring thaw. He listened as a child to the cadent voice and wisdom of Teacher Tom, his grandfather, and the stories of his Uncle Jack. Even when he seemed distracted he listened, and made sense of his world in Bay du Nord, St. Jacques, North Sydney, St. John’s, Halifax, Glovertown, Badger and Grand Falls.

Where he listened most intently and where he grounded himself most strongly was St. Jacques. There, on the hill, on a plot of land once chosen by community leaders and officials to be the most prestigious location for a splendorous church, he propitiously set down roots. Here he listened to the silence, the undertow, the night sky and the voices of two generations before him passing through his life. In their voices he found heritage, belonging, comfort and solace, wisdom and love. Through all of that listening he found his voice. It wasn’t one that shouted and screamed or one which grated on your ears. It was quiet, resolved, softly spoken and respectful.

He thought a lot, reflected deeply and made friends. Most of the time he chose his words carefully, knowing well the power of language. Often, he effortlessly used silence to convey meaning without fearing slight or indifference. Phonse was a writer, a poet, a man who heard rhythms in a drum outside the norm.

He was one of us, one with us and one among us, a brother, a trusted friend, one loved by us all, one treasured, valued and respected for his unique spirit and fortitude. As often as one opened arms and welcomed him in, he still stood alone, maintaining a defined space all his own, a comfort zone which helped definition of self and others. It wasn’t aloofness, nor was it disdain; rather, it was part identity, part personality, part independence and a great deal of knowing himself. He was as simple as he was complex and as transparent as he was enigmatic.

He loved the ocean, the fishing, the life of the sea and all that it encompassed. He was there to greet fishermen, lend a hand with their morning catch and share in their success or failure as much as he was there for the students in his classrooms. He valued learning for its intrinsic and cultural value, placing the academic and vernacular on equal footing. The things he learned in the dory with his Uncle Fred probably carried more weight than any acquired in school.

Family carried special meaning for Phonse, expansive and inclusive, yet full of nuance. He was fortunate to be in the midst of two prolific families, the Hickey’s and the Farrells. Where they overlapped he flourished, grew and gave thanks. Though many ways measured, he was unconditional, dependable, likable, sociable and partied hard; one of the first to congratulate and one of the last to criticize.

Phonse Farrell was a fortunate man, one who found the love of a lifetime in his wife Donna; a love that allowed them to traverse the three worlds of St. Jacques, Grand Falls and Bay du Nord. Prior to his retirement in June of this year his visits home were seasonal and occasional. This year his summer bled into fall overlooking the harbour, celebrating the transition into retirement with Donna at his side. Time was taking on new meaning, new boundaries and new expectations and even new work.

Ever supportive of community and ever convinced of the integrity and strength of St. Jacques, Phonse supported and respected the efforts of others to bring about change and develop new ideas. When a Harbour Authority was imagined he was encouraging; when a new vision for St. Jacques Island was emerging he was interested and excited. During the last two years as the St. Jacques Island Heritage Corporation moved towards acquisition of the island he wanted to be apprised of all progress and was always there to offer assistance. In August when I needed to visit the island to secure light keeper records he was quick to provide transportation. While I went ashore and carried out my tasks Phonse stayed with his boat in the lee of the island and pondered its history, its present and its future.

After boarding he asked to see the documents. We browsed through the daily logs of such light keepers as Johnny Bullen, Charles Jim Sheppard and Walter Strowbridge and discussed how valuable these mundane records had become over time and how important they were now as tangible traces of lives lived on the island. I remarked that perhaps I was being a bit foolish and indulgent to even consider their preservation. He looked at me and said, “Somebody’s got to do it old man. It may as well be you, because once ‘tis lost ‘tis gone. Someone has to think about future generations.”

When I heard yesterday that Phonse had breathed his last breath on St. Jacques Island lending assistance to protecting the light keeper’s house from winter elements I was devastated, distraught and to be honest, angry that he had been taken from us so soon. In the typical way that we humans respond to death my first thoughts were of those things that wouldn’t be, those words that would never be said and all those things that would never now be done. Then, upon reflection, my response changed for there is no turning back of the clock, no undoing what’s been done and no way to prevent those things we are not privy to knowing in advance.

I thought about Phonse; thought about how a poet deserves a poetic death, about the poignancy of how he built his house in St. Jacques on the soil of one of the most symbolic and powerful buildings the community has ever known. I thought of the place of observation that location afforded him and how it suited his disposition. I thought of how that location is now referred to as Phonse Farrell’s place; no longer is it called the site of the old Catholic Church.

I reflected on my relationship with him and the mutual respect we had for each other and how supportive and encouraging he had been towards my initiatives over the years including his more than positive comments around my blog postings here on All Things St. Jacques.
Those reflections brought me to a different place, to a place of acceptance and recognition of the role Phonse has played in all of our lives in St. Jacques and in our families. We have little control over the timing of our final day, no more than we have over how it will play out. However, to have crossed that threshold on St. Jacques Island, the beacon which has served the people of St. Jacques for hundreds of years, in the presence of lifelong friends and family members doing a generous act of kindness on behalf of the community, leaves me with some sense that the poet does meet a poetic end.

If I look back at the quote from Shel Silverstein at the beginning of this piece, where he says, “No teacher, preacher, parent, friend or wise man can decide what’s right for you – just listen to the voice that speaks inside,” I think of Phonse and how he chose to live his life and I know he did listen to that voice within. I applaud him for doing so and celebrate those years he was able share with us. Yet, I cannot help but regret those years that will never come. Goodbye, my friend!

Alphonsus Farrell, Central Funeral Home, Grand Falls-Windsor