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Oh, those family visits at Doon: when I, a very small girl stared in round eyed wonder at the beautiful things I must not touch - exquisite hand painted china - magnificent paintings; and the conversations I couldn't understand as they stood before this one and that one. I could never keep up with those groups. My small mind could not move from one picture to another. I would stand in solemn awe in front of one, until my uncle would laughingly pat me on the head. Then I would pretend I wasn't interested to get away from the laughter which followed.


There were seven in our family and Jane and I were the youngest. She and my eldest sister became artists. Indeed the influence of the man of Doon left its stamp on all of us.

Every Christmas Eve we used to have a grand reunion of the family at our home in Waterloo, Ont. Fifty or sixty relatives celebrated the Yuletide together. It was our custom to have an entertainment at which Uncle Homer was always the chairman. There has never been a chairman like him, distinguished, witty, charming and suddenly serious, like the time when I asked him the childish question, "How do you paint those beautiful things, Uncle Homer?" His answer was suddenly grave as he held out those hands, strong, sensitive hands, "Not with butcher's meat, Kiddie." I didn't know what he meant then, but now I know.

Over the years that followed, his home in Doon had a magnetic attraction, for it was a mecca of inspiration and hospitality for humble or great. In his eyes all were worthy, the itinerant pedlar or the Premier of Canada.

The sincerity, gentleness and nobility of this great soul will live forever in our hearts.

"Lives of great men oft remind us

We can make our lives sublime

And departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time."

-Ruth Whiting

from: her personal scrap book, Archives, Homer Watson House & Gallery