David Franklin Sarty
October 23, 1938 -- April 21, 2003
October 23, 1938 -- April 21, 2003
A Service to Celebrate the Life
of
David Franklin Sarty
October 23, 1938 -- April 21, 2003
Bridgewater United Church
Friday, April 25, 2003
Officiating at today's Service:
Minister: The Rev. George MacLean
Organist: Margaret Hutchinson
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.
Not the labours of my hands
Can fulfill thy law's demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and thou alone. Amen
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to thy Cross I cling;
Naked, come to thee for dress;
Helpless, look to thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me. Saviour, or I die.
While I draw this fleeting breath,
When mine eyelids close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,
See thee on thy judgment throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee. Amen.
We are here this morning to celebrate and remember the life of my father David Franklin Sarty. My Dad was born near here in Doctor's cove in 1938. In the period of his life before he became a Dad, he had accomplished himself as a Queen's Scout, met my mother and begun a career with the Bank of Nova Scotia in Halifax. He started his career at the Bank from scratch; doing in the 1950's a job that is now performed by bicycle couriers. Given his athletic abilities, I can imagine him being well suited for such a job. Maybe if spandex and 10 speed bicycles had been invented in the 1950's, he'd have competed in bicycle races instead of in 10K road runs in his later years.
The banker career choice proved to be a challenging one. A challenge that he meet with success; my Dad worked his way up the corporate ladder to become a branch manager and then a Senior Administrator in the Bank's western Canadian head offices. Working his way up the Bank's hierarchy required that he be able to take a promotion anywhere in the country. My Dad got those promotions, so his life's journey would take him far away from his childhood home in Nova Scotia.
From Halifax, he moved to Montreal, where I first met him as a new Dad, then to Ottawa - Sudbury, Ontario - Saint John, New Brunswick - Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island - Moncton, New Brunswick - Saskatoon, Saskatchewan - Calgary, Alberta and Coaldale, Alberta where he retired. As a child, I was always thrilled when the announcement was made that we were going to move. After his early retirement - I'm so glad that he decided to retire early - David and Amy spent some time in Shuswap, British Columbia followed by a winter in Arizona to try and figure out where to head next. They decided to move back to the Calgary area - to Cochrane specifically - a small town just outside of Calgary. That move lasted a couple of years before my Dad decided that where he really wanted to be was to be back in his home town of Bridgewater. So in the Year of our Lord 2000 my Dad and Mom moved back here.
My father taught me many things as I grew up. I have memories of him flooding our Sudbury backyard with a patch of ice upon which he taught me how to skate. And then, behind that same Sudbury house, sliding down an enormous hill on a wooden toboggan with him. When I was older, he - perhaps in error - taught me how to operate a motor vehicle. In the years in between, and in the years since, I also recall many conversations with my Dad on religion and the meaning of life in general. As with a few other things, we had differing opinions on such matters. But those conversations, and the subsequent thoughts I had based on those conversations, had a substantial effect on my current opinions on matters of religion and the meaning of life.
As I stand before you here today, I, like everyone else, know that there are no fixed answers to the deep questions of life and death. But, as a child, with several solid years of Sunday school training under my belt, I declared to my Dad one day that I was not afraid of death. My Dad replied, "You may not be afraid but I definitely am." Hmm. Well after more thought I decide that perhaps my Dad might know something that me or my Sunday school teachers didn't. (After all, I do recall that he once actually taught some Sunday school classes.) I start to question everything; to the point of existential angst. At that point my Dad offered something along the lines of, "I think you're spending too much time worrying about your existence instead of enjoying life".
My Dad, of course, was right. He had the secret. Have fun. Have friends. Enjoy life. There are no answers to questions like, "Why are we here?" "Why is there something instead of nothing?" My Dad had many friends. They live all over the North American continent. Some of those friends are here today. Many others grieve the loss of David Sarty from much further away.
Well, ever the rebellious son, I continue, especially now, to wonder, "What happens to one's personality when you die?" I think that it has to disappear with one's brain. "What of one's soul?" I think it must be eternal. It cannot perish. That "bare seed", as Paul refers to it in his letter to the Corinthians, must be a part of us that we cannot possibly understand in our mortal state. I don't think it makes any sense to ask "What is my Dad feeling now?" because I think that you probably need a body to feel. But I think he must now have, in some way, a sense of a life well lived. He has unequivocally contributed to the betterment of the human condition. He was married to, was faithful to, and loved very much, my mother in a marriage that lasted, but for his untimely death, almost 45 years. That's a noteworthy distinction in today's society! And as result of his commitment to his wife and his family he had three happy children who grew into men with the same high values as he had. Those sons now father eight amazing grandchildren who will carry on Dave's lessons and values for another generation.
If, outside his immediate family, you consider also David's considerable circle of friends, Stan and Minnie, my cousins and their families, it's clear that my Dad's influence on this Earthly existence will carry on for a good long time. A life well lived indeed.
So. Thank you Dad. We will all miss you.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death"
These words are from the Psalm of King David that were read earlier in the service.
Our David, however, we know won't be walking through that valley - he'll be running.
My strongest and most lasting connection with my father has been through running. I started long-distance running 24 years ago just before entering high school, and Dad started his running career within a year after that. At that time, he was just a few years older than I am now, and until then his sporting activities were primarily golfing and curling. But, he was keen on taking up running because he wanted to get into better shape and lose weight. Now, I should say that he wasn't unfamiliar with running, because - as his close family can attest - he would periodically resurrect the fitness regime he learned from his youthful days with the Militia: this would involve lots of sit-ups and so on, plus (the highlight!) 30 minutes of pounding the floor running on the spot (which he would do in the basement hallway of our Moncton home) - the sight of Dad running on the spot was indeed a little humorous to us as kids, but it clearly kept his fitness level high, and he was quite happy and willing to take his running out of the basement, into the streets.
And when Dad started running, he took it on in the same way he took on any task: with full commitment, and a desire to "measure himself" and his performance. So, he quickly started running road races (5k's and 10k's), getting right in there with my young running buddies and myself. This made him "one of the gang" with my high school running friends, and we shared with Dad a lot of sore muscles, cramped legs, blistered feet, and happy finishes when achieving our best times. His dedication to running was an inspiration for me, and for many of us young people out on the roads with him - he always wanted to push himself to find his limits - he even started running shorter races on the track, and became a regular Masters competitor at our track meets. I think running on the track made him feel young, and he definitely felt like "one of us" youngsters. Watching him run those 800m and 1500m races well into his 50's made me proud to be his son - and often was part of the inspiration for me to keep on my game myself.
As with everything in Dad's life, he shared his running with Mom. At all of Dad's races, his on-the-side teammate, Amy, was there with the stopwatch, the extra clothes, and any other necessities for the run. And, as with almost every activity Dad entered into, he wanted to help keep that activity organized and vitalized - and so he and Mom volunteered their efforts and time (again, together) to serve on the Board of Directors of the Saskatoon Track & Field Club, and both became sanctioned track & field officials (they became fixtures for several years at track meets around Saskatchewan officiating long jump - they even were invited to officiate at the World Student Games in Edmonton) - so good a job did they do, that Dad was voted as President of the Saskatchewan Track & Field Association from 1985-1987 - a job traditionally reserved for the "die hard" born-and-raised track-and-field enthusiast. That he could enter into track and field in his 40's, as a way to keep himself in shape and participate in an activity with his son, and end up in charge of a provincial amateur sporting association, is truly a testament to his dedication to volunteerism and service for others.
Although he got involved with Track & Field back in the early 80's in support of my own racing, now - in the circles of the track & field elite in Saskatchewan - the name David Sarty is well known and respected. An email I received last night from Dale Yellowlees in Saskatoon echoes this sentiment; Dale was a long-time coach of the University of Saskatchewan Track and Cross Country Varsity Teams (and my own coach for many years). Dale said: "We remember [your dad] as a warm man who gave a lot to track in Saskatoon during his time here. If your dad had still been here, organizations would have wanted him for his good judgment and skill." I am proud to be his son.
Over the last 5-10 years, as my own running has waned, David's remained steady. Whenever we visited, we would have our run together - usually with Ralph the Dog pulling David along (although, later, David seemed to be dragging old Ralph, until Ralph decided he'd stick to walking!). These times we had running together has formed the glue of our relationship for a long time.
Now, I am trying to get my own running back up and going - he always wanted me to keep it up, and now the torch has been passed to me to keep up our tradition. Over the last couple of years, David's foot and hip were giving enough problems that he told me last Saturday he was thinking he'd need to stop running, as much as he loved it, and stick with golfing, curling and square dancing.
Now, Dad, you are free to run. So - Run. Run without pain. Run with God. We will remember you every time we lace on our shoes. Every time we golf, curl, dance. I will remember you on every run.
We have gathered here in remembrance and in faith. We are remembering how David put himself into the place and time where he was, added his outlook and abilities to what was going on, and generally enriched the world around him. We valued his touch on life, and this church was the stronger for his part in its life and work.
We are gathered, too, in faith, for life is more than the sum of our years. Life is measured in interests, in involvements, in objectives, in beliefs. Faith is being convinced of what we cannot see to the extent that we commit ourselves to objectives which are beyond space and time.
Early peoples recognized that ideals are the great realities; it is what we dream and desire which makes our life. Bible people gave us to understand God draws us along the way with hopes to dare and expectations to follow. Christ came showing God's initiatives of love and caring, of finding ways to help look after one another, of changing things for the better. And, when it seemed all was lost in Crucifixion, God stepped in with Resurrection power, raised Christ from the dead, and brings us in our turn to eternal life in His Nearer Presence. As St. Paul phrased it: "Nothing is able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Whether we earn or deserve such destiny is not ours to decide. God has taken the initiative in love. He loves us. He comes to receive us to Himself, that where He is, we shall be also.
Nor are we who remain alive here left desolate. "I will come to you," Jesus promised. And in a multitude of His own secret ways. He restores our souls and shares His presence and His peace. "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.
Chorus:
So I'll cherish the old rugged cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross
And exchange it some day for a crown.
Oh, that old rugged cross, so despised by the world.
Has a wondrous attraction for me;
For the dear Lamb of God left His glory above
To bear it to dark Calvary.
In the old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine
A wondrous beauty I see;
For 'twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died
To pardon and sanctify me.
To the old rugged cross I will ever be true,
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He'll call me some day to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I'll share.
by Bob Florence
He could run longer and farther than the other kids, and not just the neighbourhood kids, but against almost any kid, anywhere. There wasn't a boy his age in Saskatchewan who could keep up to him. Right from the start of the race he'd move to the front of the pack, drop the rest of them like dandruff, and be gone.
Even in a middle-distance race - in the 800 metres, where it's just two trips around the track - he smoked them.He ran times in high school competition which were off the chart then, and today, more than 20 years later, are records even now. Adam was the bomb.
He was middle-aged, and while he was no Pillsbury Dough Boy, he was developing a bit of a roll. To supplement his regular activity at the curling rink and on the golf course, he was returning to the fitness program he had followed as a youth in the militia. He was back to doing sit-ups and push-ups and running on the spot.
He put on sweatpants and a T shirt, and down in the basement hallway of his home in Moncton, he ran on the spot for 30 minutes straight. He did this two, three times a week and it was something his three sons found hilarious.
Gordon, Kevin and Adam would be upstairs - doing homework, reading - dad would be downstairs, and throughout the house echoed the sound of pounding feet, like Jennifer Beals in Flashdance.
He could run for miles.
"I could run longer than everybody else," he says.
When the family was transferred to Saskatoon through his father's job with the Bank of Nova Scotia, Adam's running continued, more earnest and ambitious than ever.
Adam didn't just run, he raced. He erased. He broke records in the midget boys 800 and 1,500 metres at the Saskatoon high school championships, and later, in the junior boys 1,500 and 3,000 at Saskatchewan high school provincials.
His father David was also getting in the game. David came up out of the basement and took his running outdoors.
Although his training volume wasn't anything on the order of Adam's, who as early as Grade 9 was running 16 kilometres a day, David was matching Adam blister for blister.
Says Adam: "When dad started running, he took it on the same way he took on any task: with full commitment and a desire to measure himself and his performance."
David and his wife, Amy, went to all Adam's meets. Soon they were volunteering to help out at the track. They became meet officials. Both of them served on the board of directors with the Saskatoon Track and Field Club. David was president of the Saskatchewan Track and Field Association. Adam, meanwhile, graduated from Evan Hardy Collegiate with honours and as one of the finest distance runners in Saskatchewan high school history. On to university.
"After my third year of university I dedicated the summer to training real hard, to seeing how fast I could get," says Adam, who was in elite senior competition now. "I went out to B.C., to an all-comers meet at Swangard Stadium. I ran a 3:50.9 (in the 1,500); had the time of my life. I'm thinking I'm really something. - I came 11th. It was all Canadians finishing in front of me. I'd given all that I had and I got killed. I decided that was it, the last hurrah. I was done."
His father was sorry to hear that.
While Adam continued to race, it was not with the same passion as before.He went running off in other directions, going into coaching as an assistant at Evan Hardy Collegiate; going to M.I.T. in Cambridge and to Florida State in Tallahassee to further his studies.
After getting an engineering physics degree with the University President's Medal and a physics PhD at the University of Saskatchewan, Adam landed in Nova Scotia. He is an associate professor at Saint Mary's University in Halifax in the department of astronomy and physics. He and his wife Diane have two daughters: Julia, 7, and Isabel, 4.
David, too, returned to Nova Scotia. On retirement, he and Amy moved to Bridgewater, Amy's birthplace. Although David was from Doctor's Cove, Bridgewater is the town he called home.
David ran a 10 K road race there a few summers ago. He finished in 44 minutes and change. That same summer, Adam did a 10 K while in Tallahassee. It was hot. The course was hilly. Adam's time was just over 43 minutes, not much faster than his father.
"I'm catching up to you," David told Adam, and it's true, running was bringing them close together.
"Running formed the glue of our relationship," Adam says. "My strongest and most lasting connection with my father has been through running." The last few years, whenever Adam got the chance to make it down to his folk's place in Bridgewater, 96 kilometres away from Halifax, he and his dad and his dad's dog Ralph, a Collie/Siberian Husky cross, would go for a run together.
"We did that right up until the end," Adam says.
David died suddenly last April. He was 64.
In the final line of the eulogy Adam said: "I will remember you on every run." The front-runner, the record-breaker, the whiz kid who went the distance all by himself, has father with him now, stride for stride. Adam Sarty never again runs alone.