Welcome

Welcome to the on-line memorial site for Ted Roach.  Ted wanted to share his photography with his family.  Over the coming months, I will create a link to a file sharing site, so that you may all have access to his .jpegs.  There are thousands of them, so we'll do our best to get a sampling of them up as soon as possible.

I also think this could be a great place to share other memories of Ted.  The eulogy only scratched the surface!  He meant so many things to so many different people and we all have our own special memories.

The Lorax

Read by Terri "Gidget" MacAdam, Ted's step-daughter.

As Terri prefaced during the memorial, Ted loved to read - they were a family who read together.  And in his final months, she would read him stories when she went to visit.  He loved this one because it was sad and hopeful.

At the far end of town

where the Grickle-grass grows

and the wind smells slow-and-sour when it blows

and no birds ever sing excepting old crows...

is the Street of the Lifted Lorax.

And deep in the Grickle-grass, some people say,

if you look deep enough you can still see, today,

where the Lorax once stood

just as long as it could

before somebody lifted the Lorax away.

What was the Lorax?

And why was it there?

And why was it lifted and taken somewhere

from the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows?

The old Once-ler still lives here.

Ask him. He knows.

You won't see the Once-ler.

Don't knock at his door.

He stays in his Lerkim on top of his store.

He lurks in his Lerkim, cold under the roof,

where he makes his own clothes

out of miff-muffered moof.

And on special dank midnights in August,

he peeks

out of the shutters

and sometimes he speaks

and tells how the Lorax was lifted away.

He'll tell you, perhaps...

if you're willing to pay.

On the end of a rope

he lets down a tin pail

and you have to toss in fifteen cents

and a nail

and the shell of a great-great-great-

grandfather snail.

Then he pulls up the pail,

makes a most careful count

to see if you've paid him

the proper amount.

Then he hides what you paid him

away in his Snuvv,

his secret strange hole

in his gruvvulous glove.

Then he grunts, "I will call you by Whisper-ma-Phone,

for the secrets I tell you are for your ears alone."

SLUPP!

Down slupps the Whisper-ma-Phone to your ear

and the old Once-ler's whispers are not very clear,

since they have to come down

through a snergelly hose,

and he sounds

as if he had

smallish bees up his nose.

"Now I'll tell you,"he says, with his teeth sounding gray,

"how the Lorax got lifted and taken away...

It all started way back...

such a long, long time back...

Way back in the days when the grass was still green

and the pond was still wet

and the clouds were still clean,

and the song of the Swomee-Swans rang out in space...

one morning, I came to this glorious place.

And I first saw the trees!

The Truffula Trees!

The bright-colored tufts of the Truffula Trees!

Mile after mile in the fresh morning breeze.

And, under the trees, I saw Brown Bar-ba-loots

frisking about in their Bar-ba-loot suits

as they played in the shade and ate Truffula fruits.

From the rippulous pond

came the comfortable sound

of the Humming-Fish humming

while splashing around.

But those trees! Those trees!

Those Truffula Trees!

All my life I'd been searching

for trees such as these.

The touch of their tufts

was much softer than silk.

And they had the sweet smell

of fresh butterfly milk.

I felt a great leaping

of joy in my heart.

I knew just what I'd do!

I unloaded my cart.

In no time at all, I had built a small shop.

Then I chopped down a Truffula Tree with one chop.

And with great skillful skill and with great speedy speed,

I took the soft tuft, and I knitted a Thneed!

The instant I'd finished, I heard a ga-Zump!

I looked.

I saw something pop out of the stump

of the tree I'd chopped down. It was sort of a man.

Describe him?... That's hard. I don't know if I can.

He was shortish. And oldish.

And brownish. And mossy.

And he spoke with a voice

that was sharpish and bossy.

"Mister!" he said with a sawdusty sneeze,

"I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees.

I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues.

And I'm asking you, sir, at the top if my lungs"-

he was very upset as he shouted and puffed-

"What's that THING you've made out of my Truffula tuft?"

"Look, Lorax," I said."There's no cause for alarm.

I chopped just one tree. I am doing no harm.

I'm being quite useful. This thing is a Thneed.

A Thneed's a Fine-Something-That-All-People-Need!

It's a shirt. It's a sock. It's a glove, It's a hat.

But it has other uses. Yes, far beyond that.

You can use it for carpets. For pillows! For sheets!

Or curtains! Or covers for bicycle seats!"

The Lorax said,

"Sir! You are crazy with greed.

There is no one on earth

who would buy that fool Thneed!"

But the very next minute I proved he was wrong.

For, just at that minute, a chap came along,

and he thought the Thneed I had knitted was great.

He happily bought it for three ninety-eight

I laughed at the Lorax, "You poor stupid guy!

You never can tell what some people will buy."

"I repeat," cried the Lorax,

"I speak for the trees!"

"I'm busy," I told him.

"Shut up, if you please."

I rushed 'cross the room, and in no time at all,

built a radio-phone. I put in a quick call.

I called all my brothers and uncles and aunts

and I said, "Listen here! Here's a wonderful chance

for the whole Once-ler Family to get mighty rich!

Get over here fast! Take the road to North Nitch.

Turn left at Weehawken. Sharp right at South Stitch."

And, in no time at all,

in the factory I built,

the whole Once-ler Family

was working full tilt.

We were all knitting Thneeds

just as busy as bees,

to the sound of the chopping

of Truffula Trees.

Then...

Oh! Baby! Oh!

How my business did grow!

Now, chopping one tree

at a time

was too slow.

So I quickly invented my Super-Axe-Hacker

which whacked off four Truffula Trees at one smacker.

We were making Thneeds

four times as fast as before!

And that Lorax?...

He didn't show up any more.

But the next week

he knocked

on my new office door.

He snapped, "I am the Lorax who speaks for the trees

which you seem to be chopping as fast as you please.

But I'm also in charge of the Brown Bar-ba-loots

who played in the shade in their Bar-ba-loot suits

and happily lived, eating Truffula Fruits.

"NOW... thanks to your hacking my trees to the ground,

there's not enought Truffula Fruit to go 'round.

And my poor Bar-ba-loots are all getting the crummies

because they have gas, and no food, in their tummies!

"They loved living here. But I can't let them stay.

They'll have to find food. And I hope that they may.

Good luck, boys," he cried. And he sent them away.

I, the old Once-ler, felt sad

as I watched them all go.

BUT...

business is business!

And business must grow

regardless of crummies in tummies, you know.

I meant no harm. I most truly did not.

But I had to grow bigger.So bigger I got.

I biggered my factory. I biggered my roads.

I biggered my wagons. I biggered the loads

of the Thneeds I shipped out. I was shipping them forth

to the South! To the East! To the West! To the North!

I went right on biggering... selling more Thneeds.

And I biggered my money, which everyone needs.

Then again he came back! I was fixing some pipes

when that old-nuisance Lorax came back with more gripes.

"I am the Lorax," he coughed and he whiffed.

He sneezed and he snuffled. He snarggled. He sniffed.

"Once-ler!" he cried with a cruffulous croak.

"Once-ler! You're making such smogulous smoke!

My poor Swomee-Swans... why, they can't sing a note!

No one can sing who has smog in his throat.

"And so," said the Lorax,

"-please pardon my cough-

they cannot live here.

So I'm sending them off.

"Where will they go?...

I don't hopefully know.

They may have to fly for a month... or a year...

To escape from the smog you've smogged up around here.

"What's more," snapped the Lorax. (His dander was up.)

"Let me say a few words about Gluppity-Glupp.

Your machine chugs on, day and night without stop

making Gluppity-Glupp. Also Schloppity-Schlopp.

And what do you do with this leftover goo?...

I'll show you. You dirty old Once-ler man, you!

"You're glumping the pond where the Humming-Fish hummed!

No more can they hum, for their gills are all gummed.

So I'm sending them off. Oh, their future is dreary.

They'll walk on their fins and get woefully weary

in search of some water that isn't so smeary."

And then I got mad.

I got terribly mad.

I yelled at the Lorax, "Now listen here, Dad!

All you do is yap-yap and say, 'Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad!'

Well, I have my rights, sir, and I'm telling you

I intend to go on doing just what I do!

And, for your information, you Lorax, I'm figgering

On biggering

and BIGGERING

andBIGGERING

and BIGGERING,

turning MORE Truffula Trees into Thneeds

which everyone, EVERYONE, EVERYONE needs!"

And at that very moment, we heard a loud whack!

From outside in the fields came a sickening smack

of an axe on a tree. Then we heard the tree fall.

The very last Truffula Tree of them all!

No more trees. No more Thneeds. No more work to be done.

So, in no time, my uncles and aunts, every one,

all waved me good-bye. They jumped into my cars

and drove away under the smoke-smuggered stars.

Now all that was left 'neath the bad smelling-sky

was my big empty factory...

the Lorax...

and I.

The Lorax said nothing. Just gave me a glance...

just gave me a very sad, sad backward glance...

as he lifted himself by the seat of his pants.

And I'll never forget the grim look on his face

when he heisted himself and took leave of this place,

through a hole in the smog, without leaving a trace.

And all that the Lorax left here in this mess

was a small pile of rocks, with one word...

"UNLESS."

Whatever that meant, well, I just couldn't guess.

That was long, long ago.

But each day since that day

I've sat here and worried

and worried away.

Through the years, while my buildings

have fallen apart,

I've worried about it

with all of my heart.

"But now," says the Once-ler,

"Now that you're here,

the word of the Lorax seems perfectly clear.

UNLESS someone like you

cares a whole awful lot,

nothing is going to get better.

It's not.

"SO...

Catch!" calls the Once-ler.

He lets something fall.

"It's a Truffula Seed.

It's the last one of all!

You're in charge of the last of the Truffula Seeds.

And Truffula Trees are what everyone needs.

Plant a new Truffula.Treat it with care.

Give it clean water. And feed it fresh air.

Grow a forest. Protect it from axes that hack.

Then the Lorax

and all of his friends

may come back."

Desirada

Read by: Tina MacDonald

Ted loved this poem and, like the Lorax, he had Tina read it into his recorder.  He told me that he listened to it a couple of times a day.  Close to the end, he had periods of restlessness, and sometimes this poem would help him settle for a few minutes.  Dianne and I read it to him many times in the last ten days of his life.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. 

Be careful. 

Strive to be happy.

© Max Ehrmann 1927

Ted's Eulogy

Written and read by Sara Roach Lewis

When my youngest son, Nathan was about two and a half, someone was at our house and trying to figure out what he called his grandparents – they were asking him – do you have a nanny and a poppy?  Yes, he said.  Do you have a grandma? A grandpa? Yes, he said.   They were satisfied with the conversation but then he also added, earnestly, and I have a TED.

And really…we all had a TED.

He was a wonderfully funny, creative, and unique individual.  He definitely saw the world in a different way than the rest of us.  Whether it was through the lens of his camera or his love of numbers and puzzles.

Ted came back into my life in a significant way about eight years ago – when I had my first son John.  He was living in Ch’town at the old folks home and started coming to visit in Souris.  A couple of years later, he moved to Souris.  He had his own apartment for most of  his last years, but to the untrained eye – he lived with Dad.  I used to say his job was to go to Dad’s house.  He arrived most mornings around 9 and left at 5 unless Dad had something good on for dinner.

Together the two of them fought, bickered, and laughed through the days.  Dianne tells this great story of one day she popped into the house after work and the two of them were having a particularly foul disagreement about something.  They continued to fight and snark her whole visit, revisiting the argument each certain they were right in their loud, insistent way.  She said it was like world war three.  After awhile, Ted said, well I’m going home and Dad said, okay I’ll see you tomorrow. 

They really had a good time together, despite the bickering.  I remember one time Uncle Sandy was home and I asked them about the time that Sandy hit Dad with the snow shovel and almost killed him.  Well that was ammunition for the weekend.  Of course, Dad and Sandy had competing versions of the story.  I left and came back the next day and they were still fighting about it each convinced they knew what happened.  Finally, Ted said, pointing at them, look there’s your version, your version and (pointing at himself) the truth. 

A number of years ago, Ted and Dad befriended a couple of Russian migrant workers from the fishplant.  My goodness, they had fun together.  Nataliy was an amazing cook and introduced dad and Ted to yummy Russian food like belini (crepe like pancakes).  They went potato picking, chanterelle hunting, blueberry picking.  Ted taught them English and used to laugh at the games of charades they would play in an attempt to communicate.  We bought Eveginy a camera for Christmas and then he and Ted photographed everything in sight!  He missed them terribly when they went back to Russia but continued their friendship through skype.

I feel incredibly blessed that we had those last years with Ted.  He loved my kids and had such patience with them.  A couple of years ago when they did major roadwork on mainstreet, I would drop the kids off to Dad and Ted for a couple of hours so I could get some work done and Ted would take Nathan up to the top of the street so they could watch the roadwork.  How lucky Nathan was to have a great Uncle with such patience.

He would take him outside and Nathan would drive around Dad’s backyard in his little purple car.  Ted would photograph their watergun fights and help them find interesting rocks and bugs in the back yard.

And of course, I am not the only one with the great memories of Ted, the uncle.  It is unanimous among the cousins that he was cool and fun! Greg and Alaina both fondly remember when he lived with them that he would take them every Saturday morning to feed the ducks, have breakfast at McDonalds or to the park.  They remember his quick quick wit and fun personality.  As Alaina said, He was always patient and kind and FUN! he was a big kid himself and we loved him for it! Ted could always make me laugh.

My most vivid recollection of Ted from when I was a kid was around his car.  Remember that old Ford car.  I told Ted in the last week of so of his life that when I was a kid I thought he and his car looked alike.  They were both long and lean and incredibly cool!

Last week on FB, I saw some of my cousins share their memories of Uncle Ted.  Sandy’s son, Glenn said: “My childhood hero has moved onto bigger and better things, the man that gave me the shirt off his back cause I thought it was cool. He was an inspiration on how to live life to the fullest. I will ALWAYS remember him for the smile on his face and life of the party.”

And clearly Ted could get away with things that others couldn’t.  I’m really not a fan of guns and didn’t allow toy guns in the house.  One day when John was about 3.5, he chewed his toast in the shape of a gun and aimed it at his newborn brother.  Over the next few days, he turned everything into a gun.  I couldn’t understand why this was happening, so I was sharing this with Dad and Ted one day.  Ted said, Oh well, we watched a John Wayne movie last week when he was here.  Mystery solved!

Glenn and I were sharing uncle Ted stories last week and he reminded me of the time his five year old daughter Maddie came to the Island on holidays with her grandparents, Sandy and Dianne, and went back to Ontario knowing how to roll smokes, courtesy of Uncle Ted!

As you all know, Ted was diagnosed with a brain tumor three and a half months ago.  As with his life, Ted took to dying on his own terms.  There was certainly no elephant in the room when it came to his diagnosis.  He was accepting of his fate and continued live his life as he saw fit right until the end.  He took pictures.  He made new friends.  He ate great meals. He charmed and terrorized the nurses. I met an old family friend at the grocery a few days before Ted died.  He said he went to visit Ted and couldn’t believe his attitude.  He said, I was kinda dreading the visit and when I left, I felt better!

The day of his diagnosis, when we had a quiet moment, he asked me what I was going to tell the kids.  I said, Ted.  I’d like to tell them the truth.  He agreed and thought that was the best approach.  Dianne and I were both there when Ted told John that he was going to die.  It was heartbreaking as a mother and also joyful that they were able to address what was happening in a way that an eight year old can understand.  That John had the opportunity to tell Ted him loved him and to begin to say goodbye.

In his dying, Ted was still the life of the party – in a few short weeks, many of his siblings came to visit him, as well his close friends Moon and Stewart Bennett.  He was well enough to come to Dad’s house for lobster dinners.  The last time Rita and Jackie were home, Rita made a Jiggs dinner.  Nothing pleased Ted more than to break bread with family and friends (and he loved the Newfoundlanders!).  That was definitely one of his most cherished memories of the past few months.

About five or six weeks ago, I popped in to see Ted one Saturday morning. He was quiet and introspective and rather emotional that day.  He wanted to make his arrangements.  So we cried our way through a conversation about the obituary, where he would like donations made in his name, the wake and his memorial service.  He asked me to do this eulogy and then said, but I don’t want you up there talking about what a good man I was.  A kinda laughed and said, well could I temper it…cause you were a good man.

But what Ted was saying, is like all of us, he was not perfect.  Ted struggled with mental health issues for my whole adult life.  He was often paranoid and tortured.  He was suborn and obstinate.  He hated to admit he was wrong.

At certain times, his anger was visceral and he just couldn’t see that his family was trying to help him out.  He raged against taking medicine, doctors, and any sort of therapy.

I’ve discovered the common theme with Ted is that he lived with and fell out with most of his siblings over the years.

Ted spent a lot of time in the past weeks and months of his life reconciling with those who loved him enough to try and help through his dark days.  Once he forgave, he said on a number of occasions that he couldn’t bring back that rage and anger, even if he tried. 

Ted was a mystery to me in a lot of ways.  He was like Newton’s Law of Motion.  For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.  He loved his family dearly and yet completely lost touch with his biological children.  He loved technology and was convinced it was evil.  He was utterly charming and full of rage.  He laughed quickly and forgave slowly.  And it is that whole complicated person that we are here to celebrate today. 

It is impossible to talk about Ted’s life and not talk about his photography.  Ted was a photographer long before everyone had a digital camera.  He was old school.  I remember his camera bag when I was a kid – it was full of filters, and lenses and different flashes.  He knew what apertures and f-stops were and how to use his camera to make and capture the beauty he saw in every day life.

He shot so many pictures of my kids – I could always rely on him for the

Birthday parties, Christmas morning.

I learned so much from him about to see beauty in every day life.

My cousin Barbie shared a story with me about her love of photography:  She had taken Ted outside in a wheelchair so he could have a smoke and they were chatting about photography. He mentioned seeing some of her pics as Photo of the Day on Compass and that they were quite good.  So when they got settled Barbie took her iPod out of him purse to show him pics. He commented on many of them and she said sometimes I think I just get lucky with my shots. His response was there is only you and your camera, capture every moment because one never knows it might be good, there are no rules, only great photographs.`

He documented the life and times of the Roach family – not only with his photographs, but he scanned many of the old family photos with the intention that we will all have copies of them.

He and Dad went to the graveyards in his final months so he could take photos of all the family tombstones.  Ted photographed to document daily life, to capture beauty and to keep the family history alive.

On Jan 1^st, 2008, Ted sent a bunch of us the following email:

the view from the ole folks home 

it snow again yesterday so bad they closed the liquor store

now "that" by pei standards is a bad bad day

got a good bunch of snow outside the door now

about 3feet on top of the picnic table

bright sunshine and cloudless skies

what a beautiful day

the sun shining bright on new fallen snow

no traffic on the roads

everything is closed

everything is quiet

no footprints in the snow

happy new year

takes me back to those days of yesteryear

when the snow was over the power poles

of course they were much shorter then

but so was i

maybe just this year we will have one of those

ole fashion winters with snow 20 feet high

so i can enjoy at least one more big one

lots of snow and mild temperatures

this will be johns first year of real snow

the last 2 were quite mild and snowless

what a day for a photo shoot

photos today would make great black and white photos

so many shades of grey

was thinking of a course i took at one time

in developing film

to change shades of grey took hours

what with the chemicals of an unknown poison

hand set timers ... trays of water ... red lght bulbs

in the darkroom

today

slider on the computer program [seconds]

what great times to live in

Robert Fulgrum said, “Photographs are precious memories ... the visual evidence of place and time and relationships ... ritual talismans for the treasure chest of the heart.” 

Ted understood this and his photography is his legacy.    And with that, I’m going to give him the final word in this eulogy.  And wouldn’t he just love that!

Cue: Slideshow

Before we close today, I want to say a special thank you to the doctors and nurses who cared for Ted with compassion, patience, good humor and dedication. 

To our friends, family and hospice volunteers who sat with Ted in his final week, we are forever in your debt.  There came a moment when I thought “oh dear God, how are we going to do this…and then you all appeared.”  One night Dianne’s oldest friend, Debbie, said to me, when I thanked her for spending the night with Ted, “Oh dear, I’m happy to help…we’re all family.”

And thank you for coming to this celebration of Ted’s life.