Our dad, Dr. Thomas Arthur Jory, died on Jan. 17, 2023, just shy of his 93rd birthday and almost eight years after our mum, Patricia Mae Jory (nee Boug), died. We sincerely hope their first gin and tonic together in such a long time, on the deck at their cottage, was icy and that the sunset was one of the ones National Geographic touts as best in the world.
High school sweethearts, theirs was a love for the ages, and we had an excellent example in their relationship. He served in the reserves at RCAF Centralia for many summers, and as an officer, he flew in the Korean Airlift. He started at Western University in 1948 and played the E flat alto horn (beep!) in the Mustang Marching Band because he got a great uniform and a cheap bus ride.
He graduated from medicine in the class of 1955, trained with Dr. Charles Drake in neurosurgery and practised general surgery for more than 45 years. He taught in the department of medicine and mentored scores of grateful medical students. He read voraciously, built model boats that are so beautiful they'd take your breath away, and built and flew model airplanes for the sheer joy of crashing them so he could fix them.
He also cut the grass at the Lucan International Airfield when he wasn't a deckhand on the tug boats Slo Mo or My Toy in the river at Grand Bend.
He was a self-made man, and he had a brilliant and inquiring mind. He never took a shortcut in his life, and he didn't let us, either. He was an incredibly generous person, and he loved his family fiercely: Tom, Margo, Susan, Andrew, Kate, Meg, Ben, Sarah, Evan, Jenifer, Drew, Emma, Connor, Jack, Oliver, Scotlyn, Lachlan and Millie.
Perhaps the greatest thing we can say about him is that while one expects the surgeon to be excellent with the knife, and he was, it was his genuine concern for the wellbeing of his patients that made him the choice of the nurses he worked with over those many years. When they had need of a surgeon, it was our dad they called.