I didn't like him on the first impression. I was an altar boy in Skead and during the summer he simply said to me, "I am your new pastor". Looking at him not knowing the term, I asked him when we were going to get a new priest? He laughed and explained the term "pastor". "So, what do you think?" he asked and before I could think simply said, "could have done worse, see you next Sunday".

That was the beginning of one of the most beautiful relationships in my life. 

Over the next 12 years, I served him, we got to know each other rather well. I knew his mood within the first 2 minutes of our being together with each Sunday and knew to talk or if he needed quiet time. Rarely quiet time but it was necessary. As lector, if I didn't understand something I was reading I would ask for clarification and he would take the time to explain it. Mass started late on a few occasions as I didn't always agree with the explanation.   

He introduced me to the glories of the mass, the different feast days and the beauty of the Easter Tridium. I referred then and still do, the Easter Vigil as the start of my New Year.  

During the summer, he would call the house and ask if there were "any Lake Trout around?" That was the cue Bishop Carter in North Bay would like a fresh Lake Trout. So, Dad and I would go fishing and catch one or two during the early morning, call him that the fish were filleted and packed in ice, he would drive out to Skead, pick them up and Bishop Carter would have his Lake Trout for supper because he drove it fresh to North Bay. If Bishop Carter's Brother was visiting, 4 or more were needed and by luck and prayer, we never failed to catch what was needed. The drive to North Bay was just part of the day for him. He had a great affection for his mentor.

The first time he ate dinner at our home, Mom had all the good dishes out. That made him terribly uncomfortable and after that, it was getting pickles out of a jar, serve yourself out of the pots, get your own coffee. That made him happy. What didn't make him happy were cucumbers or green peppers before Mass. 

He baptized and confirmed my Mom as an adult. He also buried my entire family. Both a first he said to me later. We spoke on the telephone not as frequently as I would have liked. He liked to hear how my choral singing, "Messiah", "The St. Matthew Passion" by Bach and the others impacted my faith. Always, he encouraged me to incorporate such activities as music and apply them to my faith, to enhance my life. 

After I moved away to University, he awoke one day and decided to drive to Kitchener. At a Wendy's restaurant while we devoured frosties, he made a proposal for me to study at the University of Western Ontario, major in philosophy and at the conclusion of studies, consider the seminary. I broke his heart when I said no. 

I explained al the reasons why No was the answer that night. I was as open and honest as he deserved. We talked about the issues I had and he left saddened by the answer and dreading telling Bishop Carter. I did promise and kept the promise to review in retreat every 3 years to discover if I had the calling. After one such retreat, I called him at Christ the King and explained how I was doing more outside of Holy Vows than in them. He understood. But, he never stopped asking if I felt the calling. The answer was always, no. 

When in Toronto earlier this year for cancer surgery, I walked through the Royal York Hotel and wondered just where he had stayed when he lived there as a child. Which rooms did he reside in and which Church did he attend? 

He was and will be, never far from my thoughts. I knew him as a priest and as a man. I saw his strengths and his weakness...latin. I heard him laugh, I saw him shed tears. He was so very private yet so open if you knew how to ask a question. 

Monsignor John Henry Caswell, you are with God. Your journey here, done. Forgive us if we gush our feelings about you or shed a tear at your passing. And one more favor. Hear our intercessions as we pray for you and ask your help which is still so very much needed in this world today.