The Silence of Giving: A Christmas Story

"The most truly generous persons are those who give silently without hope of praise or reward" Carol Brink.

It is rare when you meet someone early in life (outside of family) who has such a profound impact that carries through life.

I was fortunate to meet, know and be friends with such a person. Each year around this time, a smell, weather, the light of the day; a memory of that person somehow surfaces.

For many in Bronte the name Bill Hill surfaced and was focus of attention as his grandson through his hat into the ring to run for Town Council. That said, for those who have arrived here in the last 20 years they didn't have the opportunity to meet or know Bill, but understand he had a big impact on the community.

I started working for Bill at age 15, my first year of high school for the grand sum of $.80/hour. My part-time job at Lakeside lasted all through high school, university and even into the first 2 years of my career as we needed the extra money having bought our first house.

The Christmas in 1965 is still embedded in my memories and my soul. We were off for holidays a few days before Christmas and I was fortunate to get a few hours in the store. Around mid afternoon (likely Dec 22nd) Bill called my name, "Davy lets get in the truck we have some work to do".

From the day I started at the Store he called me Davy right up until he passed away. In silence, we got on the road and were driving Lakeshore into Oakville. Shortly we arrived at the old basket factory. Bill backed the truck into a loading bay and went inside while I waited at the back of the van. When he returned and the doors to the factory opened, I could smell the wood and moist steam from the plant. A man pulled a stack of brand new bushel baskets to the rear of the truck. Bill reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of cash wrapped by an elastic and peeled off a number bills to the man.

We loaded the baskets into the truck and headed back to the store. There I was instructed to unload them and spread them out to be filled at the back of the store. Not thinking too much about the task, my day was done. Flushed with "cash" I likely stopped at the Riverside for a plate of fries, a coke and maybe even a quarter for the juke box while I hung out with a few friends.

The next day, back at work, I heard Bill call me to the back of the store. There were two lines of 10 baskets filled with groceries. Either Charlie Lawlor or Bob Butler were bringing out turkeys from the meat department. I was instructed to load the baskets into the truck. When I finished; Bill said let's go.

For the next two hours we stopped at a number of homes in Bronte and throughout Oakville. Some of the homes I didn't even know existed, others I might have rode passed on my bike. Bill would grab the basket, knock on the door, there was a brief conversation which I didn't hear. In other places, it was just left. Throughout that time, Bill never talked about what we were doing or who the people were. Conversation was about the weather, school and my parents (my mom used to work in the store).

When we were finished, it was back to the store and Bill headed off to serve customers, load stock and help people out to their cars with groceries. You might hear his laugh, or him wishing a Merry Christmas.

This was not a one off, it was something Bill did for a number of years. There was never any talk about it in the store, staff who filled the baskets knew what they were for and it was part of Christmas at Lakeside. Bill's silent generosity was not limited to Christmas. I can't tell you how many times he would give people money or simply say pay me when you can or take what ever you need. There was no judgment, just an offer of friendship.

As teenager that money I earned at Lakeside allowed me to go to movies, buy a pair of jeans, get into a school dance, hangout at the Blades game or the Riverside Restaurant. As the years passed, it is how I paid for tuition and live on my own when my parents retired to Sunridge Ontario.

Over time, I began to understand the meaning of what I witnessed Bill doing as I matured and gained some perspective on life.

What started as Bill hiring another Bronte kid, grew and evolved well beyond just a job, to a friendship, teacher and mentor. It was one I have cherished to this day. As we travelled around to those homes on that Winter's day before Christmas we never talked about what he was doing. Rather the conversation was about me, my family and the holiday.

After university and into my career and family life I would often drop by the store to catch up with Bill. Shortly before both him and Donna passed, I was invited to a gathering at his daughter's home to watch some of their familly movies. I sat with Bill and we had a wonderful evening of stories, memories and friendship and despite being in my 40s he still called me Davy.

Returning to that December day, in a really odd way, maybe there was an unintended silent gift for me from Bill about the importance of helping others.

Bill's legacy continues, in his family, those of us who worked for Bill and go to really know him and in in Bronte. There is Glendella House, the Bronte Historical Society and Soverign House, the old post office and the Willow in the Park that keeps watch over the Harbour.