Page 2 - Mr Goheen and Me

My mother occasionally had an Avon representative drop in to provide cosmetics. As they chatted, the subject of church came up. My mom indicated that she would like to have her kids go to Sunday School. The Avon lady, whose name was Carol Sheriff, mentioned that she attended a Baptist church and asked if mother would like a representative to visit us.
It wasn’t long after that when a station wagon pulled into our circular drive and out popped a man with black horn-rimmed glasses and a winning smile. Moments later he was sitting in the kitchen chatting with my parents. He was a deacon at Kenmuir Baptist church. The visitation request had been mentioned at their meeting. He immediately recognized the name Tulloch and particularly one of the children, Jimmy. Jimmy Tulloch had played on his son Mike’s hockey team one year. He thought this might be the same family and volunteered to take the request. He was correct. That man was Ross Goheen.
Mr. Goheen (the name I’ll forever call him even though later when I became an adult he gave me permission to call him Ross) endeared himself to our family and over the ensuing months, years even, would make frequent visits to our Burnhamthorpe home just to chat with my dad to see how he was doing. My father, whose persona was the inspiration for Archie Bunker, was belligerent at times and his language coarse. He liked to ridicule anything Christian. So when Mr. Goheen would visit, Dad would make crude jokes and purposely offer him a beer, knowing full well Ross didn’t drink. Ross would smile and ask, “How are you doing Tom?”
“As well as can be expected,” Dad would grunt. Then Ross would engage him in conversation. Dad secretly enjoyed his visits. He really respected him.
Mr. Goheen invited us to attend Sunday School. I did go regularly for a year and even won a regular attendance award. Ross was a leader in the Stockade program of the Christian Service Brigade. He got me