He was a great man, not only in character, but also in generosity.
My uncle worked his way up the ranks of the Ironworkers Union. He eventually became a widely respected negotiator within the union, known for his even temper and undying patience.
He served his is last ten years as one of the several Presidents of the Ironworkers Union for the whole of North America.
Despite his yarn-spinning abilities, he didn't boast much, but that was my uncle's way.
The stories he told were more of an aside, as a reluctant observer. Some of the stories I had to hear second-hand because of his quiet demeanour.
Such was the story of when he was on a flight with the Prime Minister of Canada - Pierre Elliot Trudeau. They discussed many issues facing Canada while Trudeau's three little boys played in the aisle of the plane.
It was not too long after that, my uncle got a phonecall from Prime Minister Trudeau himself, offering him a government position in Ottawa. My uncle was too much a family man to uproot his little family and move back east - and declined the offer.
British Columbia was home to him.
In the week that is typically celebrated as Irish... I remember an Irishman that was true to himself, and toast my Uncle, a wonderful man and a great human being who lost his fight with lung cancer six years ago.