Goodbye Percy

Wilma Kenny | Feb 24, 2021

Nobody could maneuver an earth-moving machine more delicately and accurately than Percy Snider. Percy was a complicated person: he was gruff, loudly outspoken and opinionated, yet he could also be very, very kind in a quiet unassuming way.

His death last week leaves a big gap in Sydenham and the surrounding area. His obituary is followed by six pages of notes from local people, over 55 separate entries. Most speak of how greatly he loved his community, and how much he did for it, often without recognition. People remember that he turned up at any hour of night or day when they needed help. Several said he often patrolled the sleeping village through the night, making sure all was well. For years, it was Percy who plowed a rink on the lake, just off the boat launch in Sydenham.

I remember phoning him the night of a sudden winter rain when water started pouring into our cellar through the electrical paneI. The ground was frozen so solidly we couldn’t dig a drain-off. “I’m just sitting down to supper,” he said, but arrived so quickly he must not have taken a bite, and carefully dug the necessary trench. That summer, when we still couldn’t get a bill from him, I went to the One-Stop, climbed into his truck, and waited while he hunted through stacks of papers and bill-books on the huge dashboard — his office — until he reluctantly came up with the bill, which I paid. In cash.

In spite of his apparently haphazard bookkeeping, Percy was an astute businessman, building up his company, Percy Snider Trucking, which over the years has provided employment to a lot of local people.

John Trousdale and I have both known Percy from public school days, but John best remembers grade five: “That year, the teacher put us together in alphabetical order, so that I was at the back of the room with Percy Snider and Dougie Switzer. It was the most fun of any of my school years.” John had a treasure box of little toy cars and trucks that they shared. He said, “As long as we were quiet the teacher left us alone, and we played for hours.” He remembers that Percy drew wonderfully realistic pictures of horses. And that the teacher who ignored them barely permitted them to pass their grade that year.

Percy and I had a long visit very shortly before he died: I had gone up with some soup, and he seemed to be feeling good that day. He told me about the time he had to drive a piece of heavy equipment out along a very narrow bit of solid ground, with a steep drop on either side. “I made everybody get off out of sight, so nobody could yell or distract me, and I made it,” he said. He talked of how he managed to quit drinking for good, a huge act of willpower, because it was the only way he could take care of his work. We gossiped about Council, one of his favourite topics. Percy and I certainly have not always seen eye to eye, but that day I thoroughly enjoyed our visit, and am grateful for the memory of it.