For many years, your Dad worked in my Dad's real estate company in Unionville. I remember hearing from my Dad, how Bill was often the top selling agent. Mr. Bill Collins smiled and laughed often - which from a kid's perspective, makes all the difference. I have 3 particular memories that stand out: 1)There was a blizzard in the winter of 1972, and all roads were blocked, especially where we lived in north Markham on McCowan Road. Bill and his sons ski-dooed up, took orders from several farmsteads along McCowan Road, and delivered vital groceries along, otherwise, impassable roads. 2) At his cottage in the mid-1970's, I ignored everyone's advice to keep a water raft within the buoy lines, and curiously slipped out of the area, happily coasting along with the current, until it had me and I could not get back; Mr. Collins was the one who knew the dangers, was watching, and started his boat up to come and rescue me. My Dad certainly was not thrilled with me for this episode. 3) I believe it was 1975, steam train #6218 was to pass through Unionville on a special excursion. My brother and I happened to be at the real estate office that Saturday morning playing around. It was Bill Collins that informed my Dad that the train was coming through that morning - Dad didn't know about it - and was surprised to hear of it. Anyways, rather doubtfully, we all walked to the tracks at the estimated allotted time - no one else was there - which further confirmed in my Dad's mind, "no no, we would have seen it in the papers." A few minutes later, the shrill steam whistle dispelled all doubters and the intense bright headlamp, (even in the day time), could be seen in front of a stack of thick smoke - #6218 was indeed on her way. But what stuck in my mind that day, after the crossing gates had gone down, and the railway signals were sounding, Bill Collins was with his 16 mm camera standing dangerously close along the embankment near the tracks as #6218 roared closer - with her deafening whistle. About perhaps 50 yards away, a hand out of the engineer's cabin, indicating to get back, prompted Bill to step a few feet aside as the Iron Horse raced by. I remember your Dad's friendly and kind manner. As a kid, he impressed me. I'm sorry for your loss and wish all of you peace at this difficult time.