The last time I saw or spoke to Tracy was on September 1, 1974, at the train station in Malaga, Spain. We had just been to a bullfight, and now he was heading back to Canada while I travelled onwards. We were good friends in the University College Residence days, so when we learned that our respective solo post-graduate backpacking trips around Europe would overlap, we arranged to travel together during that overlap time.
There are many fond memories of that time, from the beach time he insisted on, to climbing the Matterhorn until the path narrowed too much to continue on safely, to the absolute glee he had when he beat me at chess again, and again, and again, to him playing the guitar in a Spanish bar we had popped into, and the never-ending search for good food.
It was heartwarming to log into the funeral service today, to see the person he had become, and the love of family and friends that surrounded him. I am sure he will be missed by very many.
Julie Bubnick
Winnipeg
