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Am Bratach No. 207
OBITUARY Gordon Rutherford, who died on November 16 aged 83 was a legend in his lifetime. Gordon Rutherford’s family came from Kildonan and a touch of gold was always about him — in his speech, in his humour, in his gift for friendship with all and sundry, in his glamour and his earthiness. Gordon Rutherford was a patriot, a pilot, a farmer and a friend. In his childhood growing up on Proncy near Dornoch, there was a rainbow over his shoulder and it fitted like a glove. I never understood whether the rainbow was his mother (or later his wife), certainly the shoulder of his childhood was his delightful father, Major Rutherford, and his glove his beloved mother, but the shoulder may have been his brother Gid, and the rainbow and glove his devoted sisters Peg and Eileen. Growing up on Proncy was in the 1930s a childhood idyll. Stornoway, Bobby and Rosie were his ever-present companions, Stornoway, a solid, reliable, dependable Clydesdale cart horse; Bobby, “He could nip you, but he never nipped me”; and the ever present and close friend of childhood, Rosie. In 1942 shortly after his seventeenth birthday, he went down the road. RAF training followed in Oklahoma. Tiger Moths, Spitfires, Hurricanes, Mustangs, Mosquitoes all featured in his war — a war which culminated in the bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki when Gordon Rutherford was on RAF Pacific Japan station. I once asked him what it was
like flying a Spitfire. Gordon replied that the aircraft felt
part of you — it was like being a beautiful bird, asked
what bird, without a moment’s hesitation he replied —
“a pheasant, because despite my good looks I was always
being shot at.” Fishing, shooting, stalking, friendship with Colin — was there ever a closer friendship since David and Jonathan? And three holes in one on the golf course — Gordon was no mean golfer either. I remember him telling me of the occasion, when he was in the North West with his friends, Morley Hames and Jack Baillie, a bus driver, Angus MacKay and a minister from the North West, Rev Ross Armstrong. Douglas arrived together in heaven and met St Peter. Angus, the bus driver on the routes to Faraid Head — Foinaven — Cape Wrath and elsewhere was a little more cordially received by Peter. Upon the minister’s expostulations St Peter replied — “When you were in your Conventicles, Chapels, Tabernacles and meeting places, many were sound asleep, but when Angus was driving everywhere all inmates were praying profoundly and continuously.” Gordon Rutherford is survived by his wife of fifty-two years, Betty. To Betty Rutherford, and her splendid family our sympathies are extended — Betty and Gordon were always a winning team. Gordon is survived too by his two daughters, Diane and Hazel, and his two sons, Iain and David, and his seven grandchildren. Gordon Rutherford flew best in the Hurricane. He always flew, rode, drove and did it today while listening to his heart. What a way to live and what a living example to us all. No longer will we see Gordon flying, driving, moving or shouting, “Take him.” His many friends will miss him greatly, but his superb humour, courage, humanity and transparent goodwill to all, his love of animals, people and life will enthuse us as we follow in the footsteps of a wonderful patriot, warrior, pilot, farmer and a dear, dear friend. — GC |