Barry Keith Guptill, 67, of Moncton and formerly of Sussex, passed away peacefully at the Moncton City Hospital on October 2, 2014 surrounded by his family. Barry was a loving husband of almost 47 years to his wife Barb Guptill (nee Cole) and was a son of Phyllis Guptill (nee Somers) of Sussex, and the late Keith B. Guptill. Barry worked on offshore oil rigs for Sedco Forex for over 20 years. More recently he came out of retirement to be the senior hoist operator on the H.L.V. Svanen constructing the Confederation Bridge. Besides his wife Barb, Barry is survived by his sons: Keith Guptill (Janet) of Moncton, and Neil Guptill (Nancy) of Quispamsis; his grandchildren: Jennifer, Kraig, Jessica, Tess, and Kaya; sisters: Marilyn Young (Rick), Bev Babineau (Sam), Martha Lawe (Carl); brothers: Jim Guptill, Carl Guptill (Liz), as well as many extended family members and friends. Arrangements have been entrusted to the professional care of Sussex Select Community Funeral Home, from where visitation will be held on Saturday October 4, 2014 from 2-4pm and 7-9pm. The funeral service will be held at Faith Bible Baptist Fellowship on October 5, 2014 at 2pm. If desired donations to the Canadian Cancer Society, Heart & Stroke Foundation or to the Newtown Baptist Cemetery would be appreciated by the family. Online condolences are available at www.sussexfh.com New Brunswick Autumn The trees are not green, you know. They all have their own unique color. They just fill up with green starting in the spring. The real colors of the trees are in the buds, of course, but we never think to look there. When autumn comes around, the green starts to drain out of the leaves and go someplace underground for the winter. That is when the oranges, yellows and ochers get to reveal themselves. They usually stand among the evergreens just to show off But they can’t measure up to the maple-red trees that spread themselves with more show than the plumes of a peacock. We are all trees, you know. We bud in our spring, and we all turn green together. We want to look and act differently from all the other trees, but we are only fooling ourselves. In the forest, we are much more alike than we care to think about. Sometimes, just sometimes, as the green starts to drain from us trees There are some of us who have more color than the rest. Maybe they come from hardier stock or they just have some very special color inside. They have a way of showing the rest of us what we could be ... someday. There is a problem, you know. After the fall, the winter comes in brutally, and the leaves dive to the ground Where they go brown and get wrinkled on the outside, and they pick up that rusty smell of winter chill. It's ok. They are just folding their color deep inside until they can find just the right bud for next spring. I spent some time this autumn with one of those maple-red trees. We were buds together years ago, and we are still buds this autumn, but next spring is a bit uncertain. So as the winter winds scatter us about, even if we end up in different forests, I will always recall the special colors of that tree and how it colored my life in a most special way. Author Fred Florence (Long-time Friend)