November 10, 2024
In Loving Memory (1935-2024) ~
In the months before he passed away, our father was visited on several occasions by his deceased mother and deceased older brother Bill. He went off to join them in their side of reality on November 10, 2024, and good Union man to the end, he left at afternoon coffee-time.
Dad was born at home in a cabin in the bush country of northern Saskatchewan. His father worked for the CNR, and when he was 8, the family had the grand adventure of riding the train to relocate in Smithers, BC. He met our mother Dona there when she was 13, and he was 16. Little did he know that a lifelong relationship was being born while holding her hand on the icy surface of the Smithers skating rink.
Mum and Dad were married for 3 weeks shy of 69 years. For 59 of those years they lived in their home on the beach in Sunny Saltair. Dad almost never said the word Saltair without preceding it with the word Sunny. He and Mum truly believed that they lived in paradise, and regularly congratulated themselves on their perspicacity in purchasing their unique west coast home.
They always started the swimming season as early as possible (sometimes after enjoying several libations, Mum and the aunties were known to go for a swim on Mother's Day, to Dad and the uncles' enthusiastic cheers!), and tried to eke out a final one well into September. They fished for salmon and cod, caught crab, and harvested many oysters and clams. They delighted in the bounty of the sea surrounding their Island home.
Dad was a second class steam engineer at the pulp mill in Prince Rupert before taking up the same position with BC Hydro at Bear Point in Chemainus in 1965. By 1979 he completed a marine engineer's ticket and worked aboard a large seiner for several years. That was seasonal work, and he and Mum were able to begin their lengthy years of travel then, having more fun than ought to be legal wherever they went, especially Mexico.
They loved to party, and Dad was an entertaining, witty, and amusing raconteur. The partying also carried on with family, relatives and friends on the beach in Saltair, where the grand-kids begged Nana to make huge bowls of boom-boom (popcorn, to the Casler uninitiated) and begged Papa to tell ghost stories around the beach fire, and "make it really scary, Papa!"
When Dad retired they were able to travel more extensively: to Australia and New Zealand for a year, 2 years in Europe vagabonding in a van like latter-day hippies, and another 2 years travelling through Canada and the US in their motor home. They were snowbirds for decades, wintering in Mexico to start with, and eventually Southern California and Arizona.
Dad was born with wanderlust, and was never happier than when pulling out of their driveway at the wheel of their latest RV. He was always curious and interested in everything and everybody. New vistas, new people, new experiences - these were his "raison d'être."
Our father purely loved his life, and considered himself to be a lucky, lucky man.
He leaves behind his wife Dona, his lovey of 73 years, 69 of them married to her; his surviving children Sam (Joan), Tom, and Leslie (Rod); Norman's wife Marilyn; 9 grandchildren and their spouses; and 7 great-grandchildren.
He was sadly predeceased in 2019 by our brother Norman, or "Normbie", as Dad fondly called him.
I remarked to Dad recently that he and Mum were the residents who had lived the longest on their stretch of the beach from the Lagoon to Big Rock. It greatly pleased him to have those kind of whiskers in his beloved Sunny Saltair. If you would like to do something to honour his memory, Dad would be tickled if you planted some garlic in your garden, or made a donation to his team, the provincial or federal NDP, of whom he was a loyal, dedicated and lifelong supporter. We like to think of him enjoying a beer and talking politics with John Horgan in the afterlife.
Our family thanks Dr. Manhas of the Chemainus Medical Clinic for his excellent care of our occasionally, (ahem), recalcitrant father. Dad enormously respected and appreciated Dr. Manhas' thoughtful and consistently kind professionalism.
There will be a celebration of Dad's life in the summer of 2025. It was his favourite season after all. An announcement will be placed in the newspaper in advance of it.
And finally in closing, we'll give you Dad's favourite, sage advice. In true Libra style, he always said, "You get more bees with honey than you do with vinegar," and he always reminded us that, "No news is good news!" We love you Dad, and we'll miss you more than words can possibly express.