I once hassled my dad into taking me fishing. He wasn’t big into fishing but I was daughter #2 and through he must have been bummed to not get a son, so I tried to make it up to him by developing an interest in some ‘boy thing’. We went. We didn’t catch anything. I learned that my dad didn’t miss having a son. And so we hung out in other ways in the future, ways that didn’t involve the death of worms. But I did go into engineering…. hmmm.

My father and I have uncannily similar vehicle lives. For example, I got a rock chip on the windshield of the very first car I owned and on the same day, my dad got a rock chip on the windshield of his truck. Example #2 – without discussing it, my dad (in Ontario) and I (in BC) bought brand new cars and ended up with identical delivery dates for those cars. Uncanny.

My favourite memory of dad also involves fishing — our first time fishing was in the Ocean with several of my uncles at it involved none of them catching so much as a minnow meanwhile I caught in the following order – a seagul (midair), another boat, a jelly fish, a tire I kept telling them that I might be new to it but at least I was catching something then…and wait for it… an almost 30 pound halibut, which was pretty much half my weight… I was a hero!!! I can still remember the taste of it after it was smoked.

I just remember hanging out with my dad in the middle of the lake and fishing out of our canoe. Pretty simple, but it’s one of the images I always think of when I think of my Dad.

I always remember going on vacations with my dad. I love Disneyland the most!

My older brother and I didn’t grow up together as he lived with his father. He visited us when I was growing up though. When he was around 8 it was decided he would come live with us. I was ecstatic as I could be at my age. I was going to have a new playmate. He showed up and he was apprehensive. I at the time didn’t understand why (now obviously I do, new town, new family, new place and school, who wouldn’t be?) but my father did. We went out shopping and he was a bit shy so my father picked him up on his shoulders and told him he could get anything he wanted. At the time I thought “NEW TOYS YAY!” Now I am just so proud of my father for trying to make it easier for him. To make him feel wanted and accepted in this new environment. <3

In Grade 12 my dad was going on a business trip to Venezuela, and I had always wanted to go to South America, so I begged him to let me go with him and eventually he caved and he took me with him. During the week when he was working I stayed with a family there and became a part of their life, going to school with their daughter who is a similar age to me (and I am still friends with to this day) and on the weekend we went to Los Roques, which is literally paradise. Our last weekend there we went to La Gran Sabana and explored waterfalls and jungle together. During this trip I got my first taste of South America life and years later I moved down to Colombia. While I was living in Colombia I finally got to return the favour and show my dad around Colombia in thanks for him showing me the beauty of Venezuela. I have been back to South America every year or two since. My dad first exposed me to the wonder and beauty of South America and now it is something that we continue to share together.

Dad always got up early to drive me to hockey practice at 6:00 am and sit in the stands yelling his head off until he had to go to work at 9:00. The coach told me to tell him to stay home because I got too distracted…

Growing up on the Westcoast we had a lot of rain (shocking I know). From a very early age though we learned to love it. My Dad would get our boots and rain jackets on us,we’d grab flashlights and umbrellas and head out for evening walks. As I got older I valued these walks more and more because I could talk to my Dad about anything from school to politics. I still love the rain to this day.

One of the best times I have ever had with my Dad was when I was about 14. My brother and I, along with a close friend were getting into downhill skiing and my Dad thought he would like to try it.

The four of us went to Grouse Mountain, and Dad and our friend, took a lesson from a, lovely, cute, French Canadian girl. Dad called her Fifi, but I don’t think that was her name. He was pretty much the focus of her attention. I think he exhausted her. Heading for trees, out of bounds areas and other people, he made her exasperated. The best part though, was every time he got off the chairlift, it was as if he was being ejected! Each time he would do a forward roll off of the lift. To this day I have never seen anything like it.

He didn’t ever go skiing again, but deserves credit for trying.

We still laugh and laugh about this at family dinners and of course the story is more embellished every time.

The best memory I’ve had of my Dad is him teaching me to golf as golf is his passion still today. Unfortunately, I’m living proof that golf isn’t hereditary since I have never and will never beat him, but his love for the game and patience to teach me what he knew is a memory I’ll never forget.