Former Fort Nelson businessman and civic leader dies
Al left us unexpectedly on the morning of Friday, September 6th at the age of 73 years.
He is survived by his sons Allan (Caroline) Brown of Surrey, BC; Kurtis Brown of Surrey, BC; daughter Siri (Gord) Webster of Edmonton, AB; grandson Finn, as well as his sisters Thyra Ruecker and Grace Mighton. Born in Regina, SK, Al made his way to Northern BC in his early years, eventually migrating to the West Coast. Kindness, generosity, and humour were “Big Al’s” hallmarks; his family, relatives, friends, and many charities were the recipients of his goodwill. A memorial was held for Al at Mount Olive Lutheran Church, Surrey. In lieu of flowers, please make a donation to the BC Mental Health Foundation or a charity of your choice.
Published in Vancouver Sun and/or The Province from September 15th/16th, 2013
Eulogy for Al Brown by his daughter Siri
Many of you here today are probably familiar with this block of mixed up colours, the Rubik’s Cube. And, if you have ever played with one, you know that the more you twist and turn it, manipulating it to try to “solve” it by lining the colours up, the more it becomes harder to figure out . Well, my dad was much like this cube. He was made up of different parts that, as a whole, created a colourful conundrum. And, as each of these parts is integral to the cube’s purpose, I’d like to share some parts of my dad that gave his life purpose.
My dad believed in hard work, had a strong work ethic, and he expected the same of others. Early on, he entered the hardware business, working for the Marshall Wells company in store set-up. After bouncing around the prairies, he was “recruited” by a man named Jack Sime, who lured him up to the frozen tundra of Fort Nelson to work in his store.
Dad worked hard, eventually becoming a partner in the business with Jack’s son, Jack Jr. They grew the business exponentially, establishing Radio Shack & Sam the Record Man franchises, a gift shop, and even a toy section, much of which ended up in my room, I’m sure! My dad worked long hours, and rarely took a vacation, but that didn’t necessarily make Al a dull boy: whether it was pranking my Mom by sneaking up behind her with an air horn, dumping a bucket of ice water from the rooftop on the stock boy, Monty (Peterson), during his lunch break, or taking relatives out for a Boney M disco dance party after Christmas dinner, my dad did take some time out for fun.
When the local movie theatre was destroyed by fire, Dad invested in a cablevision venture with two partners that allowed Allan, Kurtis, and I to have gainful summer employment.
All this hard work allowed he and Mom to take us on some beautiful tropical vacations where the boys learned to golf and snorkel and I learned to perfect the art of tanning. Dad supported Mom’s desire to give us a private education, which took us away from home, but gave us an experience he and Mom never had. After moving to South Surrey in the early 80s, my dad worked for one of my parents’ long-time friends, selling insurance. He made some further investments and you can still see one of his projects, the Buronal building, in Newton.
As my brother Kurtis so eloquently stated in Dad’s obituary, his kindness and generosity were his hallmarks, and we admired this part of Dad. He was a fervent supporter of The Salvation Army. He donated blood on a regular basis. He was a member of the Fort Nelson School Board and Town Council, donating his time for the betterment of the community. If a friend or relative was in need, my dad was there to help. Those of you who came to know my dad recently have seen this dedication: He was quite proud to help replant some of the plants and hedges around his community complex, and I’m glad he was able to contribute to something that will be a long-lasting and beautiful reminder to those who live there.
Growing up, Allan, Kurtis, and I wanted for nothing. Interested in drums and want to play the electric guitar? Santa brought them both one year! Motorbikes are your thing? Let’s see what we can do! You want Shaun Cassidy to land his helicopter in the backyard for your birthday party?! Well…. there were some things that dad couldn’t provide, but he came very close! I was the only girl on the block with an Easy Bake Oven AND a doll that made pudding (which was a dangerous combination)!
Our friends benefited from dad’s generosity as well. I remember being stuck in a car with a gaggle of boys from St. John’s (poor me!) being taken to dinner and a movie. My parents enjoyed having these moments with my brothers, and were always happy to include their friends when they visited the school. My friends, too, were the beneficiaries of dad’s thoughtfulness. I fondly remember my dad taking me for dinner in Gastown and helping me purchase a small jade wolf figurine for my roommate, Nathalie, who collected them. He enabled my friend Ladine to attend Finn’s birth, knowing how much it meant for me to have her there. Dad helped fund three weddings in two years, and even turned the back yard of the Greencrest Drive house into a garden sanctuary for Gord’s and my wedding ceremony. This gesture meant the world to us.
One part of my dad that was perhaps not as showy as others was the sense of pride he felt for my brothers and me. On our birthdays, Mom often regaled (over and over) us with the details of the day we were born, how much pride Dad felt, and how eager he was to show us off. As we grew up, he was less likely to verbalise his feelings, but I felt them in the form of a tighter hug or a teary smile, and saw my brothers receive a firmer handshake or a pat on the back… And we could also rely on Mom to let us know.
I do recall, however, how proud my Dad was of his sons being able to complete the many arduous tasks set by the St. John’s curriculum. He and my Mom would journey south to watch the snowshoe races and he would be amazed at the commitment and stamina of his boys. Similarly, the canoe trips at the end of the school year were another cause for admiration; he was proud to see his sons complete their year-end journeys and listened to the adventures while we ate Kurtis’ newly-learned bannock recipe. As for me, I remember being in awe of my dad’s attendance at my Confirmation – he must have been proud!
As we grew up and away from home, I always felt that dad was proud of us for different reasons:
Allan found Caroline (or maybe it was vice versa!), and although Allan bobbed and weaved through his career, Dad was proud of their strong relationship, and that Allan had Caroline there to keep him on the straight and narrow.
Dad was very proud of Kurtis’ decision to enter the tree-topping business, which eventually expanded to Heli-logging. He was always keen to hear the latest adventures from camp, and was in awe of the enormity of the tasks Kurtis endured.
As for me, I had graduated university, married a wonderful man, and had started a family that included the apple of my Dad’s eye – our son Finn.
My Dad’s love of music was one part of his life that makes my childhood memories complete. Dad’s whistling was always a familiar household sound. But it was the strains of Simon and Garfunkel, Roger Whittaker, Carly Simon, Cat Stevens, Barbra Streisand, and even the Bee Gees – yes, the Bee Gees – that will forever be the score to my childhood. Not only did he introduce us to these artists, but, thanks to Sam the Record Man, he developed and expanded my record collection, and those of Allan and Kurtis.
He also enabled the boys to turn their basement suite bedroom into a KISS shrine, using the oversized posters sent by the advertising companies. One memory I have that is especially meaningful happened when I was sick in bed with the flu. My Mom was not home at the time, but I remember hearing my brothers and my Dad in the dining room playing with a replica steam engine dad had brought home. Dad came into my room to show me what he had bought: it was the latest Billy Joel album “The Stranger” with my favourite song at the time “Just the Way You Are”, and he played it loudly from the living room so I could hear it. That was the best, and whenever I hear that song, it takes me right back to that moment.
Dad also had a creative side that many admired: he fashioned a unique rope sign for the cabin at Okanagan Lake when we first started vacationing there; his rose garden at Greencrest Drive rivalled the Butchart Gardens; and he carved a beautiful rocking horse for Finn when he was born. Dad was also an avid scale modeller.
I cannot speak of my Dad’s many parts without mentioning the one that many of you probably found his most obvious: his sense of humour. Dad always enjoyed a good joke, whether he was the giver or receiver. He always had a way of inserting a jest or wisecrack into any given conversation, and if you were in line to receive a card for an upcoming occasion, you could rest assured you would get a chuckle out of it.
So, with all of these parts I just mentioned, why compare my dad to a colourful toy? I think it comes down to this: recently Gord and I celebrated our 18th wedding anniversary, and the card Dad sent was lovely, but he commented: “It’s getting harder and harder to find a funny card!”. Personally, I think it was just getting “harder and harder” — period. Like the cube that seems impossible to solve and is easily put on the shelf with other objects, my Dad’s life must have seemed that way to him. He kept some parts well hidden. As a family, we were unsure of how to turn or twist things to make them line up or uncover those hidden pieces. But it was also up to him to show them to us.
Ultimately, what is most important, is that we remember my Dad loving each and every one of us and tried to show us in his own way. We should take with us the parts of Dad that resonated with us, treasure the “jolly” memories of our time with him, and keep him close to our hearts.
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