- Dale Simpson
BIRTH?tab?Dec 1948
DEATH?tab?26 Nov 2018 (aged 69)
BURIAL?tab?
Roblin District Cemetery
Roblin, Roblin, Russell, Rossburn Census Division, Manitoba, Canada
MEMORIAL ID?tab?195011514 ? View Source
MEMORIAL
PHOTOS 1
FLOWERS 0
Youngest son of Stewart & Islay Simpson.
Engineer, (University of Manitoba) worked for Schlumberger of Canada in Alberta, then moved back to Roblin to farm his parent's farm (5 West & 1.5 miles South of Robliin) after his Dad passed away.
How do you say goodbye to someone who meant as much to so many as Dale did? How do you replace someone, who provided so much positivity and levity in your life? Who's spirit, gentle kindness, sense of humour and adventure was unmatched...how do you fill that void? What kind of words can you string together to fairly describe what kind of a brother, husband, father, grandfather that he was? How do you explain to someone, that incredible energy and zest for life that he had. The love of adventure. The burning desire to just go. Always moving. On to to new places, try new things. How do you fairly depict his generosity? How he shared all his good fortune in life with those around him? I've wrestled with it for days, but I finally realized there are no words. There's nothing I can stand here and say to you...that paints the complete picture or tells the whole story. And He always said more with his actions than his words anyway.
Dale Simpson was born in December 1948. He grew up on the farm, along side his brother Gordon. Like most young farm kids, it meant work before play. Yet there was plenty of time for both. He was a good kid and a good student. With good grades in high school, he moved on to Winnipeg to study engineering. There was a university dance one night and some nursing students were there. This story would likely be a lot different if it wasn't for that night...for it was that night Dale met Lynn. Lynn Cowburn. She was special. Fancy. This wasn't a farm girl. At least, not yet. They dated, and were soon married. University was over and with engineering degree in his pocket, he and Lynn followed his work in Edmonton. Meanwhile, in his heart...the family farm was calling. Dale's dad had passed away a few years earlier and over time, the prospect of returning home to run the farm became too much to overlook. Dale and Lynn packed up and moved home to that little farm house west of Roblin, and never left. There were growing pains, but in time the farm flourished. Dale began adding sections of land, pieces of machinery, buildings, bins, hired men...Dale turned the farm into a thriving business. And not by accident. He was always driven and had an appetite to learn. He had computers with weather maps, spreadsheets, grain pricing, world trends...he soaked up all the info he could find and applied it to the business of farming.
While Dale was building the farm, he and Lynn also began building their family. Trisha was born, then Joanne....followed by Karleen. Beautiful, baby girls. 3 of them. Outnumbered by women in his own home 4-1. Now that's how you learn patience. And he was patient. And thoughtful. And kind. And generous. He was that "drop everything your doing to help your neighbor " kind of person. He loved the farm. You hear the saying, "love what you do and you'll never work a day in your life." Not that it wasn't hard work or long hours, but he never gave you the impression he'd rather be anywhere else. To watch the crops take shape during the summer gave him a real sense of purpose and satisfaction.
Sitting still wasn't one of his best traits. You would lose him from time to time. "Where's Dale? Have you seen Dale?" The farm was perfect for him because there was always some where to go, putter around with something. For the most part he was very practical and calculated. Quiet and unassuming. But yet he had a surprising appetite for adventure. Down hill skiing, hiking, scuba diving, biking, golfing...he recently bought a fishing boat and a snow machine. If you asked Dale to go do something...you wouldn't hear no. And he was tireless. If he loved what he was doing, it was tough to get him to stop. And nearly impossible for the rest of us to keep up. He was amazing grandpa. He did everything. Wanna play ping pong? Basketball? Bike ride? Throw the ball around. Ride in the kubota. He was in for everything, always. And he loved to get a rise out of the grand kids. Often he'd do something silly at the dinner table or if we were out somewhere... and if he got a giggle. Then he would escalate things a bit, being met at some point by Lynn's all too familiar "Dale." But that too was almost fuel for him to continue. He'd give a little eye roll the kids and push it a little further.
Dale and Lynn. Lynn and Dale. What a team. They travelled around the world and back again. I don't like spending more than a couple nights living in hotels and out of a suitcase. They would do it for months. And love it. Safari's and tour buses and excursions galore. No need to reserve beach chairs or cabanas for this pair. They would have two or three trips planned in advance at any given time. Even as recent as this June, Dale finished up with a doctors appointment and was on a plane for another scuba diving adventure. You could keep your condo in Scottsdale or Boca Raton...that was not for these two.
Class. Pride. Integrity. He had it all. The dignity in how he handled illness was so courageous. Rather than let it crush his spirit, in a way it energized him. It didn't slow him down. It only accelerated the pace at which he lived. There was no self pity. And never asked for anyone to feel sorry for him. No anger. Through all the treatments and setbacks along the way, his optimism never wavered. Last weekend, I had a chance to call him at the hospital and say goodbye. It was a very difficult thing obviously. I was upset as I hung up. Lynn and the girls were there bedside with him and he said, "well now I've got everyone crying." Trish said to him "you know why that is, right? Because everything is more fun with you." "I like that."
I heard the saying recently, you can die well by living well. Take periodic checks in on your life to ensure you aren't just going through the motions. Live your life, knowing that there IS a finish line. That maybe....time running out is a gift. Where would the urgency be to step outside the box if you had forever to do it. It may only be coincidence, but is seemed like Dale was keenly aware of it. It's like he knew the curtain could fall at anytime, so he lived it.
Living, or dying with regrets is a terrible thing. It gives me peace knowing that...I don't think Dale left much undone. He poured everything into his 69 years, wringing out every last drop.
And if you were lucky enough to be around for even part of the ride, what an exciting, joyous, and beautiful ride it was.
Today we say goodbye to one of the finest men I've ever known. Upon first meeting, Dale Simpson might have come across as a quiet, unassuming man. You would have been right. He wasn't going to overwhelm you with talk of religion or politics...smother you with his opinion. Not about to dominate a conversation. Yet at the same time, and likely shocking to most, inside that reserved gentleman was an incredible appetite for adventure, a steely determination and a wonderful zest for life. All you needed was to happen upon one of the countless things in life he was passionate about...you would quickly learn...he was all in.
I've always felt like Dale was a throwback. He had the intelligence, drive, work ethic and integrity to have prospered during any generation. The house he lived in is the only house he ever lived in. He lived by basic principles: If you can't afford it, don't buy it. If it's broken, fix it. Need a new one, what's wrong with the old one? There was a simplicity there that we don't often see anymore. And with that easy going manner, he had a tremendous positivity, an asset today that is also in short supply. Things were always "pretty good." He knew that being in a good mood or being happy was mostly within your control. The glass, was always half full if not more. He became captivated by the field. Where you and I saw dirt, he saw it as much more. You could see how proud he was...he would point out to us which fields were his as we would drive by. He was constantly monitoring the weather, prices, economic trends from around the globe. He was in tune with the entire industry. And as technology evolved, so did he. Some farmers resisted innovation....Dale embraced it. The same intelligence and appetite to learn he used to earn his engineering degree, he forged in the field of farming.
A large segment of the farming community are always relieved when harvest is over. Quite happy to park the machinery and wind down. I'm sure he was happy to see the season end, but he never gave you the impression that it was a burden. It was always evident the sense of enjoyment and pride he took in working the land; collecting and enjoying it's bounty. Walking away wasn't easy for Dale. He really wrestled with the idea of retiring from the farm. Luckily though, it didn't take him long to realize it would afford him time to really immerse himself in the other loves he had in life. Namely Lynn. He and Lynn, literally travelled the world together. New Zealand to Australia, China to Bali, Hawaii to Africa. They travelled Europe, the Caribbean, Central America. Made it to Jamaica three times. They would remarkably live out of suitcases for weeks on end. A small price to pay. Planes, trains and automobiles. It could have been a five star hotel one night, a drab hostel the next. It didn't matter, so long as they were together. One by one they picked out places on the map and packed their bags. You could always tell where they had been by the shirts Dale wore. Every stop meant a new tourist t-shirt. From our standpoint as family, It was hard to keep straight where Dale and Lynn were at any one time. "Where are they? Is it Tonga or Antigua?" They loved to travel and were great at it. All in.
They even landed in tropical destinations like Calgary and Winnipeg time to time. But if there was a radiant sun, salt air and warm water lapping at their toes in white sand, they were where they were meant to be. It wasn't always sand and surf for the Simpson's. One of the first gifts Dale ever bought Lynn was a set of downhill skis. Lynn, having never down hill skied before, didn't know she wanted a set of downhill skis. But Dales enthusiasm was contagious and it wasn't long before they were making trips to Alberta and BC before and after the girls were born. More recently, Dale was a member of the Calgary seniors ski team. While living in Roblin. He'd drive to Calgary, hop on a bus with strangers and ski for days. He'd come back, gushing with stories about the amazing snow, and the great food and wine. When it came to skiing it was hard to keep up with Dale...our family especially. It came down to us all having to take shifts....Trish, Marty and Karleen will go Monday, then Rob, Joanne, Eddy and Charley will go Tuesday. Lynn would maybe try to get him to skip a day here and there, but he'd work behind the scenes to form a group of allies to join him on the slopes...and sure enough the next morning they were off again. If he came to ski, he was going to ski. All in.
On one of Lynn and Dale's warm weather excursions, he took one of those free scuba diving lessons they offer at resorts. It didn't take long and a passion for diving was born...at the tender age of 66 years old. Before long, trips to Calgary or Winnipeg weren't just for visiting ...it was a chance to add some new scuba gear to his growing collection. Vacation planning now began to revolve around the quality of diving nearby. Much like with skiing, he would routinely join a group of strangers on a scuba trip and set off for the day...or days. He went on a diving trip last year where they slept and ate right on the boat for the week. The boat offered guests 5 different times a day to go diving. Some would sleep in and dive in the afternoon...others would go in the morning to enjoy the mid day sun on the boat deck. Dale went on all five dives on day one. And day two. And three. On the five day excursion he dove 25 times. Not even the instructors could handle that. They called him the Iron Diver. All in.
Not too many years ago he chose to hone his skills at the game of Golf. He found a set of golf clubs somewhere on the farm...probably better suited for a museum than a golf course by now, but started to swing away.
The latest head over heels love affair for Dale was Biking. Specifically, the e-bike. Pedal bike but has an electric battery assist to make tougher terrain and hills easier. He loved it. He started slow, just biking to Davis's. Then down some trails. Then into town for coffee. During the summer coming home from treatment in Winnipeg Lynn and Dale would stop in clear lake. Lynn would have ice cream and Dale would disappear into the forest on his bike. It was only August that Joanne and Dale biked the trails from Canmore to Banff. Again, All in.
I cannot forget, his toy on four wheels, not two. For months and months Dale would visit the Ford dealership in town, literally kicking tires on a car deal. He'd leave, come back, leave again. Seasons would change but he was persistent. That car, the apple of his eye never left the showroom. Not until one day, Dale Simpson, blue jeans, tattered shirt, dusty cap...slowly slid the shifter in drive, of his new, glimmering yellow Ford Mustang convertible. Now thats all in. There was no wiping the smile off his face when he was behind the wheel.
But as you circle back around to the beginning, at the heart of it all was an honest, hard working family man, with unfailing integrity. If you ever needed a check of your moral compass, spend some time with him. He'd listen, and in his own way steer you towards what was right. One of my first brushes of what he stood for came many years ago. I don't think there were any grandkids even then. He was in the middle of harvest, just pouring it on to get things wrapped up. We had all come home to the farm and were going to sit down for dinner. Lynn had asked Dale if he could just come and have dinner with us all before we went back to the city. Probably not very convenient for him, but he didn't put up a fuss and made his way back to the farm. We were sitting down for this great meal Lynn had prepared for all of us. Dale asked what we were having and it was beef tenderloin. He was pretty impressed with that. He made a comment that the hired men back out working the field would like that very much. Lynn mentioned that there obviously wasn't tenderloin for that many people and that she had already packed lasagne and garlic bread in the lunches for the workers. Without saying much he visited with us for a few minutes, encouraged all of us to enjoy our dinner, grabbed the lunches, and went to eat with the guys in the field. He was not going to sit in the house and eat tenderloin while the men working for him had lasagne out in the field. That moment stuck with me always.
What would Dale do? I've used that many times as a barometer when pressed into a challenging decision. Not what is easiest. Or quickest. He would always do the right thing...no matter what.
How do you measure a person's legacy? What is it people will remember about you when you are gone? Is it an award? Accomplishments? Money? Tangible things left behind? Maybe. But with Dale, it's so much more. For starters his generosity knew no bounds. What was his, was yours. Without fail. Whatever successes he'd achieved in life, made him happiest if he could share. I would bet most of us in here have been on the receiving end of his graciousness.
He had an easy and gentle kindness. Whether it was a lifelong friend, or someone he'd never met...they were greeted with the same smile and hearty handshake. His dealing with illness was inspirational. I've never liked the phrasing of "losing the battle" or "losing the fight". Dale took this head on with the same intensity and fire he did everything in his life. Roadblock after roadblock, his positivity never wavered. You need not feel bad for him, he never felt sorry for himself. Maybe the legacy of a man is simply the lasting impression people have. And with his story now written, there is no one with a bad word to say about Dale Simpson. Not one. Liked by all and loved by so many. I can only hope to be as lucky. He poured his heart into everything he did. The family farm...his kids....his grandkids....and of course Lynn. I like to think that he's somewhere today, strapped into a harness learning to hang glide. Maybe with a parachute on his back set to skydive out an airplane. I know this much...hammocks were not made for people like Dale. It was exhilaration. It was feeling the wind in your face....be it by skiing, biking, behind the wheel with the top down....or maybe just an ocean breeze beside the woman he loved...that was what made his heart race....right to the end. Dale always said more with his actions than his words. I hope we can all take a little bit of his spirit, joy and sense adventure with us. He'd love that. Why dip a toe in the water, when you can cannonball? Why wade in the shallow end, when you can dive to its depths? Why stick to the groomed runs, when there's knee deep powder? (www.nairn-chyzfuneralhome.com)
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1948 - 2018 (~ 69 years)
