“Stan was a good man. He was a good man to start out with and a good man all his life.” (This from my mom)

My grandfather Castle - my dad’s dad - left England for Canada when he was a kid, (early 20th century) - a very young man and got a job working on the railroad working as a chef. When Grampa Castle was done working for the railroad and had married my grandmother, the family lived in Montreal and that’s where my dad was born in 1916. Interestingly, my father wasn’t issued a birth certificate in Quebec at the time of his birth because the family wasn’t Catholic. It wasn’t until the 1940’s that Dad was able to attain his birth certificate.

There were five boys and two girls in my dad’s family and my Dad was second born. Eventually the family moved to a town near Quebec City, Dana Cotta, on the St. Lawrence River. Grampa Castle became the chef at a little hotel there. The town was completely French and my dad was fluent when he was a small child. My Dad’s family moved from Quebec to Cornwall, Ontario and that’s where he met my mother. My Dad was 16 and my Mom - 12 - when they first met. After my folks were married they went back and stayed in Dana Cotta for a night or two and “what a ramshackle hotel it was!” They stayed there knowing that Grampa Castle had worked there years before.

My Dad was very active in his younger years. He played all sorts of sports - tennis, baseball and badminton. My Mom says that when they were dating, he only had time for Mom but as soon as they were married, he went right back to playing all his sports!!! Somethings never change.

My parents courtship began by doing things with the young people’s group at church. They went on a sleigh ride and I think my dad thought my mom was older as she was already in high school. My mom used to tell me the story of that first night. She was on one sleigh and he was on the other one but Dad kept coming back to Mom’s sleigh - knocking her off and then helping her back up. At the end of that first evening, Dad asked to walk Mom home but another friend was her designated pal to accompany her home. That was the last time that friend walked her home. From then on - “Stan the man” was there first!

Dad asked Mom on a date to the movies when Mom was 14 and Dad 18. Even though Mom had already seen the movie in the afternoon with a girlfriend she begged her mother to let her go with Dad. No kissing on that first date!!! But from then on, Dad and Mom dated every Friday night! I think that’s pretty romantic. Mom told me once that on one particular Friday night - after being dropped off by Dad - she watched him walk off the front steps, down the street and across to the other side. When he turned back to look, she waved, and it came over her that she knew she would marry him one day. And she did. Cue the tears!

Dad and Mom were married on August 27, 1938. They left on their honeymoon trip immediately following the ceremony and reception to Rochester and Syracuse, New York and Niagara Falls and Toronto. Their first home was 54 Seymour Avenue in Cornwall.

My Dad worked at the paper mill in Cornwall for 42 years. He started on the Bull Gang, the men who do stuff all over the Mill, wherever they’re sent. It wasn’t too long until he was on the machines, though, working his way up from the bottom. By the time he was finished, he was running the largest mill machine in Canada. The stuff goes in at one end and it comes out the other end as beautiful sheets of paper. “It was a mile long!” Dad began working for an hourly wage but eventually became salaried. He was well respected at his work.

Dad gave his life to Christ as a young child and was baptized at the age of 16. He and Mom were solid believers and were faithful to lead our family accordingly. We went to Sunday School and church always - as a family. Dad and Mom taught us to love church, our pastors and teachers and fellow believers. They taught us to love the Bible - to read it - to cherish it - and to obey it.

Dad was a Gideon. I’m not sure what year he joined this group but it was before I was born in 1958. Back in the day, Gideons were allowed to present New Testaments to every student in Grade 5 in Ontario. They also placed bibles in hospitals and hotels and prisons. I’m sure you’ve seen them and perhaps picked one up when on holidays. My Dad took very seriously the verse that says, “All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for reproof for teaching, for correction and for training so that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work.” (2 Timothy 3:16)

Dad led by example. He rose early to study the word and pray - before he went to work. I can picture his chair - his bible beside it - ready to read. He often went to work “under the weather” as those were the days before you had sick days. He had a large family to care for and he took his job and responsibilities very seriously. He didn’t take too many chances. I remember that causing some rifts between my parents. He liked “all his ducks lined up in a row!”

Being the 9th child, my parents were “old” when I was born in January of 1958. Mom was 38 and Dad was 42. My dad and I didn’t spend much time together. He worked shifts! It was a different age.

By the time the 70’s rolled around - my older brothers and sisters were married and gone from the house and it was just the three youngest now at home. We enjoyed lots of camping trips and visits to the “lake” where my sister and brother-in-law had their cottage.

I excelled in sports - especially badminton - and as my dad had played badminton as a youth, he came to some of my tournaments! I loved seeing him in the crowd cheering me on. He also helped me with my high school math homework because his brain was quick and understood the concepts. I didn’t.

I feel that when I became an adult, was married and out of the house that my dad and I became closer. We enjoyed watching the Leafs and Blue Jays together. Sports were an easy subject to discuss. We also talked about sermons we listened to and ways to live out the Bible in our daily lives. As an adult woman, I saw my dad’s kind and compassionate heart - especially for my mom. Mom broke her hip when they lived in Westport and he was heartbroken that she was in so much pain. I went and spent a week with Dad - at home with him while Mom was in the hospital. I remember driving back and forth to Kingston together to the hospital to visit Mom and he would tell me stories of working at the mill - of growing up in Quebec. In the evenings, we would watch the Jays or play scrabble.

My Dad loved food and he always, always, always, after each meal say “that was a good supper, Al!” He always showed his appreciation to Mom. I learned that lesson well - to show appreciation where it is deserved.

Dad and Mom lived with Randy and I for a short time before he died. They arrived in December and stayed with us until June. Mom used to rest in the afternoon and I would take Dad to the Cambridge mall where he’d enjoy a coffee and a donut while we watched hockey players on the mall rink. I loved those afternoons. He did too.

My Dad died on February 12, 2007. It was a Monday night. When I got the phone call, a piece of my heart died too.

I miss his smile. I miss his dry sense of humour. I miss his wisdom. I miss that the patriarch of our family is no longer here.

I’m thankful that Dad was a strong leader in our home. I’m thankful that he demonstrated faithfulness and love to Mom and us kids. I’m thankful that he taught us to love God, the Bible, and the local church. I’m thankful that he showed us how to work hard. I’m thankful that not everything showed up on a “silver platter” but some things we needed to save for. I’m thankful that he took my boys fishing and golfing when they were little. I’m thankful that he taught me to love and play sports. I’m thankful that on one particular, difficult Sunday morning, he walked into church - holding my hand and whispered “hold your head up high!” I’m thankful his name lives on with my grandson - “Levi Stanley!” I’m grateful for having him as my father.

“He was a good man!”