Clive Millar Goodrich
August 4, 1923 – October 20, 2018
Goodrich, Clive Millar
August 4, 1923 – October 20, 2018
Clive slipped away without fuss, at 2:15 P.M., on Saturday, October 20 – the last of his generation in our family.
Born in Weyburn, Saskatchewan, he had a quiet upbringing with his parents and brother, Weston, who was born with Downs Syndrome. Weston lived at home until his death in his early 20s, which caused the small family to be isolated – but built compassion for those less fortunate in his brother, Clive. Imagine how delighted Clive was to meet Ada, on a train, and to be welcomed into her large, boisterous farm family! They were married for 68 years.
In Saskatoon the young couple had a wide circle of friends and family, and soon started their own family. Two infant sons died before Robin and Colleen were born. After a move to Edmonton, 1 more infant died and Gordon and Carrie were added to the pack. Our family was disciplined and loved in equal measure by parents who had suffered deep loss and lavished attention on their remaining children. We had art, dance, speech, pottery, tennis, skiing, and charm lessons. Gord had hockey! All of us had piano lessons. Dad took us to libraries, museums, government buildings and parks. We hiked in ravines, built forts, skated in the back yard, put on circuses, rode our bikes, learned to swim and went camping in a high walled canvas tent in the summers. Dad loved parades, Kiwanis Apple Day, church suppers, band concerts, Klondike Days, and Folk Fest. Throughout our lives he drove us to music lessons. He taught us to drive in the Edmonton winters, because he said anyone could drive in the summer. As we became teenagers he made sure we always had a quarter to call him and he promised to pick us up no questions asked. We went to church until we were 15, not because Dad believed in God but because he thought it was a good way to raise children. I learned to sing harmony by singing hymns with my father.
Once, when I became stuck in the lane, he put his coat and boots over his P.J.s, helped me get the car home and never said a word. I’ve often wondered if he was even awake. The only time I ever tried to hitch hike home from high school – Dad picked me up. Never said a word – didn’t have to.
After the kids left home, Dad and Mom traveled the world, sang in choirs, played in bands and enjoyed an active social life of church, golfing, skiing and visiting family. Dad loved working in the yard and spending time in the garage – which was his « man cave ». CBC radio was his constant companion. He often kept a blank tape in his cassette deck and would record a mixed tape for me – every song missing the first 8 bars. That man could wrap a parcel. When he sent glass-front library shelves to me, it took us a week to unpack them.
At 86 and 87 Ada and Clive moved to Canterbury – never even entertaining the idea of moving away from their beloved Laurier Heights. After Mom passed, Dad bloomed one last time. He kept track of all the activities and entertainment in the Canterbury complex and participated fully. He enjoyed the company of other seniors, and made new residents welcome, showing them the ropes. He loved Norma as another daughter, and she was invaluable to our far-flung family. Dad had a regular walking route that took him around the whole facility to visit the staff, and outside – weather permitting. He knew where all the cookies and coffee were kept.
Dad would use his Barrel Taxi tickets to go to his appointments, and even to concerts downtown. He never had an event ticket – but would show up well dressed and excited, and inevitably someone would give him a seat and drive him home afterwards. When I told him I would pay for tickets and have them waiting for him at the venue, he said: »No, this is working. » He was independent well into his 90s.
Clive yearned to be able to tell a joke or relate a fascinating story – but that was not his personality. He was uncomplicated in his beliefs and his politics. He had a gentle way about him that encouraged others to talk to him. He would listen carefully and often had a different way of seeing an issue that made me look again. He believed in the goodness of people and lived a generous life of giving to charity and helping others. There wasn’t a mean bone in his body.
Clive is predeceased by 3 infant children, his wife, Ada Goodrich (nee Hummason) and his daughter Robin Goodrich (Geoff Oliver). He is survived by his daughter, Colleen Goodrich (Carl Vesterback), son, Gordon Goodrich, daughter, Caroline Goodrich (William Anderson), grandchildren, Kirsten (Travis Howland), Colin and Kyle Vesterback, Ada and Francky (Tamara Younes) Oliver, son-in-law, Geoff Oliver, grand-daughter, Grace (Houston Flaman) Goodrich and great grand-daughters Carys and Julian Howland.
Rest in Peace Dad.
Donations may be made to a charity of your choice. Clive supported The Canadian Red Cross, The Kidney Foundation, The C.N.I.B., Doctors Without Borders, Friends of Canadian Broadcasting, The Salvation Army, and The Mustard Seed Food Bank in Edmonton.
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Nos plus sincères sympathies à la famille et aux amis de Clive Millar Goodrich 2019..
Décès pour la Ville: edmonton, Province: Alberta