La célébration de
Clive Curtis
1 juin 1935 –
24 février 2021
Peacefully, at Toronto Western hospital, with his daughters by his side. He was 85.
Clive came into this world a star – his birth, at Toronto Grace Hospital, was the first Caesarean section ever filmed, and his cinematic debut was used as a teaching tool at medical schools for many years after. He was brought home by his parents, George and Elsie, to the family home at Broadview and Danforth, where his older brother Barry was uneagerly awaiting his arrival. (Barry would later become his mentor and best friend, but their eight-year age difference didn’t exactly make for an instant brotherly bond.) Clive spent his childhood riding his beloved Schwinn around the neighbourhood, manouevring his go-kart down Pottery Road and exploring the pre-DVP Don Valley with his pals. Later, his free time was spent working in his parents’ chain of East End grocery stores, Curtis Markets, and putting the Schwinn to good use making deliveries.
He attended the University of Western Ontario, and in the summer after his first year he met an auburn-haired beauty from Orangeville, when they were both working at Windermere House in Muskoka. He graduated top of his class from Western’s business school, and married his summer sweetheart, Nan, in 1959. They would embark on an amazing journey together, welcoming three children: Jenefer in 1962, David in 1964 and Sara in 1968. Jen slept in the bathtub in their bachelor apartment on St. George street, until she graduated to her own room in the Kingsway centre-hall Nan and Clive bought in 1963. The other two kids and a yellow labrador named Brimstone filled up the rest of the house. Clive’s love of dogs trumped his dog allergy, and they would have a succession of three labs (Brim, Ben and Annie) over the next 40 years.
Clive started his career as a bond trader (his success at which he attributed to his ability to see the glass as half-empty), and then moved to institutional investing at North American Life and Confederation Life, and then investment management at Moss Lawson, Morrison Williams and finally Fairbank Investment Management. Eternally “retirement challenged,” he worked up until the age of 82. And not just at the office: Clive was passionate about community service, and spent a great deal of time volunteering, whether it was as an elder at Kingsway Lambton United or helping to manage the United Church pension fund, raising money for Parkinsons Canada after Nan’s diagnosis in 1998 (they were among the top five fundraisers in Canada for many consecutive years), or serving on the board of the Banting Research Foundation.
Clive had other great passions, too. The New Yorker magazine (the covers with which Nan wallpapered his basement bathroom!) Opera. Oysters. Good bourbon. Canada — he and Nan spent six wonderful years in Atlanta in the early 90s, but he was always a patriotic Canadian. Summer holidays at Cawaja Beach. Watching his grandson Sam play hockey and his granddaughter Olivia sing in a choir or at an open mic. Quietly observing birds land on the birdfeeder, and the sunlight reflect on Georgian Bay. (He had a word for sunlight sparkling on the water – “wassabeeta” – which he insisted was of First Nations origin, but no one could ever find any other reference to it. We think he might have made it up.)
In fact, he loved the water, whether it was swimming with his kids and grandchildren at the cottage or their Florida timeshare, sailing in his Sunfish (the Extra Dry – named for how he took his martinis), or sitting in a boat with his buddies on their annual fishing trip to Northern Quebec. Those fishing trips were a June highlight for more than 40 years; he always came home with a sore jaw from laughing so much (but, often, not much in the way of fish.)
He was also, despite his tendency toward self-deprecation, a man of many and varied talents. Wickedly good at liar’s dice. Graceful snooker player (and that’s snooker, not 8-ball, thank you very much.) Bing Crosby-level whistler. Magic trick enthusiast. Pitch-perfect baritone. Masterful letter writer. (His highly-anticipated letters to summer camp were filled with hand-drawn pictures.)
But he had one talent above all others: showing up. Clive showed up for the people in his life with a steadfast devotion that was unparalleled. He was the guy people went to for advice, help, or a shoulder, and he never faltered. A cherished brother-in-law to Kathy, David, Huda, Jean, Don, Charles and Sharon. A beloved uncle to his 14 nieces and nephews (one of whom recently described him as the Ted Kennedy of the family — minus Chappaquiddick). An advisor and loyal comrade to his legions of friends and colleagues, extending over decades and across continents.
Incredible grandfather to Olivia and Sam. Stellar father to Jen, David and Sara. And, most of all, eternal partner to Nan, whom he lost in 2017, and loved with the power of 10,000 suns. Their love story was the true leitmotif of his life, and it’s what sustained him for the 63 years they were together.
We love you, Dad. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. And if they do, take your shoe, and beat them ‘til they’re black and blue.
A donation of time or money to the charity of your choice would be a wonderful way to honour Clive’s memory. A small family service will take place, followed by a celebration of life at a later date.
Signer le livre d’or
1 juin 1935
24 février 2021
Nos plus sincères sympathies à la famille et aux amis de Clive Curtis 1 juin 1935
24 février 2021..
turner & porter funeral directors
Décès pour la Ville:Toronto, Province: Ontario