Gerhard H. Adrian,
Feb 23, 1916 – Mar 12, 1989

He was a farmer, trusting his fortune to the whims of nature because he loved the lifestyle and the independence it provided. Horses were one of his great loves, especially his horse, Fan. His dog was always a border collie. He was usually in the process of diversifying, shifting gears he'd call it, to pigs for awhile and then sheep for quite awhile.

He was a thinker, always looking for a solution to a problem — like how to fix or modify his tools to make them work better. He was never afraid to change direction and he didn't care if the neighbours agreed with his solution, or not. He believed in a classless society. It doesn't matter who they are, he'd say. It doesn't matter if they're a teacher or a doctor or a lawyer or even The Queen, never feel like you're anything less than they are.

He enjoyed solving riddles, but not as much as he enjoyed using riddles to 'put one over' on someone else. He enjoyed a good friendly argument.

He loved his family and although money was sometimes tight, we never wanted for anything important. He never held a grudge but he was quick to temper. It came in a flash like a lightning bolt out of the blue and then gone again, quite harmless actually, but you can bet we'll never forget it!

He enjoyed music. He told us about the first five dollars that he ever earned and how he spent it all on a guitar and sometimes, on a quiet Sunday afternoon, he'd pull that old green guitar out of its canvas case and pick a few songs. Most of his quiet time though, was spent with a novel.

We learned the value of hard work through him. He trusted us with responsibilities quite early in life but none beyond our capabilities, which taught us trust in ourselves. We learned to be resourceful; substitute he'd tell us, find something that works.

He never complained; even in his darkest moments. Whether struggling to get around on a broken leg, or fighting the 'silent killer' which was the name he gave to cancer, even when he was being wheeled to the smoking room for patients on the day before he died — if you asked him how he was he'd show you his 'company face' and say, can't complain, still amongst the living. He loved company and someday, if you're walking down a pathway in heaven and a door in front of you opens wide and a deep and friendly voice says, welcome here — that'll be him!