Kenneth Moffatt Macpherson

Predeceased by his wife Joan, parents Lola and Ken, and infant granddaughter Cailey, Ken is survived by son Scott (Joanne), daughter Candace, grandchildren Kelsey (Braedan) and Craig, sister Sherry Minter, brother Ian (Pierrette), niece Tanya, nephew Jeff (Melanie), great-nephews and niece Logan, Hunter, Riley, and Lachlan. Ken passed away at Hollyburn House in West Vancouver where he had lived for the past five years, enjoying the company of other residents and the attention of the excellent care team.

Ken was born on June 28, 1927 in Brandon, MB and after his parents moved briefly to Edmonton, grew up in Vancouver, attending Maple Grove Elementary, Point Grey Jr. High, Magee High, Vancouver Normal School (teaching certificate), UBC (B.A. and B. Ed.), and Western Washington (M. Ed.). Not bad for a boy who told of teachers rapping his left hand with a ruler until he “learned” to use his right hand to write and probably had a learning challenge thereafter…

Growing up during the Depression and Second World War made lifelong marks in Ken’s character, yielding an extraordinary work ethic, self-discipline, and willingness – indeed, maybe driven by false guilt, a need – to sacrifice on others’ behalf. During school, with his father travelling three weeks a month for sales, Ken helped with their properties and caring for his decade younger siblings, worked in the Vancouver yards for the CPR restocking passenger cars and moving baggage, became an ambulance attendant, was a wartime cadet and, missing the war by mere months due to birthdate, became an officer serving in the Canadian Intelligence Corp (Militia), retiring with the Canadian Forces Decoration for long service.

Ken was a teacher and administrator in several elementary and secondary schools, serving the last half of his career as Principal of Prince of Wales, Gladstone, and David Thompson secondary schools. He chose to serve the community and his colleagues through many educational and professional committees – attempting to avoid “the political aspects that bedevil all organizations”. Throughout, he never wavered in his view that “Kids are superb – always have been and always will be!”

To his children and grandchildren, Ken would tell fantastic stories and encourage imagination and courage, telling them that they could “do anything you want to do”. His imagination would create worlds for them to explore and mix with their times with him, such as when he would turn his car into small Kelsey’s ‘princess wedding carriage’ and take her for long drives in the driveway, discussing her wedding dress, long train, “and purple tights!”. Sometimes, Ken would create stories in the middle of a discussion, based on partial, perhaps wishful, memories and his interpretation of them, leading to shifting conversation topics and opinions, which could be at once entertaining, confusingly contradictory and baffling. A good friend once commented very accurately that ‘your Dad always spoke in code’.

Ken was a real Dad, and he loved being one…to everyone. This was even very recently reflected by his children’s friends never missing a chance to ask after him. It also showed in the stories he shared about those who cared for him at Hollyburn House (“they’re lovely people with really interesting backgrounds”), and by many of the those same people letting us know, “He was our father, our grandfather.”

Ken was a truly good, solid man. Throughout our lives, we may not have always understood exactly what he was trying to communicate, but his love, care, and support – foundational gifts that cannot be underestimated – were never in question.

An egalitarian, Ken had a tremendous admiration of the work ethic, skills, and abilities of people in every walk of life. He deeply enjoyed and learned from conversation with any and all, hearing life stories and of personal challenges with an empathetic ear. Always following the many activities and interests of his family, Ken helped where he could: track club and events, cubs, and pipe band activities. He especially enjoyed family trips and times together, particularly a long drive – and the associated laughter, learning, and memories made. The most remarkable one was from Vancouver to St. John’s, NL and back in 1975, trailer fire and all.

Retirement saw Ken travelling with Joan to taste a bit of every continent in the world and, as MS affected Joan’s mobility, adapting to her increasing care needs, even as he fought through cancer treatments and the resulting fatigue. Once, while he was visibly tired from treatment, when Scott offered to help him, Ken uncharacteristically gruffly said ‘no… that’s my job’ and moved Joan to her wheelchair to fulfill her request. We can only hope that we are half that tenacious. Over the years Ken watched with intense interest as the world expanded for his growing family, enjoying successes, fretting a bit over inequities or challenges experienced, giving good counsel and chuckling.

A lifelong passion for airplanes, especially “nice old birds”, led Ken to obtain his private pilot license in 1955 and, for the learning challenge, his commercial license 30 years later. Retirement saw him mostly hangar flying at local airports and his love of aviation has led to two subsequent generations of professional pilots. We only wish he had not denied himself so much in this area and that he had given himself the opportunity to fly more frequently and further afield.

Dad retained his playfulness almost to the end. From giving a mischievous sideways glance before immediately starting to skip while walking in public with his mortified teenage daughter, to regularly giving someone bunny ears while a photo was being taken, to charming the residents and staff of Hollyburn House by dancing down the hall with his cane or walker, often offering a hand to someone so they could dance together. In fact, several of the staff began referring to him as The Dancing Man. In this last year, Dad took to singing a song or two at the piano every Sunday, much to the surprised delight of everyone, and himself most of all.

If you wondered why there wasn’t a picture of Dad or a longer obituary in the Province newspaper, you

didn’t know how frugal he was about such things – he would have been aghast!