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facts & arguments

Fred Simpson

Father, husband, handyman, perfectionist. Born on May 30, 1936, in Toronto; died on Oct. 9, 2014, in Toronto, of cancer, aged 78.

Fred Simpson was a man of integrity and old-fashioned values. My father put family first, was frugal with his money, took care of his things, worked hard, and was neat, organized and on time.

He met his life partner, Mary Gregg, at a dance when they were in their early 20s and married the following year, in 1960. They first bought a small bungalow in Scarborough, Ont., moving farther out to the suburbs in 1967, where they lived in the same home until his death. Dad was a tool-and-die maker with General Electric, and then moved into management in a steel-strapping manufacturer company, Signode Canada, where he worked for more than 30 years. He and Mom had very traditional roles, with her as homemaker.

Family mattered most to Dad. We always did things together, from a Toronto-to-Kelowna, B.C., trailer trip when my brother Mark was 5 and I was 3, to vacations in Florida, to taking up cross-country skiing in the 1970s. When our mother's health declined in the past five years, Dad not only cared for her until she moved to a nursing home but also learned to cook, do laundry and clean house – quite a reversal for a couple whose usual roles had mimicked Leave It to Beaver.

As a first-generation Canadian whose parents came from England and Ireland with next to nothing, Dad was always careful with his money. He eschewed paying interest; every chance he had, he would tell us how quickly he and Mom had paid off their mortgage. He bought a new car – always an American brand (Chevrolet or Ford), never an import – every eight years with cash, arriving at the dealership at 5 p.m. on Saturday to negotiate a deal with salesmen who likely wanted to go home. He kept his 1957 Johnson outboard motor in perfect working order until the family cottage in Haliburton, Ont., was sold in 2008.

Dad was a perfectionist and worked hard at everything he put his mind to. He was proficient in small engine and auto mechanics, carpentry, finances and taxes, home maintenance. He had high standards for his sons, too; in 1981, he drew up an allowance contract for each of us outlining a detailed list of chores to be completed for compensation of $2 every Friday afternoon.

Dad was fastidiously orderly. His garage and workshop were cleaner than many people's kitchens. My brother and I once observed him vacuuming the lawn. Storage boxes had labels and inventory lists, clothes were always folded and put away, beds were always made. He once gave instructions to neighbourhood kids on how to properly shovel snow off a driveway and create crisp, even banks.

Dad was diagnosed with liposarcoma in 1998, had two rounds of surgery, and won his battle against cancer in 2000. His annual scans in subsequent years came up clean, and we thought the war was won. But cancer was detected again last August and claimed him in early October. Mom was heartbroken at his passing, and died 10 weeks later, on Dec. 20, 2014. We miss them dearly.

Mike Simpson is Fred's son.

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