My dad, Charles Benson Canfield, Jr., died on April 25, 2018, in Bend, Oregon. He was born November 24, 1935 to Charles Canfield and Evelyn (Weaver) Canfield. The following is an expanded version of the eulogy delivered at his memorial service in Bend on April 29, 2018.
Our dad was an old-school guy who loved his
family, loved life, and lived life on his own terms.
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| Dad in the 1966 Lincoln he rebuilt |
Dad was born in 1935 and grew up in the San
Fernando Valley. Two years later, in 1937, his sister Dottie was born.
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| Charles, Dottie, Chuck, and Evelyn Canfield about 1939 |
Dad told us many stories from his childhood – about raising
goats as a boy and selling the milk to his parents to earn money, working as a
lifeguard at the community pool when he was in high school, camping in Yosemite
with his parents, and going fishing from a rubber raft in the ocean.
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May, 1941 at home at 7340 Reseda Blvd.
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| Family ski trip at Table Mountain about 1945 |
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About 1953, building a brick wall at their new home in Tarzana
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He aspired
to be an athlete and he succeeded, earning a letter in three different sports –
track, football, and swimming.
Dad bought his 32 Ford when he was in high
school. The Ford needed a lot of work, and Dad had both the interest and
inclination to learn how to fix it. This was the beginning of what would become
a lifelong passion for vintage cars.
After high school, dad went to Pierce College
and Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. At Pierce College, he took a speech class. He and
one of his friends had the brilliant idea to begin their speech by riding a
motorcycle up the ramp into the portable classroom. They got an “A” on the
speech!
On September 6, 1957, dad married Connie Sprott in San Fernando, California. They were the parents of three daughters - Cathy, Cris, and Cyndi.
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| Connie, Cathy, Chuck |
One of dad’s first jobs was at RadioPlane, where
he sanded and painted the radio-controlled fiberglass planes that were early
drones. Just last month, we were with dad and drove by the address where
RadioPlane was located and he told us about his time there.
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| Cyndi, Chuck, Cathy, Cris |
Connie and Chuck divorced, and in about 1964, he began
to work at American Electric. It was there that he met Nancy Kvien, a redheaded
bookkeeper from Minnesota. She needed to buy a car, and her boss told her that
Chuck knew all about them, so off they went car shopping. Before long, they
were exchanging secret love notes in the Xerox room at work. That was the
beginning of their lives together and in 1966, they were married in Lynwood, CA. In 2016, they
celebrated 50 years together as the guests of honor during a special service at
the church where they were married.
Dad and Nancy were blessed with two daughters - Sarah and Shalyn.
Dad's love
for the outdoors and his love for anything with a motor meant that on weekends
and vacations, we headed off to the mountains, or the river, or the desert, or
a lake, or a beach, where we went waterskiing or snowskiing or dune buggy
riding or hiking or motorcycle riding.
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| Oceano (Pismo Beach) abt 1968 |
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| Going Fishing |
His family was always along for the ride
and when we were old enough, he patiently taught us how to do all of those
things. I still remember learning how to waterski when I was about 10 years
old. Dad drove the boat and Nancy held me up to get started. Dad also taught us
how to pack a metal frame trailer by tying down a dune buggy, four motorcycles,
a three-wheeler, ice chests, paddle tires, and everything else we needed with
42 miles of straps and ropes.
Over the years, dad’s interests continued to
expand. He thought he might want to become a pilot so he went to ground school.
He had always loved reading National Geographic, and, as we girls grew older,
he and Nancy began to travel more widely. They ventured further and further
East, traveling throughout much of the US and then throughout the world.
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| Switzerland, 1998 |
Back home, dad was a good provider for his
family and an involved dad who attended ballet recitals and piano recitals and
trumpet recitals. He became a Mason so his daughters could join Rainbow Girls.
When Nancy went back to work, he was the one who took his girls trick or
treating. He was also in charge of feeding the girls the dinner mom had
prepared and he only occasionally drifted out to the garage, leaving them to
their own devices. He was there, day in and day out, taking care of things and
being a reliable dad.
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| Huntington Beach, 1977 |
He wasn’t one to express strong opinions or to
try to convince others that he knew what was best for us, but he was a steady
influence in our lives and we always knew he loved us. While he might not have
always agreed with or liked our decisions, he never shared that. He was a man
of few words in those situations, but we knew we had his support.
Dad was a calm, competent problem solver in the
face of challenges, and we rarely saw him get angry. Cyndi recalls a time when
they were riding the dune buggy on a bowl face and dad went up and over the
edge expecting a flat surface on the other side. Instead, there was a steep
downhill. The buggy landed on the back tires and the axle broke. Dad got out,
walked around and assessed the state of things, but he didn’t get mad. It was
just one more problem to be solved.
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| Yuma, 1975 |
Our dad was a resourceful, self-reliant man and
he passed that down to his daughters. There was almost no fix-it challenge that
he wouldn’t tackle. And he had the tools for everything and everyone.
Our sense
of his being able to fix just about anything is reflected in a story Shalyn
tells about how when they went to Disneyland, she would sit next to Papa on the
rides because she knew if something broke down, he would be able to fix it. As
each of us became teenagers and started driving, he made sure we knew how to
change a car tire. But it didn’t stop there. When Cris’s VW engine needed an
overhaul, he handed her a wrench and told her to unbolt every socket that
matched it, and then he guided her through the process of rebuilding the
engine. When the house needed a new roof did dad call a roofing company? No. He
called his daughters who brought their husbands and got the whole family up on
the roof nailing down tiles.
While dad didn’t have a natural gift of gab, he
was a good storyteller. All you had to do was ask him about one of his car
projects or road trips or world-travel adventures. I remember sitting with him
while he told me in great detail all about going on a hunting trip with his
Minnesota in-laws. By the time he was done, I felt like I had been on the trip.
He loved new experiences and was a keen observer who was happy to tell you
about where he’d been and what he’d done.
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| The view from the top of Mt. Whitney |
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| On the way to Anacapa, 2012 |
Many of you have heard about how dad and Nancy
tried to watch the sunset every night. This was a tradition that started years
ago. As the sun began to go down, they would find a place where they could
watch it together. It might have been the front porch of their house in Bend,
or a chair on a beach in California, or the deck of a cruise ship. They raised
their glasses and toasted each other, and quietly enjoyed the ending of the
day.
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| Sunset from the front porch, Bend, Oregon |
Our sunsets won’t be the same without you, dad.
We were blessed to have you as a husband and father and we love you.
