Charles Benson Canfield, Jr., 1935 - 2018

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.

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.

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. 

May, 1941 at home at 7340 Reseda Blvd.

Family ski trip at Table Mountain about 1945

About 1953, building a brick wall at their new home in Tarzana

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.  

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. 

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. 

Oceano (Pismo Beach) abt 1968

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.

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.

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.

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.

The view from the top of Mt. Whitney

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.

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.