I have always believed that my father, Peter Treasure, was the most handsome and charming man in the world.  He had movie star good looks and a magnetic personality. When dad smiled at you, it made you feel special. Waitresses, acquaintances, coworkers, friends, his family and especially babies were easy prey for his smooth, “Hi there, Sunshine” and his winning smile. Dad loved life, he loved his family and he always worked incredibly hard at everything he undertook.

Thank you all so much for being here today to celebrate the life of my father. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Peter and Jo’s fourth daughter, Gail and I’m going to tell you a condensed version of my dad’s life, which thankfully, was long and full.

Dad was born Peter Forbes Chambers in Aberdeen, Scotland February 18, 1930. He came to Canada on a ship by himself at 6 &frac;12; years of age and was adopted by his aunt Elizabeth who was married to a man named Walter Treasure. Dad went to Hartman Jones PS for grades 1 to grade 8 where he won the Grade 8 all around student trophy, but Elizabeth had passed away a few years previously so she would never know this.

Then dad started high school at East York Collegiate. He did not complete high school though, because on his 16th birthday, his father Walter came home from work and said, “You’re 16 now. You’re finished with school and tomorrow you start work at Imperial Oil.” Dad went to work there cleaning oil tanks.

When he met my mom, who was Joela McCormick at the time, Dad was working in the office at Honeywell, the thermostat company. It was 1950. He was 20 and mom was 18 1/2. They had a common group of friends. The guys played pick up football on Sundays and the girls watched. They all went to movies at the Cameo theatre and frequented Roy’s Restaurant. Mom remembers seeing dad standing outside the Cameo theatre with a broken foot from football. She thought he was really good looking with his curly red hair and it was actually Mom who asked Dad out on their first date. It was Sadie Hawkins and they went to a movie.

On one date at the Uptown Theatre, there was a comedian onstage between films who told a joke about a red head named Sam. Dad’s name had been changed to Peter Treasure, with no middle name. Mom’s friend Cathy thought Dad needed a second name, so she started calling Dad Sam and it stuck. That is why Mom always called Dad Sam, not Pete or Peter as everyone else did.

On August 31, 1951 Dad and mom bought an engagement ring and they were married one year later, on August 30, 1952. They each contributed $2.50 for the marriage license.

Dad was destined to be surrounded by women. He often joked about it, but we, his daughters Jan, Denise, Laurie, myself and Stephanie, always knew he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

The first ten years they were married, my parents moved 10 times.

They first rented a flat in Leaside, Toronto. Dad went to work in the warehouse at Feranti Electric. While he was there, his friend, Harry Powell, suggested that dad might like to work for O. H. Pearce selling Marchand calculators and typewriters on commission. Mom and dad were sent to Brockville in 1953. Then Peterborough in 1954, for 7 years. Denise and Laurie were born in Peterborough.

In 1961 they moved to Winnipeg. They were very happy in Winnipeg and were going to live there forever and raise their family there, but his boss convinced him to move to Toronto and keep working for Marchand calculators. They lived for a month with mom’s sister Fay McCann and her husband Donnie. Then they moved to Canlish Road in Scarborough. That is where I was born.

In 1963, Dad started working for Levitt Safety where he worked for 37 years, first as a salesman, then as Sales Manager for the Instrument Division. When I was a year old, they moved to 28 Navenby Crescent in North York. Here they became friends with our neighbours : Margret and Pat Quinn, Gloria and Ed Sasseville and June and Euric Sagraskey.

In 1991, they moved to Burlington when Levitt Safety moved to Oakville.

When he was 50 years old, Dad had the opportunity to go to England on business and he took the initiative to try to find the family that he had been separated from as a child. He met his cousin Margaret Mather and through Margaret’s mother Thomasina, he found his birth mother Robertina. He arrived unannounced at her door and said, “It’s Peter from Canada” and took her to the local hotel for dinner. Dad also met his half brother Robert and half sister Betty and rekindled the ties with them as well as other family members in Scotland and England.

Dad retired from Levitt Safety when he was 70 years old, in the year 2000. And I should pause here for a moment to stress that Dad was a perfectionist with everything he did, which I will expand upon later, but in his work, he always did his best and more. Every morning, he would work out for an hour at Vic Tanny’s then get to work for 8am. He spent countless hours working late at home and he put 50,000 miles, not kilometres, a year on his car; frequently driving to Ottawa, Montreal or Rochester after a full days work. After he retired, Dad worked as a marshall at two golf courses.

So that is the chronological story, to help you understand the framework of Dad’s life. Now I’d like to dwell on a few specific aspects of his life. Things we’ll remember and things we love about him.

Dad was an avid golfer. However, because it was expensive, he didn’t start seriously golfing until he was in his 30’s. He was able to golf through his job and on weekends he would get up well before the sun, creep out quietly and play 18 holes and return back to the cottage just as mom was waking up. Dad’s best golfing buddy was his work friend Jerry Valiquette, but he would happily play with anyone who wanted a game.

When I turned 13, dad came home asked me to get something out of the trunk for him. It was my first set of golf clubs in a green golf bag. Dad took me to golf lessons and the driving range on a regular basis. Those times were wonderful. He loved sharing his favourite pastime with me. He was always patient and encouraging. He remembered the lessons Stan taught me and he coached me with every shot around the course, applauding and sometimes doing pretend television commentary to make me laugh.

To illustrate how good a golfer my father was, I’d like to show you this scorecard that we found from 1998. Dad’s score was 75. But remember how I said he was a perfectionist? Dad circled that he played from the blue tees, he put a box around his three bogies and in the corner of the scorecard, he wrote 15 pars, 3 bogies. Undoubtedly, he spent time after this round, not just feeling good that he had scored so well, but also trying to figure out how he could do better next time. Dad always walked the course when he had the choice and he made 3 holes in one in his lifetime, but my favourite golfing memory with Dad was also one of his.

In 1988, on a family vacation to visit our relatives, Dad and I played the Old Course at St. Andrews in Scotland. For me, it felt like a perilous journey through prickly gorse bushes and mile deep bunkers, but for Dad, it was epic. He played marvelously, expertly staying in the fairway and negotiating the constant wind. Then, on the 18th hole, in front of the crowd that congregates around the final green, dad sunk a 60 foot putt and I was holding the pin. The crowd went wild with applause.

Dad had many hobbies over the years and when he started a new activity, he would always buy a book about it, read it entirely, and use the advice to improve his knowledge and ability.  Dad played hockey with a team from work, he played chess, racquetball and bowling. He was interested in photography, wine making and music. He loved travelling. As well as England, Dad visited Japan and Germany through his work.

In 2002, Dad and mom went on their first overseas trip to Europe as a couple. They also went on 2 Hawaiian cruises for their 80th birthdays, and 4 Mediterranean cruises. On these trips, Daddy particularly loved the Sagrada Familia church in Barcelona, the natural beauty and dancing girls in Hawaii and the butterscotch ice cream on the cruise ships that he had for dessert every night.

Another athletic interest that myself, and my sisters, were happy to share with Dad was cross-country skiing. We started skiing nearly every weekend in the winter, sometimes on both Saturday and Sunday, when I was 13. Dad and I took lessons at Seneca College in King City and we either skied there, or at Horseshoe Valley. We got so good that we would do the 10 kilometre expert trails that had four steep pitch sections on them. We would always pause at the top to take a drink of water, adjust our clothing and work up our courage. I vividly remember Dad looking over at me and saying, “Go get em Tiger!” and motioning for me to go first. I wiped out about half the time and Dad only wiped out a few times, but we’d always laugh and feel like we conquered the mountain either way. Dad always wore a wineskin with water and a waist pouch in which he’d pack bread, cheese, apples and granola bars. We’d stop at the resting log areas on the trails, have our little snack and contemplate how incredibly beautiful it was in the forest and how good we felt to exercise in the fresh air.

In Burlington, Dad, Laurie and our friend Betty skated on Sundays and went bowling. Dad had finally found a sport that mom would do with him. They joined the Prime Time Bowling League and bowled weekly for 10 years.

Dad was always neat and tidy. On Saturday nights when we were younger he shined our shoes, later, he waxed our skis and cleaned our golf clubs. We always had the best looking yard. Dad meticulously mowed the lawn, raked the clippings and trimmed the cedar hedges. Dad was a snappy dresser and took pride in his appearance. He had the best curly red hair and he was never without a small black comb to make it look just right. His cars were always clean. I loved going through the carwash as a little girl. And in the summer, when we went to the drive in at the cottage, dad brought a bottle of cleaner and he would always wash the windshield before the show so that it was completely clear.

Dad absolutely loved children, and especially babies. In social situations, he would happily relieve a mom of her baby and sing to it, coo at it and walk around and rock it for an hour. I remember Dad reading stories to Stephanie for hours and how he came to stay at my house for a week when Marie had chicken pox. Dad was so proud of his grandchildren Kelly, Marie, Jack and Sam and he never missed an opportunity to tell them that, to hug and kiss them and to say that he loved them. Dad started attending St. Christopher’s church when my daughter Marie was born and had heart surgery in 1997. He was a sidesman at church services and he regularly met with the Ginger Men’s Group.

Our family spent summers at the cottage at Dunromin in the Pines from 1965 to 1988. It was a very social place and Dad was a popular guy. He golfed frequently at Cedarhurst in Beaverton, he was a champion shuffleboard player and he played and won many games of Scrabble.

Okay, I’m nearly done. Here are some of Dad’s favourite things: His favourite foods were pizza, red wine and fettucine Alfredo. His favourite movies were: Shirley Valentine, Star Wars, The Rocky Horror Picture Show and anything with Clint Eastwood or Judi Dench.

He loved watching golf, baseball, musical theatre and anything his children or grandchildren were participating in.

My father, Peter Treasure, was a people person. He enjoyed being with people of all ages and meeting new people everywhere he went. Dad was intelligent, funny, curious, kind and optimistic. Dad had a calm, strong voice and he could whistle perfectly in tune, which he did, a lot.

Last Saturday morning, Laurie and mom were at the hospital. Dad talked to them and even laughed. He kissed mom when she gave him a drink of water. When they got married, Dad had promised mom that he would never lose his hair. He never did. He still had a full head of curly, sandy coloured hair. Steph and I arrived later that night and she, mom and I were with dad when he passed.

So this is the end of my dad’s story. But of course, his memory lives on with us. And his red hair, his intelligence, his work ethic and his compassionate nature live on in his children and grandchildren. We love you daddy. Go get ‘em Tiger.