When this service to celebrate my father’s life was being planned, it was agreed that this tribute should be kept to about 5 minutes in length, knowing full well that even that was about 4 ½ minutes longer than Ed would be comfortable with. He was not one who liked to blow his own horn, and is perfectly characterized by the poem on the back “He never looks for praises. He’s never one to boast.” One of my favourite notes of condolences was sent by the Chalmer’s Men’s group which said, in part: “ Ed passed away quietly last night. Just like Ed.” I’m not even sure that I can tell you much about Ed that you don’t already know, but I will share with you some of the lessons we learned from our father. 1. Lesson #1: You have to put a little effort in, if you want to get anything out of this life. This is probably the mantra that we heard the most often growing up, in one form or another, especially Ben. Putting in a little effort was the way that Ed lived his life. As a youngster, he delivered The Halifax Chronical in his home town of Kingston, Nova Scotia. Going to Acadia University, which he decribed as one of his smartest decisions, was made possible only by the various paying jobs that he took on, such as waiting on tables and acting as a residence monitor, while earning his BSc. Accepting an invitation to join Alcan in Arvida, Quebec, was the another decision that he counted in his top three, and his habitual focus on his work was legendary, at least in our household. In fact, we had two fathers growing up: the real one that we best got to know on family holidays to Nova Scotia, and the other one at home who was usually thinking about the Alcan job that he loved so much, which made him appear to be a little absent-minded. On more than one occasion, he took the family Golden Retriever for a long walk, only to realize at the half-way point that he had left her still sitting, quite puzzled, at home by the front door. After enjoying posts in Arvida, Jamaica and Ireland, he retired from Alcan at the age of 62, but the continued to put in a little effort. His first retirement project was earning his Chartered Financial Planning designation, and he worked on the Finance Committee here at Chalmers for several years, right up to the very end. 2. True charity asks nothing in return. As a young teenager, Ed and I often debated how our business-oriented society should care for those less fortunate. I’m not sure on what high moral ground I stood, as my only income at the time was from delivering papers, and my own charitable contributions were nil. I do recall that my debating style at the time was a little scrappy and antagonistic, typical for a teenager I’ve since learned. But Ed always indulged me. One day he had probably reached the limits of his legendary patience with me, he took out his tax return and invited me to leaf through the receipts for the charitable contributions that he and Elma made annually. That was an eye-opener for me: not only the extent to which they cared and shared, but that he had never mentioned it before when it would have clinched the debate. And I know from subsequent and personal experience that they shared their good fortune in so many ways. Circumstances and beneficiaries differed, but he always preferred complete confidentiality. 3. Playfulness is next to Godliness. Our father enjoyed playing sports his entire life, loved his bridge games, played scrabble with Elma daily in Puerto Vallarta, and willing taught games that would appeal to the entire spectrum of ages present. Ed has probably taken some time away teaching others the game of “How do you do Sir”, to be with us today in spirit. On one of our first 2-day drives to Nova Scotia, he proposed a game to see how many of our chosen gas stations we could spot. He graciously allowed us all to select our gas stations first …. Esso, Shell, Texaco, etc. After we had claimed what we thought were the sure winners, Ed had shrugged and said “I guess I’ll take Irving”. Coming from Lake St. John, we had never heard of, or seen an Irving gas station before. In the Maritimes, however, it is the only gas station we saw. Ed cleaned up, all the while maintaining his best look of innocence. Irving was subsequently disqualified from the gas station game on all future trips to Nova Scotia. Another simple game he invented was designed to inject some giggles into the nightly chore of cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. The name of the game was quite simple: the washer washes, the drier dries, and the 3rd man does everything else. As he was the game’s inventor, we deferred to him to clarify the rules. Big mistake. The responsibilities of each of the 3 jobs changed everytime to his personal advantage. If Ed was the 3rd man, he simply put away dishes after they were dried and wiped off the counters. However if Ed was the dishwasher, the 3rd man suddenly had to fill the sink with hot water and soap, scrape the dishes and put them in the sink, hand Ed the pot scrubber as though he was a surgeon, and clean out the sink afterwards, etc. usually over Ben’s sputtering objections and a lot of giggles. Before we knew it, the dishes were done. 4. Nice guys can finish first. He was very competitive but never at the expense of his sportsmanship, and sincere appreciation of his opponents’ success. He always preferred to cheer for the underdog when watching a sporting event. If he was a participant, he seemed so much more enthusiastic about the other guy’s victory than his own. And it wasn’t unusual for him to present a little trophy to mark the occasion. 5. A person’s riches isn’t measured by dollars and cents, but by their abundance of faith, friends and family. And by that measure, I know that Ed considered himself to be a very fortunate man. He felt very at home here at Chalmers, and the family is honoured that both Reverend Wayne Hilliker and Reverend Drew Strickland are participating in today’s service. We were also touched by many thoughtful condolences received from people who knew Ed and Elma. And we thank you all for being here in person to help us celebrate his life. Ed loved a good party, and was hoping to entice many of you to visit Kingston this summer. I’m pretty sure that this was his second choice as occasion, and that he hoped to see you all here to help he and Elma celebrate their 65 anniversary this July. When I arrived home on Superbowl Sunday night to get the sad news, my own family gathered round to offer their support, which I appreciated. Our 14 year old son Jesse said that he was sure that Ed was now “in heaven surrounded by several beautiful Elmas”. I found that to be a very comforting thought because having Elma at his side was Ed’s idea of heaven: He described their marriage as the best thing that ever happened to him. 3 kids, 4 grandkids, and 5 great grandchildren feel the same way! As a youngster, I remember asking my father why kids cried so much more than adults. Ed’s answer was typical Ed: easy for a 4 yr old to understand, and difficult to forget. “Kids have more tears that adults do”, he explained. “You have 5 bags of tears, whereas I only have a half bag left.” Pop, the collective tear supply took a significant hit after Feb 3rd. Some out of sadness because we wouldn’t see you again, many out of gratitude for the length of time that you were with us, some tears were shed out of relief for how you quickly and painlessly you took your leave, but most out of respect for your gentle soul. Whatever the context for the tears that were spilled, you surely deserved every one of them. Rest well, Edward Austin Lank, Dad, Grandad, Uncle Ed. We do, and will love you forever.