March 5, 1937 – August 18, 2024

If laughter truly is the best medicine, then the world just lost a beloved healer with the peaceful passing of Colin Roy Freel on August 18, 2024. Oh, how we will miss that hearty laugh that punctuated his sentences, echoed in our hallways and remains in our hearts.

Adored father of Miriam Wells (David), Lianne Hill (Paul) and Derek Freel (Robyn). Devoted stepfather to Cathy Powell and Jennifer Powell (Richard). Proud Grandpa to Fraser (Emilie), Adam (Ailsa) and Darcy Wells; Lexi, Jack, and Ross Hill (Trevor); Jemma, Kate and Russell Freel; Harrison and Peter Powell and Ben Cunningham.

Born on March 5, 1937, in Hamilton, Colin was the cherished only child of Elmer and Marjorie Freel. Colin attended Camp Ahmek, Hillfield College and the University of Western Ontario, and along the way he made lifelong friends including a fun-loving group of men who dubbed themselves as The Saggy Ass. Colin’s work ethnic was second to none, finally retiring at age 85 after a supersized career that included advertising, modeling, hamburgers, soft drinks, franchising and pet food. Colin’s starring role was as a father. Amongst the demands of his executive positions, Colin loved being a dad and was an abiding presence in our lives. Colin joyfully passed on his passion for sports, games, reading, cooking, gardening and entertaining to his children. He taught us to be punctual, to look people in the eye, to say hello in a loud and clear voice and how to play Hearts. A burger in hand, dog treats in his pocket, a martini to sip and with his hands on the wheel, Dad navigated life with a big smile.

The world needs more people like Colin. In his memory, consider a donation to your favourite charity or carry out an act of kindness. A private family remembrance will take place in October.

Graveside Welcome by Lianne

In 2016, Dad wrote us a letter outlining his wishes upon his death. He said, “While I hope there is no need for my use of this space for quite some time to come, I want each of you to have the information as to when it will be required”. At the same time Dad wrote to the City of Hamilton and said, “When I pass away, I have instructed my three children to have my remains cremated and buried in this grave site. I am in my 80th year and in good health. But at this age, one never knows when their time will be up”. 

And so, here we are, gathered to honour Dad’s wishes and inter his cremated remains alongside his beloved parents, Elmer and Marjorie Freel. Marjorie passed away 49 years ago, on October 28th, 1975. 17 years later, Elmer passed away on March 31, 1992. 32 years later, Dad passed away on August 18, 2024. Marjorie, Elmer and Colin; Nana, Grandad and Dad; are reunited and remembered today at this gravesite gathering. What began as a small family of three, has blossomed into a large loving extended family- all of us standing here today, to lay to rest our remarkable patriarch. Thank you for coming from near and far to be here today.

Dad’s ashes are placed in this beautiful urn. It is solid, handsome, traditional and elegant. All words that could describe Dad. I will pass around this urn for each of you to have an opportunity for one last hug and final good-bye, before we place Dad’s ashes in his final resting spot.

Derek’s Words

Seven and a half years ago, at Dad’s 80th birthday party, I had the honour of delivering a toast that could have easily served as a eulogy. The party was, in essence, a living funeral – Dad had the gift of hearing our heartfelt words as we celebrated someone deeply loved.
As I’ve reflected on those words for the last few months and contemplated my thoughts for today, I remembered how I began with a light-hearted approach. I joked about Dad’s remarkably large head (perhaps explaining his status as an only child) and his membership in uniquely named clubs like Saggy Ass, Beaver Winter Club, and Whiff of Grape.
The tone then shifted to a more earnest tone as I discussed the core tenets that defined Dad’s character. If asked to chisel just three words on his gravestone to capture his essence they would be:
– POSITIVE – Despite life’s challenges, It often amazed me that his Resting Face by default was a smiling face. Positive!
– PRESENT – He showed up consistently – at sports events, school plays, and everything in between.
– KIND – His natural warmth drew people to him, evident in how everyone at Parkland would greet him. Even in his final days, at the end in August when I was sitting with Dad and there was a man I had recognized from early visits but had never spoken with who was completely with it and taking care of his wife.  After they finished their meal he started to head back to their room and this man briefly paused pushing his wife’s wheelchair and without prompting said, “Your dad is a hell of a guy…very kind man!”. Dad was asleep in his wheelchair so this was just said for my benefit and is something I will never forget.That’s how I proudly remember Dad – Positive, Present, and Kind. If Dad’s looking down now, he’s surely smiling.

Lianne

Colin’s Life Lessons

Make Your Bed

Dad was an exceptional bed maker.  “If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed. If you can’t do the little things right, you will never do the big things right.” Famous words from a graduation speech by Admiral McRaven and a philosophy Dad taught us and lived by. We were taught to make our beds at a very young age, and we were taught to do it well.  This was an expectation that I passed on to my family, because it was ingrained in me that making your bed is part of starting your day properly. Jane taught Dad a whole new level of bed making, with countless decorative pillows and throw blankets. Under Jane’s tutelage, Dad quickly mastered the proper placement of the pillows and the karate chop.

18 months ago, Dad spent the first night of his life since the day he was born in the hospital. Dad was unsettled after moving into a new suite at Parkland and it was the Friday night of a long weekend. The nurse on duty was overwhelmed and sent Dad to hospital with a PSW because he was acting strange, and we later learned that he was suffering from alcohol withdrawal.  We had just welcomed friends for a dinner party in Caledon, and thinking Dad was in good hands, I promised to visit him early the next morning. The PSW abandoned him when her shift ended. After a fretful night, I arrived at Etobicoke General at 7 am and was directed to Dad’s room in the ER. He was nowhere to be found, because he had decided to return to Parkland on his own. Yet, there was his hospital bed, perfectly made before his escape, pillow fluffed and chopped.

Be Punctual

 “Better three hours too soon than a minute too late”.  Words from Shakespeare, but they could have been Dad’s. Dad taught us that punctuality is a sign of respect. Punctuality shows that we value our time and that of others. Dad was never late and as he aged, he became more and more committed, some might say, obsessive compulsive, to being on time and was often ready way ahead of schedule.  Dad would pace with his coat on, agitating and worrying that he was going to be late. At our house we knew to expect Dad to arrive for dinner at least an hour before the scheduled time. I would set him up at the island in the kitchen with a drink and snack to watch me prepare the meal and we enjoyed our found time together. Mom was a punctual person as well, and that strong trait has been passed on from both of them to the next generation.  It goes without saying, that Jane’s tardiness presented some challenges to our extremely punctual Dad.

Dress For Success

Dad loved to dress sharply. He was from the generation that wore a suit on an airplane and dressed-up to go watch the Maples Leafs or his beloved Tiger Cats. There are so many portraits of Dad as a boy, dressed up in fine clothing. Dad was a lifer at Hillfield College and wore a jacket and tie for all of his school years. He wore a suit to work for most of his career. Dad strongly believed that one should dress for the job and the life you want. “No matter how you feel, get-up, dress up and show up” (Regina Brett). When Miriam and I were in high school, we were not allowed to wear track pants or jeans to school. Dad insisted that we dress for success. On his birthday last March, the family gathered for a bowling party and there was Dad smartly dressed in a tie and blazer. As Dad aged, he always felt better with a good haircut, clean shave, pressed shirt and trousers and polished shoes. Many of us here lovingly assisted Dad with his shaving in the final months, helping him look good and feel good. Dad would have been delighted to see all of you looking so sharp today at his Celebration!

Speak Up- Hello, Colin Freel

Dad taught us at an early age to confidently speak up when meeting someone, say the person’s name, look them in the eye and have a firm handshake. I remember a time when Miriam and I were very young, and we met one of Dad’s friends. We both shyly said “hello”, in quiet and meek voices. Later on, Dad admonished us, embarrassed by our mouse-like voices and lack of confidence. That was our first lesson by him to speak up and have a strong voice and I remember it clearly, over 50 years later. I am going to really miss hearing that familiar voice each time I called him, with his strong and clear- “Hello, Colin Freel”.

Be Rich in Friends

Dad had a lot of friends and with his smiling face and cheerful disposition, he made friends wherever he went. He often made friends in unexpected places, like Mohammad, the concierge at his condo; Brett, the front desk clerk at Parkland; Scott, the assistant manager at Loblaws; George, the president of Benny Bullies; and countless Pet Valu owners across the province. Dad enjoyed talking to and getting to know all of them. Dad’s oldest friends go back to his days at Hillfield College, Camp Ahmek, and the University of Western Ontario. The Saggy Ass gang of longtime friends were his nearest and dearest. The spouses were part of the greater group, and we grew up calling many of these couples, aunt and uncle. The children of the Saggy Ass grew up together: we skied at Caledon together; we played paddle tennis together; we spent summers in Sundridge together and as a result, we all felt like cousins. Dad cherished the Saggy Ass weekend retreats. Did you know that the name Saggy Ass came from one of these retreats?  Sundridge Athletics, Golfing, Gaming and Yachting Association. What a stroke of luck that three other Saggy Asses and their wives moved into Parkland at the same time as Dad, making the transition easier.  At Parkland, everyone, staff and residents, knew Dad and always greeted him by name. Dad had a big smile and a warm hello for everyone there. Someone famous once said, “To be rich in friends is to be poor in nothing”. Dad was a very rich man.

Play Games and Shoot the Moon

Some of my earliest childhood memories are of playing games with Dad. Dad loved to get down on the floor or set-up at the kitchen table and play games with us.  We learned how to count money, follow the rules, bluff and strategize world domination at a young age while playing Snakes and Ladders, Sorry, Twister, Monopoly, Life and Risk. One of Dad’s favourite card games was Hearts and he made sure that all of the grandchildren knew how to play. Just when we thought that we may win the hand, out of nowhere, Dad would gleefully “Shoot the Moon”, quite often winning the game. We taught Dad new games over the years, including Settlers of Catan, where he would meticulously line up his game pieces in tidy rows. His knowledge of history always made him a valuable Trivial Pursuit team member. A few drinks in, Dad was an enthusiastic winner of Crimes Against Humanity one Christmas at the Wells. Dad taught us how to be gracious winners and good losers and most importantly, that life is more fun if you play games.

Gardening Feeds the Soul

Mom came from a family of renown greenhouse farmers while Dad grew up in an apartment in downtown Hamilton, yet somehow, he was the one who passed on his passion and knowledge of gardening to us. As kids, we were regularly enlisted to do yard work, helping Dad with weeding, planting annuals, cutting grass, raking leaves and the dreaded task of handpicking the thousands of acorns off our Strath Avenue lawn. Dad’s gardening skills grew to near professional level when married to Jane, where her vision and Dad’s sweat, created gorgeous gardens in each of their homes.  Somehow their lovingly attended impatiens beds looked like they were on steroids and belonged in magazines. Dad taught us the satisfaction of getting your hands dirty and spending hours working in the garden, then standing back to admire the difference of a few hours of hard work. A Chinese proverb says, “He who plants a garden, plants happiness”. Dad found joy and escape in the garden, where the fruits of his labour fed his soul. I was always so proud to show Dad my gardens and loved hearing his praise.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

If laughter truly is the best medicine, then the world lost a beloved healer with Dad’s passing. Dad’s laugh was legendary. I received a note from Julie Charters Burdon following Dad’s passing. She recalled, “My sisters and I all have memories of hearing his laughter from upstairs when my parents were having dinner parties. What a great laugh and chuckle he had.” My old friend Susie wrote, “He certainly was a larger-than-life presence in our lives. I can still hear his laughter! He’s always been an admirable man, getting knocked a bit and always bouncing right back with a big smile and a good laugh. His tenacity, determination and joy for life will be how I remember him.” Dad’s sentences were most often punctuated with a laugh. Dad’s laugh was contagious, and one couldn’t help but join in, when his hearty laugh echoed in our homes. Dad taught us what to do when knocked down in life:  Pick yourself up, brush yourself off and put on a smile. Dad’s radiant smile and positive attitude got him through tough times. His hearty laugh was the icing on the cake during the best of times.

Sing Out Loud

Dad loved to sing. He grew up singing at school and camp and had remarkably good pitch. When we were growing up, we attended St. George’s Church on the Hill. Dad knew all of the hymns and his strong singing voice at church on Sundays and on Christmas Eve is a happy childhood memory of mine. Dad joined the choir at Parkland and participated in Christmas concerts. He loved to sing along in the car, and I had a playlist for our car trips. He would tap his fingers to the beat and belt out the words that he knew. He loved to sing out Halleluiah by Leonard Cohen and knew all of the words to My Way by Frank Sinatra. Dad always sang the “Johnny Appleseed Song” the loudest and finished with the most exuberant laugh. The next time you have a chance to sing out loud- do it and think of Dad.

Cheers

Cocktail hour was Dad’s happiest hour. That Saggy Ass gang enjoyed their booze and their humour, laughter and naughtiness grew with each drink!  As Dad got older, his phrase, “It’s time for a drink” came earlier and earlier in the day. Dad sure knew how to set-up for cocktail hour and loved to invite family and friends to his place for a drink before going out for dinner. He went all out, with a display of all his alcoholic offerings, ice in a bucket, fancy glasses and enough appetizers to take away your appetite for dinner. Dad knew how to entertain and loved to do so. One of Dad’s greatest challenges at Parkland was giving up alcohol and the habit of cocktail hour. Thankfully, non-alcoholic wine saved the day. Dad was able to keep this wine in his fridge in his suite and help himself whenever he felt like a drink. In the week before he passed, I was with Dad at his dining table at Parkland and he was struggling to stay awake and wasn’t interested in his pureed food. The nurse came by and gently asked him, “Colin, what would you like to drink?” Dad suddenly perked up, opened his eyes and in a rough voice said, “Scotch and water”- perhaps amongst his final words, he made me smile.  That day, I poured him a glass of his wine in a proper wine glass, for his final drink.

Dad’s brand of Scotch is called, The Famous Grouse. Please join me in raising a glass to this remarkable man, whose life lessons will never be forgotten.

Miriam

As a kid I recognized how hard my Dad worked and the successes he achieved.  But despite long workdays and frequent travel he was always there for his family.  When I became a parent, I had a better appreciation of what it took to get three kids to the ski hill, teach them to play tennis, participate in the Home and School Association and plan family trips and time at a cottage and so much more.  And I didn’t have a full-time job!  

When I think of Dad, I picture him with a big smile on his face.  Nothing made everyone around him happier than when he laughed.  Oh, what a laugh! 

He had such a zest for life.  As kids we benefited from his various jobs, whether receiving the newest Swingy doll when he worked for Mattel Toys, meeting Ronald McDonald, road tripping in a Winnebago or tagging along to Florida for a Pop Shoppe trip.   You should have heard him laugh when his colleague, Mr. Big, belly flopped into the hot tub…and Mr. Big was big!

I have so many amazing memories from my childhood- time spent in Sundridge, learning to play tennis, but in such a fun and competitive way that I didn’t realize I was being taught.  Stoking the wood fired sauna and then making mad dashes into the lake after sweating it out in the sauna, having contests with the Dickson boys seeing who could hold their arms in ice water the longest after churning ice cream and going into Sundridge to buy a Saturday treat and Archie comic.  All orchestrated by Dad!  At home in Toronto, we all learned to play platform tennis and we spent every Saturday and Sunday of my childhood skiing at Caledon.  I laugh now as I remember my parents having long lunches on Sunday afternoons with their friends…they were lucky no one talked about drinking and driving back then!  I do remember my parents having a very active social life and feeling peckish the next day.  Who knew that meant hung over!

From my childhood I learned the importance of family and time spent together.  But I also learned that we need to cultivate and nurture friendships.  Dad set an incredible example as evidenced by the number of friends he had for most of his life.  While neither of his marriages didn’t last beyond 20 years or so I do believe he was right to have fun with his partner with their friends.  When asked for marriage advice at Emilie’s shower I suggested that making time to have fun with your partner is very important.  

Today we honour the man who lived with an open heart, who faced life with a smile, and who made us all better for knowing him.  Dad, your laughter, your wisdom and your spirit with always be with us.  So, here’s to you, Dad – for the love you gave, the lessons you taught, and the laughter you brought into our lives.

Derek

Watch Derek’s Spectacular movie about Dad’s life. This movie was presented at the Celebration of Life luncheon. You will likely watch it more than once and you may need a tissue- it is that good!

Paul

Colin loved a comfy chair, and his favourite chair was a big red leather recliner that he had had for decades; however, Colin’s chair was showing its age, being held together with red duct tape in many places. In recent years, when Colin came to our condo for visits, he’d love to sit my pristine leather recliner in the living room and push it all the way back.

One day, we set him up like visiting royalty – scotch and water in one hand, bowl of nuts in the other. Lianne and I ducked into the kitchen for what felt like seconds. When we returned, we found an empty bowl that looked like it had been licked clean. There, sat Colin, wearing the grin of a Cheshire cat, pointing at our dog Coco, who now resembled a furry bowling ball with legs. “This little guy loves nuts!” he declared; Coco’s newly spherical shape completed the story.

 The dogs always loved Colin’s visits, who was always willing to share his treats, canine and otherwise with his furry friends.

Lexi

Some of my happiest memories of Grandpa are from the time we spent on Palm Island in Florida with he and Jane. As a young girl, I felt like it was one of the most special spots in the world. It was a place with no cars, and I loved driving Grandpa’s golf cart around the island. I remember Grandpa throwing plastic rings into the pool and me diving to the bottom to retrieve them. I remember talking long walks along the beautiful white sandy beach, collecting shark teeth and sand dollars. I loved going to Grandpa’s favourite restaurant, Rum Bay, which was legendary for its delicious seafood and ribs. Grandpa jokingly called the people who came from the mainland for the 5 o’clock special, Bone Suckers. I will forever have perfect memories of Grandpa in his happy place.

Jack

What I admired most about Grandpa was his group of life-long friends and his enthusiasm for life. I have happy memories about going to the Saggy Ass- sons, sons-in-law and grandsons golf tournament in Muskoka. It was great seeing him with his friends, enjoying their time together and sharing their happy memories with each other. Grandpa no longer played golf but loved riding along in the golf cart and cheering us on. He would hoot, holler and cheer when one of us made a good shot, then when a bad shot was made, he would loudly shout out, “Whoops!” or “Uh oh!”. He was always so enthusiastic and clearly loved spending time with his old friends and with us.

Ross

Growing up, I always knew when Grandpa was pulling in the driveway because the dogs would start barking and would run to the mudroom entry door, their tails wagging. Grandpa Colin would come through the door with a big smile on his face, and his pockets filled with liver bits – a perk of his job selling pet food. It’s funny how such a simple gesture captured everything about who he was: thoughtful, generous, and always trying to bring joy to others, even the pooches in the family.

Trevor

I only knew Colin for a short time, but my favourite memory of Colin was doing a 500-piece bird puzzle with him over the winter holidays up at Paul and Lianne’s home. We spent a few days putting the puzzle together, and just as we were about to finish the puzzle, he thought it was time to leave so he said, “It’s time to go!” and ended up taking apart the puzzle!

Darcy

Our Grandpa spent many Christmases in New Brunswick celebrating with us. We would always look forward to Grandpa coming to town. We will always remember him leading the group in singing Johnny-Apple-Seed before digging into the Christmas feast. Grandpa would always roll up his sleeves and take part in the Christmas traditions and antics. Every year our family has a Christmas Eve lobster dinner with our friends, the Overings. One year, Grandpa got into an especially rowdy game of Cards Against Humanity with the group – each round followed by his signature, big laugh. Grandpa won the game at the end – no surprise to us, of course – his sense of humour was one of the best things about him. In our family, we love when people are “game” – “game” to say yes to an adventure, an activity, or to try something new. Our Grandpa was always “game”, and it’s a trait he’s passed on to us that we will always lean into. 

Growing up in New Brunswick, Fraser, Adam and I were always a plane ride away from all of our grandparents. While our friends had more quantity time with their grandparents – living down the road, getting together for Sunday dinners – we were lucky to have dedicated, quality time with our grandparents to make special memories that we’ll remember forever. Grandpa made such an effort to see us and spend time with us, and we wanted to share some of the memories we made with him, with you. 

Fraser

When Grandpa wasn’t visiting New Brunswick, which he often did, we were either visiting him in Ancaster or down on Palm Island in Florida. We’ll always remember taking the little boat over to Palm Island and spending the days playing on the beach. We would ride in Grandpa’s golf cart, build sandcastles and learn to love the game of tennis from him. Grandpa was in his element on Palm Island – he was always so happy to welcome us to the place that he cherished so deeply. 

In Ancaster, Grandpa would share stories of his family tree. A history buff, Grandpa would tell us about the Freel family and how they made their way to Canada from Ireland. Grandpa was a true storyteller, and we are so grateful that he shared so much of his life story with us. He would tell stories of his career accomplishments, his adventures with the Saggy Ass group, and his relationship with his kids, and more. 

Adam

Our Grandpa has taught us a lot about life, and how we want to live our own lives. The first lesson he taught us is to remain positive, no matter what life throws your way. Our Grandpa was one of the most jolly, joyful people we have ever known. We all aspire to look at life with a glass half full, as he always did. The second lesson is to stay connected with old friends. Grandpa had decades long friendships and made the effort to stay connected to people from every season of his life. We hope that we’re able to have such enduring, life-long friendships as our Grandpa did. And lastly, he taught us to persevere and be resilient in difficult times. We all face personal and professional challenges, but it isn’t what happens to you, it’s how you react, that determines your character. Grandpa taught us to focus on what we can control, and to just put one foot in front of the other. 

Dave

The road trip Colin and I made to St. George’s to seek out the best smoked salmon was a keeper. Our first pit stop was the “spectacular” view of the giant waterfall into the gorge in St. George, NB. We checked out the salmon ladder and abandoned power station. Then we drove another 10 miles to Ovenhead Smokers, a small family business who supplied all of the grocery chains in the Maritimes with the best smoked salmon on the planet. The owners gave us a brief tour of their operation followed by some taste sampling in the store. The end result was buying a healthy quantity to bring back to Ontario. 

The best part of the trip was not the destination but the journey. Colin shared so many stories about his times at Western, his business career, and times as a father. What I came to learn was that he was such an easy guy to be comfortable talking to. No script. Just great guy chat. Glass half full all of the time. I can see why so many people became good friends with him. 

A great storyteller. A great man who will not be forgotten. 

Ailsa

The first time I met Adam’s Grandpa Colin was in 2017, at the Hill’s place on The Kingsway. I remember him sitting by the outdoor fireplace, vesper in hand, laughing at one of his own jokes. I thought to myself, “I hope I’m this happy at that age”. 

Over the years, I gathered many wonderful memories with Colin. One that stands out is the first dinner I had at his apartment with Adam. Colin had promised us steaks, and when he served them, they were practically still “mooing”. Being just a few months into my relationship with Adam, I kept quiet, and to this day, Adam and I laugh about it.

Adam and I were fortunate to spend time with Colin in various places: Florida in January, Christmas in Rothesay, countless dinners in Caledon and Etobicoke, and later at Parkland. When we shared our engagement news, he proudly marked the date—August 19, 2023—in his paper calendar at Parkland, showing us the suit and tie he planned to wear for the occasion. Though Colin wasn’t able to travel to New Brunswick for the wedding, we brought the wedding to him, visiting him at Parkland in September 2023. We excitedly arrived, Adam in his suit, myself in my floor length wedding gown and veil. When he saw us in our wedding attire on the balcony, he greeted us with a huge smile and said, “Sit down, I’ve finally figured out a new location to franchise.” And that was that. He opened his binder and while Adam and I sipped a diet coke with him, he explained his big plans. 

Adam and I also spent some precious time with Colin in the hospital this past August, creating one last special memory—listening to “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole together. Although he came in and out of knowing who we were, the song brought him back to us. 

To you Colin- truly an unforgettable presence in our lives.  

Emilie

Colin was a beloved family man with a supersized career that was woven into his legacy, and always served with a side of smiles. When Fraser and I strolled the streets of Chicago and passed Hamburger University in June of 2022, we had to stop and pay tribute—raising an imaginary burger in Colin’s honour. Here’s to Colin: a man who knew that the secret sauce to life was- joy and laughter.

Jemma

When I was studying at university in Cardiff, Grandpa and my Dad came to visit me and we all went to one of our favourite restaurants – an Indian restaurant called Mowgli. Upon arrival, Grandpa ordered a glass of his favourite red wine. Then, the waiter came back to ask for our food order. Grandpa asked for a steak to match his wine but was told cows were a sacred animal in Indian cuisine, so this was not on the menu. Following a brief period of deliberation, Grandpa found another dish and the three of us had a really lovely night out in Cardiff that I will never forget.

Kate

It was March 2022 and Grandpa was visiting Hartley Wintney for his annual Spring trip to the UK. During his visit, it also happened to be my dance show and so he came with the clan and watched. Afterwards when it was finished, we all got in the car and had the mandatory debrief, comments from my Mum and Dad saying, “Wow it was great” and “How do you remember all those moves?” being thrown around. Grandpa sat silently this whole time, listening to the chit chat and eventually found the perfect moment to say, “Well, you girls really know how to stand on your toes!”. It was classic Grandpa! We all had a laugh, and I will never forget his last trip to England.

Russell

Growing up Grandpa always told me and my sisters stories about Lancaster bombers flying over Hamilton. Then, in 2017, my Dad, Grandpa and I went on a little trip to Cambridge and we specifically wanted to visit this airplane museum. To our surprise when we got into one of the hangers there was a Lancaster bomber. When Colin saw this, you could see his eyes light up at the memories of his youth. I thought this was a very special moment to witness, for me, Grandpa and my Dad.

Robyn

As Colin’s only daughter in law, I feel lucky I was able to have such a close relationship with him over the years.  I first met Colin in 1996 when I stopped in to visit Derek at 24 Fair Meadow.  Derek had just returned from his travels in Europe, and I was driving through Toronto enroute back to Bishop’s University.  It was a grey winter’s day in February, and I remember how welcoming Colin was when he met me at the front door.  It was the beginning of a long friendship.

Colin’s kindness is something I will always remember and cherish.  We shared many drives together as he would deliver me from Rosseau to Oro often during our summer visits.  One particular time that stands out is when I was coming home to visit my mum who had just had an operation and couldn’t pick me up at the airport.  Without hesitation, Colin picked me up at Pearson after my flight from London and drove me up to Oro, on a Friday during rush hour.  We invited him to stay for dinner however, he had a glass of water, used the facilities and headed back down the 400 for his evening cocktail at home.  

Another time back in 2012, when we were living in Quebec, Colin’s kindness helped us bring Pippa, our golden retriever, home from the breeders in Oro in the middle of the winter.  It was challenging for us to drive back to Ontario to collect Pippa, so Colin drove up to Oro to collect this beautiful 8-month-old dog and drive her to Kingston, where he met Derek to bring her home.   A daunting task for most, Colin had his pockets full of treats and his warm and welcoming way, kept Pippa company in her first few hours away from her family and delivered her to her new family.  It seems fitting that 13 years later, within a month of each other, we said goodbye to two of our favourite friends, Pippa and Colin.  We will miss them both tremendously.

The Powell Family

Goodbye Colin

Loosely based on the children’s class Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown

In the great big world

There was a lovely man

With a great big laugh

And a great big head

He always made a perfect bed

And there were many little bears sitting on chairs

And 3 big cubs

And 2 stepcubs

And along came 12 grandcubs

He entertained them all with his jolly good cheer

Bebop a re-bear they so loved to hear

Goodbye Colin

Goodbye Grandpa

Goodbye Mentor

Goodbye Dad

You really were such a fine lad

Goodbye Sinatra

Goodbye Ice Cream

Goodbye Vodka

Goodbye Gin

It could be why you were not thin!

Goodbye Saggy Ass

Goodbye Burgers

Goodbye good friend

The awesome memories will never end

So long Kibble

Goodbye Treats

Goodbye Bear hugs

And discount eats

Our memories of you will not be beat

Goodbye Beaver Winter Club

Goodbye gasoline deal

The world’s not the same without Colin Roy Freel

Goodbye Colin

We loved you so

You meant the world to us

You know!

Jane and Garry Hunter

Many years ago, we lived in Kanata and one weekend Colin and all arrived in a very big Winnebago (I think that was when he worked for McDonald’s). We packed a lunch and drove to Parliament Hill, parked right there and had our lunch and we all sang Oh Canada. Now that’s a good memory!

Bill Boughner

One of my many favourite stories, which had your Dad at the centre, was an overnight train ride to Sudbury, for Fred Deacon’s wedding.   Most of The Saggy Assers and wives were involved.  We had taken over the men’s smoking/parlour, which adjoined the Men’s Room, on the coach we all shared.  Some adult beverages were involved, when along came the cranky conductor. He wanted us out of there, in no uncertain terms.  Your Dad confronted this humourless guy and assured him that he, himself was capable of buying the whole railroad, which he would immediately do, then FIRE this conductor with no pension. We all howled with laughter as the intimidated conductor crept out of the room, then your Dad laughed loudest! Fun Eh ❗️

Your Dad is fondly remembered!

John Lyon

Lynne and I knew Colin, Lianne, Derek and Miriam way back in the seventies when we lived down the street from each other in The Kingsway. We skied together at Caledon, played platform tennis together, and socialized with much the same group of friends for so many years and had wonderful memories together. Colin was the hardest worker I have ever known. A master of the franchise business from burgers to pet food. Unlike all his friends, he never really retired, driving all over Ontario working with franchises until he physically couldn’t. What I will remember Colin most for was being a member of our men’s group called the Saggy Assers. We gathered every year for 3 days in the fall for over 30 years. These weekends were spent golfing, playing tennis, boating, skeet shooting, playing hearts, cooking and lots of eating. We all pitched in and were a wonderful group of close friends. There was even a “small” amount of wine consumed over the weekend, of which Colin certainly consumed his share. The evenings were spent in spirited hearts games which Colin excelled in. We also met every spring with our sons and grandsons for a fun golf outing and dinner. These were special fun bonding times which I will miss. We even did a father, daughter and granddaughter formal dinner which I will never forget. Colin was an unforgettable friend, kind and wonderful character. I and his many friends will miss him for sure. I suspect he will now join Lynne and his many other friends.

Mary Armstrong

The Armstrongs and the Freels go way back to Peter and Colin’s university days. Their parents met each other at a cocktail party just before the boys were heading off to university and realized that their children were off to Western and to Huron College. Lo and behold, they ended up rooming together…destiny! When both their grandsons, Peter and Rusty ended up going to Camp Hurontario, they were assigned to the same cabin and became good buddies- destiny once again! Now they are destined to be junior Saggy Assers- a real honour! I hope that their friendship remains as strong as Colin and Peter’s. 

When Peter became challenged with Parkinson’s Disease and couldn’t travel as easily, Colin often drove to our place in Thornbury to visit. He also drove several times to Mt. Tremblant to visit Peter’s brother, Dave, after he became a paraplegic due to a tragic tree cutting accident. He was a very thoughtful person and always brought along his infectious belly aching laugh. Now the three of them are stirring up trouble and having a good time in the great beyond, leaving behind great memories. 

David Dickson

I first met Colin at Camp Ahmek in Algonquin Park in the early 1950’s. I tried to avoid him since Colin spent most of his time riding and exuded an atmosphere of leather, horse sweat and dung whereas I was a tripper and sailor and smelled of pine trees and fresh air. But we did many things together and talked frequently.

In 1954, I was accepted into pre-med at Western just one week before class started and no place to live and not knowing much about Western. At the end of camp, in late August, a large group of Ahmek lads gathered at the Colonial Tavern on Yonge Street in Toronto to hear Duke Ellington’s band in concert. Between sets, the conversation was mostly about starting at university. Colin was in his second year, also without a place to stay so we shook hands and drove to London a few days later; the drive made us more comfortable with each other. We found a basement apartment, rather compact… we could go to the bathroom, have a shower, make breakfast and study within 2 steps of our beds! Elmer called it, “an upholstered sewer”, but it was great. We did everything together- dates, frat parties, football games, various capers, etc. We invested our meagre cash in penny stocks- our triumph was a junior mining company called Chibougamau Jaculet, which was staking a Northern Quebec copper find. We bought shares at $2.50 and sold six months later at $4.25 (the company mined copper for 15 more years quite successfully). Not all our tips paid off however, but we both learned a lot about researching companies and following the market every day.

Our second year was almost a palace. A 2-bedroom upper floor of a house owned by an ancient widow, “Flo”. A bit further away from the campus but we had Colin’s mother’s Buick, which at one point could only drive in reverse. At Christmas I gave Flo a dozen roses and Colin gave the Golden Gift: a case of Chef Boyardee cans of pasta products (McLaren Foods, where Elmer was president, had the distribution rights). The flowers were dismissed and the Beefaroni joyfully accepted. Colin was the fair-haired boy from then on.

The third year, Coin took a gap year working (he had recurring problems with Psychology 101), and I moved to south London with classmates as the med school was located there. We kept in constant touch… he was the Best Man at our wedding in 1955, Carol and I went with Colin on his first date with his future bride, Karen, and I was delighted to be his Best Man at their wedding. The four of us were inseparable: parties, tennis, skiing, trips to Mt. Tremblant, Scotland, England, France and Italy and as children accumulated, our families became even closer. Summers in Sundridge, picnics, a trip out West with Derek and Peter and endless family parties.

I admired and respected Colin in myriad ways. He was rarely “down”, always upbeat, was optimistic about his plans for his future, was ambitious and his work ethic was his hallmark, always remarked upon by his friends, co-workers and clients. Impeccably honest, rarely angry (except when playing bridge with Ian Paisley), immensely liked, respected and loyal to his friends and his signature laugh was a signal that everything was great.

A loving and involved father and grandfather, he was never too busy to play the myriad of sports he enjoyed (and was good at) and always available to babysit the grandchildren.

He had some bitter disappointments but rarely complained and if so without rancour. All of his qualities are those we can admire, try to emulate and instill in our families.

Through thick and thin, and there were lots of both, our friendship never wavered. We talked constantly, openly and freely, offering, seeking and accepting advice. An intimate friend of 70 years, I think of him and his family with warmth and pleasure. I will miss him dearly.

Poems Read at the Gravesite Ceremony

He Is Gone read by Miriam

By:  David Harkins

You can shed tears that he is gone

Or you can smile because he has lived

You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back

Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left

Your heart can be empty because you can’t see him

Or you can be full of the love that you shared

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday

Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday

You can remember him and only that he is gone

Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

A Life Well Lived read by Miriam

By:  Author Unknown

A life well lived is a precious gift

Of hope and strength and grace,

From someone who has made our world

A brighter, better place

It’s filled with moments, sweet and sad

With smiles and sometimes tears,

With friendships formed and good times shared

And laughter through the years.

A life well lived is a legacy

Of joy and pride and pleasure,

A living, lasting memory

Our grateful hearts will treasure

Happy 80th Birthday Dad!

My speech at Dad’s 80th birthday party.

Colin Roy Freel was born in Hamilton, Ontario at 9 am, on Wednesday March 5, 1937, the first and only child of Margery and Elmer Freel. He was their pride and joy.

My grandmother kept a detailed journal of my Dad’s early years, including: recipes for his formula, his sleeping patterns, his mobility accomplishments, his developing speech and a record of each new tooth. From what I read, I find it remarkable how one’s personality is set right from birth. Here is an excerpt from her diary:

“Colin was an exceptionally good baby. Liked his food, never sick and slept well at night. Did not sleep very much in the daytime. Colin is very strong and chubby. Fussed after his 7 pm bottle for half an hour. At 5 months, Colin found his voice and jabbered all day. At 6 months, he sat alone and at 7 months, he kept his balance perfectly and could hold his bottle on his own. Bacon made Colin belch. Does not fancy potatoes and very seldom wants bread at his meals. Laughs so heartily- it tickles the heartstrings. Has not made strange with people so far.”

And later on from his toddler years: “Not a naughty boy but plenty active. Could walk several blocks and then holler when put in his cart. Everyone remarks on Colin being advanced for his years. At two, he knew the words to six songs and could keep the correct time with a baton to radio music. When asked, whose little boy are you? He would respond that he was Pearl’s pal, Grandma’s love, Mama’s sweetheart and Daddy’s little man.”

It is clear from my grandmother’s journal that she adored her son. Nana Freel was a conscientious and doting mother. Her journal tells the first chapter of many of my Dad’s life stories.

The chapter I know best and the one I would like to share with you is my Dad’s story of fatherhood and family.

When I was growing up, my Dad always had the coolest jobs. Not many gals can say that their Dad was once a male model, but I can! Dad was the face of many advertisements in the 1960s, however most notable was the Woodbine Racetrack ad, with the many faces of Colin viewing a horse race. For an entire season, this ad was prominently placed inside the program at Maple Leafs hockey games, making Dad a familiar face to many Torontonians.

When I was four years old, Dad worked in advertising and the Mattel toy company was one of his clients. Dad brought home the latest and greatest toys, including a hot wheels racetrack and my favourite, Swingy, the dancing doll, along with her own 45 record to swing to.

When I was six, Dad started working for McDonald’s and Miriam and I got to meet Ronald McDonald. At the time, it felt like we were meeting Santa Claus! That year on Hallowe’en we handed-out gift cards for free big macs to trick or treaters. McDonalds was still new in Canada and these gift cards were a hot hand-out!  I gave away french-fry gift cards to my classmates in grade one, earning me the unfortunate nick-name, French Fries, which stuck with me until high school. A few years later, when Dad worked for The Pop Shoppe, we handed-out out cups of pop on Hallowe’en- Lime Rickey and Cherry Cola were my favourites. Tired and thirsty treat-or-treaters visited our house more than once to quench their thirst and try the latest Pop Shoppe flavour. With Burger King, our family travelled across Canada from coast to coast, combining family holidays with business trips, and eating lots of whoppers! Imagine the shock of the store manager in Sydney, Nova Scotia or Brandon, Manitoba, when the vice-president showed up unannounced with his family in tow! When Dad became the president of Wendy’s, one of the perks was the use of the company van, bright yellow, with a picture of Wendy sprawled on the side and the caption “Hot and Juicy” in bold letters. It sure was an attention-getting way to be dropped at the camp bus!

Dad sometimes brought home products, which were new to Canada and not even on the stores shelves yet. Miriam and I were among the first in Canada to try Pop Rocks Candy and Wagon Wheels. Each year at Christmas we would receive a special delivery of McCain products- a big perk of being in the burgers and fries business! Imagine our delight and my Mom’s horror at our large freezer being filled with McCain’s french-fries, mini-pizzas and ready-made cakes!

Many years ago, Dad has switched from hamburgers to pet food. He always has treats in his pocket for canine family members, who follow him around with loyal devotion.

Dad has always been a great athlete and he shared his love of sport and games with his children. Dad was the driver behind our family joining Caledon Ski Club, where we all learned how to ski and enjoyed time as a family. 47 years later, I am still an active member at the ski club and Miriam, Derek and I have all passed our love of skiing onto our children. Dad joined our family to the Kingsway Platform Tennis Club, where our family spent countless hours playing and competing. My Dad’s enthusiasm and joyfulness while playing paddle was evident with his loud hoots, hollers and laughter. A year ago, we had a family game of tennis at the Trout Club- Adam and Jack versus Dad and me. Dad proved that he had not lost his athletic skill and enthusiasm and guess what, we won! I think Dad tweaked every muscle in his body, but it wasn’t something a stiff martini during cocktail hour couldn’t solve.

Each summer my parents rented a cottage beside the Dickson’s cottage in Sundridge. This is where Dad taught us how to play tennis, throw horseshoes and gleefully run like mad from the hot sauna to the lake. Dad and Uncle Dave Dickson planned treasure hunts, scavenger hunts, tennis tournaments and games nights. Dad loved to play board games with us- his favourite was Risk. In recent years Dad has taught his grandchildren how to play Hearts and is always willing to try a new game. The first time Dad played our family favourite game, The Settlers of Cattan, he came close to winning. On Christmas Eve this past Christmas while at the Wells, and loosened-up by a few glasses of wine, Dad was the runner-up in a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity.

When we were kids, Dad wanted us to have a play structure in the backyard, however the only ones on the market were flimsy metal climbers. He designed and built a large wooden structure that included a chin-up bar, rope ladder and tire swing. He named it “The Freel Thing” and we had the most popular backyard in the neighbourhood. Dad also built a sand box, a high jump, a basketball net on a post and a skateboard ramp. Dad wanted us to be outside playing and provided us with the tools for fun and exercise.

Dad was a hands-on parent, who managed to be very involved in our lives even with the demands of his executive jobs and regular business travel. He volunteered in our community as a hockey coach and convener and even was the sole male member of the PTA at Lambton-Kingsway School. He helped with homework and would rush home from work when one of us was sick. Dad set the bar when it came to what we wore to school. Dad taught us how to look people in the eye and say hello in a loud and clear voice. He taught us to work hard and never to be late. Dad was our rock and someone we could always count on.

Dad- Thank you for being such a wonderful father, step-father, father-in-law and grandfather. Your cheerful personality, boundless energy, positive attitude, dedicated loyalty and strong work ethic have served you well. You are a wonderful role model to all of your offspring and we all adore you! I look forward to many more years of sharing your love and laughter and creating more happy memories together.

Happy 80^th birthday to the best Dad in the world!

Last year, a letter that I wrote to Dad in June 1985, was found in a box of his old papers. I wrote this letter while at Glen Bernard Camp, six months after Mom had left. I was so touched that he had kept the letter all these years. I didn’t want the letter to be tucked away and lost forever and it seems appropriate to include it in this archive about Dad. Without a doubt, Colin Freel was a remarkable Dad!

Dear Dad,

Thank-you for being the best father in the world. Thanks for the support you have given me, when you are also feeling down. Thank-you for your generosity and for giving up things you could have yourself so I could have something. Thank-you for 19 years of love and happiness. Thank-you for the smiles (“Smiles are rest to the weary, daylight to the discouraged, sunshine to the sad and nature’s best anecdote for trouble.” Dale Carnegie); Thank-you for being there when I needed someone to talk to; Thank-you for putting up with arguments, bad moods and my bad days. And thank-you for just being you! Without such a fantastic Dad I would never have made it through grade thirteen or the past six months.

Have a wonderful Father’s Day! I am sorry I can’t be here to spend it with you!

Please don’t work too hard, have an amazing summer, and keep smiling!

Your loving daughter,

Lianne M. Freel

XOXO

PS: Remember our slogan (motto)… “To be rich in friends is to be poor in nothing.” Lillian Whiting