“Hold them closer to the camera so they look bigger.” - *Buddy.*

On Sunday, February 11th, my grandfather who we all called “Buddy” passed away at 90 years old. I want to use today’s musings to share some stories about the remarkable man he was and the memories I will take with me for the rest of my life.

I feel so lucky to have known my grandfather the way I did. He was in great health through my late teen years and early twenties. Not many young men get to spend that kind of time with their grandpa. He knew all of my closest friends, and the text messages I’ve received this week sharing condolences and stories are a testament to the presence he had in our lives.

Buddy grew up in Kitchener-Waterloo, only a few blocks away from where we live today. He was an exceptional basketball player in the region, and had a deep passion for sport and eventually, coaching. He married his high school sweetheart and opened the first sporting goods store in Preston, Ontario in 1953. He would eventually start Mizuno Canada and serve as the president for several years.

He was at every one of my high school basketball games even though our team was terrible. Up until the day he died, he was convinced I could have been a great basketball player. He was at nearly every one of my Laurier football games, too. Whether I had 1 catch or 100 catches in a game, he was convinced that I should’ve gotten the ball more.

I don’t share these stories to insinuate that I was the best player on the team; of course his opinion was heavily biased, but that’s the point. He was fiercely proud of me and all his grandchildren. He was present and involved in a way that most parents, let alone grandparents, rarely are. He wanted us to believe that we could be great at whatever it was we were doing. He believed in me, and that often gave me the courage and inspiration to keep going.

Buddy bought a cottage on a little lake in Caledon, Ontario in 1985 - the same year that my parents got married. It’s where he taught me how to fish and drive a manual transmission car. We spent all of our summer vacations at the cottage. Buddy never let a minute of a day at the cottage go to waste. He was always the first to ask who wanted to go wakeboarding or water skiing or tubing or fishing. Once everyone at our cottage had been worn out from watersports, he’d drive the neighbours and their kids and friends. He drove the boat all day long.

For a guy who never learned how to swim, he loved spending all day on the water.

When I was 9 or 10 years old, Buddy used to wake me up first thing in the morning to go fishing. We'd sit in the kitchen and have a bowl of cereal because you can't fish on an empty stomach. Buddy had Bran Flakes with fresh blueberries and a sprinkle of sugar on top. I'd have Corn Pops or Fruit Loops, and he would unsarcastically ask me if I wanted some sugar on top of my cereal, too. Then we'd get in the boat, and off we'd go. Before our lures ever touched the water, he'd look around the lake, and then look at me and smile. Over the soft hum of the engine, he'd say - "if you ever wonder what heaven is like, this is it." So now I know that every time I go fishing on Caledon Lake, he's right there with me.

He was generous and kind. He was successful without taking himself too seriously or caring what other people thought. He fit in at the country club and the corner pub. He believed you could fix anything with a coat of paint. Primer was for chumps. Polysporin was the cure for any ailment from a bug bite to a broken bone. He drank vodka martinis with a splash of vermouth and two olives. He was stubborn as hell, but never too proud to admit when he was wrong. He loved to sing Sinatra even though he couldn’t carry a tune. He once J-walked Interstate 520 in Augusta, Georgia to get to an Olive Garden. He nearly got kicked out of the Louvre for touching a famous sculpture. He used to practice his putting in the hallway of hotels. His nickname on the beach volleyball court was “scoop.” He was always on your side, but never afraid to have a hard conversation. He was constantly testing my handshake.

He was so proud of me when I started The 1440. Even when he was barely able to speak, he would ask me how my business was going and offer advice when I needed it. He had a true entrepreneurial spirit and a deep love for his family. I have a quote of his stitched on the inside of a leather jacket that says - “You can do and be anything you want in this world if you work hard and treat people right.”

We get 1440 minutes every single day. Buddy made every single day count, and I’m so thankful that he was my grandfather.