Document contributed by Michael McBryan Cowichan Bay
Ken McBryan
1915 - 2005
On Friday they came and took a very small quiet body from its home. Looking at him, I found it hard to believe that a life that was so large to me, could slip away so quietly. The man who we know as Dad was born and raised in Edmonton, raised his own family, then retired to Vancouver Island, on the surface it was a simple unexcited life of a quiet man. Looking deeper, the story of a remarkable man comes t
o life.
Born in 1915 the eldest son of six children he had the task of helping his mother raising the others. With the coming of the war, he and so many others went to defend his country. As one of the lucky ones, he came back to marry that wonderful girl, Margaret Casey, whom he had met while training in Ottawa.
Being a practical man, and needing a home for his new family Dad built his first home. Out past the end of the streetcar tracks, where the land was inexpensive, and there was room to grow, a family was raised along with a few chickens, a cow and a large garden. The fact that it was beyond the street car line meant a cold morning bicycle ride to get to work, until he became prosperous enough to buy that first car. It was a job that he would keep for more then 30 years with Imperial Oil. With the arrival of Maureen, the youngest of five children, Mom put her foot down. We were going to move back into the city where life would be a little easier for her and no
more chickens to feed.
I remember the move to this grand two-story house with a well manicured yard. Dad did his best, planting flowers, trimming the monster hedge but he was no match to the erosion of five active children bent on climbing every tree, and playing ball through the flowers.
It was a wonderful time; best remembered by the outing that Dad took us on. Every Sunday after church we went on a picnic or adventure of some kind. In the summer it was canoeing on the river or hiking the sand hills. There was always a practical side, berries to be picked, saskatoons along the river, raspberries around abandoned farmsteads, choke cherries in the swamp. In the fall it was the duck hunting trips, the most expensive meat you could get, but glorious fall days spent with dad. In the winter, out to find a place where we could ski. Long before cross county skiing was popular we were slipping our way through the snow, to some hill where Dad taught us how to ski, with a fire to roast hot dogs and get warm before heading for home. We learned of Dad's love of boats, rivers and nature in all its glory.
As we grew and vacations with the family became important, Dad built what was later to become known as the wooden tent in the swamp. Out at Pigeon Lake, Dad found a lot at the end of the road, far from the sandy beaches and just inches above high water; the perfect place for a family cottage. With the help of his ever-patient wife and the five children he built the summer cottage. A place of happy days spent sailing, swimming, and digging in the mud; a care free life for the children while mom worked miracles on a wood burning stove to keep us all fed and dad started yet another garden.
As time marched on, first our maternal grandmother, Granny Case and then Dad's mom (Granny Mac to us children) died. He was freed of the responsibility of taking care of them. Maureen, the youngest was finishing high school, the children where all able to care for them selves. Dad always different, took early retirement. He packed up mom, sold the house out from under the ones that did not want to leave the nest and moved to Vancouver Island, away from the cold Alberta winters.Once here, he built with the help of his family, his final home. Mom, who wanted a fine home in the city with lots of friends close by, had small cottage on a large lot, far from the amenities of city life. She rose to the occasion; developed new friends and they enjoyed another 30 years together.
Dad, always busy, and a sailboat soon appeared, a garden was planted, fruit trees and grapevines took up residence in the yard. It was a wonderful place for the grand children to come for a summer visit, a great yard to camp in, mysterious woods to hide in. A grandmother who made delicious meals and a grandfather they were a little leery of. Looking back we were never had the newest or the biggest but we had something I will not forget, We had a father, who cared, who took care of his family and his mother. Who raised a family of his own, giving us all the opportunity to learn and grow. A man who was always there. When the family drifted apart some remaining in Edmonton, some to Calgary, some to the interior of BC, it was Dad we called when we wanted to find the latest news on what the others were doing.
Dad's full and interesting life saw the world change from telegrams and steam engine trains to jet planes and the Internet. One constant in his life was his faith. He tried to instill it in his children and he was true to it all his life. I have memories of walking to church with mom and dad, bitters winds in the winter, soft mornings in the summer. Even when we were vacationing at the lake, Sundays mornings everybody had to be up, piled into the car and crowded into the small county church. Near the end, sometimes confused about the day he would want to go to church. Nothing less then a drive by the church would convince him that it was not Sunday.
He was active to the end, a little slower, but still going for the walks, still checking the saskatoon bushes along the side of the road and still watching for the flocks of white swans in the fields.
He will be missed by his family and all those that knew him.
Obituary for Ken and Margaret McBryan
Wedding Announcement for Ken and Margaret McBryan
Birth Certificate Ken McBryan
Obit Margaret McBryan, mother of Ken McBryan
Obit Helen(McBryan) Huston sister of Ken McBryan
Obit Mervyn Huston, brother in law of Ken McBryan
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