Staff party, poolside, Eastern Passage

Debbie's retirement

Debbie, Rebecca and Sarah,

My sincere condolences. The world got a little darker this week with Rick's death, though our lives have been enhanced in so many ways as I reflect on my memories with Rick.

Rick came into my life through my late brother Wayne, who was exploring the potential to launch

a community radio station. With a push from Debbie, okay, maybe a big one, he saw the value of the community connection of the radio station right at the beginning, and he joined in with both feet. Though I am not sure any one of us thought it might make it to the airwaves full time, we were all committed to the idea. Actually, I don't recall anyone that was at that table remembering talking about it not happening? We believed in 105.9 Seaside FM, including Rick.

Twenty-eight years of dedication and more to the little community station that touched more people than anyone would ever have imagined before his passing. The dream that was drafted at Wayne’s kitchen table definitely became a reality.

Rick was a calm bay in the midst of a storm often during the years that Wayne passed away and his presence and knowledge was always appreciated.

Rick was always a smile, teasing, trying to make me laugh, listening ear, always available, reliable, dedicated and a friend.

Thank you, Rick, for all the support you gave to Wayne, 105.9 Seaside FM and to me personally.

You will be remembered, loved and forever missed.

I first met The Commander twelve years ago over a martime feast of more than a dozen lobsters he had brought from Nova Scotia to Vancouver. Meeting my girlfriend’s father for the first time, it was immediately clear there was nothing more important to this man than family, especially his daughters. And I also learned quickly that when he hosted, nobody left hungry.

Not long after, I became part of that family and had the privilege of a front row seat to how Rick lived his life. It is hard to describe the many facets of this man. Most people saw one or two sides, but he was truly dynamic in that sense.

I observed and learned first hand how he always watched over the family in his own quiet way. From the small things to the matters behind the scenes that were never spoken of, he simply took care of things. I could tell times he was in physical pain but he always hid it and never once complained.

Over the years, Rick and I had many private meetings, sworn to secrecy I suppose until now, always in the spirit of protecting others from worry or stress as we planned and discussed. At key milestones in my business career, I would often seek his advice when no one else was around, in his office or at the Inn, the perfect setting. A place where he welcomed people from all over the world, but also where we talked business.

He loved the thrill of chasing nickels, as he called it. He loved numbers and profit and loss statements, something we shared, and I sought his guidance often. It never took him long to say, “Looks good, go for it,” or give that familiar look followed by, “I do not know, looks a little suspect here.” And that look alone was usually enough to make me go back and double check everything.

Most talk hockey or holidays or football or hobbies with their father in law. I read and analyzed financial statements with mine, and to me, that was wonderful.

On my major business milestones, he would be the second to know, only after my wife.

Though we did not spend much time at games or sharing drinks, we logged many miles on the road together touring factories and shops, which even in retirement clearly excited him. He loved to work, and he was exceptional at it. He had his own flair and way about him. The song My Way by Frank Sinatra always reminded me of Grampy, so much so that my kids simply call it Grampy’s song when it plays.

His opinion was always the straight goods (right or wrong). Yet he had a way of letting the family feel they had won and that it was their decision, though Juniper and I always knew from the wink.

Right up to his final days, he was still asking about his businesses and mine. Work energized him. But he was never defined by work alone. He lived fully on his own terms. He went where he wanted, when he wanted, and did it his way, though I suspect my mother in law may say she had some input from time to time.

In twelve years, I never once called him Rick. He was always Grampy, Sir, and in my phone saved as Commander in Chief. Partly out of respect, mostly because it just suited him.

What I learned most from him was to strive to be a better family man and to take care of everyone entrusted to me.

A friend pointed out that Rick often walked behind the group, not because he was slow, but because he was making sure no one was left behind, quietly watching over his people. That was The Commander. Always doing a headcount, always making sure everyone was accounted for.

I know some of the things he did for others privately, and I am certain there is much more we will never know. He helped many simply because that is who he was.

His favourite drinks were cold chocolate milk, Goslings with Coke, and straight El Dorado 15. So rather than only be sad, let us raise a glass to a life well lived, to a man larger than life, and be reminded to live fully and to our best potential.

We miss you and we will miss you.

Emerson, Peter 1

Juniper, Peter 2

Alister, Squirt

“We miss you, we love you Grampy, especially swimming with Grampy, playing crazy 8s and kings in the corner with Grampy, and vacations with Grampy.”

We salute you, Commander.

My grandmother Mary Henneberry Davis owned a house across the street from the Dunhams on Windsor Street in Halifax. It was there that my Mother Barbara and her siblings were raised. My Mother used to babysit Rick and that was the beginning of a lifelong friendship Rick had with my uncle Terry. We considered Rick, Debbie and their family to be a part of ours and were honoured to know that they considered us to be apart of theirs. I will to the day I meet Rick again be forever grateful for all he did for me and my family. The one thing I valued in Rick, besides his generosity of himself, was of how much he genuinely cared for us which I felt over and over again from him. May the road rise up to meet him, the wind always be at his back, and until we meet again may God hold him in the palm of his hand. The photo attached is of Rick, myself, my brothers Peter and Matthew. We are toasting my uncle Terry after his passing. Now we toast to you Rick and by for now......

Dear Rick,

Thank you for everything you did for me.

When I was going through one of the hardest times in my life, you were there—without hesitation. You offered help when I needed it most, you listened when I needed to be heard, and you met me with empathy and understanding. Yes, it’s true—and I’ll always be grateful for that.

You were a man with a deep sense of family, community, and pride. You gave more of yourself than most people will ever know, never looking for recognition, just doing what felt right. Your love for your girls was endless, and you surrounded yourself with family and grandchildren who clearly meant the world to you.

Your love of life was bottomless, and in your own way, you always reminded us how fragile and precious it really is. That lesson will stay with me.

So farewell, old friend. Rest in peace.

Save me a seat beachside—I’ll bring the cards and the beer.

You’ll be missed more than words can say.

Gerald, Ellen & Megan