How to describe Frank Chambers?   Frank meant many things to many people in many ways, but he always positively affected them.   He quietly inspired, encouraged and taught them to be better people.  And through example he taught people to believe in themselves.   Over the past few days, I have heard him described as “like a grandfather to me, like a second father, incredible person, he helped me with this, he built that, build the best houses, he helped us by volunteering, he taught me, he was a ‘very special’ and inspiring man, a great man, I always liked him, I always respected him, he was always there for you.”  Powerful words that stand as testimony to modest man, yet one who was surprising in his complexity.  This is a man who didn’t graduate from high school yet he earned a respect that surpassed many scholars.   And there is no greater indication of the goodness of one’s character and moral fiber than the approbation of the community around him.   Born to a farming family in 1919, Frank grew up in the footsteps of his parents Jim and Silvia Chambers, two outwardly stolid, well respected, salt of the earth farmers.   Jim in particular would influence all his children towards the stoic, no-injury-too-great-to-slow-you-down nature you saw in Frank.  He, along with his three brothers and three sisters, learned the hard work ethic of farming in the Haliburton Highlands.  As many of you know, farmers here seemingly grew as many rocks as they grew crops and those rocks had to be manually removed to farm. As a kid Frank tended to be at times a carefree prankster and was the terror of farm cats when they were caught unawares.  He along with his brothers were not afraid of heights and would swing from treetop to treetop, pole vaulting fashion, on the way home from the one room Carnarvon Schoolhouse where he went to school.   He had his first devastating blow in life during his formative years when his older brother Murray died tragically from a burst appendix due to the lack of modern ambulances and care.  Frank very much looked up to Murray and they did everything together.   Now Dad could figure things out quite well even before he apprenticed as a carpenter in his teens.  Many people have a multi-purpose cure-all that they rely on to fix things.  For instance WD-40 is great for fixing squeaks and for removing and preventing rust.  Well Dad’s multi-purpose cure-all was dynamite.  He learned many uses for dynamite beyond removing stumps on the farm.  Like explosive fishing in Soyers Creek, unfortunately spooking a farmer and his team of horses in the process.  And in Haliburton some creeks suddenly and violently appeared under Frank’s special attention as my Brother can attest.   Frank was impressed by a De Havilland Mosquito fighter bomber being tested over the area at the beginning of the World War II and one of the Avro Arrows conducting Mach testing over Boshkung Lake. As a result he developed an affinity for flying and in the process changed the history of Haliburton when the township expropriated the landing strip he bulldozed for his newly bought Piper J3 Cub.   They lengthened this strip and called it the Stanhope Airport.   Frank modified this aircraft himself, making it more powerful, and flew it throughout the year on wheels, skis, and floats and made trips with many a person into Algonquin Park to fish, Northern Ontario to hunt, Niagara Falls where he would fly across lake Ontario and land on the Chippewa River, and to the Clear Lake Hunting Camp.  I should note that the Clear lake take-off distance was too short for a float plane of this type.  In fact there are many stories attached to Frank and his airplane, and Bill Irvine can relate many of them.  One stays with me though.  When I was a teen Dad told me once that he used to go up on warm summer evenings when the air was calm and lakes were still as mirrors, there he would fly his plane by using small shifts in his body weight.  He took on a calm and wistful look when he told me this.  Personally I think at times like that he felt closer to God.   Everyone has a story about Frank.  Whether it be the mystery and amazement of how he built heavy things by himself, jobs usually requiring multiple helpers.  About how he buried his mother’s casket by himself after it started to pour rain because he didn’t want her to be rained on.  Or convincing our Uncle Bill Irvine to ride a moose that was swimming across a lake.  Being stalked by wolves while walking out from the logging camp one winter.  About how he somehow contrived to have a snowmobile land on top of him at age 90, and when he walked into the hospital with a major broken neck. I am continually surprised and amazed by what I hear about him (and a little shocked I might add) and I’m sure that will continue. Books have been written about such people. As a kid after my parent’s separation I used to spend weekends with Dad.  Every Saturday we would have hot dogs and Campbell’s mushroom soup for lunch.  I tell you, for me that is the ultimate comfort food.  Dad, Frank, is in so many things around us, and he is a part of us.  He was a man of action who led by example and that is the memory we will keep with us.  That is his ongoing legacy.  He was not a demonstrative person and he couldn’t tell us that he loved us, but he showed it in what he did for us.  He gave us his time, his practical knowledge and his skill.  Be it wooden toys and playground equipment for Marie and Chris, providing expertise and helping build and finish Bob and Heather’s cottage or building shelves for Me and Ruth-Anne which I’m sure will survive a major west coast earth quake – in these ways he showed a deep love for us - as he has done for all of his family and friends. Frank Chambers was an amazing logger, trapper, fisherman, hunter, moose caller, house builder, mechanical maintainer, mechanic, anything-needing-fixed-fixer-upper, bush pilot, airplane builder and modifier, boat builder, soldier, tree topper, snowmobiler, expert marksman, innovator, maple syrup maker, school project amazifier, playground builder, toy maker, buffalo saber fan, supporter of the sports garment industry, world traveller, curious discoverer, fisherman, hunter, teacher, ignorer of broken necks, defier of doctors, brother, father, grandfather, great grandfather, family guardian and friend.  He is a subject of amazement and awe. Always willing to drop everything to help others and he was well loved and appreciated by the Haliburton Highland community around him, and beyond. He will be greatly missed. I just want to say one more thing… Many say that growing old is but a state of mind.  Frank knew this and did his best to ignore his age.  He once told my brother Bob that he always regarded himself in his late 20s, and felt the frustration of the limitations of his aging body.   But as we all know, and as Frank has proven time and time again, he had no limitations.