Paul Goulet.
Husband, father, uncle, confidant, nature lover, history buff. Born Oct. 2, 1950, in Chatham, Ont., died Jan. 17, 2013, in Huntsville, Ont., of a heart attack, aged 62.
The opposite of the "strong, silent type," Paul Goulet was open and affectionate, with a wry sense of humour and realistic outlook on the world. His non-judgmental vibe made it easy for people to open up, often confiding things they wouldn't normally share with others. He loved to celebrate the small things – a great seventies tune or a tasty rum and coke (a family tradition).
Paul grew up in the 1950s in Rondeau, Ont., in Canada's second-oldest provincial park. Just shy of a year younger than his only sibling, Dan – the pair were known as the "hunks" of the park – Paul took full advantage of the area in its heyday, sailing at the Rondeau Yacht Club and meeting girls at the dance pavilion. Paul loved being in nature, and would later trade one park for another, spending much of his adult life living on a lake near Algonquin.
When the Rondeau Yacht Club celebrated its 75th anniversary in 2007, Paul got to see friends from as far back as his life-guarding days, and dance the night away under the stars. (Having gotten a little carried away in reliving his youth, he also toppled over on a borrowed motorcycle and burned his leg. The resulting scar was welcomed by him as a memento of a wonderful weekend.)
A cousin speculated about whether Paul's laid-back nature was the result of being surrounded by women. Indeed, he was outnumbered by his wife, Brenda, and their three daughters, who were the loves of his life. As a dad, Paul was hands-on: taking the kids on bike rides and for camping trips on Rock Lake when they were young, and later getting to know their friends and love interests. He and Brenda were a team in all aspects of life – from raising children to travelling together and installing her bronze sculptures in towns across Ontario. Paul greatly admired his wife's artistic talent and creativity.
Reading was among Paul's pastimes – especially historical non-fiction – and like many of his generation, he was fascinated by JFK. He read many books about the man, had firm opinions about them, and speculated on what happened that day in 1963. He even went so far as to travel to Dallas with a friend to see for himself landmarks such as Memorial Plaza and the Sixth Floor Museum.
Paul had a soft spot for animals, starting in university with his beloved dog, Sugar, and later a good natured standard poodle named Remy who was a fan of car rides. Sitting up front in the passenger seat, she'd stick her head out the window so all you could see from behind were her caramel ears flying in the wind. Brenda joked that people must wonder who the blonde was that Paul was riding around with.
Personal loss and health setbacks gave Paul serious challenges to overcome. When he was still an undergrad at the University of Guelph, he lost his brother Dan – then a young pilot in the military – in an airplane accident. He faced, and pushed through, life-threatening illnesses such as cancer and a rare virus that left him temporarily paralyzed.
Perhaps these challenges were part of the reason Paul was open about how he felt. Whether chatting with an old friend he kept in touch with by phone, or a close family member, he never hesitated to say he loved them. Leaving nothing unsaid was one of the greatest gifts he left behind.