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KENNETH GEORGE INKSTER July 15, 1949-Nov. 25, 2019

Our dad was a man of few words, but if you got him talking about something he was interested in, he could talk your ear off about a wide range of topics, as he was educated by life.

He was a hard worker and loved his concrete work over the years, before he moved on to owning and operating his own portable saw mill. He loved to be out in the middle of nowhere cutting wood—it wasn't work to him, it was his happy place. H

e had tools for everything, and knew exactly where in the yard, field or back 40 he'd used and left them last, even if they were snow-covered.

He enjoyed nature and the simple yet amazing things it offered—an odd shaped tree; freshly bloomed lady slippers and pussy willows he'd pick for mom every spring; the huge willow trees in our yard; wolves howling; the sound of poplar leaves rustling; tiger lilies in the ditch; a brightly-coloured leaf.

Our dad had a great, but weird sense of humour. (That may be an Inkster thang). Sometimes you couldn't be sure if he was joking or not, but he'd get that sparkle in his eye and you knew.

He joked with us a lot, probably why we're all so funny and sarcastic now. LOL.

Our dad was a kind and honourable man whose word meant everything to him. If Ken said he'd do it, he'd do it, come hell or high water.

All in all, he may have been a bit (or a lot) quirky, but that made him, him. He lived his entire life on his terms—he did what he wanted and didn't do what he didn't want to. What more can you ask for?

Years ago for a school project we had to ask our parents for one piece of advice they'd have for us as we grew up. My dad's answer was simply: “Be true to yourself, everything else will fall into place.” Wise words from a wise man.

As per Kens wishes, there will be no funeral service.

Arrangements entrusted to Northridge Funeral Home.