My Dad, Doug, was a unique man. He married my mom at just over 24 years of age and was a father before he turned 25. Back in those days people grew up fast. My dad considered his formal education complete at the end of grade 8. A classroom setting was not the place for him. He told me a story once about going to school on a winter morning near Christmas, dressed in his chore clothes. He attended school in a one room schoolhouse with all different grades in the same room, and apparently his scent distracted the rest of the school. As a result, he was sent out to cut the Christmas tree for the school. His plan worked to perfection! My dad lost his mom at 23 years of age and that was a deep wound that affected him all his days after. Especially, as a man wasn’t allowed to grieve. It was “say goodbye, put your boots on, get back to work, and don’t dwell on it”. He never was one to talk about his feelings. In his later years, as a grandfather, he was much more open about declaring his love for those he cared about. I suppose that as I was growing up, he too was growing up and maturing.

Our dad was a hard worker. He held jobs in the oil industry, in a welding shop, operating a gas station and garage as a mechanic, working at the local sawmill, and working as a custodian in the school. He also did some farming, made fish boxes, and did other odd jobs such as lawn mowing and tilling gardens. After his formal retirement, he began collecting scrap metal and bottles for recycling.

Dad also enjoyed playing. He played guitar for us often at home. When I was a child he would play board games with us. He took us camping, and we put a lot of miles on the vehicles with various road trips. Dad always loved to drive. For weekend entertainment we often would go just driving the back roads. In summer we would drive for miles, take a curve, and find a brand new lake in the middle of nowhere! Dad always seemed to know where there was a flax field in full blossom and it was magic! We would sometimes bring a chunk of coubasa and a loaf of bread and have a road picnic. Sometimes we would stop and get a pop and a chocolate bar for each of us. Sometimes we kids would pile into the truck box and go bottle picking. Our safety was important to dad: “sit on this tire by the cab so the rocks don’t hit you!”. In the car he made sure our seatbelts were tucked into the gap in the seat so we couldn’t use them as weapons. Dad and I talked about these small pleasures when he was in the hospital in Saskatoon, so I know they were fond memories for him also. And he laughed at the thought of these times that we were unaware were so precious back then.

One particular year Dad decided that we would do our first long distance trip. We had a Suburban at that time. We got on the road around 6am, drove until he was too tired to drive anymore, and all 5 of us slept in the Suburban in a parking lot somewhere, maybe a grocery store lot? Then before the crack of dawn we set off for Prince George, BC. I’m sure we arrived at my cousins’ place in time for breakfast! We must have made the return journey at a slower pace as it doesn’t stick in my memory as much. Mom and Dad travelled back to BC a couple more times in the following years. Their next big trip was to Prince Edward Island in 2013. They went by train. The first day was exciting, but it grew old fast! Getting there wasn’t really half the fun.  Dad loved the trip and liked to tell us about trying raw oysters for the first time. He always wanted to make a return trip, but that never happened due to declining health.  He did 1 international trip to Cuba in 2015 with extended family and myself. We had a great time, but he wasn’t sure if he’d like to repeat that trip. Sometimes he’d say he would, but more often he’d say no.

Dad was a people person! He never met a stranger. He enjoyed meeting new people and finding out about their lives and interests. He loved his job as a school custodian because of all the interesting little people he interacted with daily. He also loved his roaming to different farms and businesses with his recycling gig. The individuals he met were usually very hospitable so he would do a little business, get in a visit, and more often than not he would be offered some “sweeties” or “dainties”. And his sweet tooth was legendary! One time, my brother Jason and Dad went on a road trip together to look at a tractor. They dove to the fellow’s place, knocked at his door, and were invited in for coffee. They had a great visit for an hour or so and then asked to see the tractor that was for sale. Turns out, they were at the WRONG FARM! The guy they had been visiting with pointed them in the right direction and they continued on with their adventure. It was probably one of the best days of his life!

Dad was a real jokester too. Many a buttered bun has been lost at the kitchen table when the butterer looked out the window at whatever wildlife Dad pointed out to them. When I was a young child, Dad told me that HIS blood was black. I never doubted that for years! He told me about his younger years “I was never poplar”. I waited for his words of wisdom- Dad wasn’t one to rehash old wounds… “I was more spruce” was the punchline that followed.

Dad had a strong moral compass and firmly believed in justice and equality. But… he was a bit MORE equal. Speed limits were for other people. The Department of Transport regulations were for inexperienced and unsafe drivers, not for such a talented and experienced driver as himself. I believe he considered it a challenge to place as large of a load as possible on his truck and rely on gravity to hold everything solidly in place. And when consequences followed, Dad was not particularly gracious toward our public servants. “What are you doing out at this time of day? Why aren’t you in a donut shop?!” when stopped after attempting to thwart law enforcement by hitting the road early in the morning. Or, there was the time that a female Department of Transport officer stopped him for not having his load secured properly. He told her “if you can move this load and make anything fall, I’ll strap it down!” How he got away with these (and other) interactions, I don’t know. I told him more than once: “Dad! You’re going to spend your golden years in the HOOSGOW!”

According to family lore, Dad had been a hard-living, hard drinking man until God got ahold of him in 1974. He quit drinking immediately after and spent the next 50+ years “working out his faith”. He didn’t get everything right, but he continued learning almost to the very end of his life. There was evidence of growth and change up until his last days.  Dad strongly believed in evangelizing. Imagine my 6’2”, 200+ pound dad fixing you with his piercing gaze under his bushy eyebrows and clamping a big hand on your shoulder and booming out “Have you accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as your Lord and Personal Saviour?!” He led several people to Jesus. I’m not sure if they were interested in ETERNAL salvation? Or if it was immediate deliverance they were after. But Dad cared deeply about the eternal fate of others. He agonized over the salvation of loved ones. Dad also was the official pray-er at the family table. And when he announced that it was time to pray, he meant NOW! We’d be visiting and getting the food on the table, and Dad would announce “alright, let’s have a word of prayer” and immediately launch into “Lord God and Heavenly Father” in a loud voice.

Dad was a life-long learner. He played guitar in church for many years and always enjoyed trying out new songs, until ill-health stole his skills.  In his later years he became interested in politics and nutrition. He found Facebook and YouTube to be valuable resources. He enjoyed sharing his political opinions and viewpoints with anyone who cared to listen. And many who did not. Likewise, his pearls of nutritional knowledge were scattered around like glitter. I have seen him size up a shopper’s groceries on the conveyor in front of him and then offer them helpful advice on good food choices. Not considering that possibly, all the ice cream, pop, chips, and candy were for a special celebration and were not the person’s regular weekly shopping.

All this is to say that Dad cared about people. He didn’t always show it in a way that was appreciated, but it was his driving force. He worked hard because he loved his family and wanted to be a good provider. He preached because he cared about your eternal salvation. He spoke into people’s lives because he honestly believed that they would be better off with the enlightenment he could provide. He loved his wife of 58 years, his children, his grandchildren, and his great grandchildren deeply and prayed for them regularly- probably daily.

I’ll end with a couple of stories. Dad loved an adventure. When he and Mom moved to town due to his ill-health, he had packed an important item into a black garbage bag. Later, he helpfully threw it away. So Dad and I went dumpster diving. Heavy on *I* because Dad was in no shape to get into a dumpster! But he was gleeful- watching me bravely wade into the junk to find his treasure. We did not find the right garbage bag, but we did find canning jars, bottles to recycle, and folding plastic boxes- “imagine! Someone threw these away!”

My last adventure with Dad was a couple of summers ago. He had no business collecting scrap anymore. He was too weak from his heart problems. But- he had a truck box full so I said that I would go to PA with him to get rid of his LAST LOAD. The people at the battery recycling place were so happy to see him! They probably had thought he was dead already! Dad had a great reunion with them as a worker unloaded the batteries. Our next stop was Sarcan. I tried to keep him from handling the bottles, but he’s a hard guy to hold back. It was a hot day and he worked himself too hard, but he didn’t want to appear sick or weak. We got that done and he was satisfied. Last stop was the scrap metal yard. He had a minor dispute with the worker who tried to tell him where he should back into. The worker allowed Dad to go where he wanted. Then when he saw the shape Dad was in, he dove in and helped unload the items by hand. Dad was DONE! We went for lunch and then Dad wanted to go shopping yet! The store he wanted to go to had no electric carts, and Dad could barely stand by this point. So he held onto a cart for awhile but we had to cut the shopping short. I don’t think I’ve ever met another person who was more determined or stubborn. Mere physical weakness was not going to hold him back from doing what he wanted to do.

AND- though this was supposed to be the FINAL “junk trip”, I understand that he continued to collect and there was an additional FINAL TRIP!

Dad cheated death so many times. He just never thought the end would come so soon. For the last few months, Dad’s greatest pleasure was in the regular visits from his children- particularly Brad, who saw him almost daily and his grandchildren- particularly Lily and Owen, who he saw regularly. If you popped in to see Dad, telephoned him, or even just asked about him, know that he appreciated every interaction.

Dad was complex, sometimes puzzling, sometimes exasperating, but he was never boring.

We miss him a lot. There will never be another Doug Archibald.

Funeral Services were held on Saturday, March 28, 2026, at 2:00 PM at the Evangelical Free Church in Big River, SK. Donations may be made in Douglas’ memory to either the Lakewood Ladies Auxiliary or the Big River Children’s Fund.  Family and friends wishing to send online condolences are welcome to visit www.beaulacfuneralhome.com. Arrangements have been entrusted to the care of Beau “Lac” Funeral Home and Crematorium, Delores Beaulac Funeral Director, Spiritwood, SK (306) 883-3500.

 

• Date : 2026-03-18
• Location : Big River, SK