Norman Dale Leslie died of liver cancer May 22nd, 2020 at the age of 72.
He was pre-deceased by his brother, Bernie; his father - Evon Hugh (Jim) Leslie; his birth mother - Vera Mae (nee Lorre); his foster parents - Elmer and Olive Aune; Aunt Rita and Uncle Albert Smith
He is survived by Jackie - his wife of 35 years; his half sisters - Loretta and Wendy (Jim); his foster siblings - George and Loraine and her daughter, Dana; his two sons - Duane (Shaunna) and Christian; his grandchildren - Caiton, Noah, Lachlan, Jackson, and Hudson; cousins Glen Smith and Peggy Stacey; nieces Tammy, Angela, Michele, Annette, Jennifer, Sandy.
Dale was an avid hunter, fisherman, gardener, crossbow and recurve aficionado, enthusiastic beginner carver, dabbled in drawing and painting and rode a motorcycle. Four hours on the ocean in his fishing boat was relaxation therapy for him; out on the water he could throw caution to the winds and sing his favourite country and R ’n R songs. Hiking the hills and woods watching and listening for wildlife was one of his favourite pastimes. He always took his camera with him; his photography revealed an artistic eye. Metal detecting was always a fun thing to do; like panning for gold, there was always the anticipation of finding treasure.
Growing up on a farm in Alberta, he had an affinity for all animals and especially horses and dogs. He became a “natural” mechanic on the farm - acquiring broken motorcycles and rebuilding them, as well as repairing and maintaining farm machinery, and later in life became a certified Small Engine mechanic. He loved nothing better than to tinker with a motor until he solved the problem and got it running again.
When he got to BC after working his way from Alberta as a young boy, he got into logging and worked his way up to grapple operator. For over 20 years he worked in camps all over the mainland and Vancouver Island and never wanted any other occupation in his life. Unfortunately, in 1992 he suffered a significant crush injury to his pelvis and was never able to return to logging.
He is remembered for his quick sense of humour, a willingness to try anything new, a quiet self-sufficiency, a generous friend.
He was always willing to pitch in and help, but would not let you take advantage of him; he was his own man.
His motto was, “If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it.” (I think he secretly wanted to wait for it to be broken so HE could fix it.)
Out of the blue Dale would say,
Good morning flowers,
Good morning birds,
Good morning little creatures of the forest,
I am Dale, I have come to sing and dance for you.
For old times sake, he always intended to return to the Drumheller Badlands, cross the Red Deer River on the Bleriot Ferry and stay in the campground there. I think that’s where his spirit roams.
Happy Hunting Dale.
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