Ian Cronyn Parker

It is with great sadness that the Lord and Parker family announce the passing of our “leader of the band”, Ian Parker. Ian slipped away peacefully and serenely at his home on the crisp spring morning of March 28th, 2017, after a long and valiantly fought battle with cancer, surrounded by the love of those who cherished him.

Ian was born in Winnipeg. He received his B.A. (Hons.) from United College, his M.A. in Economics and English from the University of Toronto and his Ph.D in Economics from Yale University. Ian taught economics at the University of Toronto, Scarborough campus from 1981 to 2016, when he reluctantly retired because of his cancer diagnosis.

He was a much published author of many articles in the field of economics, with a particular love of and focus on the economics of communication. He was a contributing writer of numerous book chapters and a co-author of several editions of a microeconomics textbook for use by Canadian students. Of late, his research and writing included a study of a seventh century poet, political writer and satirist, Andrew Marvell (dubbed “Captain Marvel” by his family).

But if you asked Ian about his considerable professional accomplishments, he would have said that his true calling was teaching students. He absolutely loved teaching and revelled in his students’ successes, savouring their “ah ha” moments.

Ian was a gentle and humble man of honour, integrity, and generosity, utterly without artifice or pretension. His definition of “family” was limitless – if you needed something and he knew it, you were family and he would help if he could.

His needs were simple. He did not need high-end gadgets or gizmos – our family popcorn pot was battered and old, but it did the job. He made our coffee each morning in an old-style Melita coffee pot, and it truly was the best coffee in the world. His favourite shampoo was “99 cents” at the Dollar Store.

At the last Christmas he celebrated on Earth, he was given as a gift the title to a square foot of property on the ground of Dunans Castle to celebrate his Scottish heritage, and although he generally eschewed titles and preferred to be called “just Ian”, he proudly assumed the title “Laird”.

Ian was a gifted musician. He played the guitar and piano entirely by ear and was largely self-taught, and his musical tastes ran the gamut from pure folk to metal. (He was voted the “best metal dad” by son James’ band mates – largely because he was often their unofficial roadie, but also because he was able to sleep anywhere through anything and managed to sleep through a number of other metal bands’ sets.) He was a founding member of the Fort Mudge Clam Chowder Marching Band (which has been compared to the Smothers Brothers… the Kingston Trio, not so much).

He loved deeply and without reservation, and in turn, was loved by others. He was naturally curious about everything. His curiosity occasionally got him into trouble, most recently when, after quizzing a nurse on the mechanics of IV pumps, he tried to adjust his IV during one of his hospitalizations, later explaining to his wife that it was a science experiment that had somehow gone horribly wrong.

A man of words, who chose his words carefully and with precision, Ian loved languages and was fluent in both English and French with more than a smattering of Swahili, Italian and Latin. He had a profound love of literature of all kinds and lived by the Latin phrase “te potest etiam multis libris non numquam” (“you can never have too many books” – his sizable book collection is evidence of that).

Possessed of a wicked and irrepressible sense of humour, it often emerged in unexpected areas. He was the best teller of shaggy dog stories and could spin them out for hours. His huge book and LP collections are rivaled in size by his impressive collection of sweat shirts with messages, which he often wore to his medical appointments, classes and gatherings of friends, his favourite being “I asked for enlightenment, and all I got was this stupid aura”. He was our family’s story-teller and loved reading aloud – many nights were spent with him reading from the Harry Potter books and taking on every role.

While he supported Toronto sports teams (except perhaps the Maple Leafs), his true sporting loyalty lay with the Winnipeg Blue Bombers and absolutely any curling briers. He was also a proficient tiddly winks player, having honed his skill in his undergraduate years.

When Ian was first diagnosed with the cancer that would take his life nine months later, his immediate concern was for others, and he wanted to reassure those who were close to him that he’d “had a good long run” and if the news was not good he wouldn’t feel “short changed”. He met the challenge head on without fear.

True to form, he (and his family) sought to make sense of his diagnosis through humour – from soliciting really bad hospital jokes to add to our “Really Big Book of Bad Hospital Jokes” (no joke was too bad to qualify for admission) to the “odd book pairings” game, started because of one of Ian’s inspired pairings of The Human Touch, shelved right beside Germs. The winner was promised 5 cartons of books from Ian’s extensive collection plus some LPs thrown in for good measure. We are still waiting for the winner to pick up his prize (you know who you are).

Left to mourn his loss, cherish his memory and celebrate his life are his wife of 27 years, Jacquie Lord, daughter Jackie Parker and son-in-law Craig Hargett and their daughter, who was the light of her grandpa’s eyes, Emma; son Josh Parker and daughter-in-law Maria Granberg; son James Lord Parker; and siblings Brian, Wendy, Shirley (Ernie), Linda (Raffaele); and ten nieces and nephews. Ian was predeceased by and will be joyously united with those who went before him – his father, Hugh; mother, Beverley; brothers, Casey, Ben and Bruce; brother-in-law Fred; life-long friend and partner in high jinks, Ian Macdonald; and father-in-law and mother-in-law, Alfred and Joan Lord.

Ian’s family is indebted to Dr. Howard Clasky, whose care and compassion made it possible to fulfill Ian’s and Jacquie’s wish that Ian remain in their home during the final stage of his illness. Our family is very grateful to nurse Sheena and personal support workers Joaquin, Sandra, and Michael, all from St. Elizabeth, for their exemplary care of Ian. Ian’s family is also grateful for the guidance and support provided by CCAC-Central East and Scarborough Centre for Healthy Communities. Our family would also like to thank our friends, whose generosity and support made this difficult journey much easier to bear.

Celebrations of Ian’s life will take place at Jacquie’s and Ian’s home and subsequently in Winnipeg, where his ashes will be scattered at the Forks, at the junction of the Assiniboine and Red Rivers. The dates of the celebrations are yet to be determined. Ian’s family would like to remind attendees that Ian wouldn’t have thought it was a true celebration unless there was at least one noise complaint.

In lieu of flowers, Ian’s family has asked that donations be made to the Canadian Cancer Society or to a charity of your choice, or that you follow your heart and “pay it forward” with random acts of kindness.

Ian, your family and friends “love you to the moon and back, to infinity squared plus one”. Until we meet again, we’ll keep your memory safe in our hearts.

Last night, after an 8-month battle with cancer, my father passed away in his sleep. He was at home, next to my stepmother, and though we're all saddened by our loss, are grateful he went peacefully and is no longer suffering.

My dad was a Marxist economist who occasionally shopped at Walmart, never met a used bookstore he didn't like, had more books than could fill a basement, and a vinyl collection to rival Capitol's.

He was a Renaissance man whose piano-playing soothed and who could pick up his guitar after hearing a song once, and play it.

A lifelong teacher and scholar, he was beloved by his students and interested in everything under the sun. His ability to solve any cryptic crossword or Rubik's cube within minutes, teetered between awe-inspiring and annoying. (As a child, my solution was to remove the cube's stickers, and place them with their matching colors--ta-daaa!).

Though we didn't always see eye-to-eye, my dad championed my creativity, encouraged me to do what I loved, filled my life with music, taught me the value of experiences over things, inspired a love of travel and story-telling, showed me all you need is love, and gave the best bear hugs.

I see him reunited with his best friend, Macdee, on the other side, laughing and making music again. Rest in peace, Dad. We love you.

Last night after a long battle with cancer, my father passed away. I can't thank my family enough or the friends I've told who've come to visit him and who have supported us.

My father was not a smart man. A sharp man, yes. An innovative professor, a gifted musician, and a brilliant economist, yes, but not a smart man. He sang songs poking fun at God at his old church (and got kicked out), he went on a cross country canoe trip with one change of clothing and no tooth brush, and has bought more used books and vinyl than every hipster across the gta combined.

My dad could be distant and rarely sought or accepted help whether he needed it or not. He struggled with addiction and only quit smoking after he became too weak to stand.

My dad was not perfect but he made it a point to better himself when he could and he always tried to raise me to be better than him and avoid making the same mistakes he made.

He supported all my artistic endeavors, whether it was music, acting, or writing and his eyes would light up every time I showed him a new piece or got accepted for a new role or got published in another journal. Until he became too weak to move on his own, my dad came to see every single show or reading I performed and it didn't matter if it was in Toronto or elsewhere, he would come support me (I still remember him driving to see me play in an earlier band in the middle of the night and sleeping soundly through a deathmetal band performing their set before ours).

I've learned so much from my dad over the years and he's supported me through every ordeal I've faced and I wish I didn't have to lose him yet. But he taught me that although we don't always get what we want, we should make use of what we have and be thankful for the time we're given to accomplish our goals. Nothing prepares you for the loss of a parent but I'm grateful that I am lucky enough to have such a brilliant man as my dad. I'll love you always, papa.