Written by Greg’s sister, Mary-Lynn Culbert of Campbell River, British Columbia, in celebration of the 77th anniversary of Greg Culbert’s birth, 10 December, 1943.
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| Greg Culbert fly fishing on the Oldman River near Calgary, Alberta. |
My brother Greg passed in his sleep at home on the morning of September 16, 2020, in Campbell River, BC, surrounded by those he loved after a short struggle with non-Hodgkin lymphoma.
He was a big man - big in stature, big of heart, big energy that filled the room. So the hole left by his passing is equally large.
Greg was the sort of person you could not feel ambivalent about. He made strong and lasting impressions. Sometimes he left scars.
Circumstance and distance left me estranged from my brother for most of my adult life. But, in 2001, my mother moved to Calgary, Alberta, to live with Greg and his family, and it was during my regular visits there that we began to form a friendship. I think Greg decided that the best way to see if I was worth getting to know was to take me fishing; if I could keep up and be “one of the boys” for the weekend then I might be worth the effort. I must have passed muster, because he and I murdered many a fish together over the years.
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| Greg and his sister, Mary-Lynn. |
We had much catching up to do and, as it turned out, little time to do it. About 2006, Greg began to suffer from short-term memory loss. Soon, much of the brief history we’d created together had been erased from his mind. I lost him just as I was finding him again.
Greg taught me many things in the time we were given: how to land and release a fish; how to eat pheasant without breaking a tooth on buckshot; how to shoot a rifle (apparently, I’m a natural); how to drink scotch properly (it seems orange juice should never be involved). Most importantly, he taught me a lot about family and how important, fragile, and beautiful those bonds can be.
My brother saw more with his one, good eye than most people do with two.
He could spot a bully or a fake a mile away. He could point out a tiny flower nestled in the prairie grass, or a covey of quail that even his own dog had missed. And he could be quick to see weakness and exploit it mercilessly.
Not long ago he shared with me: “There comes a point in your life when you realize you can’t solve things anymore with a punch in the nose. When I think back on all the times I used my fists instead of talking or just walking away, I wish I’d had more patience. Although there were times when some jerk really deserved it, I wish I’d known how to do things differently.”
He was no angel, but he was a good man. He did not suffer fools gladly but he was willing to give anyone a chance or a hand up when they were down on their luck.
I will remember him for his wicked sense of humor and his fierce love of family. I will miss his stories, and sharing with him a love of nature.
He gave the best hugs! A hug from Greg was like being enfolded in a big, soft, safe, warm duvet. When Greg hugged you, you felt that nothing could ever go wrong again. For such a powerful, tough guy, his hugs were full of love and tenderness. That will be one of the things I will miss the most.
Wherever he now moves through the universe, I hope he is traveling with all the dogs he’s ever loved, and that he finds a quiet spot where the bite is on.
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| Annie, the black English Labrador stayed by Greg’s side to the end, a faithful friend giving love and comfort. |
BRIAN GREGORY CULBERT’S FAMILY TREE:
Ancestors:
John Culbert & Mary Ward (great-great-grandparents)
Richard Culbert & Jane Eleanor Fairhall (great-grandparents)
Myron Manford Culbert & Effie Pearl Taylor (grandparents)
Kenneth Arthur Culbert & Mary Helen Needham (parents)
Descendants (Children):
Kimberley Tara (Culbert) Small
Katherine (Culbert) Kerr
Elizabeth (Culbert) Turner
Note: On Sunday, December 13th, there will be a follow-up post (click here) with details about Greg’s life and adventures.
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