John Vivian Reimer was born January 26, 1923 in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. He was third in a line of 8 children. He grew up in Ontario during the depression and yet, his childhood seemed happy. He has told many stories of playing with his friends in the bush, which was a protected wilderness area. His friends called him Viv, a shorter version of his middle name. He thought this was his real name for much of his childhood.
John eventually joined the RCAF, royal Canadian air force, during WWII, and was an Air Force Pilot and Gunner. He served his country while stationed in Canada and England. John was in the Air Force from Oct. 13, 1942 – February 25, 1946. He left the Air Force with an Honorable Discharge and a rank of Flight Sergeant. He was awarded the Air Gunners badge on September 10, 1944. his medals included a Canadian Volunteer Service Medal with Clasp, and a War Medal for the years 1939-1945. While stationed in England, John had one episode of hand to hand combat. He was on guard duty and a drunk, allied soldier trespassed where he wasn’t supposed to be. John warned him to leave and the man walked into John’s bayonet. The man survived.
His brother Ken had a friend Art with a beautiful sister, Margaret. The two friends thought their siblings would hit it off as a couple so they arranged for a blind date. John and Margaret went to Casa Loma, a beautiful Castle in Ontario. There was a dance that night and they were to attend. John fell in love at first sight. The two corresponded while John was shipped out. John was head over heels and it took Margaret a little bit longer to make a decision, but on February 14, 1948 they were finally married. Their love affair was one for the story books.
After John got back home he attended the Ryerson Institute, where he studied to architectural drafting. After school he got a job at the T Eaton co in the heating and furnace dept since architectural jobs were hard to find. He also worked in his brother Ken’s jewelry shop.
In the early 1950’s Diane was born. The family decided to take a trip to CA and they liked it so much, they decided to stay. They moved across the continent to Long Beach. They began to attend First Presbyterian, which later became Faith OPC. They were both active members, John was ordained as a deacon and helped to remodel and maintain the church building.
Soon another daughter, Carol, was born. She was brought straight from the hospital to their new home, a Cliff May ranch-style home by El Dorado park. The young family continued attending the same church. Grandpa worked as a draftsman for Moffat and Nichol Engineers in Long Beach for 34 years where he was able to use his architectural skills, amazing creativity and careful precision in his designs and plans. They added two more children to their family with the births of Nancy and David.
My goal today is to honor my grandfather. He was a genuinely good man. I’ve just read some of the facts about Grandpa’s life, but I also want to share with you some of Grandpa’s qualities, his personality. There isn’t near enough time, space, or words to express all of the wonderful things that made Grandpa unique, but I will try to do him justice.
First of all, Grandpa was a dreamer. He was always planning, always drawing, always designing. He was always so generous with his time and talent. It was his pleasure to help anyone with remodeling and design. All you had to do was ask, and Grandpa would create several plans and options and beautiful drawings. He was a dreamer who was actually talented enough to follow through with his dreams. He designed additions to his home, he drew up plans for remodels on the church, he designed an exterior light fixture for his house that required three different perspectives and a cost summary, he designed a castle for me complete with secret passages. He was so creative and so capable. He was always dreaming about the ‘what if’.
On driving trips, if we passed a field of land Grandpa would say, “I would love to buy a piece of land like that and design a home for each of the kids and then we could all live their together. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He would have explained his idea with a little more detail than I did, but that gives you a picture of his mind. He was never tired of thinking, planning, and dreaming.
He was an easy man to rile if you knew his triggers. Just mention Frank Ghery or post-modern architecture (as if he thought there was such a thing) and you could get Grandpa talking with passion. Grandpa was an architect and an artist. He liked architecture that was elegant, functional, and naturally beautiful. He liked all things that were elegant, functional, and naturally beautiful, just look at the woman he married. Grandpa admired Frank Lloyd Wright and encouraged all of us to have an eye for design.
Grandpa loved his work and did it well. As times changed and computerized drafting was introduced as a replacement for hand drawing, Grandpa took the course offered by his employer. He studied hard and even studied after hours and was the only one of his company to graduate from the training. His title was draftsman, but his heart was in design and often he was able to do both. He designed marina’s, villa’s, and even condo’s in Colorado that won awards.
Part of what made Grandpa so good at his job was his precision. Grandpa was precise in everything he said and did. He earned the inspector’s stamp of approval on all of his blue prints quite quickly. Every detail was accurate and with out excess. This could sometimes be a point of frustration when talking with Grandpa because he would often pretend to be confused by your lack of precision. Grandpa would often question a statement someone made by saying, “What do you mean by ‘pencil’?” and he would force you to precise even if he knew what you were saying.
He was careful with details and took his time measuring, calculating, making decisions, and even when speaking. Although this could sometimes be frustrating, it often made for great results.
The other reason why Grandpa was so good at his job was because of his artistic skill. Grandpa could sketch anything. He often sketched portraits for school projects for his kids and grandkids. Teachers were so amazed at his pictures, some would confiscate them and use them in their classrooms. Grandpa could always be found sketching something. A pencil and a scrap of paper was all he needed to create his constant flow of drawings.
Grandpa was not only good at his job, he was a family man.
Grandpa came to everything. I mean everything. There wasn’t a hockey game, soccer game, volleyball tournament, academic competition, spelling bee, concert, school play, musical, track meet, awards ceremony, graduation, presentation, wedding, birthday party, going away party, welcome home party, or any other event that he missed for all of his children and grandchildren and even great grandchildren. He was a family man extraordinaire. His love and devotion for his family not only rested with his children, but filtered down the generations. He babysat my brothers and me when our mom was sick. He drove us to school and then to the hospital day after day. He babysat his great-grand kids once a week and they loved him as much as he loved them. He and Grandma have shown each of us the importance of family and what it means to put your words of love in action. He gave us faithful devotion and sacrificed hours of his time and he did so with joy. He loved us all so well. He told us in words and in actions and not one of us ever doubted it.
One of my favorite memories of Grandpa was an Easter week in Doheney. Our family camps at the beach during Easter vacation and one year vacation fell the week after Easter. This meant that the Payless drugstore had a 90% off sale on their Easter candy in an attempt to clear it out and we bought a lot. It was a great day just because of that, but Grandpa secretly purchased a large amount of candy and put it in a box. He buried the box in the sand in a section that we called our island. It was just a pile of sand that was surrounded by the incoming tide every night so that it looked like an island. After burying the treasure, he painstakingly drew a treasure map on a piece of paper, burned the edges, rolled it up like a scroll and gave it to his grandchildren saying that he had discovered a treasure map. We followed the map to our “island” and dug to find the box of candy – our own treasure. That was Grandpa.
Grandpa was an encourager, but not in the same way as the rest of the family. Grandma tells you that everything you do is wonderful and amazing – because she really thinks it is. Her love for us blinds her to our faults. Grandpa didn’t pour out compliments, but that made the ones he did give extra special. He wanted everyone to do their best and motivated them to do it. You knew that if he said he liked something you made or did, he had examined it to its finite details and after his careful and knowledgeable inspection, he had approved. His praise was worth earning.
Grandpa loved my grandma. If anyone ever doubts the existence of true love, they just have to look at my grandparents. They could always be found holding hands and displaying affection. I can just hear that tone that Grandpa would get in his voice when he’d talk about, “mummy”. It was like a boy in love who couldn’t believe that a beautiful woman would fall for him. All you had to do was bring up a love song from an old movie or mention the picture of Grandma on the bridge and he would gush. Even as he was getting an EKG in the hospital, he asked the technician, “How can I have a heart? I gave it to my wife 61 years ago!” He shared his food with her, walked her everywhere while holding her hand, cared for her in little, tender ways. He is an example to all men of how to treat women and especially how to treat their wives. Grandpa never made it a secret that he loved his wife and his love and respect for her taught us all how to love and respect her. It is because of Grandpa that I know what it is to be cherished.
My Grandpa was quirky, in the best way. Grandpa was a saver. He saved a lot of stuff. He saved notes and papers and articles and he could find them to share with others. He gave me a map of Africa that he had saved since the 70’s. He was famous for saying, “Whatcha gonna throw that out for? It’s still good.” I’m sure this stemmed from growing up during the depression, but the best part was that Grandpa did actually use the things he saved. Grandpa saved every letter of correspondence that he and Grandma exchanged while he was away in WWII. They are in two beautiful boxes on their hearth at home. I was only ever allowed to read two letters from those boxes for a project in school. All I can say is he was just as smitten with her then as he was 61 years later.
Grandpa was a talker. He was famous for his cornerings. He would get talking on a subject and physically corner you until he was done. He could talk to anyone about anything, and he could talk for hours! He certainly had a lot of experiences and I don’t know if he ever told me the same story twice. What was amazing was his memory during these stories. He knew the first and last name of every teacher he ever had and each of his childhood friends. He knew details about things that happened decades past. He had remarkable recall. On a trip back to Toronto, we were walking down the street of his childhood home and he was telling us a story about some of the kids in the neighborhood and when he looked across the street at an old man he said, “That looks like Fudgie, the younger brother of my friend.” We all thought, “Sure, Grandpa, it’s been sixty years and you can recognize your friend’s little brother.” But Grandpa shouted, “Fudgie!” and the man turned and said, “Viv?” which was Grandpa’s middle name. We never doubted Grandpa’s memory after that.
Grandpa was narcoleptic, but only when sitting down. He could sleep anywhere at any time. If you caught him at it he would say, “I was just resting my eyes.” You could tell if he was watching a tv show he liked because he would stand up with his hands resting on his knees in an effort to not fall asleep, he was sometimes successful.
Grandpa was strong. Grandpa could run and lift things and move like an athlete. He redesigned his front patio and the family was helping him pour the concrete. Grandpa told Paul that he was disappointed in himself that he could only carry one 50 lbs sack on his shoulder instead of two like Paul could. My grandpa always expected a lot out of his body. My dad says that he was remarkably made. As a boy growing up, his father taught all of his son’s about boxing. Grandpa was good, really good. After he beat all of his brothers, their friends would try to beat him and soon he garnered a reputation as the best. It was always fun to watch him as he watched a boxing movie, he would bob and weave with the actor and jab at the screen.
Shortly after Grandpa enlisted, he and some buddies went swimming in a lake in Canada. Grandpa dove in and hit his head. When he surfaced, he told his friends that he had broken his neck. They thought he was wrong, but took him to the hospital anyway. He sat in the bed of a truck and rode the whole bumpy ride holding his head up with his hands. When he got to the hospital they took x-rays and had him wait in the hallway. Because of how calm he was, they were sure that he could not have actually broken his neck. They thought he was just trying to get out of serving in the military. After the x-rays were developed, a medical team rushed into the hallway shouting at him not to move. They casted him right there because he had, in fact, broken his neck. As a side note: when they removed the cast sometime later, Grandpa had grown a beard, it was bright red and the nurses laughed at him. I guess we know where that red hair in the grandkids comes from. Anyway, that was the strength of my grandpa. He was so strong and so active. Although he was 86, he acted more like a man in his 60’s.
God is good because Grandpa was used to being strong and healthy. God willed that my Grandpa would leave this Earth quickly and without knowing weakness. On February 26, 2009 Grandpa went home with loved ones near and scriptures in his ears.
John is survived by his loving wife, Margaret. His brothers Kenneth and Walter and sister Ramona. His children Diane, Carol, Nancy, and David and their spouses: Michael, Dal, and Erich. His grandchildren: Paul, Erin, Dann, Brenda, Kenneth, Kevin, Sami, Tim, Melody, Wesley, and Erich and his great-grandchildren: Madison, Michael, Natalie and Karis as well as extended family and friends. All who knew him are going to miss him.
There are little things we’re going to miss. I’m going to miss his hands. His very strong hands that would sometimes hold my arms as he was telling me something. I’m going to miss his whiskers on my cheek when I would kiss him. I’m going to miss his fishing hats he wore everywhere. I’m going to miss how he always cut his juice with water. I’m going to miss how loudly he sipped everything (he said it was an expression of appreciation to the chef.) I’m going to miss his phrases like, “I trust so,” as a response to “see you tomorrow” or “We love you too,” in response to “I love you,” or “bye for now” or “What do ya say?”. I’m going to miss his humming and whistling songs especially when Mom, CC, and I are practicing for the Christmas Eve service. He always overlapped our singing with his own that was sometimes half a beat off. Sometimes he’d sing an old love song and belt out a beautiful chorus. Afterward he would almost shiver in joy and say, “Oh, that’s a good song.” I’m going to miss his stupid puns. I’m going to miss his urging me to be a better writer. I’m going to miss his stories, even the long ones. I’m going to miss the way his voice deepened as he prayed. His tone in prayer was of humble and sincere reverence.
I am so thankful that I was blessed with such an amazing grandfather. He was such a wonderful man. He was able to make us all feel so loved, so beautiful, so important to him. I am thankful that he knew how much we all loved him. I don’t think that he ever doubted our love either. Especially in the end. In the first few days in the hospital he was able to know that his entire family was there to support him. I am thankful that each of his children and grandchildren have inherited a little something of him. Whether it be art, design, construction, a love of books, grammatical precision, or the ability to love steadfastly and whole heartedly.
There is so much more that I wanted Grandpa to do and so much more that he wanted to do: like fight off the boys from his beautiful great-granddaughters [and he would not allow any other words to be used to describe them, not pretty or cute, only beautiful], finish editing my novel, redesign parts of the church, parts of his house, attend the weddings of his grandchildren. And even though we are all shocked and saddened by the loss of the strongest man I knew, I am so comforted by the fact that my dear grandpa is in heaven now. His journey is done and he is home. And I don’t say this as some trite expression of comfort – ‘he’s in a better place’ and such – I say it as a solid fact in which I can hope. My grandpa was not a perfect man, he was not a sinless man, as great as he was and as much as I loved him – he did not deserve heaven. Yet my grandfather trusted in the salvation of Jesus and he was true to that calling to the end. This is his greatest legacy. He showed us what a blessing life can be when one’s priorities are straight: serve God, love your family, and enjoy the blessings of life. I am honored to be his granddaughter and to follow in the path that he has created for his whole family.
