Obituary of Frank Brassington

Frank Brassington was born on February 26, 1910 in West Hallam, Derbyshire, England. His parents Fred and Ada emigrated over the ocean on the Empress of Britain, from England to Paradise Valley, Alberta. Frank passed away at home on his farm on the first day of spring, March 21, 2012. He is survived by his four children and their spouses: Eva and Art Waterfield, David and Pat Brassington, Gordon and Barb Brassington and Ron and Dorothy Brassington. He is also survived by his brother Ken Brassington, his brother-in-law Charlie Redmond and sister-in-law Eva Chambers. He has 12 grandchildren and 16 great-grandchildren. He was predeceased by his wife, Muriel, and his brothers Art and Harry Brassington. Fred, Ada and Frank settled in the Uneeda district when Frank was one year old. They began farming with horses, cows, chickens, trapping muskrats and growing wheat and barley. Farming became a lifelong passion for my dad. He hauled his first load of wheat by himself at age 10. In the years following, he made hundreds of trips for grain, fuel and food supplies. Workdays were long for Frank. The horses had to be fed, watered, bedded, cleaned, harnessed and unharnessed at the beginning and end of every day. On one occasion, Frank had 16 horses in a harness. What a feat. Work certainly didn't consume all of Frank's time, though. Saturday nights were set aside for box socials, dances or whatever the district could organize. Frank even played the drums at Uneeda school. My Dad fondly recalled one night when the whole building was vibrating during a lively dance. On certain Sundays in the summertime, a group of young men gathered at Eatons Lake, northeast of PV, to have a home-made rodeo. Maybe this is where my dad earned the nickname, "Horseman Frank." We can only imagine the laughter and pure fun those lucky people enjoyed. My dad enjoyed playing hockey and curling. At 27 years of age, Frank married a local girl, Muriel Redmond and began raising a family in our present farm location. Their loving marriage lasted 66 years. She passed away at home, with my dad at her bedside in the same farm location where'd she spent all their life together. In his late 30's, Dad contracted polio. His right arm was on a slingboard for many months. But my dad never was one to sit back and feel sorry for himself. Years later, you'd have to look real close to tell which arm had been affected. Frank was always forward looking, by all accounts. Even though he loved horses, he saw the value of switching over to tractors. He always employed the new methods of farming, such as using combines rather than threshers or using zero-till rather than cultivating. Frank liked to reminisce about the old times, but he was always optimistic about the future. He seemed tireless, but his secret was balance: without fail, he could be found resting for a half hour after every noon meal. He also loved what he did, and loved where he lived. No matter who visited, they were informed of the high-quality water the farm had. Visitors were also told to admire the eastern hills. Like nowhere else in the world, he'd say. He thought the same of Paradise Valley. "Pardise," as he called it. Frank taught his grandson Andrew to farm. At four years old, Andrew would ride in the combine with him during harvest, and he would let Andrew run the controls. He'd ride until late in the night and Andrew would be fast asleep, with his head bouncing against the combine window. Frank was never too busy to take Andrew with him. When Frank was 93, a fence in the hills needed repairing. He and Andrew took 30 posts and the hand post pounder. He used the crowbar to punch the holes for the posts and the sledgehammer to put the posts in. He was a man of amazing strength, and admirable strength of character. He was unfailingly generous to those around him, and especially to his grandchildren. He always loved a good joke. A shed door could be secured from the outside, and his grandson locked him in one day, then ran off and promptly forgot about him. He found his own way out, but never got him in trouble. When Frank was nearly 101, he was driving tractor to haul manure. Frank and his granddaughters had a friendly spirit of competition. He always loved to keep up with the kids. His granddaughter Diana recounted, "As I grew up I was always chatting with him about various sports I was in or races I was training for. In turn he would tell me about the days he played hockey and how much he loved that sport. As Grandpa got older, he traded in hockey for walks on the treadmill, a routine he kept up till well over 100 years of age. In fact, he was quite proud of the 1.7 mph pace that he would go, and one day when he walked by and saw my sister going at 6.7 mph on the treadmill, he happened to only noticed the last number and remarked with a gleeful grin, 'See, we go the same pace!' Grandpa always had a quiet faith in God. However, to a 13 year old who thinks that believing in something means talking about it, I decided I needed to make sure that my Frank truly had a relationship with the Lord. On one of my visits to their house I sat down by Frank and started asking him if he believed in God. He told me that he had made a commitment to God when he was younger, but this did not suffice for me. I pressed him, asking him if he truly had given his whole heart and life to the Lord. This meant having a relationship with God that weaved into the fabric of everyday life. I told Frank that he was not too old to renew his commitment to God, and start living a life that included God in the form of a real, daily relationship with Him. Frank seemed to be touched by what he had to say because he told me that he wanted that in his life. I got him to pray something similar to the sinner's prayer, but with emphasis on renewing the commitment he had made to God as a child." Frank lived with his son Ron and daughter-in-law Dorothy for the last 7 years of his life. Dorothy recounted his last night on earth: "It was about midnight, and I awoke and could hear Frank coughing. I went to his room and he politely asked if he had woken me. He appeared relaxed and happy, but I knew he was having some problems with his breathing. Frank talked about how he liked Alberta and how 'we were calving out 300 cows.' I didn't understand when he told me a couple of times that he'd like me to meet his friends. I thought he was confused... But he wasn't. God had allowed Frank to see his guardian angels who had gathered to take him safely home. Frank left us quietly and oh so peacefully. Frank Brassington lived well his 102 years, and his work ethic, generosity, and kindness will not be forgotten by all those who were privileged to know him. Donations in memory of Frank may be made to the Paradise Valley United Church or to the charity of the donors choice.