I grew up in Victoria — Saanich, to be specific — one boy with six sisters.
I’ve always considered my Victoria upbringing to be a “secret weapon” as I navigated my way throughout the world trying to carve out a career.
I attended Cedar Hill Elementary, Doncaster, Lansdowne Junior High and Mount Doug. As a teenage musician, I played at the Century Inn, the Surfside, the Forge and more weddings than I can remember. That was the foundation of my musical education.
I’m as deep-rooted in Victoria as one can be. I wave the Canadian flag every chance I get. That’s a little context — but this story is not about me.
It is about my brother-in-law, Franklin Alfred Copley.
It’s a great privilege that I get to tell a little of Frank’s story. Most families have a “Frank” in their lives and I hope that this story, his story, will resonate with readers.
He was a seemingly ordinary man who lived an extraordinary life.
As a 12-year-old, it was always exciting when my three older sisters would have a “boyfriend” come over. Shallow as it was, I judged them not by their character but by their cars.
One day, to my utter disbelief, in our driveway was the most beautiful baby blue 1957 Ford Thunderbird with a porthole back window.
Inside (as I would learn later) sat this young, handsome, kind, beautiful man, Frank Copley. I think my sister Ruth knew from the start that Frank was going to be her man. In 1964, I played the organ during the signing of the register as they were married at St. Luke Anglican Church.
But who was Frank Copley, this person who stole my sister’s heart and went on this life journey with her for almost 60 years of marriage, with three kids and six grandkids?
Frank was one of four kids. His parents, Frank Sr. and Beatrice, owned enough land to have an airstrip, an airplane and a swimming pool, just three miles from Victoria.
To me at 12, this was amazing – but these material things did not define Frank, his two sisters Pat and Helen, or his brother Robbie, who coincidentally married my sister Jeannie a couple of years later.
These were hard-working people who were in the construction business. Like most of us, they faced good times and tough times.
Today, their property is in a beautiful neighbourhood, the Northridge subdivision off Carey Road, and Copley Park stands as a tribute to the whole family.
Frank went to Cloverdale, McKenzie and Mount View schools as well as Victoria College before graduating from the University of British Columbia.
As my sister said in her well-written obituary for Frank, he “briefly taught high school before moving on to the industrial business world, working as equipment manager for many prestigious big equipment companies all over B.C.”
Eventually they settled back to Victoria.
In later years, Frank operated his own automotive business.
With his passing, my sister discovered many acts of kindness by her husband.
One man wrote “I couldn’t pay for my auto parts — Frank said no problem — just pay me when you can.” Another wrote “Frank spent the day working on my car without charging a penny.”
This is where ordinary life becomes extraordinary.
Frank had a brilliant mind. He was well read, he loved technology, he could fix anything, and he remodeled all the family homes almost single-handedly.
He loved aircraft and flight and got his pilot’s licence when he was 15.
He always had a smile on his face. He never talked bad about anyone. He didn’t know the word gossip.
He was an excellent listener and extremely patient. As unbelievable as it sounds, I never saw him in a bad mood.
Whether it was a stranger or his best friend, when he greeted you, it was always “oh heyyyy — haha — how you doing?” or “hey – how’s it – haha – going?”
And: He loved my sister unconditionally, like a parent loves a child.
I’m sure Frank was no saint, but, in my eyes, he certainly came close.
When Frank got sick a couple of years ago, my sister kicked into high gear, becoming the best caregiver ever. She is a skilled nurse who spent much of her brilliant career in her specialty of taking care of terminally ill cancer patients.
This was both a blessing and a curse. She had experience dealing with situations such as this, but knew (probably more than Frank’s doctors) exactly what to expect and what the actual timeline was going to be.
A few months ago, we had a Foster/Copley family reunion. That’s how we framed it, but we all knew it was to say goodbye to our dear Frank.
It was an amazing evening. Sixty-five people strong. Frank was in good spirits and loved the night. Hopefully he didn’t put two and two together, but he was super smart so I’m thinking he probably knew.
He gave a flawless, heartfelt speech and everyone had a great time. I would certainly encourage everyone to have more family reunions.
For most of us, family is the backbone of our existence. We should never take it for granted. I know Frank never did.
He was devoted to his wife, his three children and his grandchildren: Son Frank and his wife Nancy, and their kids Maia and Maury Copley; daughter Maureen Lomax and her kids Ty (Brooke) and Jacob Lomax, Maureen’s husband Phil Coelho and his daughter Valentina; as well as daughter Tanya and her husband Kirk Jensen, and their kids Annelise and Torben Jensen.
For his entire 84 years, Frank never lost his sense of childlike wonderment. It is a rare trait, for sure, but so enduring. I will never forget him.
I love coming home and spending time in Victoria.
Coming home now is going to be different, for sure. No more “hey — how you doing?”
But I think the legacy is simply feeling like that person is still here. Sounds corny, but Frank will stay with our family for as long as we all live.
He was a gem. He was the bright light in the room. He was … like all of us … a Victorian.
David Foster is a Grammy award-winning music producer and composer based in Los Angeles who started his career in Victoria.
A final note from David: “I hope that the Islander could feature a weekly column called Frank’s Corner, with home-spun stories about the extraordinary Franks that come in and out of our lives.”
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