Albert Arthur

Albert Arthur 1923-2022

When our dad was born, almost 100 years ago, they immediately broke the mold. There would be no other quite like him. He had us convinced that he would live forever. That is why, despite being in his 10th decade, we were shocked by his abrupt death on Christmas morning. 

Dad was an inveterate storyteller, regaling us for years about out-running incendiary bombs during WWII, or his time in the Royal Engineers stationed in India. His stories of growing up in Langold, England with the most brilliant of dogs, Rack, had us enthralled.

He loved his dogs. First Rack and then Shannon. When Shannon died in mid-February, Dad insisted on digging a spot for him in the frozen ground of our backyard. And lastly, Spock, who was both feisty and deeply loving. Spock and Dad were mutually devoted, inseparable companions.

Dad was a rescuer by nature, a modern knight. No matter how inclement the weather, Dad came to the rescue of any one of his children to fix a broken bike or, later, cars in crisis. He also was known to occasionally rescue people in dire circumstances. 

He was a boy at heart, ready to drop anything to play a game, build an ice rink in our yard, craft swords for swordplay, or organize an imaginary hunt through a field behind our home. One Sunday dinner, he marched around the dining table doing takes from the Ministry of Silly Walks.

And the intellect! Woe betide the guest who thought they were well versed in a particular subject. Dad, innocently enough, would start by saying, “I don’t know much about it, but…” He would then share his encyclopedic knowledge of the topic. We listened in awe. We were humbled.

Some might say that having lived to his 99th year was a good thing, but he was not ready to go, and we were not ready to have him leave us. 

The Arthur, Castaneda, and Weinstein Families.

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