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Larry E. Klein: Farmboy. Navigator. Woodworker. Grandfather. Born July 31, 1941, near Melfort, Sask.; died Nov. 14, 2023, in Ottawa, of esophageal cancer; aged 82.

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Larry E. Klein.Courtesy of family

Larry Klein worked on the family farm as soon as he was able; he would say that his earliest memory was of the crop being harvested under the giant Saskatchewan sky.

His father was a farmer, hunter, stockman, fisherman, trapper, mechanic, carpenter and anything else associated with life on the land. His mom, a teacher and writer. From them, he learned to work hard, waste not and be a decent person.

His life trajectory changed when he contracted viral hepatitis while working a summer job in road construction after his first year away at university. While recovering at the farm, he signed up for flying lessons on a whim even though he’d never been on a plane. His instructor was a Second World War veteran pilot who noted 19-year-old Larry was a natural. After five hours in a Cessna, Larry was turned solo. He called it “the greatest feeling in the world.”

Larry gave up school to join the Canadian Air Force to fly full-time and see the world. Undeterred when the Forces deemed him too colour blind to be a pilot, he became a navigator instead.

Larry’s first operational posting did not take him as far as he’d like. In 1963 he was posted to CFB Rivers in Manitoba – but it was there that he noticed Lynda Jaques, a “neat little blonde schoolie” (a.k.a., teacher) in the officers’ mess hall. Lynda was teaching elementary school at the base. Like him, she was from a Prairie farm and their relationship felt like home; they were engaged three months later.

Together they lived a nomadic military life, transferring from base to base across the country, along with their growing entourage of children – Michael, Jacquelyn, Carmen and Tamara – and the occasional dog or hamster.

Larry flew all over the world for military air transport and search and rescue teams. He helped support UN evacuations, Red Cross operations and medical airlifts from remote areas. There were fun moments, too, such as when Larry and his crew were mistaken for the pop band Bay City Rollers at a hotel in Australia. Not wanting to disappoint the fans, the Canadians just smiled and waved as the crowd went wild.

Flying meant being away from home for extended periods. But he’d make up for lost time whenever he could, including taking the family camping for a few weeks each summer. Always behind the camera, he captured the unforgettable family moments, including the time he took pictures of the bear who’d come to visit their Rockies campsite instead of retreating to the family camper.

When faced with another transfer that would uproot his family again, Larry hung up his flight suit. Transfers are tough on teenagers and with four at home, he considered “taking one for the team” with no regrets. He worked at a government desk job until retirement.

Retirement was a tough transition. An introvert by nature, he spent time in his workshop, producing a lot of dust, noise and colourful language but he’d always emerge with something incredible made out of an old piece of wood, including cradles for his eight grandchildren.

He and Lynda stayed close with family and friends they had met throughout their travels, but his hometown of Melfort, Sask., remained his favourite destination.

He adored his grandchildren and loved to show them the C-130 Hercules he once flew. The kids, however, were more impressed that as a veteran and volunteer, he got into the Ottawa Aviation museums for free, like a celebrity. He’d always say goodbye with a hug, a slap on the back and: “See you later kid, I love you.”

Larry’s cancer moved too silently and too quickly. The family’s last photo of him was on Remembrance Day, in a hospital bed with one hand on his chest, facing the Western sky.

Carmen Klein is Larry Klein’s daughter.

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Lives Lived celebrates the everyday, extraordinary, unheralded lives of Canadians who have recently passed. To learn how to share the story of a family member or friend, go online to tgam.ca/livesguide

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