Michael Danyliuk was a soldier, carpenter, raconteur and mentor
Michael Danyliuk Soldier. Carpenter. Raconteur. Mentor. Born Nov. 15, 1922, near Yorkton, Sask.; died July 31, 2017, in Saskatoon; of bone cancer; aged 94.
Michael Danyliuk was the eldest in a large Ukrainian farm family. He loved school. But after eighth grade, his father announced he'd purchased more land, full of stones and bush. At 13, Michael got a team of horses and began working, shaping the aptitude for industry that marked his entire life.
While he never had the opportunities for formal education, Michael was surely one of the most intellectually curious of autodidacts. He read constantly and widely, but almost never fiction. Michael mainly read history and biography because, he said, he read for truth. Late in life he discovered the wonders of Google and would amaze others with the depth of his research. Later still, he began to read poetry and discovered a kind of truth there as well.
At 21, Michael entered the army and served honourably overseas during the Second World War. After discharge, he returned home to Theodore, Sask., and met his life's love, Adele. Nine years his junior, she fell fast and hard for this dashing charmer. Married in September, 1950, they spent more than 66 years and were rarely apart. He was a guide and inspiration for her, their two sons and four grandchildren.
Michael's specialty was carpentry and woodwork. He worked everywhere, for large and medium construction outfits and on his own. Meticulous and demanding, he built everything from houses and the furniture in them to fine musical instruments. He crafted Ukrainian tsymbaly, or hammered dulcimers, having no small part in the renaissance of that instrument. He was a lifelong servant of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church and his work also adorns his home church. As his son, I loved working with him. His shop seemed to contain endless treasure. Over the decades, my role progressed from flunky, to apprentice, to partner. As he aged and began to weaken, I led – rather than followed – during our projects. But I never wanted to lead: The sweetest season was when we were rough equals, when he tacitly accepted that I had gained enough skill, knowledge and maturity to have an equal voice and role in our efforts. That time of parity was golden.
Always impeccably groomed, he was unmatched on the dance floor and could tell the best stories and jokes. He once convinced an entire community dance that he was John Diefenbaker's brother, and bought no drinks that night.
He was my North, my South, my East, my West. From him I learned diligence, integrity, service to others, service to God. From him I learned the virtues of discipline and work, but at least equally important, the value of humour and compassion. And although this expression is unpopular in our sensitive age, from him I learned what it was to be a man.
Michael died of a short but savagely aggressive bone disease. He maintained his faculties, wit and dignity throughout. While not an easy life, it was long and productive and was lived fully and without regret. He died rich in the currency of what matters. He will be missed by many, but his presence can still be felt by running your fingers along a fine piece of furniture or appreciating a lovely passage in a book.
Richard Danyliuk is Michael's younger son.
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