Donald Leonard Woods

Donald Leonard (Dan) Woods October 18, 1956 – August 22, 2026

Dan surprised himself by living past 50.

He lived quietly in a tiny house beside the Six Nations Reserve that overlooked fields down to the Grand River. He said it was the best place he had ever lived.

Dan befriended everyone – people and dogs alike. He took two lunches to work so that he could share. He was “the old guy” on the Volunteer Fire Department. He mailed books and letters to an elderly man who had no family but hoped for mail daily. He saved food for a stray pregnant dog and convinced others to save food as well.

Dan found ways to make things work. On one occasion, when a visitor was told she could not bring her small dog into a retirement home while visiting a family member, he convinced her to put her dog on her head and wear it as a hat.

Named after his great grandfather, Donald (Dan) Matheson, he went by Dan for most of his life and was known simply as Danny, Dan, Uncle Dan, or more recently, Great Uncle Dan. Dan signed his letters Y.U.D. – Your Uncle Dan.

Like his father and brother, Dan had a beautiful bass-baritone singing voice and could carry a tune all on his own. Like his brother, he was also a perfect mimic.

Dan was an avid reader, cartoonist, and writer of absolute nonsense. Two of his brothers-in-law once received a text that they were accompanying him to Australia for the Heavyweight Kangaroo Boxing Championships.

He was founder and Chief Executive Officer of an elite group called Doctors Without Degrees, a group whose members joined by invitation only.

Dan loved anything small that moved. From an early age he collected snakes, lizards, frogs, mice, baby rabbits, spiders. Once when visiting a friend, he captured and set-free bed bugs, thinking they were small beetles.

Dan tried to protect those he knew and anything young, weak, disadvantaged, or in need of help. In this, he created great good, and on occasion great trouble.

Dan faced illness with courage, stoicism, humor, determined independence, generosity, two packs of cigarettes per day, and a sister who equalled him in all these except the two packs. He gave up whiskey but kept some of the biting wit that went with it.

Dan delayed letting people know about his illness. He wanted to avoid causing pain. He also hoped to see friends and family one more time. After making it to 50 and then past 60, he aimed for November of this year – just past his 70th birthday. He figured November would be a good time to die – after all the family birthdays had passed and with plans for Christmas pulling everyone into a happy future. Dan recently admitted this hope “might be overly optimistic”.

Dan died at home on the farm he loved, with a picture of 128 Divadale, his childhood home by his bed.

In the months before he died, Dan would often say: “This is a good day. These are good days.”

Thank you to those who cared for Dan and whose care allowed Dan to stay home. Thank you to the staff at Rexall Pharmacy in Caledonia, who knew Dan well, worked hard to be helpful, and created a community of friendship and support.

Thank you to the doctors, nurses, physiotherapists, and a whole home health team who tried to improve Dan’s health. Thank you to the healthcare workers who cared for Dan every day.

A special thank you to one man, a health care worker from Nigeria. He and Dan made the most unusual partnership. This man brought humor, family, compassion, tradition, and great respect. He allowed Dan to live and be cared for as he wished, and in doing so gave him dignity and personhood.

Dan loved the woods and the north. He valued close friends, especially those with a sense of humor.

He leaves behind family and friends who loved him, in particular his companion of 12 years, Esmé, who slept in or under his bed when she wasn’t catching mice in the fields.

Dan’s request was that we keep things simple and say goodbye to him on the farm.

Dan collected only two things: friends and DVDs. His legacy lives on in those he loved and those who loved him. We are not going to give his friends away. He never would. “Word of Honour.” As for his collection of 1,000 DVDs, however, we are willing to let you help yourself.