TOWLER, John
John Orchard Towler, born December 1, 1937, died April 29, 2025.
Beloved husband of Gwynneth Lorna; devoted father to John David, (Dennis), Mark Bradford, (Traci). Proud grandfather of Juniper. Predeceased by his daughter Shawna Leigh.
In addition to being husband, father, friend, teacher, boat builder and sailing instructor, yachtsman, traveller, photographer, writer, lover of music, and theater, and a man with a great sense of humour, John held undergraduate degrees from the University of Toronto and York University and a Master’s and Ph.D. degree from the University of Alberta.
He was a faculty member at the American College of PreHospital Medicine (USA), Breyer State University (USA),Purdue University(USA) University of South Florida(USA) and Renison College at the University of Waterloo, where he served as Principal and Chief Executive Officer.
John was also a visiting professor at the University of Lancaster, Memorial University, The University College of Wales, Aberystwyth, The University of Liverpool, and Reading University and taught at every level from elementary school to graduate school.
He published more than 150 professional articles, 8 textbooks, and conducted research for Labour Canada, The Humanities and Social Science Research Council of Canada, the US Office of Education, and the US Department of Health, Education and Welfare.
He loved to travel, and as well, founded a management consulting company. He wrote frequently about his travels and business interests. His articles appeared in hundreds of popular, business magazines and travel publications.
Cremation has taken place. Internment will be held at Mount Pleasant Cemetery, Toronto with a private family service.
In lieu of flowers, donations to St Mary’s Hospital Foundation or The Leith Summer Festival would be appreciated.
To John, Dennis, Mark, Traci and Lorna he was just a lovely lovely gentleman. A real scholar, sincere and caring gentleman who Tracy, Shayne, Nicole and I are better off having had the opportunity to get to know him. We grieve for your loss.
Dad loved to laugh. No matter what else I remember about him, I’ll always remember his laugh: deep, hearty, loud and full of life. It was infectious, and I and my brother David would always end up laughing along with him, no matter what. He was deeply intelligent, but incredibly personable and would get along with anyone. Both he and my mother have always amazed me at how they found other people fascinating and would strike up conversations with strangers at the drop of a hat. He made friends everywhere he went which is one of his traits I wish I’d inherited.
He taught me to sail, to canoe, to fish, to ride a bike, to drive a nail (he was incredibly handy) and he inadvertently taught me most of his university psychology correspondence courses when he paid me to mark his exams at 10 years old. (Years later I made him laugh out loud when I showed him a new version of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs with ‘WIFI’ and ‘Battery’ added to the bottom of the pyramid.) I sat in on a couple of his classes as a kid and was spellbound as his lectures kept his (impossibly old and mature to me then) students enraptured. He loved to teach.
He was a visionary who introduced David and me to computers long before they were a thing, bringing home a pioneering Compucolor II PC in 1979. This lead to a lifelong love of the damn things and my current career, so thank you dad. He and my mother taught me that ‘everything you ever wanted to know can be found in a book somewhere’ which cemented my lifelong love of reading. He took us with him on his travels and I saw Ireland, England, Spain, Germany, Denmark, the Netherlands and many, many other countries in my childhood. He cheerfully sent me off to get one of the only Playwrighting degrees offered in Canada at Concordia University in Montreal despite the fact that I could have had a free ride at the University of Waterloo due to his tenure (and lived at home, to boot). It was years before I realized how much he could have saved, but he never said a thing about it or pressured me in any way.
He had incredible, unshakable strength of character. Once, after watching him refuse to rise to the bait of some fool for the millionth time, I asked him how he always kept his cool. He told me “Whenever I hear someone saying something incredibly stupid or ridiculous and I open my mouth to tell them exactly that, I think ‘how much do I really care?’ and then keep my mouth shut.” It’s probably one of the most important things he ever taught me and I struggle to follow his example every day. He worked hard, both mentally and physically to be successful and build a good life for his family. He accomplished that goal and we only sometimes realized how lucky we were to have him as a father. I loved him and I know he loved me. I miss him. I always will.
I love you dad.