This memorial website was created in memory of our loved one, Leslie Petersen 79 years old , born on June 11, 1929 and passed away on October 11, 2008. We will remember him forever.

My dad served with the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry back in the late forties to the early fifties, which left him injured while parachuting out of a plane, before he was to go to Japan, and other countries during the Korean War.

When my parents took us to Calgary in 1976, I met my father's Sergeant, and he(my dad) was proud to have served in the army. 

My father loved animals and children, tho he was strict with us (his children at times). I know he loved us all.

My dad grew up on a farm, his father owned one. He was raised by his mother's sister Jean Houghton because his mother had left all her children with their dad Fred Petersen

My dad was an excellent swimmer, very highly intelligent. When he was in a hospice, his doctors were even impressed with all the answers he gave to their questions.

He loved playing WarCraft, doing crossword puzzles, reading the newspapers, watching hockey(which was his all time favorite) Chicago Blackhawks was his team. 

My dad always offered good advice to family members who would come to him with their problems..and other stuff.

One time when my brother Miles and I were in the car with him..another car hit us..but before it did..he turned the car in such a way, it wouldn't hit us...we ended up not hurt.

When I was around eleven, there was a house fire across from our house on 2621 St George Street...my dad went in the house, and dragged out the drunk parents, and brought the rest of the children out alive. My dad then come into our house, and I noticed the drunken father was saying he saved his family...of course, I knew different...it was my dad who'd saved them. My dad said never mind, when I told him, and we went back into our house.

When I was a baby, I swallowed a piece of plastic  and  was choking..my dad grabbed me cause I was turning blue-put me upside down, and banged on my back..out came the plastic,..my poor mom was screaming he was being to rough with me...he just knew what to do.

My father was a soldier in every sense of the word..he wanted to become a policeman after the war, but his legs made it so he couldn't be accepted as one. He worked in mines, worked with my grandfather Charles Whatley who was a carpenter. He did all kinds of work over the years, I guess which one would call a Jack of All Trades.