September 18, 1938 – April 9, 2020
It is with heavy hearts that we announce the passing of Buddy (Bud) Victor Berkenstock. Bud passed away April 9th, 2020, surrounded by family after living with cancer for several years. He leaves behind his loving wife, Kathy Berkenstock, their sons Ed (Penny) Berkenstock and Andy (Shelley) Berkenstock, their grandchildren Shelby (Mark) Reid and Adam (Chloe) Berkenstock; as well as their greatgrandchildren Willa and Ruby Berkenstock.
Bud was born at St. Joe’s hospital in Comox on September 18th, 1938, to Father Victor Berkenstock and Mother Violet Berkenstock (Marsden), who predeceased him. He grew up with his two sisters Virginia and Pauline in Merville. Bud was a logging truck driver on Vancouver Island, and he drove truck until he retired in 1992.
Bud married Kathy on March 21st, 1958 and they lived on the Royston Cumberland Rd until they settled into their home on Urquhart Ave, where they raised their children and grandchildren and have lived for the last 50 years.
When he retired, he enjoyed camping with Kathy and fishing for trout, salmon, or crab. He loved to garden, get a load of firewood, and play crib.
At a time when the world has been challenging to navigate, we would like to thank the community for the outpouring of support we received in Bud’s last days. Thank you to Dr. Swanson and Dr. Dawes as well as the staff at Courtenay Medical Clinic, the BC Ambulance Service, and all of Bud’s palliative and home care nurses and aides. We would also like to thank Cumberland Lodge who went above and beyond to support our family during an incredibly difficult transition. Your kindness has not gone unnoticed.
Bud requested to be cremated. For everyone’s safety at this time, there will not be a service. In lieu of flowers, a donation to The Berkenstock Bursary Fund through North Island College would be welcome. For bursary information, call 250-334-5074 or e-mail firstname.lastname@example.org.
Coming down the logging road, you better stay your path;
If Big Bud’s behind the wheel, there could be aftermath.
Taking his half from the middle, because the road belongs to him,
It’s working hours and he’s on the clock, so better just let him win.
Shifting without the clutch, because there are 20 plus gears on his rig,
Waiting for the RPMs to rev just enough to shift it in.
They say he snored as loud as his truck, and the crew all hoped to god,
They wouldn’t have to share a bunk anywhere near old Bud’s cot.
He was tough, but he was fair, if he liked you, you were in,
Although this could change at any time, along with the tide or the wind.
From flunky to faller to foreman, Big Bud paid no mind,
You knew where you stood if he thought you stepped even a toe over the line.
He had no patience for disrespect, especially in the cookhouse,
God help you if you thought you might pull a fast one, he definitely was no louse.
It is said whiskey jacks are old loggers who have seen their very last day,
So if you see one, feed him some lunch, it could be Big Bud on his way.