Frederick 'Rick' Jess Cookson-Hills

On October 11th, the incomparable Rick (“Cookie,” “Mr. C”) Cookson-Hills passed away with his adored wife, daughters, and sons-in-law by his side. He left this world as he spent the majority of his life: surrounded by love and song. Rick touched many hearts (and minds) across this province and beyond, and he was a great many things to a great many people – teacher, bridge player, storyteller, salesman, lumberjack, ball player, philosopher, pancake-maker, brother, grandfather – and above all, husband and father. His legacy is vast, and in the paragraphs that follow, we, his family, have done our best to summarize the meaningful life of an exceptional person.

Rick was born in 1948 to Jean and Clifford Hills in Red Deer, Alberta. One of eight children, Rick’s memories of his upbringing in West Park were vivid and fond, and became the fodder for many stories (some of which he later published). After completing High School, Rick attended Red Deer College and then the University of Alberta where he finished with an Education degree. He loved the university experience, and especially enjoyed his History, Philosophy, and Sociology classes. In 1973, Rick spontaneously accepted a teaching job in Australia. Not long before he left, he met Heather Cookson. Theirs was an instant connection: on the first date, Rick told Heather that he wanted to marry her and have ten children together. Luckily, Rick’s enthusiasm didn’t scare off Heather, and in a whirlwind romance, she decided to follow him across the world. The two were married in Canberra on November 1st, 1975. The years they spent in Australia were immensely happy, full of daring adventures and lifelong friendships. They ultimately returned to the Albertan countryside in 1978 and raised geese, chickens, dogs, cats, horses and eventually four daughters – none of which came when called.

Heather and Rick’s fifty-year marriage was a beautiful example of opposites attract, and their love and devotion to each other never wavered. From the beginning, they played bridge and the game became their second language. As bridge partners, they played well and regularly at the Red Deer Bridge Club. As ping pong opponents, they were downright dangerous to be around. As parents, they were loving and gentle. Rick remained in awe of Heather his entire life. He was a tremendous advocate of her art, and sold her books, paintings, and jewelry at the Red Deer market for over 30 years. He treated his stall as though it were a gallery, and he, the curator.

Rick had a multitude of jobs throughout his life, but first and foremost, he was a teacher. Upon returning from Australia, Rick taught at schools and community colleges in Rimbey, Maskwacis, Fort Vermillion, and High Level. During these years, he also gave bridge lessons at various Elderhostels in Canada and the United States. In the early 2000s, Rick (a secular Humanist) started substitute teaching for the Red Deer Catholic School Board, and he continued this role for almost 20 years. Regardless of what or where he was teaching, the crux of his lessons was always this: life. Rick taught people how to live. He was acutely aware that the best way to educate others is to tell them stories. Most of his (often, biographical) tales imparted a lesson on the listener, but Rick was never one to let facts get in the way of good storytelling. He was a born performer: he entertained — and enlightened — many generations of students in Alberta and beyond.

Rick spent the majority of his life in his cherished forest in the Medicine Hills. It was there that he built a beautiful and eccentric home for his family. Rick believed that the land itself was restorative; whether playing softball on the ‘Ball Diamond,’ canoeing across ‘Lake Australia,’ or hiking over ‘The Big Hills,’ Rick’s love for his property was infectious. He especially enjoyed walking his dogs through the countryside observing (and photographing) the wildlife of his environment with the most charming sense of wonder. These journeys were always meditative for Rick: it was his time to think and dream. Rick took great care to welcome anyone and everyone into his life and forest. He believed that the combination of trees and good conversation could mend the mind and body. Over the decades, he hosted many friends from multiple generations for visits and ambles. He delighted in sharing his piece of paradise with other people, and to walk with Rick was to create a core memory (mosquito bites and all). 

Along with Heather and his forest, Rick’s four daughters were the light of his life, and the Cookson-Hills household was frequently filled with laughter and song (occasionally tempered by arguments about coming down for breakfast while the food was hot). Rick’s very favourite topic of discussion was his girls. He was immensely proud of their educational, occupational, and artistic endeavours, and his love for them was truly unconditional. In his eyes, they were always on the right track. Rick was at his happiest when he was spending time with his daughters; ideally, they would be watching an Oilers game, playing crib, walking in the country, or eating pancakes together, but he didn’t really mind what the agenda was so long as they were there. Rick’s door was always open to any friend of his daughters, and their friends would inevitably become his. He loved who his girls loved without question. For a man who always described himself as lucky, it was his girls who were the fortunate ones. 

With regards to his character, those who knew Rick also knew that he lived life unconventionally. He simply preferred to do things differently, and this trait often caught the attention of the media. There are dozens of newspaper and magazine articles that detail Rick’s pursuits on everything from passive solar building techniques to preschool pedagogy. He had a flagrant disregard for misplaced authority, and he never shied away from standing up for others, truly believing that “power tends to corrupt, absolute power corrupts absolutely.” There’s a lengthy list of administrators and officials who crossed swords with Rick during his lifetime (his temper was like a late Spring thunderstorm: lots of thunder, but very little lightning). Rick was an altruist, and he would often act on behalf of those who were marginalized “because that’s just the right thing to do.” He fervently believed in the power of love and luck, and concerning the latter, he had good reason: he miraculously survived many accidents over his lifetime. It was rare to see Rick without impressive gashes and bruises (his chainsaw was his extra limb). While luck certainly played a part in Rick’s resilience, love was equally important: Heather’s care and supervision undoubtedly prolonged – and enriched – his life.

Rick had a deep appreciation for aphorisms. He always had a piece of advice for anyone in any situation. He lived by “let your routines look after you,” and “courtesy opens many doors.” He loved books and their contents and could eloquently discuss anything that he read (and he read widely). It is important to note that Rick was hard on things, not people. His small engine mechanic in Rimbey once begged him to never bring back his lawnmower. Money and material possessions meant very little to him; ideas and dreams were everything. He was an “ideas man” (a line from one of his favourite films, the Australian comedy The Castle). The 10 words that never ceased to unnerve his wife and daughters were “I have an idea — do you want to hear it?” Rick was never short on schemes.

He was never short on song either. Rick had a lovely singing voice, and he sang everyday. Whether it was lullabies for his daughters, while doing the dishes, or simply spending time with his beloved dogs, music was a calling and one of the many ways in which he expressed joy. He especially admired the songs of Gordon Lightfoot and Stan Rogers. Rick wrote a few of his own ballads over the years, and the reader might appreciate the following chorus from his family’s favourite:

Drink your own water,

Play your own hand.

Love your sons and daughters,

Treat a lady like a man.

Work hard when the sun shines,

Play out in the rain

But get ready for winter

Because it’s coming again…

A true Canadian, Rick was acutely aware of Winter. He accepted hardship as a fact of life and always faced it with pluck and determination. Rick rarely concerned himself with regrets; he was an eternal optimist, and there was no limit to the amount that he could love and play (even during the Winter). In his own words, he “had a good time having a good time.”

While he didn’t win the trick, Rick played the last hand he was dealt with stoicism, determination, and his ever-present sense of humour. He is survived and will be forever missed by Heather; his daughters and their husbands (who really were more like sons): Molly (Holden); Pippa (Peter); Carmen (Tim), and Claire (Rob); his grandchildren Monty and Posy; his six siblings – Kim, Sharon, Dale, Miles, Brian and David – and many lifelong friends who he cherished deeply (especially Phil Cunningham, Wendell Gyori, and Ron Nystrom). He also leaves behind many dear friends in the bridge community. Rick was predeceased by his beloved mother Jean, father Cliff, and brother Ken. His family is grateful to the tireless and compassionate ICU nurses and doctors at Grey Nun’s hospital who looked after Rick in his final days. They are also appreciative of the hospital’s kindly chaplains. In the coming Spring, we invite you to attend Rick’s Celebration of Life, of which details will be published at a later date. Until then, we encourage you to donate to the Alberta Wilderness Association albertawilderness.ca in Rick’s memory.

Rick believed that “grief isn’t something you can make smaller. You have to make yourself bigger around it. And you do that by letting people in.” Rick let a lot of people in, and he seized each and every day of his (too short) 77 years. It’s difficult to imagine moving through life without Rick here to guide us, but there is so much of him in his family and in the thousands of people he inspired to “do life right” over the course of his own. We will always treasure our time and memories with him and be grateful for his letters and photographs. Rest assured that we will continue his legacy by spreading his stories, songs and teachings – while embellishing them just a little – as Rick would’ve done.

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