Biomedical Physiology and Kinesiology (BPK)

    I had known Dr Tibbits for about 25 years when I took Kin 305. He was this professor who would enter the lecture hall without his notes and write everything on the chalkboard like he memorized every word from the textbook. He knew his molecular cardiology like it was the back of his hands. I remember that he used to make jokes during lectures with a straight face when everyone was laughing at his jokes and I would be staring at the board with a blank face and then looking at the person next to me and asking "what just happened". I was just an average student who was lost and needed directions in life and career paths. Glen and I became close friends, and I had been calling him "My White Dad" for many years. We stayed in touch often after I graduated from SFU in 2000.

    He was a mentor who gave very straightforward advice bluntly but in a paternal or humourous way whether it was about family, health issues, relationship advice, questions about the course, or career paths. I remember that he was making fun of his Afib and being on dronedarone and when he was telling me his cardioversion stories. I struggled with good grades in school but he never treated me any differently than his stellar students. With his encouragement, I eventually entered medicine and became a physician in the US. I came back to visit him at his SFU office during my residency training and he gave me a 1:1 lecture on his current cardiology research. There was so much passion about his work, it was extremely inspiring. I went on further in my training and became a cardiologist. Then I remember telling him now my part of the story, and jokingly I mentioned, the other night I was shocking a patient multiple times to get him out of VT and I thought of you and your Afib story. We both laughed.

    The last time I met up with Glen was about 3 years ago at a restaurant and he gave me the most important life advice that I should come back to be close to family. I still remember that he told me "Clara, it's time to move back closer to your family. Go home and seriously think about it!" I'll never forget his wise words. 7 months ago I finally moved to the Washington States to be close to my family. I kept in touch but he never once mentioned that he was ill. I was messaging him about how chaotic things were but then I was oblivious about what he was going through. He asked if I was happy. He only mentioned that he was still working in the lab. I only just found out after I messaged him again a couple of weeks ago thinking that I would visit him this Christmas but never received a reply.

Along with my colleagues, I have been thinking about the sad news that we received yesterday about Glen. I have known Glen a long time. I would have met him in 1998 when I first came to SFU. Over these many years I have gotten to know him as a colleague, Department Head, enthusiastic scientist and as a friend. But I also want to mention two attributes that may have gone unnoticed, namely, being one tough guy and being a person totally committed to his students, trainees and other personnel. As became known a while ago, Glen had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS). By the summer of 2023, Glen was developing ALS and he was aware that he had the disease. He did not want anyone to know that he had ALS as he thought that this would jeopardize his ability to secure grants and support students through studentships and scholarships. His thinking was that if people knew that he had ALS, they would regard him as not having much of a future and so would not support his activities. He was also aware of the poor survival of ALS patients, with typically a 3-5 year survival, especially with the form of ALS that he had, which started with speech impairment (a ‘bulbar form’ of ALS). Rather than ‘take it easy’ in response to his illness, he doubled down and worked harder than ever.

I took him up on an earlier offer of visiting his lab in the BC Children’s Hospital Research Institute (BCCHR) in the fall of 2023 to have a look at his lab and his research activities. I am so sorry that everyone in the Department did not have an opportunity to do the same and I suggested to Glen and others that they get a cameraman to film the various aspects of Glen’s lab, so that others in BPK, SFU and elsewhere could see what Glen and his colleagues had accomplished. In the fall of 2023, Glen led me through robotic workstations for generating various types of differentiated cardiac cells from induced pleuripotent stem cells, electrophysiological recording stations both ‘manned’ and robotic, as well as image analysis labs galore. It was a real tour de force of a lab that Glen had built up at BCCHR (as well as a lab at the SFU campus). There were also numerous trainees, graduate students, post-doctoral fellows and staff that Glen all knew and cared for, like a parent. If they were foreign, he would ask about things at home, with his very frequent ‘off-colour’ but good-tempered remarks. As always, Glen was so excited and enthusiastic about his work it was hard not to share his excitement. As Glen put it himself at the time, finally everything was coming together in his research so that he could achieve what he had dreamed of, characterizing various types of gene mutations in cardiac conditions using human stem cells and detailed physiological analysis. Glen would dread having to give talks because giving talks would reveal his condition. He eventually got to pre-recording the talks using a voice synthesizer.

In spite of all that hard work and desire to keep his disease from public view, he soldiered on. I became aware of all the trips made to emergency rooms and I give credit to Haruyo for all the effort she went to simply to keep Glen alive and functional. However, his breathing was also continuing to deteriorate and then a stark choice emerges for invasive ventilation (tracheostomy) and a ventilator, or not.          

I hope Glen’s students and team members appreciate what Glen was up to. He would do anything for you guys. Pretend to be healthy, continue to write grants and work on their behalf and I hate to add, continue even to his last dying breath. Only one really tough hombre could have done that and I continue to be so amazed at his strength and willpower. To put this in context, he could not talk, he was fed by liquid tube feedings into his stomach, he continued to have episodes where he could not breathe and had to go to the ER. He must have been exhausted. However, he was still writing grants and papers and wanted the research activities to continue and progress.

In closing, and it is difficult to close, because it is still so hard for me to imagine how much willpower Glen had to do what he did, especially near the end.

Having said all that about Glen, it is still not doing justice to him, not capturing his impish humour. Some might even say ‘off-colour’ comments, sometime perhaps taken too far, even as Department chair? Although some of this humour was good natured teasing, he was also prepared to be the butt of the teasing himself. I recall that he was amused when someone pinned a ladies bikini bottom to his car radio aerial (that dates this comment), or when there were advertisements posted all the way up Burnaby mountain drive on his Birthday. His staff parties were always memorable.

Glen, we miss you already.

Charles Krieger

Our McGill PE Class of 1970 Remembers Dr. Glen Tibbits (Tibs)

Here are some of my fondest memories of Glen.

Ski school, with Glen swishing down the mountain like the pro he was.

Glen explaining to a small group of us in third year, how he ironed his shirts. We were all impressed that he even had an iron never mind that he knew how to use it! He taped his shirt to the wall and only ironed the parts that would show from beneath his sweater! (collar, neckline, cuffs) Brilliant!!

Glen correcting me on my interpretation of the "friendly" Korean guard standing behind him in the photo, when he stood on the border between North and South Korea. " He wasn't friendly, Fran: he was there to ensure that I didn't cross the border into North Korea! Notice the shotgun he was holding?".

Glen introducing me to 21st century online banking by sending me payment for his reunion dinner by an e-transfer from Japan.

His warm and friendly emails, when he had time to catch me up on his news and the great smile he had for all of us when he entered a room.

As Fraser explained to me a few months back; Glen lived for his lab and wanted his work to be his legacy. He accomplished his goal with flying colours and has definitely left this world a much better place. Glen will be missed by all of us: may he rest in eternal peace.

Fran

I think we are all quite overwhelmed by the news of Glen’s death; he would only have given up when he could bear it no longer – he was so brave.

It was, indeed, devastating news that Glen had died.  But I think I felt more devastated when I first heard that he had ALS, knowing that it is basically the most cruel diagnosis that anyone can receive.

I can’t really add to what those colleagues have said – his larger-than-life character, generosity, passion for both his research and teaching, his ever-present smile and mischievous sense of humour.  Those characteristics were evident throughout his life. I often remarked about the obvious love and respect that his colleagues showed; he seemed to need reassurance that his ‘one-dimensional life’ (his work) was utterly outstanding, acknowledged by so many specialists as well as the countless students he nurtured through their degrees, masters, PhD’s and post-docs.

When I sent my first email in reaction to finding out about his diagnosis he assured me that it was ‘just’ bulbar’ ALS, that everything below the neck was still ‘normal’ so that he could still drive to work.  He was still giving lectures, via voice technology, in early 2025, he was ‘eating’ through a gastric PEG, he’d just completed a $2M grant application! He was a phenomenon and yet he remarked that he was still learning so much from his group. He was coping thanks to the ‘incredible support’ from his family and lab colleagues.

Glen and I became a couple some time during our 3rd year at McGill.  I certainly had to ‘share’ him with his buddies and lots of the other girls in our P.E. class as I think he was the biggest character in our class.  Glen, Greg, Geoff and I became the class demonstrators (guinea pigs) for Dr Klissouris’s physiology lab experiments, one of which I remember involving sticking tubes down through our nostrils into our stomachs.  I wonder whether health and safety would allow us to do that now?

The September after graduating (1970) Glen and I acquired a second-hand (basket-case) MGB and set off across Canada and then down to California for him to visit lots of different universities in the hope of finding some way to pursue his ‘career ambitions’ as Fraser has said.  We camped until the end of September, we tried acquiring temporary jobs in Banff and Vancouver, we played a LOT of frisbee, we ate a LOT of sweet baked things and we spent a LOT of money fixing the car’s tires, starter motor, battery, clutch, bits that fell off.  When we reached Vancouver we met up with Fraser (the ‘Baron’) quite a bit and when we got to Los Angeles we met up with Greg, who was already at UCLA.  It was at UCLA that Glen finally found what he was looking for – a masters course in, what I think was, biomedical physiology that would allow him to start in the spring of 1971.  The transmission in the car finally died, Glen was offered $100 for it by a garage but the towing charges cost us more than that!

With love,
Anna 

Personally, I can close my eyes and still see:
 
- in 2nd year, driving back to Pointe Claire around 1:30 am after a Thursday night beer bash off island and Glen, as usual, getting ready to puke. (He couldn’t hold his beer, even after two. Later, he realized he was allergic.) Usually, Glen got his head right out the window, but he was too drunk this time. I watched in horror as it rolled down the inside of the door. Anyway, got him to his aunt's and into his room, then went home to clean the car and realized it had gone down into the door itself. Three hours later, after two hours of sleep, after taking the door panel apart and deep cleaning it, I drive my father to the train station and pick up Tibs to get out to Mac for our 8:30am Dance Class. He couldn’t remember a thing of the night before!
 
- playing frisbee with Tibs across Durocher and Hutchinson, from sidewalk to sidewalk, through all the cars driving up and down the street.
- us going with Shelley, our sage, to the Hare Krishna Temple, to the back doors of the garment district, to Pines Tavern to converse with the ’separatists’, to all of Shelly’s downtown haunts. Education for suburban lads. Then, there was our leader George and the Red Cross classes at the YWCA, and the parties that followed .
 
- Glen sleeping on an overstuffed sofa for two years. I had a bed. Nork had a bed. Glen just curled up on the sofa. The same sofa that held all visitors during the day and night, particularly in 4th year when his room - the darker, hidden away room - became where the hash was stored. 
 
- sitting with him in the fall of 4th year and he outlining the career and career path that he would take. The path that he would actually take.

Fraser

There is so much we can say about Glen, the character we knew and came to love for his amazing intellect, his warm friendship, and his offbeat sense of humour. I have a slightly different perspective from many of you, and I could write at length about our childhood in Valois, hanging out with our friends, going to the same elementary and high school, playing road hockey after school, playing peewee and bantam hockey on Valois teams, talking about girls, but the thing that comes back to me about Glen each time I think about him is that wonderful, irreverent sense of humour that could double us over in laughter.  

We lost track of each other for many years and then reconnected through Facebook a few years back, him in Vancouver and me in Eastern Ontario, and there were times while texting back and forth when we would regress to the adolescent silliness and name-calling that made up so many of our conversations as kids.  During one of these regressions, I wrote to him: “Glen, are you still as much of a pervert as you were when you were young?”  His answer came back immediately with one word: “More.”  

That was Dr. Tibbits, the amazing professor, researcher, and mentor, who could easily slip off the mantle of serious, accomplished adult and at a moment’s notice flip to the irreverent side of his intellect and turn it into hilarity.  As we remember him, there are tears and laughter, the laughter he would definitely want.

A final comment: you Phys. Ed. folk will forgive me a line from a poem: after all, I was in straight Ed! The line comes from American poet Mary Oliver’s poem “When Death Comes”: “I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”  For those of us who knew him well - family, classmates, friends, colleagues, and students, we can console ourselves with the thought that Glen was never simply a visitor.

Each of us is describing the different facets of a complicated but always fascinating guy.  I didn’t know about these experiences.  So glad that you sent these memories.  The truth is that no one could be indifferent to Glen Tibbits. No one has mentioned the bumper sticker he put on the back of his Tesla in response to Trump and Musk.  I’m not sure how many distinguished professors would drive into the university parking lot with that wording on a bumper sticker, but that was Glen and we always knew how he felt about things.  The world is just that much less colourful now.  As the expression goes, his was a life well lived.

Gerry

Travels with Tibs

Many of us have commented on Glen’s academic brilliance, dedication to his lab, commitment to friendships lasting a lifetime, mentoring, and quirky sense of humour. For many years he used Glenn rather than Glen because one of his heroes was goalie Glenn Hall.

Glen enjoyed travelling and seeking out new adventures. Glen and I enrolled in a SCUBA diving course in our last year at McGill and traveled to John Pennekamp Coral Reef Park in Key Largo FL during the Christmas break. Waiting for a bus in Miami we frisbeed across the street and later marveled at all that flourished underwater in Florida. He was year younger, so I gave him my ID when went to a bar. But he could not remember my birthday when asked by the server… and he immediately started to giggle, realizing we would quickly be asked to leave.

We overlapped at UCLA and played lacrosse for the Bruins (a club, not varsity sport) and used our SCUBA skills once again off the California coast. Returning to Montreal via car we stopped in Yosemite, Salt Lake City, Grand Canyon, and New Orleans. I shared some Grand Canyon pictures with Glen recently and we chucked at our youthful energy but limited pocketbooks. Too cheap to pay for the return trip on donkeys, we hiked down, camped overnight with a bottle of wine, and returned the next morning.  Despite our youthful fitness, the climb up was one of the most challenging physical endeavors we had ever experienced. Talk about limits to maxVO2.
In New Orleans we went to Preservation Hall for the jazz but then tried to avoid paying at a Kamp Ground of America (KOA) by sneaking in late…only to be awakened at 5:00 am by thieves removing the battery of our car. How foolish trying to avoid the minimal KOA fees.

Beyond the fun with the sightseeing experiences, we would, of course, talk about things and I came to realize Glen also had an impressive general knowledge and was a critical thinker. While Vietnam demonstrations were the lead story every evening, he could pinpoint Vietnam on a map and understood why that damn war had started. And he was quite insightful about differences between conservative and liberal thinking.

When the Department of Kinesiology and Physical Education at McGill celebrated its centennial in 2012, we wanted to recognize grads who had excelled in research. Glen was an easy invitation. His presentation reinforced his stellar career and dedication to his lab and students at Simon Fraser. We are all better off for knowing Glen Tibbits.

Greg

I just read about Glen's passing. My special connection with Glen was when we played intramural hockey and Glen was our goaltender. When Glen put on his hockey gear and pads he transformed into a very different person. Apart from being an outgoing and fun-loving party person, when the goalie pads were on, I could not believe how serious he became. 

I needed to try to get Glen to relax but when I asked him questions and he did not answer, I finally asked if he was thinking about the game. All he said was "yep".

After our game and if we won, Glen transformed back into his happy go lucky, ready for a party, ready to have a good time, Glen. 

After graduation, as we have all seen, Glen's tireless devotion and dedication to his lifelong work is not only a tremendous contribution to education and the world's health conditions but will be an everlasting special legacy, tribute, and honour to this amazing and accomplished human being. 

I wish to pass on my condolences to his family, friends, students, and colleagues. 
Glen may you rest in peace.

Paul

Dear Friends,

You have both written and shared with me so this is back to you. I am so saddened to hear of the untimely demise of Glen. He was such a key member of “our team” and such a live wire, who enlivened any event with his humour and effervescence. I had to look up ALS as I was not familiar with it, only to discover that it’s equivalent in the UK is MND – motor neuron disease. It’s a horror and there is no way out of it so poor Glen and his family have been suffering together on this final journey. So very sad. If my condolences can be conveyed to them, I would be grateful. Yes, Marjorie is right about us battling together through Mac Summer School to get into 2nd year but having the best time doing it.
One memory that I have of Glen is from our 2nd year at Mac, in the middle of winter, when he and a group of friends (who are still nameless to me, although I think Ken Ross was among them) decided to play a prank. One dark evening, when many students were studying in the library, Glen and his mates somehow climbed up onto the library roof and lined themselves up along a long skylight. They began to pound on the glass and shout loudly so everyone looked up to see what was happening. They turned their backs to the window and lowered their trousers – a Gang Moon! A row of white bottoms waggled briefly as Monitors raced to the door to try to catch them. The “mooners” were quick however and disappeared before ever being caught.
The few pictures we have of him, partying or having fun, are priceless reminders of a very good man and colleague, who truly loved and lived life to its fullest extent. RIP Glen. He will be so badly missed by many.

Michael

Glen Tibbits - the early years

Glen grew up in Valois on the West Island of Montreal. It was a typical postwar suburb.  Glen and a group of his friends passed through Valois Park Elementary School and Lindsay Place High School, two English Protestant schools. 

The family owned a friendly black cocker spaniel. His dad was bright, an engineer, a bridge instructor, tennis competitor, and someone who followed through on those projects upon which he had set his sights. Will’s tennis trophies lined the walls of their billiard room where we kids occasionally played pool or table tennis. The home was always welcoming, and Mrs. Tibbits was warm, insightful and kind. Glen must have picked up his energy, tenacity, empathy, and intuitive understanding of people from his parents Will and Mae.

Glen led a busy life. For many years he delivered newspapers in the morning. Subsequent summer jobs he held in those years were tennis court groundskeeper, pool lifeguard, and door to door salesman where he sold personal care products. From the age of twelve he spent many summer days honing his tennis skills at the Monkland Tennis Club in downtown Montreal. He was fortunate to have many friends distributed in several distinct circles.

Summers were spent at the Valois tennis courts or hanging out. Other seasons we played touch football, or ball hockey in front of Will Tibbits bungalow on Jefferson Avenue. In those days if you wished to get a road hockey game going, you would first call Glen. If he was up for it, which was 90% of the time, one of us would contact the others. Glen tagged each of us with a nickname usually using our initials. There was IT, DR, DW, Ants etc. In a sense he was the glue that held this group together. By his adopting an optimistic, exaggerated, joking attitude, the most mundane activity became a worthwhile fun event for us.

Glen deserves credit as the inventor of snowboarding. There was a tiny slope on the east side of Lindsay Place H.S. connecting the upper and lower paved lots. During the winter this tiny hill became compacted and icy. One day Glen noticed a discarded flattened cardboard grocery box at the top. He jumped on the box and snowboarding was born. This activity kept us busy for a few days. Someone coined this “shoeing.” The snowboard was later perfected by entrepreneurs. Not filing a patent was Glen’s first commercial mistake.

Time was valuable and Glen was a slider. He would habitually leave late for school, race to school, and slide under the bell with a minute to spare.

Most of us would study for a few days to prepare for each exam. Glen crammed the night before, armed with the relevant copies of Coles Notes. Fifty years later he would joke that he might be one of the few scientists who prepared for an academic career by means of Coles Notes. He had an eye for the comic and for the ironic.

Sometime in his late teens Glen mentioned that he wished to study in California. I was puzzled. He said that he aspired to being a surf bum. Here is where my comprehension ends. Something happened that disturbed his lifelong dream of beach paradise. It is apparent that he managed to recover from this tragedy.

Forty-five years passed and in the 2000’s Glen would fly to Ottawa to evaluate research grant applications. Some years he would squeeze in the time to meet with old friends and to recall those early years. Amid all the reminiscences, he never failed to express his respect and warm admiration for his son Skye, and joy for the time that they had spent together.

May he rest in peace.

DW

I have known Glen for nearly 35 years—as an instructor, mentor, and colleague in BPK. As I write this, I feel deeply torn. I had planned to attend his celebration of life with all of you, to honor the legacy of one of the very best among us. However, my son’s soccer team, for which I am the sole coach, has reached the cup final this Saturday, and I have chosen to stand with my flock of teenage athletes as they pursue their moment of glory.

Glen was a generous mentor throughout my time in graduate school, as a new instructor in the program, and later when I began my journey as part of the BPK leadership team. In graduate school, the Parkhouse lab—of which I was a part—was often invited to share in the barbecued rewards of trout research conducted across the hall in the Tibbits lab. With my long hair and my tendency toward less-than-early arrivals, Glen would joke that I would look more comfortable with a joint than with a pipette in my hand.

When I began teaching, student evaluations suggested that I was presenting material at too advanced a level. I asked Glen if I could sit in on his fourth-year class—a course I had once hoped to take as an undergraduate but had chosen Wade Parkhouse’s instead. From the very first day, the foundation of Glen’s reputation as an exceptional lecturer was unmistakable. He spoke to the class as if he were telling a favorite story, gently guiding us into the complexity of the ideas he wanted to share.

Later, when I took over as chair of the undergraduate committee in BPK, I noticed that Glen stopped attending meetings after a few months. Worried that I was doing something wrong, I went to his office to ask. He simply said, “You’re doing a great job. I don’t think I’m needed.” That quiet vote of confidence meant a great deal to me and gave me the assurance to continue on my leadership path.

A few years later, Glen became chair of the department. We met every few weeks to discuss issues and ensure that the most complex ones had been examined from all angles. I will always be grateful for what we accomplished together for the undergraduate program, and for the thoughtful, in-depth process he modeled—one I continue to carry forward.

I have been reflecting on how I might honor Glen now that I am unable to attend his celebration of life. In one small way, continuing to mentor my own flock of soccer players feels like a fitting tribute to the example he set so consistently and so generously.

Ryan

Glen was one of the finest people to ever pass through our department. He was not only a gifted researcher, but the rare kind of person whose work genuinely improved the lives of the very people his research touched. At his core, Glen cared about people, and that was evident in everything he did. His kindness showed in how he interacted with faculty, staff, and students alike with his ever-present sense of humour. During his time as department chair, he guided us through difficult and complicated moments, helping bridge the tensions that can arise between faculty priorities and student needs. Glen always found a balanced, thoughtful path forward, and we all came to rely on his steady judgment. Only someone who truly cared about students could earn such consistently glowing evaluations for his teaching. His students adored him, not just for what he taught, but for how he made them feel capable and important. The same was true of his graduate students, the staff who supported him, and his colleagues throughout the department. Glen earned that affection because he gave it freely. His legacy is simple and profound: he changed lives and he did so because he cared.

Richard and Helen