I have long been reluctant to write Andy’s story because even now, many years later, I still find aspects of it disquieting. When he was an infant, Andy ‘s mother asked a friend to look after him a few hours while she went to a medical appointment. She never returned. The woman in whose home he had been left was willing to keep him, but her husband resisted strenuously, until he learned the government would be generous financially. The family’s young twins, Timmy and Jimmy, were ecstatic.

Andy came to think of the twins as his brothers, and called the parents Mom and Dad. He had a family. After a few years though, he became aware that his father’s voice acquired an impatient edge when he spoke to him. Sometimes after a difficult day at the mill where he worked, his dad locked him in a closet for hours. Andy often hid under his bed when his father returned from work. He began feeling anxious about his place in the family.

When Andy was 8, his father kept him busy with cutting grass, washing the car and much more. Andy loved Timmy and Jimmy and his mother and, although he didn’t feel safe around his father, he
desperately sought to retain his place in the family. He had no one else.

A major crises changed his life during a gathering of the extended family at their home. Andy and his brothers had cleaned their shared room, brushed Molly the family’s collie, and waited excitedly for guests to arrive. When everyone was there, a neighbour came to take family photos. The three boys knelt on the grass in the front row, Molly wedged between them. There had already been several clicks of the camera when the boys’ father demanded very sternly, “Andy, get out of the picture! You’re not part of the family!” Startled and frightened, Andy looked to his father. His father again said very loudly, “Andy, I told you to get out of the picture!” Andy looked at his mother for support, but she turned away, wiping tears. The twins were sobbing. Only Uncle Ben, black sheep of the family, objected. Andy’s father said, “Be quiet, Ben. You’re on my turf.”

Andy rose slowly, looked helplessly back at his family, then shuffled disconsolately down the driveway, not knowing where he was going. On the street he continued walking, feeling rejected and crying bitterly, quite certain he’d never be permitted to return.

After about ten minutes a rusty Volkswagen van pulled up alongside him and the passenger door opened. “Want a ride Andy?” Uncle Ben asked. “I’m done with that family thing.” Andy had met this uncle only once. The man was unpopular with the family because in his twenties he had been a hippie with long hair, scraggly beard, and a liking for marijuana. Even now, although at least 60, his hair still hung down to his shoulders and the beard had seen few razors. Andy wiped away the tears and gratefully got into the van. After a few questions, Uncle Ben said, “Why don’t you come live with me? I rent an old house on a couple of acres. I could use some company and a little help around the place.”

Uncle Ben taught Andy to ride a horse and catch fish in the river. He also instructed him in basic meal preparation. Often they hiked in the mountains.

Late in the afternoon on Fridays they went to a local Cafe. Uncle Ben drank black coffee and Andy ordered a root beer. If a long distance trucker was having dinner, they sometimes asked if they could join him. Usually the trucker welcomed company and sometimes asked Andy about his life. If Andy talked about his father ordering him to get out of the picture, almost without exception the trucker would be touched emotionally.

Andy was grateful to Uncle Ben, but sorely missed his brothers and mother. On his seventeenth birthday Uncle Ben said, “It’s a special day. I’ll buy you dinner in the cafe today.” Later that afternoon they were about to give the waitress their order when two young men entered the cafe, smiling broadly. “Hello Andy,” one said. “I’m Jim and this is Tim. Uncle Ben invited us to your birthday.” Stunned, Andy rose and was warmly embraced by each brother. He looked at Uncle Ben and said, “if you hadn’t rescued me that day, this would never have happened.”

“I’d lost all sense of purpose until you came into my life,” Uncle Ben said. “I’d call it a big win-win.”

Most of us at some time will encounter a disruptive force or event that changes the course of our lives. I’ve watched individuals lose courage and falter under the battering of adverse circumstances. I’ve seen others get up, dust themselves off and look around to find solutions or new opportunities. When an onslaught comes, often it’s the thoughts we entertain that determine whether we go down for the count, or rise and fight another round.

Some years ago I lost a challenging, invigorating job to an individual with a more prestigious degree. After floundering a few months, I realized I needed to re-invent myself to avoid sinking into an emotional abyss. I’d have to develop new thinking and new skills. Dealing with a significant health issue at the same time wasn’t going to make this easy.

I began contemplating joining a Toastmasters club. It was a chilling thought and I wrestled with the fear for several months. Like a lot of people, I was more afraid of public speaking than of dying. Eventually, with great trepidation, I attended a meeting of Langley Township Toastmasters and signed up. They were a sophisticated bunch, including several department heads. I was unemployed, and not feeling successful. Fortunately they were gracious and welcoming.

I was given the introductory manual and began preparing to deliver my Icebreaker speech. I learned that speeches, and all other roles, were timed and evaluated. Speech evaluators were encouraged to employ the “sandwich technique.” This consisted of positive observations, then a suggestion for improvement, followed by one or more positives. The Grammarian reported on use of crutch words like “you know,” “uhm.” “ahh,” and “I mean.” At no time were all my deficiencies mentioned, for which I was enormously grateful.

Toastmasters takes members through a series of manuals, each designed to develop skills such as organizing a speech, using vocal variety, and working with props. I learned about the value of humour, anecdotes, startling facts and inspirational quotes.

Over time, with the helpful advice of evaluators, counsel from my mentor and performing various club roles, my knees quaked less frequently. Like many novice Toastmasters, I began by memorizing my speeches. I knew this could be hazardous because I might lose my way. This did happen about three sentences into my tenth speech, “Inspire your Audience.” Mortified, I said, “If no one objects, I’ll start over.” They had all experienced embarrassment while speaking and no one objected.

Even before my tenth speech I had felt a desire to step farther into the vast, frightening unknown of public speaking. To this end I entered two contests, and lost in both. Then, after completing the first manual, I entered the annual Toastmasters speech contest at the club level. I surprised myself and the club by winning. This qualified me for the area contest. My mentor, a successful engineer and a Distinqished Toastmaster (DTM) told me, “With that speech you might win the area contest.” I wondered if he meant “if you win it will be because you’ve written a strong speech, not because of your speaking ability.”

My speech enabled me to win at the area level and the division level. In the province wide District Contest, I didn’t even place. This was a disappointment, but also a reminder that I still had a lot to learn if I wanted to speak at that level. It was my writing, not my speaking skills, that had taken me this far.

Looking back now, I realize that the Toastmasters teaching and experience provided a much needed boost in confidence. I began participating in community issues. If no one was willing to lead, I volunteered. And if no one was willing to speak to the media, I did. One day an Abbotsford councillor asked if I’d deliver the morning commentary on CBC radio. She had approached a respected community leader but he had declined. I felt it was a great opportunity to present a much needed environmental message to a wide audience. CBC sent me a cheque for one hundred dollars for delivering a message I considered important.

At this time when Canada is under threat from COVID 19, many of us are wondering what the future holds. No one can answer this question, but when onslaughts come we can view them as opportunities to broaden the horizons of our thinking, be more adventurous and even take a few risks.

Although I was a mere kid at the time, the Penticton Vees resounding defeat of the Soviets in the 1955 World Hockey Championship remains indelibly imprinted deep in my psyche. I didn’t know at that time where Penticton was located but I understood this was our home team. Having many times sat on the bottom stair in our home eavesdropping on my parents political conversations with friends, I was aware that the Russians were our adversary. Mostly, I was enthralled by the knowledge that our little known team had thrashed the Soviets vaunted Big Red Machine.

One former Vee has almost single handedly kept the team’s story alive. Linda and I first met Ivan McClelland 4 years ago and since then I’ve been privileged to write some, but not all, of the most memorable events that occurred before and after the victory. Today I will add an installment I’m quite certain very few readers are aware of.

When we met Ivan in the K Cafe in Keremeos last Friday, it was exactly 65 years since he stood on the blue line in Germany, waiting to receive his medal. He began our conversation with a brief sketch of his early years. “I pretty much grew up in South Porcupine, a small town in Ontario,” he said. “My father worked away a lot and mother struggled to raise the 14 children. I endured a great deal of abuse, some of it physical, from my father. He worked hard but he had a violent temper. I got in trouble and I wasn’t doing well in school. In grade 10 the principal advised me to drop out of school and find a job.”

He found employment with the local mine and joined the mine’s hockey team, the Dome Porkies. Hockey, and several mentors, played key roles in setting him on a productive path. They could not, however, mellow his father. That unhappy relationship remained on the rocks.

In 1951, at age 19, Ivan was signed by the Vancouver Canucks and was sent to play in goal for the Vees. The Vees, a newly assembled team surprised everyone by winning the Allen Cup in 1954. This qualified them to represent Canada in the World Hockey Championship the next year. Canada’s hockey moguls discounted Ivan, then only 23, as too young and inexperienced to be successful at this level. His coach stuck with him though and Ivan amazed everyone, allowing the world’s top teams a meager 6 goals in the series. It’s still a record today.

When the Vees returned to Canada, they were greeted at the Dorval Airport by excited fans, including several Montreal Canadiens hockey players. Three of Ivan’s sisters and his father were also waiting. Ivan had not seen his father in five years and wasn’t eager to see him now.

Aware of his reluctance, one sister said, “Ivan, Daddy would really like to talk with you.” Then she added, “you know he’s been a Canadiens fan most of his life. It would mean the world to him if one or two talked with him. Is that possible?”

The memories of abuse at the hands of his father were still fresh and it would be understandable if he had brushed off the request, but he didn’t. He approached Dick Irvin the Montreal coach and said, “Dick, my father is here. He’s been a Canadiens fan for years. He’s had a stroke and his speech is limited, but he’d be thrilled if one of your players talked with him.”

The coach immediately asked several players to speak with Ivan’s father. That day the old man was honoured by Jean Beliveau, Rocket Richard, Boom Boom Geoffrion and Dickie Moore, at the time 4 of Canada’s most revered hockey players.

Ivan spent 3 days in his parents’ home. On the second day his mother asked if she could invite a few friends over to meet Ivan. She wanted to show off her famous son. Ivan agreed and 30 ladies arrived.

Ivan later learned that every time his father went to have a few drinks with friends at the local pub, he talked about his famous son, and about meeting the 4 Canadiens. It was a major highlight in his old age. Now about to turn 89, Ivan McLelland still clearly recalls the decision to give his father a gift he’d treasure to the end of his days. “I’m glad I did it,” he said.

I was puzzled when my cross town neighbour Gary LeComte posthumously treated the people of Hedley to a free hot buffet luncheon this past February. He was battling cancer and had not circulated much in the community for some time. When he made arrangements with the Seniors’ Centre to cater the meal, he likely knew he wouldn’t be there. The doctor’s prognoses had been pessimistic. Realizing he’d soon cross the line into the End Zone, why feed people, many of whom he barely knew, or didn’t know at all? It occurred to me that pondering this question might lead to a fuller understanding of how we can attain a more satisfying and fulfilling life.

I recalled Richard Paul Evans’ words in “The Walk”. It is his belief that “in all of us there is something that, for better or worse, wants the world to know we existed.” Knowing that I too hope to be remembered, especially by my family, I can readily agree.

An account in “The Wind in my Hair”, by Iranian born journalist Masih Alinejad, delves a little deeper. About to be released from prison, Alinejad was approached by a mother who had been arrested for protesting against the Iranian regime’s brutality. “Make sure the world knows about me,” she pleaded desperately. “Don’t forget about me!” She wanted to be remembered for what she had done.

Austrian psychiatrist Viktor Frankl builds on this thought with the statement that “life is not made unbearable by circumstances, but only by lack of meaning and purpose.” This is a truth many of us apparently do not understand well, and we don’t embrace it. Instead, we grasp for personal gratification.

I feel I gained an insight regarding this subject while working with young offenders. When they became discouraged and uncooperative, often one question profoundly altered their negative mindset. I first understood the power of the question when Howie didn’t want to do his shift in our organization’s kitchen. I said, “Howie, do you want to do something important with your life?” He had never considered this question before and it surprised him. As he thought about his reply, the obstinate expression mellowed and I sensed an inner shift. Finally he said, “yeah, I do.” He turned and entered the kitchen. I subsequently asked the question many times and, with only one exception, the response was always affirmative.

Over many years I’ve become convinced that individuals who selflessly serve others are more likely to have a sense of meaning and purpose, and are more likely to be remembered. My friend Dan, an elderly chicken farmer, visited Paul in Oakalla Prison weekly for almost two years. Upon Paul’s release Dan invited him to live in his home and helped him find work. In time Paul got married, had three children and developed a trucking business. Dan believed in Paul and gave him hope. Now, 30 years later, Paul still cherishes the memory of this relationship. He will never forget what Dan did for him.

If we become overly immersed in our personal pursuits, we may miss opportunities to make a positive, important difference. Then, when we come to the end of our days on this earth, we may unhappily comprehend that we’ve lived a shallow, selfish, unsatisfying life. Gary didn’t want to exit the world with these thoughts. In addition to the hot luncheon, he offered free helicopter rides last summer. When I asked why he was paying approximately $2100 per hour to provide free rides, he said, “this community has been good to me. I want to give something back.”

At some time in life, all of us come to a fork in our path, even if we are not conscious of it. At this fork we are confronted with a destiny shaping decision. Will we live positively, sharing our abundance with neighbours and community? Or will we live fearfully, hoarding our reserves, not daring to share? The first fork leads to a life of meaning and purpose. The second leads to what George Wills describes as “a meaningless event in a meaningless world.”

I’ve concluded that Gary LeComte’s most significant gift to the people of Hedley is not the hot luncheon, helicopter rides, or other important acts of service to the community. It’s his spirit of giving. For me, at least, this is what will continue to warm my heart for many years.