(This blog is a reprint. It was first published in May, 2015)

When Linda and I walked into the former business office of 87 year old Rollo Ceccon in Princeton, he greeted us enthusiastically. Then,

with the energy and passion characteristic of the deeply committed, he urged us to join him at a photo gallery on 3 walls. There were pictures of him with dump trucks and other equipment dating back to before the middle of the past century. I understood quickly this man grasps the value of preserving a record for future generations.

“I was born in Treviso, Italy,” he said when we had seated ourselves at his desk. “In 1930 my mother and I joined my father in Canada. As I was growing up, my father impressed on me how good we have it here. If I complained he’d say ‘you should go to another country and see how people live there.’” As a father himself, Rollo would later give a similar message to his son and daughter.

He attended the Edmonton campus of Chicago Vocational

School, learning diesel and automotive mechanics. Not happy with his first job and the big mosquitoes at Uranium City, he quit and was hired by Minneapolis Honeywell Thermostats. Being young and strong willed, he said to his boss one day, “if I don’t get more pay, I’ll quit.” The boss said “there’s the door.” Rollo laughed when he told us, “I never did that again.”

In 1950 he bought his first truck, a 1944 3 ton Ford, and started in business. He became a fan of Ford trucks. “The other models broke down,” he said. “The 6 cylinder engines couldn’t hold the trucks back going down the hill from Copper Mountain and Blackburn. I bought 8 cylinder Fords.”

A serious accident on Nov. 10, 1954 shaped his thinking to

the present time. He was backing his dump truck to the edge of a 1,000 foot deep “glory hole.” The edge broke away. He and his truck tumbled down 250 feet. A rock outcropping prevented the truck from hurtling all the way to the bottom.

The man sent down to help rescue Rollo later told him, “I thought you were dead. Then blood spurting from your head wound hit me in the eye, so I knew your heart was pumping.” Three hours later the winch of a D6 Cat hoisted him to the surface. He had 6 broken vertebrae, several broken ribs and a broken leg. Wounds on his head required 120 stitches. He remained unconscious 2 weeks. “That day my father’s hair turned white in one hour.”

In the hospital he was placed in a body cast. After regaining consciousness the specialist said to him one day, “we’ve done all we can. The rest is up to you.” Rollo was determined to get out of the hospital. Now in a walking cast and using crutches, he signed himself out. Four months later, still in the cast and on crutches, he was back at work.

He leaned toward us from his side of the desk, as though about to say something of deep importance. “If I hadn’t had that accident,” he continued quietly, “I would never have understood how good I have it. People helped me a lot.”

Before the accident, he had started going into the Traveller’s Café. He became keenly interested in Blanche, a pretty young waitress. “It took a long time to persuade her to go to a movie,” he remembers.

Eventually she agreed to marry him and “we tied the knot on March 2, 1957. That day I threw away my crutches and started using a cane.”

Rollo’s business was flourishing. He bought dump trucks, a back hoe, a screening plant and other equipment. Blanche did the books.

When the Hope slide covered the # 3 Highway, his was the first company on the job. “One of my machines blew a line,” he said. “Phil Gaglardi, Minister of Highways, had just landed in a chopper. He told me to remove the line and he’d fly me to Chilliwack to get a new one.”

Until 2013 he still owned a front end loader. Without charge, he continued to clear snow for the Legion, firehall and arena. In 1973 the Princeton Chamber of Commerce named him “Citizen of the Year.” He was also honoured by the Lions Club for his “invaluable services and cooperation.”

Rollo’s last words to us were, “I’ve had a good life and it’s still good.”

He was wearing shorts and a casual, loose hanging shirt, and I could easily have concluded Kevin Demers was just one more man enjoying a comfortable retirement. At age 74 he appears not to be even thinking of retiring though. When I asked if what he is doing is still fun, he replied, “I love it!”

While still serving as an RCMP officer, Kevin launched his business career, albeit in a small way. He now owns 7 highly successful recreation centres, including Manning Park Resort and Sunshine Valley (just east of the Hope slide). In a 2 hour conversation with him at his Holiday Trails company headquarters, he talked about some of the decisions he made over many years, the risks and challenges, the successes, and much more. What he told me could serve as a template for anyone in leadership, or anyone wanting a more fulfilling life.

“As an RCMP officer I wasn’t allowed to run a business on the side at that time,” he began. “But I was permitted to build a house. I built 3 houses.” There seemed a hint of humour in his eyes. “My uncle and aunt owned a 17 site campground in Langley,” he continued. “In 1978 they were ready to retire and wanted me to buy it. This was against Mountie rules but we did it anyway. Initially we charged $4.00 a night for a family of four. I said the first day we bring in one hundred dollars we’ll open a bottle of champagne.”

Then the owner of Bedrock City at Bridal Falls said, “Kevin we desperately need a campsite.” Kevin purchased 25 acres nearby and created 45 sites. “We moved into a 14×70 foot trailer,” he said. “Shortly after launching this venture I arrived home from my RCMP job in Surrey and I didn’t see a single camper.” It wasn’t an encouraging beginning, a test of his capacity to persevere.

Another test came when he bought The Cedars RV Resort in Washington. “The police were in there on a weekly basis. Lots of drugs. It took us a year to clean it up. People think it’s easy, but it never is. Sunshine Valley took 5 years to get its head above water.” He was learning about patience.

Kevin knows the value of sound advice, and he listens to it. When he first considered acquiring Manning Park Resort, his friend Peter Sherle advised against it. Peter knew the equipment had fallen into serious disrepair and the reputation was tarnished. A bank appointed receiver took over when Manning went into bankruptcy. It was hemorrhaging $200,000 a year. The price dropped and Peter suggested another look. Recognizing the potential, Kevin made the move.

As Kevin talked it became clear he places a huge emphasis on creating an aura of quality and success. He wants to positively impact the perceptions of staff and visitors. “The receiver had let a lot of good people go,” he said. “We rehired the best ones. We also replaced the snow cats and trucks. Manning now has 4 buses and we’ve installed a new quad chairlift.”

He paused, then said, “Good service and a positive culture are vital in tourism. I learn by reading biographies and stories of success in business. When we travel in our motor home, I watch for good ideas. At In and Out Burgers in the U.S. I observed that workers are treated very well. The result is they are happy and friendly to customers. Their service has a 10 out of 10 rating. We tell our servers in the Manning Pinewoods Dining Room to make eye contact and ensure people feel welcome.”

How is Kevin’s vision playing out in the real world? For starters, he hasn’t needed the RCMP job for many years. When he returns to Holiday Trails now, he sees plenty of campers. Driving past Sunshine Valley several times this summer, I saw that the camp ground appeared filled to capacity. At Manning Park, even cabins now under construction are already fully booked. More important for Linda and me, when we had breakfast in the spacious Pinewoods dining room this summer, the portions were ample and pleasing to our palettes. Also, Rebecca, the young Irish waitress who served us was willing to engage in friendly conversation. With such an enviable track record, I’m not surprised Kevin is having fun. We can learn from him.

When Linda and I stopped in Manning Park last week, my attention was immediately drawn to a young man standing alone beside an oversized back pack. His lean physique, black beard and the bulky pack suggested to me he wasn’t a casual camper. I introduced myself, then asked, “Have you been camping in the park?” “My name is Nick,” he said, “I’ve just come off the Pacific Crest Trail. I started at the Mexican-U.S. Border.”

I’ve encountered intrepid souls like Nick in the past and have invariably experienced a sharp twinge of envy. Although I’ve canoed, portaged and camped in rugged wilderness, in my mind the Pacific Crest Trail is like playing in the big leagues. According to the Pacific Crest Trail Association website, “The Trail traverses 4,286 km. (2,665 mi.), mostly in rugged remote wilderness. It rises to 4,009 m. (13,153 ft). You will be on your own and safety is your responsibility.”

“Dangers may include lightning strikes, cold weather, falling rock, swift flowing streams and wild animals. Also, there’s the possibility of encountering unfriendly men with guns guarding illegal cannabis grow sites along the way, especially in California. There may be no cell service for days, or weeks. There are basically no businesses, huts or facilities, and only minimal signage.”

The website offers essential advice for anyone wanting to challenge the Trail. “You can minimize risk with knowledge, equipment and planning. Take an orienteering class and carry paper maps and a compass. Never rely solely on digital devices. Sunscreen, lip balm, a sun hat, long sleeved shirts are also important. Carry and know how to use a decently stocked first aid kit. Take 2 lighters, matches in a waterproof container and fire starter for emergencies.” For anyone planning to hike the Trail, the website is a good place to start.

Nick’s accent prompted me to ask if he was from elsewhere, “Yes,” he replied. “My home is in Munich, Germany. I came especially to hike the trail. My first day was March 29. I hiked through 500 km. of snow in the Sierra mountains.” He said it matter of factly as though it had been an expected hurdle, not something to complain about.

Only age 22, Nick is beginning to challenge himself at a good time in his life. Prior to taking his first steps on the trail, he needed to do the extensive preparation, which included coping with the myriad expectations of U.S. bureaucracy. Hikers from other countries are usually interviewed by a representative of the U.S. State Department. In addition to complex hoops at the national level, hikers must also acquire permits to pass through some local jurisdictions. Due to the length of time and distance, it isn’t possible to carry enough food and other supplies for the entire expedition. Fortunately Nick, like other hikers, was able to arrange for shipments to gas stations and other places not far from the trail. One critical aspect of his preparation was to ensure he would be off the trail and out of the U.S. within the 6 months allowed by his passport. It was a lesson in detailed planning, preparation and persistence.

Nick’s words and demeanor told of the immense sense of fulfillment and victory he was experiencing. Talking with him reminded me of the brain cancer patient who said, “give yourself a chance. Live like you are living, not like you are dying.” It also reminded me of a time early in our marriage when Linda and I seriously contemplated cycling across Canada. What a great adventure and education that would have been! But we were diverted by the pressure of mortgage payments and other responsibilities. The cycling trip remained a dream.

Nick evidently had the vision and discipline to make his trek a reality. Almost certainly, like the brain cancer patient, he believed that to live a vibrant life it’s important to abandon the places where we are comfortable and feel safe. He was willing to take a chance, push his limits and explore his staying power. The Pacific Crest Trail was likely a life altering adventure. It’s a tad late for me, but I can, and do, rejoice that he had the courage and will to get it done.

Writing in the Wall Street Journal, U.S. Senator (Rep.) Ben Sasse pointed to a societal phenomenon many of us may have been too preoccupied to notice. He suggested “all the traditional tribes that have sustained humans for millennia are simultaneously in collapse. Family, enduring friendships, meaningful shared work, local communities of worship, all have grown ever thinner.” Other commentators, both in Canada and the U.S., have expressed a similar concern. Certainly the various media do reflect a lessening of social cohesion and we might wonder if we can do anything more than wring our hands and retreat into a state of denial and malaise.

My 88 year old Aunt Nettie, a resident of Kelowna, apparently does not intend to surrender to the subversive forces undermining our values and institutions. Every summer, for at least twelve years she has invited her nieces and nephews to her home for roll kuchen ( rolled dough cut into strips and deep fried) and watermelon, as well as other goodies. Aunt Nettie harbours no illusions about reforming and holding together the structures of our nation. She’s a plucky lady of immense resolve though, and understands the importance of cinching up family bonds. Last week she again prepared many dozens of roll kuchen. Although we knew from past years there would be no beer, wine, whiskey or other alcoholic beverages, she had no difficulty enticing eager relatives to the feast.

For some years, four of Aunt Nettie’s aging siblings attended. This has connected us with the foregoing generation. At this time, two are still living, but only 93 year old Uncle Abe was able to come. He has completely lost the ability to speak, but still values the time with family.

For Linda and me, these yearly Kelowna gatherings are an opportunity to strengthen relationships with cousins, and at times meet family members we scarcely know. We sit on lawn chairs placed around the interior of her carport. Young children play contentedly in our midst and on the back lawn.

A few years ago Aunt Nettie’s Metis foster daughter, Andrea, surprised us when she rolled in from Clearwater on her Harley. Wanting to get to know this cousin I had not spoken with previously, I quickly slipped into the vacant chair beside her. She intrigued me with snippets of a pretty adventurous life.

This year I again chatted with Erika, a young teen who raises chickens. It was a continuation of a conversation we had begun several years ago. Having had chickens in our back yard in the past, I enjoy her enthusiasm for the birds. “I got 12 chicks in spring,” she said. “I named each one after a type of tree.” Sensing her excitement, I remembered the warm brown eggs I used to gather each morning. Chats with Erika always cause me to wonder why I don’t still have chickens.

After talking with Erika I glanced around the carport and my attention was captured by a young girl with black hair. About age 3, she ran among us with boundless energy. She seemed happy and content, and totally secure. I marveled at the atmosphere in this place. There was no disagreement or bickering, even among the children.

Watching Aunt Nettie now in conversation with Uncle Abe, her hand resting on his arm, my mind drifted back a dozen years to the beginning of his health crisis. When she learned her brother wasn’t well and needed to be rescued from the basement suite in Langley where he lived alone, she took decisive action. She drove from her home in Kelowna, emptied and cleaned his unit, then took him to her home. She looked after him until his condition necessitated a higher level of care. Even now, although he cannot speak, she visits him each Sunday. For us, the next generation, she is a role model exemplifying the meaning of commitment to family.

After the Kelowna gathering, it occurred to me we’re pretty fortunate to have a family member with the vision and will necessary to pull together this large flock. Families are the basic building blocks of our society. If more of us become willing to be proactive role models, we may yet be able to thwart at least some of the corroding forces in our country. Roll kuchen may not be essential. With will and imagination, one individual can be the catalyst required for holding a family together.