I spent some time with my Dad yesterday.

It was very unexpected. My father died in 1994 and I have been left with my memories of him. As with most children mine are not uncomplicated. I knew Dad to be a hard man, uncompromising and rigid, at odds with the world in which he found himself living in his later years. That said he was a good father, loving, loyal and a vivid presence throughout my life. He was born into a generation that fought in WW2, and he was recognized for extraordinary acts of personal bravery with the Military Cross. He survived that war uninjured but not undamaged something which my mother, my brother and I experienced first hand. Don’t misread what I am saying; Dad was a good, kind and fiercely loyal husband and father but he could never escape the darkness he had been through as a young man, as with many of his generation. After his death I beatified him, as most of us do, discarding the negative memories and savouring the positive. He was owed that.

And so it was very special yesterday to receive a message from an old friend Doug Lane in Kelowna BC, where we had emigrated to in 1958. My father was a great athlete. He was a member of the British Army tennis doubles championships team six years running, he had played rugby for the Edinburgh Wanderers and had a Scottish trial (for the national rugby team). That was a sport he truly loved. My friend Doug was contacting me to ask if I had seen the letter he had attached. It was a letter written in 1964, our last year in Kelowna. Dad was writing to the team of young school boy rugby players at Kelowna Secondary School who had just finished a second season with him as their coach. It had been sent to Doug by Colin Lee who was one of the players on that team. He’d kept the letter for sixty years.

It took me by surprise. And it was wonderful. Dad brought rugby to Kelowna, using his own money to buy rugby balls and a set of jerseys. Football was king at the time and the coach of that team wanted no part of his players joining the rugby team. They were given a six week window in the school sports year which ran from the May long weekend to end of term. If you don’t know Kelowna let me just say it was blazing hot and the pitch at City Park where they trained was rock hard. Dad persevered, as one might expect and before too long he had engaged teachers in Penticton, Vernon and Kamloops to field high school rugby teams. It was 1961.

The letter recounted the season and would have left each player feeling valued and respected. Dad spoke of their winning record and of one game in particular against St. George’s, a private school on the coast which had soundly beaten the KSS team in a game Dad had arranged. He had known that they would be thrashed but he understood the values the game of rugby can teach.

“I have said many times rugby is a team game. In our game against St. George’s we were soundly beaten by a better team. There is no dishonour in that. Our teams competitive spirit, tenacity and sportsmanship against all odds was a delight to behold. Even the St. George’s coaches commented on your clean fighting spirit which made me feel very proud. I like to win, as you know but I do not mind losing when I have done my utmost.”

It was classic Dad, extracting a values based message from what must have been a difficult athletic experience. He loved the game and knew that at its core it was much more than a sport, it was a platform which allowed players to learn about themselves, to learn core life long values.

When we left Kelowna Dad funded one more piece of his vision for rugby in the Okanagan Valley. For several decades the Peyton Cup symbolized the AAA High School Rugby Championship, although the trophy itself was unfortunately lost to history some time ago. On that 1964 team of young teenage boys were seven players who became teachers and spent their careers in Kelowna and the valley. They in turn coached rugby in Okanagan schools and the sport grew roots. From those early years players from the valley have played for BC and Canada, competing bravely at the highest levels. Dad would have been so proud.

I spread Dad’s ashes on that same City Park oval, where he had trained his teams of young rugby players. He would have loved that. I say ‘hello’ each time I drive by.

I passed the letter on to my four children. Each of them able to ‘see’ my Dad, their grandfather, through his words. This ramrod straight, uncompromising man, a born leader leaving behind a legacy that has reached through the decades.

As for me I was able to spend time with my Dad again. It was wonderful.