›› Bobby Arbess
Dave Kesson packed more virtues into one man than almost anyone I ever met. He was innately fair, kind, compassionate, caring, thoughtful, generous, easy-going, understanding, fun, hard-working and loyal.
I remember moving with my family into a cabin in the Highlands. We had a young baby and a six-year old and it turned out the cabin was badly rat-infested. The owner let me tear out the walls and replace the insulation, which was saturated with the stench of rodent waste. Who showed up to help me on a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon in July? Dave. He even brought beer. He always put others before himself, a quality most beautifully displayed in his dedication to his partner Tania and his two wonderful sons, Callum and Evan.
He had respect for women and children, was nurturing to the disabled and understanding to those with mental health and addictions issues. He was well-read, held thoughtful and heart-felt opinions, and was very balanced in his point of view, tending to seeing all sides of a debate before arriving at his own conclusions. He thought for himself and was his own man, though drawing little attention to himself. He was deeply involved in initiatives to increase food security, affordable housing and to improve the quality of life in Fernwood.
In the late 1990s, Fernwood was full of self-gloating characters diligently pursuing one version or another of revolutionary anti-capitalist politics. Around the square, at the Little Fernwood Hall, and at drunken parties there were fervid debates about whether you were an anarchist, communist, Trotskyite, Maoist or Wobbly.
One point of commonality was that few of us had any money or kept down a real job. One exception was Dave: the skinny, blue-eyed, practical anarchist from back east. He was more interested in getting things done than sitting around talking about it; and practical enough to know that if a community was to achieve its vision of food security, someone would need a truck.
Surrounded by many truckless food gardeners and guerrilla urban farmers, Dave’s white pickup was in hot demand. Dave was almost always gracious in lending his truck, as long as it was for the common good. He had no idea what stinky, sloppy loads of decomposing organic material from the local breweries and tofu manufacturers were shlepped back to Spring Ridge Common to build the soil.
Now, the Common supports a cornucopia of fruit trees, herbs, berry bushes and brambles, for anyone to pick—a legacy to Dave’s generosity and community spirit. Dave’s last significant community act before passing was to help design and build the tool shed at Spring Ridge Common, the same site where he and Tania, his beloved partner, met. A lemon tree has been planted in loving memory of Dave, next to the shed.
Dave Kesson, Fernwood builder
›› Lee Herrin
On Sunday June 25th, I took a walk through the neighbourhood. I didn’t have a particular goal in mind, just a walk. I walked by Dave and Tania’s house on my way into the neighbourhood, and I wondered how they were doing. At the time, I didn’t know that Dave was in the hospital and passing on his love to close family and friends on what turned out to be his last day with us.
I was shocked and surprised to learn he was gone. He died on June 26th from an aggressive brain tumour. It came on suddenly and took him quickly. He was only 52. I had seen him and his sons only a few months prior on their way to school. There was no hint of what was to come. At his memorial, one of his children’s teachers told a story about him taking tools and materials into the George Jay classroom so that all the children could have the experience of working with tools and building something with their hands. Dave was a great dad, and made lots of time for his kids.
He also made lots of time for Fernwood. Dave was a devoted volunteer in Fernwood over the past twenty or more years. He was previously the President of the Fernwood Community Association, and he also served on the Board of Directors of Fernwood NRG. He was there when we purchased the Cornerstone Building in 2005, and he worked on the demolition and construction crew putting the building back together. The building is just one part of his legacy of good works in the neighbourhood.
This past spring, he was on the crew that built the toolshed at Spring Ridge Common. At his memorial, I also learned that Dave and his truck played a huge role in the establishment of the Common—a good portion of the organic material at the site arrived in the back of Dave’s truck. It reminded me that I borrowed his truck too at one point, to move some soil when I was building my own garden on Cedar Hill Road. Dave was incredibly generous of spirit—the Fernwood neighbourhood is better in so many ways because of his time here.
At his memorial (held at the Fernwood Community Centre on July 8th), more than a hundred people attended. Countless people spoke about knowing Dave. Whether in his role as dad, partner and volunteer, or in his work with people with autism and later the Victoria Cool Aid Society, to a person, everyone said he was kind, caring, and compassionate. And everyone who knew him or met him knows the truth of all that was said.
After the memorial, a lemon tree was planted in Dave’s memory on the south side of the shed at the Common. At the suggestion of Dave’s family, Fernwood NRG has established a fund to take donations in support of our urban agriculture initiatives in Fernwood. Donations can be made in person at the Fernwood Community Centre (1240 Gladstone Avenue) or online to the Dave Kesson Urban Agriculture Fund.
Godspeed, Dave. We will miss you.
