Meeting Dennis Kearns

Dennis Kearns is an accomplished NHL defenseman who played on the Vancouver Canucks for over a decade. I recently had the pleasure of meeting him and sharing an interesting and uplifting conversation, during a very stressful and negative ordeal my family and I went through.

Nothing is all good, or all bad. Everything is in that confusing and complicated "gray area" somewhere in between. People, experiences, everything. This is a life lesson I have learned, over and over, and I now see understanding this is part of the maturing process. 3 weeks ago, when everything seemed to be going wrong, I relearned this important lesson.

My family and I were recently wrongly denied boarding by Air Canada for our flight. We were moving within BC, and our belongings were in a U-Haul truck on their way to the destination. The gate employee didn't know her own job, and claimed my wife @MediKatie hadn't brought correct identification. The plane left without us, leaving us stranded and without our belongings, including baby formula, medications, etc. We had the clothes on our back and small carry-on bags, but the airline does not allow liquid or powder, so everything else was on the moving truck (hundreds of miles away). Now, with no way to get where we were going, and a nation-wide shortage of baby formula and children's fever medicines, we were in a very bad situation. We had cash, but no other form of payment, and no cellular phone or other means of communication. Getting on that plane was imperative, and when it didn't work out, all our other plans fell apart and we were in trouble. It should never have happened, but it did. I wrote about it in detail here.

We managed to get a taxi ride to a nearby upscale Sheraton hotel. While my wife asked the desk staff to allow her to call long distance for help, I watched my 3-year-old son playing in the lobby. A large gas fireplace warmed a seating area with nice green couches. An older man was sitting with his dog, a beautiful curly-haired beast, near the fire. My son, playful and curious, approached the man. I watched as he started up a conversation.

"That's a puppy dog right there," he said. The man nodded, with a friendly twinkle in his eye. They talked about the dog while I approached. It was clear the older man was endeared by my son, and his genuine smile encouraged me to join in.

After a little small talk, the man asked me how long I would be staying at the hotel. I gave him a summary of what had happened to us. He was sympathetic, and joined me in being shocked how rigid and cold the world had become in recent decades. "In my day, we didn't even need ID to travel. We just needed money, and sometimes not even that." I'm not a great conversationist, but the man made it easy, and it was a nice talk. For the first time in hours (or days), I relaxed just a little. It felt nice to speak with someone else that understood me, and shared some of my beliefs. He was clean shaven, handsome, healthy-looking, and tall, with pure white hair. He introduced his dog, "You-know".

I introduced myself, and my son then blurted out his own name, too. The older man was polite, and responded by saying "and my name is Dennis. Dennis Kearns."

A memory stirred in my mind. Had I heard that name before? It seemed familiar. He noticed me wracking my brain. "If you do an internet search for that name, you'll see pictures of me, 40 years ago, playing hockey for the Vancouver Canucks." Wow! So that's where I'd heard his name! 40 years ago, I would have been 7, and I used to watch the Canucks (our home team) play on my grandfather's little colour TV. Grampa was a huge hockey fan and whenever he looked after me, if there was a game that night, we would be watching it. I'm certain I saw Dennis play, and told him so. He seemed pleased, without being arrogant at all, and offered more information. He had come up through the minor leagues in the mid-to-late 1960s, then went professional with the Canucks all through the 70s, retiring after the 1981 season.

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"I played defense. My strength was in finding the forwards and feeding them the puck at just the right time. I got a lot of awards for how many assists I got." Sure enough, I later looked him up, and he held many records for assists, some of them still unbroken today. He has been inducted into several "hall of fame" lists, and appears at Canucks events from time to time. He still lives in the Vancouver area. He's 77 and runs an insurance company. His cousin and son also played hockey professionally, and was in town to see his grandson play. Hotels like the one we were in would have been common for someone with his fame and fortune.

Normally, I would never stay in such a nice hotel, but had little choice thanks to my terrible ordeal that day. Nothing is all bad. Meeting Dennis was an absolute pleasure, and watching he and my son interact was a joy. Dennis kept repeating my son's name, genuinely smiling, obviously also pleased at the interaction. With each friendly exchange, my son lightening the mood all the way, I felt positivity creeping into my horrible afternoon. I realized even at that moment how small the world is. I also noted that everyone out there has a story, most of them unique and colourful, but we rarely stop to meet new people and find out.

I collected hockey cards as a kid. Somewhere in a box, I've got a Dennis Kearns card. It held no meaning to me (except that he was a Canuck, my favourite team). Now, when I find that card, it's going to have so much more value to me.

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My family and I made it to our destination, about a week later, after a rough journey by car. Looking back, meeting Dennis happened at exactly the worst point in the entire debacle. We were crestfallen and dejected, nearly hopeless. But after we finished speaking, and saying we hoped to chat again before checking out of the hotel, my wife returned with good news: Her parents had put 3 nights at the hotel on their credit card (to be repaid later). This meant beds, a phone, a toilet, a shower, a fridge, and nearby shops. We would be okay.

Dennis wished us well. My son, oblivious to all the stress, watched Dennis and You-know walk off to meet his grandkids at the hotel pool. We went upstairs, washed up, made calls, and formed a plan. It wasn't a pleasant trip, but things never got as bad as they had been before we arrived at that hotel. That chance encounter with Dennis Kearns turned out to be the turning point.

And I've got a memory (and story) I won't forget. Dennis is one of the greatest defensemen to ever play hockey. If I hadn't missed that plane, and my son hadn't been so cute and curious, I would never have met him. Overall, the whole ordeal was a terrible time for my family and I, but it certainly wasn't all negative.