Sharing Rotary with Rob Kamensek by Chu Wu

We were posted just outside Royal Bank in the breeze way between the parking lot and the shops.  In the beginning, I felt very uncomfortable and awkward.  I didn't want to be there.  I didn't know much about Barry, Arthur or Rob.  They didn't know me.  On the other hand, they seemed to know each other well with all the kidding around and the frequent references of their mutual friends.  Arthur and Rob, especially, knew many of the passer bys by name.

Arthur was the friendly and jovial one.   He liked to tell stories from way, way, way back...and he told them well.  He really put me at ease.  The way I remembered it, Arthur had lived in South Delta for over 40 years.  When he first moved there, he was barely an adult and there were nothing but farmlands in Tsawwassen and Ladner.  Arthur had been a dentist in Ladner forever.  He became a dentist when dentists didn't even have to go to university.  Hanging out with Arthur made me feel like I was in the old Andy Griffith Show.  It was like being taken back to Mayberry in a more innocent time.  I could almost hear the whistling from the show's theme song and see Opie carrying a fishing pole and a tackle box as he marches to the tune toward the river.  Arthur was like what little Opie might have become at age 60. 

Barry seemed comfortable and was effective at asking strangers to buy Tunnel Tally tickets.  He was the serious leader type.  Arthur was there to have fun.  Barry was there to get the job done.  Arthur would soften them up.  Barry would then make the sale.  I would take the money, give back change, get the buyer to fill out the tickets and ripped the stubs out.  As the day went on, I found out Barry was the boss at Tilbury Cement (now Lehigh).  Once upon a time, I belonged to a small group of business executives who met monthly.  One of the members was a consulting engineer for Tilbury Cement plant when it was built.  He told me the original budget for the Tilbury plant was like almost $200 millions.  I could only imagine how many more millions may have been invested over the years.  To be in charge of such a major investment, it made sense why Barry seemed to be so serious most of the time.  That afternoon, though, I remembered Barry as just a "friendly gentle giant".

Rob darted in and out of the bank constantly, hunting down clients, friends and acquaintances as they went about their banking chores.  Every once in a while he would bring back another booklet of filled ticket stubs.  If Barry was the General, Rob was the Scout surveying the fields to make sure we were safe and sound.  He was constantly moving about.  He didn't spend too much time with the three of us.  I didn't know where he went most of the time.  Every time he came back, however, he delivered the goods.

When Rob resigned as a Rotarian a couple of years ago, he was so clear about his reasoning.  He felt he wasn't doing enough to justify being in Rotary.  Rob didn't want to just show up and have lunch.  He wanted to make a difference so he continued with his work at Delta Community Foundation.  Through that, he kept in touch with a few members of our Rotary Club.

In the last year, as Rob's battle with cancer escalated, I could feel the depth of emotion shared by many of our Rotarians in their concerns for Rob's well being.  It seemed so unfair to have such a terrible thing happened to such a wonderful "young man" who had done so much good for his community.  Interestingly, each time when someone reported an encounter with Rob, he or she would surely observe the exceptionally positive spirit displayed by Rob, no matter how sick Rob might have felt at the time.  I guess that was why Rob Kamensek was loved so much by so many.  He only took as much space and as much time as he needed.  He shared with us only the best of him.

That afternoon back in 2002, we grossed about $200 in sales.  I wondered how much our team of four relatively successful "professional men" actually netted in three grueling hours of hardcore fundraising.  Looking back now, that really didn't matter.  That supposedly brutal experience of rejections turned out to be "priceless".