My father is the man in the arena

He once scaled the walls of his university to flee a future he couldn’t live with — trading East Africa for London, and certainty for a shot at something more. He built a career, returned home, and started a family.
Then came the political unrest. Assets seized. Generations of Indians forced out of East Africa. His life uprooted.

So he began again — in Brussels, then Montréal, where tanks soon rumbled through the streets and martial law was declared during the October Crisis of 1970.

Hope demanded resolve.
He kept moving forward.
Striving valiantly.
That’s what quiet conviction — and spending yourself in a worthy cause — looks like.

He’s almost 89 now and still begins each day with a bike ride, weights, and 40 squats — even with one knee replaced and the other scheduled soon.

It hurts to stand. It’s painful to walk.
He trains anyway.
That’s mental toughness.

Discipline wasn’t a speech.
It was 5 a.m. workouts with me as a teenager, peanut-butter on toast as fuel, and debates on business and current events in traffic — all before sunrise.

When an illegal cross-check ended my pro hockey dreams, he found squash, learned it himself, and helped make it mine.
Now, three generations of our family share that court.

Both of my children became college squash varsity athletes.
A family legacy — seeded by him.

He pushed me to become a chartered accountant like him — work I didn’t love then, but draw on every day to do what I love now: underwrite leadership, analyze companies, and grow and protect capital.

Sometimes the detours our parents insist on become the edge we never knew we’d need.

Now, he channels that same resolve into caring for my mother as she battles Lewy body disease.
No headlines.
Just daily reps of love. Of devotion. Of resilience.

What he modeled — and what I strive to pass on:

• Mind, body, and spirit are non-negotiable.
• Risk is a responsibility, not a dare.
• Show up for the people you love. Everything else is noise.

Teddy Roosevelt captured his brave spirit in a single phrase: “the man in the arena.”
That’s my father — dust, sweat, and quiet purpose.
He showed me the strength of consistency. Every day.

After becoming a father myself, I began to understand the depth of his courage.
He moved halfway around the world with no guarantees — just faith that something better could be built.
Devotion to his family.

Everything I build — at home, on the court, in my business, and in the portfolio — is anchored in those lessons.

Happy (belated) Father’s Day, Dad.
You continue to dare greatly — and live a hero’s journey.
Thank you for leading us into the arena — and showing us how to stay in the fight.