Every community has people who quietly hold it together.
They’re not always the loudest voices or the ones looking for recognition. In fact, more often than not, they’re the opposite. They simply show up, year after year, doing what needs to be done, giving what they can, and making life a little better for the rest of us.
John Parry was one of those people.
Many will know him from his long-standing role hosting the Easter Sunrise Service and Christmas Eve service at Kicking Horse Mountain Resort. For nearly two decades or so, those gatherings became part of the rhythm of this community. Early mornings, cold air, a shared sense of reflection. Christmas Eve, with its quiet magic. These things don’t just happen on their own. They happen because someone like John makes sure they do.
And he did, year after year.
But what stands out most, at least to me, is not just what John did publicly, but how he showed up in the small, unexpected moments.
I remember a quiet afternoon not long after we had taken over The Golden Star. It was late 2023, right around the holiday season. We were still finding our footing, and like any small business, we were looking closely at every expense. One of those was the crossword puzzle. It’s a small thing on the surface, but anyone who reads the paper knows it’s part of the experience.
John came into the office and said he wanted the old crossword back. I explained, somewhat cautiously, that it wasn’t as simple as flipping a switch. There was a cost involved. A real cost. I told him it was at least $1,000 a year, fully expecting that to be the end of the conversation. It wasn’t.
He reached for his credit card and said, just like that, “The crossword puzzle is on me for this next year.”
I honestly thought he wasn’t serious.
I tried to decline. I told him it was too much. But John had already made up his mind. He wasn’t leaving that office until it was settled. And that was that. That’s who he was.
Not generous in a showy way. Not for recognition. Just quietly, firmly generous. The kind of generosity that doesn’t ask for attention, but leaves a lasting mark anyway.
Over the past while, I’ve heard more stories like this. Different people, different moments, but the same theme. John stepping in. John helping out. John making something happen simply because he could, and because he believed it mattered.
That kind of person leaves a gap when they’re gone.
Not just in the big, visible ways, like community services or traditions, but in the everyday fabric of a place. The small acts. The behind-the-scenes support. The steady presence of someone who cared enough to act.
We often talk about community as if it’s an idea. Something abstract. But it’s not. It’s people. It’s actions. It’s choices made over and over again, usually without much fanfare.
John Parry understood that. And he lived it.
The crossword is still there each week. Most people probably don’t think twice about it. But I do. Because I know why it’s there. And I know who made sure it stayed.
That’s the kind of generosity you don’t forget.
Rest in peace, John.
