When Phil was challenged with the most recent challenges to his health, he asked if would write about him. Of course it was an honour and I agreed. He read the following story before he passed on and approved same for presentation today…………………….

This huge RV pulls into the newly created site at Whatshan Lake Retreat and my immediate thought was, here is a big shot, lost in the hinterland! I will need patience to handle this one!

A smiling and friendly man reached out his hand out and opened with “Lawrence Popoff told me that this is a place where someone can volunteer and do something for society in general,” as he respond

ed to my question, “what we could do for him.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” There was a hint of stutter and a definite undercurrent of genuine sincerity.

“I am actually a Small Motor Mechanic by Trade but I spent my last years as an Assistant School Maintenance Superintendent’, he informed me and added this last comment, “tell me what needs to be done and I will get right at it.” That was the understatement as it was amazing what he could do.

And so it started in 1997 with Molly and Phil becoming part of a group of individuals that just gave of themselves because they believed in the spirit of giving. No one really understood why we all did what we did but the idea of an assembly building, at Whatshan, gave us purpose and a physical identity to create something with our hands and with collective ingenuity.

Mario DiBella of Martech supplied many electrical materials and provided equipment which we needed. On one such occasion, I came for a promised gas generator in advance of a work event which was to be a ten (10) day duration at Whatshan. Mario apologized that the only generator in his yard was a real “beat-up” unit that he could not confirm that it was even operable. I was happy to have the opportunity for its use and I boasted with this statement. “if my group of volunteers cannot keep this thing going, then we need to rethink building a Retreat!”

I accepted his assistance to load the unit on the back of “Silver” as my trusty Ford Ranger was nicknamed.

As destiny would unfold, just as we needed to fabricate the main roof trusses, the generator stopped without warning. The volunteers gathered to offer their expertise to get this essential piece of equipment on line. Phil got his wrenches out and the parts were removed one at a time and laid out on a plank in the order they came off so that assembly in the end would be logical. We were obviously impressed with professionalism in this former Small Engines repair Technician as he plied his trade.

Some of the various levers and assemblies had been badly abused and Larry Sapriken the Steel Stud experienced Carpenter started fabricating new pieces as a precaution, that maybe the machine just needed TLC.

A few hours later when the Generator had been totally disassembled, impulsively, Phil jumped up and started a yodel that would have frightened even the most discerning Red-Neck and absolutely took us off guard. When finally he quit kicking the nearest bucket, he uttered “the low oil probe.” We all looked at him not understanding what this was all about.

“Low oil probe automatically shuts off the machine when the oil is below the probe!” Phil was almost at his breaking point at this time. “So why did I not check it before we started this useless exercise?” he continued to moan.

Well assembly was quick and with purpose. The oil was added and the generator worked better than any new unit for the ten (10) days at Whatshan. When I dropped the shining generator off at Martech, Mario asked me what he owed us for the overhaul of the unit.

There was no question that Phil fitted in with all those that would be there to help and soon he became the spirit in the gang as he never resorted to negative talk but always seemed part of a solution rather than a continuing problem. He had no difficulty in finding something to do and always completed what he started.

Later we were able to develop a Volunteer RV section for volunteers. Phil and Molly took to the task of making their site the best of all by planting and mowing their own lawns. Site 17 was strategically situate so that somehow everyone had to walk past it and got waved in as if it was an Oasis. Friendly banter and refreshment was delivered with love and compassion along with hospitality that became known as the “Konkin Way”.

Phil’s vehicle seemed to attract Whatshan Wildlife and on one occasion. two pack rats wanted to leave Whatshan and got a free ride all the way to Thrums with Phil and Molly. It must be the way Phil drives because just when they got home, the “Packies” lowered themselves from the engine housing and staggered away much to the surprise of the Konkins.

On another occasion, Phil was packing his SUV and noticed a bear cub crawling in the other side. So he went to shoo him away only to find that another cub had accessed the open door on the other side. Obviously the wild life had heard of Phil’s cheap transport fees and wanted to leave Whatshan for the urban community. It was difficult to keep a straight face as Phil followed by Molly tried to convince the cubs that there was just no room left in the SUV for passengers.

So the rumor spread amongst the indigenous residents and just when the Konkins would leave their RV, the mice moved in. After many discussions with God, Phil finally found the last access point in his RV floor and the mice reluctantly stopped visiting.

There was nothing that Phil could not repair and bring into operation no matter what problem confronted us at Whatshan. As it was with the majority of the Volunteers, everyone had an expertise that was necessary to enable us to make Whatshan a destination Retreat as more and more people and organizations came to investigate what we were building. Phil would always be ready to show visitors around on his trusty Golf-cart.

No matter when we would meet, within minutes, the question would be “when are going to Whatshan?”

In his sombre moments, Phil recollected as to how his first desire was to be an air-line pilot and started preparations for same. His Doukhobor parents associated planes with War and immediately objected to any continuation of this pursuit. No matter how many times we discussed his success with Mechanics and even operating his own service station in Thrums followed by bus driving and then his final career as an Assistant Maintenence Superintendent, he would always pause with that far away look and mention flying.

So finally, Phil is able to get his wish!

Phil made friends wherever he would be and those friends would always visit with him. Today I am honored to be known as one of his friends. Don’t forget to continue to visit with us.

The process involved interviews with Phillip Konkin over a period of time.

• June 02, 2016, I started this without interview

• June 09, 2016, progressed to this dated version
• August 05, 2016 read at his funeral by Elmer Verigin