I have many fond memories with Les, dating back to early / mid 70's and one scary memory that Lorie recalled so well about that black bear encounter at the dump.  That was the day I knew what an adrenaline rush felt like and the sound of three rapidly beating hearts sitting in Les' car in terror.   I remember winter hikes hoping to spot deer, which we did, something I'd never seen up close and personal before.  Les was very proud of his Musket rifle and taught us to load it and shoot, which also enlightened me about "kickback".  Target practise was always something to look forward to once I got the hang of it.   Another popular area was the beaver dam and the porcupine den,  Les always knew where to find all the wildlife in the area.  Those cold winter evenings after our usual dinner of canned stew and bread were spent playing cards.  We would bring out the rum and we all enjoyed a few drinks of old Captain Morgan.  Once in a while Les would say, "hey Di, would you mind if I pinch a smoke off you"?    It always made me smile, as Les didn't smoke and you could tell just by the way he held a cigarette.  Summer was always a fun time at the lake whether it was swimming, fishing or just enjoying outdoor life.  One early afternoon, Les said he was going for a swim.  We watched him head  out and out and out on the lake.  We thought OMG where is he going!  Well about an hour later, after worrying like crazy, we could see him coming into view.   Les swam from one side of the lake and back without a break.  He appeared quite refreshed and we realized at that point, this was NOT his first time. 
One thing I remember the most about Les was his ability to really listen to what people had to say.  He made me feel like my views and questions mattered.  He was genuine, honest, caring and loved animals.  I wish I had more time with him to enjoy his company and wisdom.   He was a huge part of my life in those impressionable years and I will never forget him.
RIP

- [ ] I have always lived some distance from Toronto and where Uncle Les lived so did not know him well.  So a few short years ago, at one of my Mom’s parties in her condo, Uncle Les and I began to talk. He was very kind, interested in what I had to say and appeared to enjoy our conversation.  Afterward I realized that what was important to him was to connect with and be with family.  It was and is an important reminder from  Uncle Les that I hope to always remember.

especially when they try to grow up before their time. Les on the left.

Although my last name is Thompson, I have always viewed myself as a Campbell. Love and stability were the trademarks of the seven above.

I was one of Less’ caregivers. I spent many hours with Les over the last year and a half. What an amazing man! Les was always kind and thoughtful. He had a qwerky sense of humour and always made me laugh , and I adored him. I will always remember my time
Spent with him. I will miss you Les. RIP my friend.  Xo

Most of us nieces and nephews learned target practice from Uncle Les at the cottage (aka “Bambi Lodge”). If I recall, you had to aim slightly high and left with the pellet rifle.
In 1972, Rick Guyatt (my age and living with us) and I reached the legal drinking age and decided to head to Julian Lake (which I still call “Little Cedar Lake”) in the middle of winter for a binge-drinking weekend. After all, we’d chopped much of the firewood there and felt entitled to enjoy it.
Uncle Les got wind of our plans and invited himself along. While we weren’t surprised that he wanted to join us, we were caught off guard by how eagerly he joined in the drinking. That said, he paced himself far better than Rick and I did.
After a late night of drinking, Rick and I passed out (perhaps literally). Les, however, was up early and went snowshoeing. When he returned, he insisted we join him on a hike to see something but wouldn’t say what. Since Les had once taken us to see the Petroglyphs (before they became a National Historic site), we figured it would be something similar.
We followed Les into the woods. After fifteen minutes, sweaty and still groggy, we reached a rock outcrop. “It’s just on the other side at the bottom of the overhang,” Les said. Expecting carvings or markings, we instead saw a… HIBERNATING BEAR!
Suddenly, we were wide awake. Dressed in bulky snowsuits and snowshoes, we were hardly ready for a quick escape. Whispering, Rick asked, “Is it alive?” Les, replied, “Oh, it’s alive, alright.” He guessed it was a juvenile bear that hadn’t found the best spot to hibernate.
Rick asked, “What if we touch it?” Les shrugged, saying the bear probably wouldn’t wake, and even if it did, it could hardly move due to thickened blood.
While I stayed back, calculating an escape route, Rick lay down beside the bear and used it as a pillow. We didn’t have a camera, but that image is burned into my mind, along with Les’ smile at our wildly different reactions—a smile I’ll always remember.

In the early sixties Les taught me that porcupines nest in trees.  He took me in the boat to an area of trees on Julian Lake and showed me countless porcupine nests in the tall trees.  Years later, Les invited Rick and Diane up to the cottage.  One dark night they drove to the dump in hopes of seeing some bears, down the hill, rummaging through the garbage.  As they got out of the car, they noticed a very large black bear coming up the lane behind them.  They scrambled back into the car in time to watch the large bear climb up on the hood.  As this bear rubbed its rear end back and forth  across the windshield, Rick was yelling at Les, "Start the car, Start the car!" as Les sat frozen repeating, "Oh my God, Oh my God!". They all lived to tell the story.

When I was twelve years old, I broke my arm while at my Nana's cottage. Uncle Les travelled over an hour from his family cottage, picked me up and drove me all the way home so my Dad could take me to Sick Kids Hospital. I don't think I was awake for most of the ride but I do remember his quiet presence and that I felt safe and taken care of. 
Uncle Les never took centre stage but he could always be counted on to be there if you needed him and he would quietly step up to help.

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Leslie Gordon Campbell

Kane-Jerrett Funeral Homes

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