When I saw Lance Caven’s photo in media announcing he had passed away, my heart sank.
All of the photos posted of him are lit up with his beaming smile. I never saw him without that smile, and if you didn’t know him, that smile was not just for the camera.
Caven was the deputy fire chief for Langford Fire Rescue. I met Caven around 2007 as a young reporter, and I interviewed him many, many times.
Back then, he was working as a fire prevention officer for Langford Fire. He worked in that role with his Chris Aubrey, who is now the fire chief.
At the time, I was 25, with a babyface — some people thought I was still in high school.
Working for a small publication, being young and only a year out of journalism school, it wasn’t uncommon for people to treat me as an emerging professional, a novice, and someone who still had to pay their dues.
Caven and Aubrey never did that. They made me feel like I was as qualified as Barbara Walters, they took my calls, prioritized my requests, and ultimately helped me do my job well. They made me feel like I was an asset to the community.
Their kindness made me feel special and they started to feel like friends. When I would see Caven in town with his family, he always took time to chat.
I would interview Caven and Aubrey regularly for parades, light-ups, fundraisers and the standard seasonal safety stories.
During an interview on daylight saving and checking smoke detectors, I ended up asking them to come to my home in Langford and check my battery so I could take a photo to run with the story.
Caven was so genuine, I knew I wouldn’t be judged for being a single mother of a toddler who could only afford a one-bedroom basement suite.
I am pretty sure that is the only time I ever offered someone I was interviewing to come to my home. Even now, when I see Aubrey, he often brings up that day.
Anytime I had a request for a photo op or story idea, I could call Caven and he always made time for me.
One time, I wanted to write about grease fires and the proper way to react. I asked Caven and Aubrey if they would start a grease fire and then put it out. They did, and the flames were three feet high.
They didn’t have to take the time to suit up and spend an hour with me.
It was the extra effort.
Not all of my interactions with Caven were on happy terms. Sometimes, we met at the scenes of house fires, car crashes and brush fires.
As I write this, I am deeply saddened for his passing. I do feel joy remembering the time I spent with Caven, and the lessons he taught me on kindness and respect.
I know that this special treatment wasn’t just for me, it was for everyone who had contact with Caven. The magical thing about special people like Caven is they make you feel that their candour, generosity and kindness are just for you.
The secret is they do it for everyone.
Nearly every interaction I had with Caven included Aubrey. The dynamic duo were fire prevention officers together and moved up to be chief and deputy chief.
As we take the time to honour Caven and his family, his peers, and colleagues, I think it’s important to take special care and consideration for Aubrey; I can’t imagine what this loss would be like for him.
The two of them had a charismatic chemistry and friendship that shone through their leadership and our community benefited immensely.
