A few winters ago Julie and I were visiting D’Arcy and Jeanette and we hit a perfect scenario: big dump the night before, clear skies in the morning and D’Arcy had the day off. The onion in the ointment was that Julie is not that strong a powder skier—to be frank, she can’t ski powder.

My inclination was, of course, to leave her flailing and chop it up until I couldn’t move my legs, but luckily for everyone D’Arcy and his better nature won the day and he worked with her turn by turn, coaching her down the mountain with humour and kindness and patience all day.

Her skiing improved immeasurably that day and I improved ever so slightly as a person having borne witness to that act of kindness. In fact, I think it would be fair to say that I improve ever so slightly as a person every time I get the honour of hanging out with D’Arcy. What can I say, the guy’s a mensch.

Now, in fairness and for the sake of journalistic integrity, that same year or close to it we went back for a visit in the summer and D’Arcy took Julie and I on a mountain bike ride that ended in blood and tears, but that’s another story (and one we still laugh about).

Loving D'Arcy Burke? Pretty easy. Maybe there are people as good out there, but I have never met anyone better.