Husband, father, brother, boring-mill operator, nature lover, hockey fan, stargazer, sentimentalist. Born Feb. 20, 1932, in Noarootsi, Estonia. Died July 23, 2010, in Toronto of a heart attack, aged 78.
Olev Kindlam was grateful that his life had been spared on many occasions. Once, when he was on the job in a machine shop, a huge cast-iron hook gave way and flew into the concrete wall, grazing the top of his head.
By far his narrowest escape was on the stormy Baltic Sea in September, 1944, when 12-year-old Olev and his family were fleeing Estonia ahead of the advancing Red Army. Of the 30 people in a small boat headed for Sweden, half were taken onboard a German war ship that was torpedoed by a Soviet bomber. It sank before their eyes, taking along Olev's aunt and young cousin.
The only son of Eduard and Alvine Kindlam, Olev was surrounded by adoring women all his life: four sisters, wife Mai, sister-in-law, daughter and two granddaughters. His love of nature was nurtured alongside his father, who was a forest ranger.
In 1949, when it became obvious returning to Estonia was impossible, the family boarded the MS Gripsholm en route to Halifax. On the train bound for Toronto, Olev's sister handed him his first fateful cigarette.
Initially, Olev disliked this new land with its sooty streets and low, patchwork buildings. He swore that as soon as he got the fare together, he would return to Sweden. But life continued. On his one return trip to Estonia with his daughter in 1995, he insisted they take the ferry from Helsinki, to arrive as he had left - by water.
After 30 years of working as a boring-mill operator at Export Tool & Welding, Olev found it hard to retire, and didn't until well into his 70s.
With his calm, unassuming nature, Olev was cherished as his extended family's even keel, but his greatest role was that of father. During winter, the family would cross-country ski the last few kilometres of unplowed road up to the cabin in Muskoka to fill the bird feeders. Olev volunteered with other dads at the cabin's neighbouring Estonian scout and guide campground and enjoyed their ski camps, including long treks and dips in the snow from the hot sauna.
Speaking Estonian at home was a given; it was natural. This language of love sparked a passion in Olev's only child to move to Estonia in 2003, and he became a long-distance Papa to his granddaughters.
Olev's life ended suddenly yet peacefully at home, in the same spot he had asked for his wife's hand 43 years earlier. Hardly sick a day in his life, smoking finally got the upper hand. A few weeks earlier he had had a talk about fire safety with three-year-old granddaughter Tuule by the campfire, and he had met and fallen in love with one-year-old Suvi Mari on her first visit to Canada.
Tuule knows her Papa died from smoking and currently believes that anyone who doesn't, won't.
By Riina Kindlam, Olev's daughter.