Kim Wilson was a boy who, when we first met, was unlike any I had ever known and became a man unlike any I have ever known.
Kim was bright and creative—almost beyond compare. He was a student when he had to be and not when he made up his mind. He was, without doubt, his worst enemy and best ally when he set forth to accomplish what he wanted to do.
His confidence to create was unlimited, and he did so to the point of failure several times. But he also succeeded many times.
His mother knew she had a unique human on her hands and sought out help. I was the person she came to, and I found Kim remarkable from our first meeting. We had much in common, such as classical music and opera.
Soon after that, I purchased the land for Camp Shasta. On most Friday nights, I would head off on a 600-mile journey to camp from LA. Only by walking the land could I get the feel of where things ought to be.
I needed someone to help me stay alert throughout the long drive. With his mother’s approval, Kim proved to be the perfect driving companion. We got to know each other as profoundly as father and son, which he became to me during our trips.
We grew to know each other well, and I knew him as few others could do. I love him and will miss him as my son.