I started in real estate at twenty-one years old, which means I’ve spent more of my life doing this work than not. Thirty-one years in, I can tell you honestly — it has never felt like work. Not once.

I grew up in Orono, eventually made my way to the Lindsay area, and I’ve never had a reason to leave. I know this land the way you only can when you’ve driven every back road, shaken hands at every auction, and spent thirty years building relationships with the farmers, landowners, and families who make up the fabric of this community. That knowledge isn’t something you acquire — it’s something you earn, slowly, over a lifetime of showing up.

What I love most about real estate is the match and the relationship. I’ve always thought of what I do a little like the original Bell telephone operator — taking an incoming call and finding exactly the right connection on the other end. No two rural properties are alike, and no two clients want exactly the same thing. Finding the pairing that works — sometimes before the property is even listed — takes creativity, patience, and a genuine commitment to understanding what someone actually needs. When it comes together, there’s nothing quite like it.

I also love the long game. Some of my best clients are people I’ve worked with for decades — people who call me first when something changes in their life, because they know I’ll give them a straight answer. That trust is something I don’t take lightly.

“What really matters are the people — and making sure every decision moves them toward a meaningful outcome.”

In 2018, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. What followed was a rollercoaster of surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, recurrences, and ultimately a treatment plan that carried less than a ten percent chance of working. It did work. And I wrote a book about it — Unlocking Miracles: A Journey of Resilience, Courage and Faith to Beat a Less Than 10% Chance of Survival.

I talk about that journey openly, because I think it matters. Not for sympathy — but because facing your own mortality genuinely changes the way you see things. The small, menial decisions and hurdles that used to create distraction and unnecessary chaos? I can see right through them now. They don’t get to take up space anymore. What’s left when you clear all of that away is surprisingly simple: the people in front of you, and the quality of the decisions you make together. That clarity has made me a better realtor, a better partner, and a better father.

I used to be the person who knew everyone in the room within twenty minutes. These days I’d rather find one or two people worth a real conversation. That’s not a loss — that’s a trade I’d make every time.

Outside of work, you’ll find me at CrossFit before the house wakes up, in the woodshop with something half-finished on the bench, or deep in a book or podcast about entrepreneurship, homesteading, or the kind of old-fashioned, sustainable way of living that I find myself increasingly drawn to. I’m fascinated by people who build things — businesses, farms, lives — with intention and their own two hands.

I have four kids, a big personality, and according to them, I’m always busy. They’re not wrong. But I’m present — and after everything, that means more to me than I can say.

Every acre. Every address. Every time.

Email me at kevin@theaveryco.ca