November 22, 1972 – July 23, 2019
Video by Trevor Marc Hughes
When I met Gabriel Forest Khouth in Vancouver in 1988, I couldn’t have imagined the friendship that would have followed. That day, we were both 15 years old, and auditioning for an independent film. My first impression upon meeting this guy was that he was talented, charismatic and had a great sense of humour. He also had a streetwise aspect to him, a sharp wit and a cIarity of thought honed in the tough community of East Vancouver where he grew up. I would grow to admire that and remember him putting a smile on my face at that first meeting. I ferried home to Vancouver Island glad to have a new friend in the big city.
Two years later we would be working together as actors on a CBC-TV series called Northwood, filming in North Vancouver, a place that was very special to us both. Gabe had family there and my dad had grown up there. We would be roommates during filming in 1991, renting out the main floor of a house near the base of Grouse Mountain. I remember Gabe had a blue MG convertible in those days, and we would go on drives up the Sea-to-Sky highway with the top down, marveling at the scenery of the coast mountains and Howe Sound as he negotiated the curves. During the years of working on the TV series we would drive down to Los Angeles together, taking in Disneyland, Universal Studios and the sights of Hollywood.
The TV series would last for four seasons, but even after working together as actors wrapped up we would continue to be friends. I always looked forward to seeing Gabe: he could still put a smile on my face. The sharpness of his wit would always have me following two or three steps behind. And his kindness and generosity would always leave me with a warm feeling. Of course, there would be periods I wouldn’t see him, especially after I left acting for writing and radio broadcasting. But we would always pick up from where we left off. Gabe was great company, and would soon become a creative collaborator, encouraging me in my wishes to make films. I remember us co-directing a documentary about The Shakespeare Project, director John Juliani’s effort to put on the entire canon of Shakespeare in rehearsed readings at Vancouver’s Christ Church Cathedral. His enthusiasm for using a camera and getting the right shot was infectious and kept me going even when my spirits were low from a long shooting and editing process.
It was when sharing an East Vancouver house that I decided to try something new in my late twenties: motorcycling. I learned how to ride and bought a well-used Yamaha Seca 400. Not long after Gabe would learn to ride and got himself a Buell Blast. We would reconnect over this shared interest in the adventurous pursuit of riding a motorbike, eventually finding a way to bring us together even though we lived different lives, his featuring a very successful acting career having him work in locally-produced series such as Da Vinci’s Inquest and US series like Once Upon a Time, mine as a radio broadcaster and writer. Our lives as husbands and fathers began at about the same time, and the responsibilities of home life would mean we wouldn’t see each other as much. When we did we would usually go for short rides.
By this time Gabe had a Ducati Monster and I had a Kawasaki KLR650. We would eventually make videos, short films really. They would give us a social, creative outlet, a way of understanding and commenting about this two-wheeled interest of ours. The segments we made we posted on our YouTube channel Open Road MC. The stories surrounded our love of motorcycling and where it would take us, pointing out to our viewers that it didn’t really matter what you rode, but that you rode. We would gather our material on a GoPro Hero and a Sena 10C, and cobble together segments to do with local motorcycling events, trying out new bikes and going on adventures around the Lower Mainland. The evening editing sessions would have us laughing until tears ran down our faces as we had great fun, Gabe’s sharp wit, improvisational ability and spot on impressions cracking me up again and again.
Now I realize there are roads that Gabe and I will never travel together.
This awareness saddens me, but more and more I look at the fact that I was lucky to have Gabe in my life, to have travelled the roads we travelled, to have seen the progression he made as an artist, as a motorcyclist, as a father, and as a friend. He was my first friend in this big, intimidating city, and he eased me into believing I could make a go of it here. He welcomed me into his family, to his home and shared his interest in motorcycling with me and for that I will always be grateful.
Gabe looked up to James Dean, an actor he shared several traits with, and because Gabe knew that, due to a lifelong heart condition, he may not live as long as many of us, he may have lived that more brightly. There was a real spark to the man, he had a genuine interest in and enthusiasm for many subjects, and when he grabbed hold of one of those subjects and got excited about it, it was hard not to become as enthusiastic.
There’s a quote by James Dean which seems appropriate here:
“Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today.”
Gabe made the most of his life. He dreamt big and lived big and I will miss his enthusiasm, creativity and warmth…and thanks, my friend, for putting a smile on my face!
Gabe’s family has created a GoFundMe page in support of his two children.
To contribute to the fund, please click here.
