In My Opinion – That Scruffy Smile Around Cobourg Will Be Missed

Pete Fisher
5 hours ago
• Categories: Editorial

(Photos courtesy of HOME)

A person who understood what it was like to be homeless and wanted to help others died earlier this week.

Word has spread that Chance Brown died while in Saskatchewan on Tuesday, June 16, 2026.

Chance was a person who wanted to help — anyone.

As I knew Chance, it didn’t matter how much money you had in the bank. Frankly, it didn’t matter what your views were regarding homelessness and addiction — Chance wanted to help.

Simply put, if he could help, he would.

We met many years ago.

Chance wanted Today’s Northumberland to do a story on his “tagging.”

He had tagged numerous mailboxes, buildings and other property with the word “ACE.”

Not the brightest move in the world, but in my opinion, it’s important to understand why.

Chance gave an in-depth interview explaining his actions. In reality, there was no excuse.

He was charged and convicted of his crimes and paid his debt to society.

Since that time, we always spoke whenever we saw each other. We had great conversations about how to change the world for the better, how to help people who need it and, more importantly, want it.

People will always have their opinions about Chance. But one of the reasons those opinions existed is because Chance put himself out in public.

From the Chance I got to know over the years, he helped his people.

When I say “his people,” I mean his friends, the less fortunate and those struggling with addiction.

Over the years, I’ve learned there is nothing shameful about either circumstance. It’s how anyone responds to the position they find themselves in.

Chance taught me that.

There isn’t one of us who walks this earth without some kind of struggle.

Some are visible. Some aren’t.

But Chance always, always watched over people. He called them out when they needed to be called out, and he backed them up just as quickly.

Chance was willing to take conversations and actions one step further than most people dared.

He appeared at Northumberland County Council meetings advocating for the homeless.

Without communication, there is no education. Chance made that happen. He educated me and anyone else who was willing to listen.

As much as anything, Chance wanted people to understand that, for the less fortunate, there is rarely a simple black-and-white answer.

In good times and bad, we always had great conversations. Whether I ran into him while out walking with my father at night or casually met him on the street during the day, you never knew where or when you’d see him.

He taught me a lot about society.

And there was always that scruffy smile.

Whether it was a 30-second conversation or a 30-minute one, you’d always see it at some point.

None of us are perfect, and neither was Chance.

One thing that set him apart was that he genuinely tried to improve society.

Many of us, myself included, have been vocal at times about what we see on the streets.

But through my conversations with Chance over the years, I learned that understanding the situation is just as important as pointing it out. It’s about learning what help exists — and what help is missing.

Chance understood that you can’t help people who don’t want help, but he never gave up.

He was a person who traveled throughout the town, looking after both friends and strangers.

When people were staying in encampments along the beach, you sometimes had to look up to find Chance. He had worked out a way to sleep among the trees, hanging a hammock there for the night.

Chance was that go-between.

Part educator, part advocate.

He didn’t take sides. Instead, he explained possibilities and looked for ways to make things better.

The Chance I knew had his demons, but he was a good person.

A father.

And soon to be a father again.

You never knew when or where your next conversation with Chance would take place.

No matter the subject, and no matter how the conversation ended, it often began the same way — with that scruffy Chance smile.

I’ll miss that.

And I’ll miss our many conversations.

Rest in peace, my friend.

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In a documentary called HOME, Chance spoke about his life and any number of ways a person could find themselves homeless.

Job, finances, family life – it could be anything.

“There are all different variables that come to play. Or you just run out of finances and physically or mentally just can’t handle life – you end up being like a lost cause – which sucks.”

I never ever found Chance to be a “lost cause” just maybe someone, like many others who couldn’t find their way, but kept searching.