Columnists
An obit blitz
Time was when I would eagerly await the arrival of the morning newspaper to read about the political shenanigans of the day, Then I got a little older and wiser and turned to the comics first. As middle age settled over me, I was drawn to the baseball box scores. Then the Sudoku and Kenken puzzles had top priority. And now….it’s the obits.
I have been asking myself just why—trying to look beyond the old joke that when I don’t see my name in there, I know I’m still alive. And I think the main reason is simply that obits tell a story, a complete life story, with a beginning, a middle and an ending.
I’ve saved a few obits from the last week or so, and the variety of human experience they embrace is amazing. I’ve noted four of them; three Order of Canada recipients, and one who was definitely not Order of Canada material.
First up we had Red Kelly—late of the Detroit Red Wings, the Toronto Maple Leafs and the House of Commons. Kelly passed away at the age of 91. He played on eight Stanley Cup winning teams in the Original Six era— four with each of the Wings and Leafs. But perhaps more remarkably, he was a fourtime winner of the Lady Byng trophy for “sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct combined with a high standard of playing ability.” He was raised on a tobacco farm in Simcoe, Ontario. Kelly was known to sign as many as 400 autographs a week, saying “Kelly’s a short name; I sympathize with Mahovlich.”
Then there was Dr. Wilbert Keon, who left us at age 83. He was the youngest of 11 children in a family from Sheenboro, Quebec. He performed over 10,000 heart surgeries, was the founder of the University of Ottawa Heart Institute, installed Canada’s first artificial heart, and was described by Ottawa mayor Jim Watson as “‘the closest thing to a saint Ottawa has.” That proposition was tested when he was caught in a soliciting sting and was required to attend john school. Some 11,000 letters of support were received, and the Institute refused his offer to resign. His transgression forgiven, in his retirement years he served in the Senate. He died of heart failure.
Next up was Wayson Choy, who died at age 80. He published the award-winning novel The Jade Peony, a story based on his childhood in Vancouver’s Chinatown, in 1995, and later a memoir titled Paper Shadows: A Chinese Childhood. His gentle and evocative writing style was a vivid introduction to many Canadians to the Chinese experience in in Canada. He was an inspiration and mentor to many young Asian and gay writers.
The odd man out in the group was William Krehm, who passed away aged 105. He was the last living Canadian volunteer in the Spanish civil war of 1936- 1939. The International Brigades, including some 1,600 Canadians, went to Spain to fight for the Republican government against the Nationalist rebellion of Francisco Franco (who ultimately won, with the support of Germany and Italy, and held control of the country until the 1970s). While in Spain, Krehm crossed paths with George Orwell, who wrote Homage to Catalonia about his Spanish experiences.
Like many in the International Brigades, Krehm was a communist—but one who picked the ‘wrong’ side in his affiliations. He supported Leon Trotsky, a rival to Lenin’s eventual successor, Joseph Stalin. Stalinists worked their way into the Spanish Republican government and purged the anti-Stalinist militia that Krehm had joined. Krehm was imprisoned along with other members of the militia. Some died in prison; he was fortunate enough to be expelled from Spain.
Trying his luck as a foreign correspondent in Latin America. Krehm interviewed Trotsky in Mexico City in 1940 the day before he was murdered by an agent of Stalin. He is reputed to have stood guard over Trotsky’s body at the funeral home.
On his return to Canada. Krehm could not count on regular employment owing to his communist beliefs and the constant presence of the RCMP. So he supported himself, and ended up becoming a successful property developer in Toronto. He also worked as an occasional music critic for the Globe and Mail, and wrote books on economics.
There: four extraordinary lives, having in common only that they ended at about the same time, and that they inspire us in one way or another. Most of us live ordinary lives—happy if we make it to a respectable three score years and ten, content that we loved, and were loved by, at least one other person. But our ordinary lives can inspire as well—a subject I’ll return to in a future column.
Next on my agenda, however, now I’ve checked today’s obits, are the Sudoku and Kenken puzzles: I may be old, but my late middle-aged light still shines.
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