bout de papier, Vol. 24, No. 3 (2009) — Summer/Fall 2009 // Été/Automne 2009, pp. 30–31
To paraphrase Barbra Streisand, “People who like people are the luckiest people in the world.” If that is so, and I have no reason to doubt it, then Bob Gayner must rank very high among that select. He didn’t just like people, he loved people; he loved people of every creed and kind, and his affection was totally democratic. He was as interested in, and as comfortable with, the man on the street as he was with heads of state and captains of industry.
Bob had a wonderful, happy disposition and a boundless instinct for generosity, which took many forms. He was always there with a kind word and a helping hand, and donated countless hours to causes as diverse as orphanages in Brazil and Romania, the Federal Superannuates National Association in Canada and The Shepherds of Good Hope in Ottawa.
It would be interesting to do a quick survey here today, to learn how each of you came to know Bob. I, and others, knew him as a professional colleague, but a number will have got to know him through his extensive volunteer involvement. If they compared notes, I am sure they would agree that when he took on a cause, he went at it full bore, with all of his energy, all of his enthusiasm, and all of his imagination.
The Bible tells us that it is better to give than to receive. Bob was always way over on the GIVE side of the ledger. A colleague told me recently that he and Bob and two other junior officers worked together many years ago at the Canadian Consulate General in Chicago. They were young, hard working, enthusiastic and ambitious, but daily faced the problem of reconciling modest government salaries with the burgeoning financial demands of growing families. He said they would suddenly find that while they were trying to make ends meet, Bob had underwritten some charitable need. The example he gave was when Bob heard that there were a number of children who could not participate in many of the programs at a local youth club because their families could not afford to buy them sports shoes, Bob picked them all up, took them to a store, had them fitted with shoes — and paid the whole shot from his own pocket.
I first met Bob through an act of generosity on his part. Carol and I were preparing to leave on our first foreign assignment to replace Bob and Helen at the Canadian Consulate in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Bob went considerably out of his way to make it possible for us to meet before our departure so he could brief us on the posting, and on some special challenges we would face there. His advice proved to be of great value — I could say of almost critical value. The easiest thing would have been for him to have done nothing, say nothing, and leave a young, inexperienced officer to walk unwarned and unprepared into the unknown. But that was not Bob’s way. I have always been grateful to him for undertaking considerable personal inconvenience, not to mention professional risk, to speak candidly to someone he had never met and to whom he owed nothing.
Bob was interested in everything. He relished new circumstances, new acquaintances, new ideas, new attitudes. He loved good food and good company.
He enjoyed all the arts. He and Helen were regular patrons of the Lyric Opera, and despite the restraints imposed by foreign service salaries, assembled an impressive art collection from around the world, particularly from their time in Moscow.
The one thing he had trouble with was quiet. For a number of years, Carol and I drove each summer with Bob and Helen to Stratford and Niagara-on-the-Lake. The long drives offered lots of opportunity for conversation, but if discussions flagged, as they tend to do with the passing hours, Bob would slam a CD into the player and turn up the volume to a point that for him was stimulating, but for me beside him in the front seat, was deafening. I have mentioned that he was interested in everything. He would often catch sight of something as we passed by, and turn to keep his eye on it while he yelled at Helen to note its similarity to something they had seen, for example, in New Zealand. I took advantage of these moments of distraction to turn the sound down a couple of notches, and in a little while would have it reduced to a tolerable level. Then Bob would notice that something was amiss and say, “I don’t know what’s wrong with this radio — it keeps fading,” crank it up and the whole cycle would start again.
I have come to realize in recent days that trying to encapsulate a life in a few brief words is a daunting task, and in the case of someone as dynamic and multifaceted as Bob, it is essentially impossible. Recognizing, therefore, that I will be guilty of serious omissions whatever I say, I have decided to stop trying and to conclude by mentioning three factors that I think were important influences in his life, three pillars that sustained and supported him.
The first was his family, the centre point of his attention and affection. He and Helen had a love affair that continued through all the years they had together. He was very proud of all the achievements and accomplishments of his children and granddaughter, and they in turn gave him much to be proud of.
The second was the Catholic Church. He had an abiding faith in its fundamental precepts, but his commitment was not blind. He questioned and debated, and wrestled with the problems inherent in following a long established belief system in a modern world. At the end of the day, however, it remained the touchstone that informed his spirituality, the bedrock of his beliefs.
I have learned that Bob could be quite catholic (and here I use the word in its full etymological meaning of “universal”) in his religious practices. A few years ago when Carol and I were living in London, England, he pitched up late on a Saturday, after a long and arduous trip to a number of the republics that had formed the eastern part of the old Soviet Union. He was tired and had contracted a bad cold, but his main concern was that he had not attended mass for some time. Happily, there was a church a few blocks from where we lived, and the next morning he set off to attend to his spiritual needs. He participated fully in the service and found the environment so warm and welcoming that he stayed for coffee hour. There he fell into conversation with a gentleman who turned out to be the organist. When Bob complimented him on the quality of his playing, the man said, “If you want to hear a great organ, you should go to the Catholic church across the street.” And that was how Bob came to realize that he had attended an Anglican communion instead of a Catholic mass, and not noticed the difference.
The third was his commitment to public service. He was a proud Canadian, who felt that we had values and interests that deserved strong endorsement at home, and vigorous promotion abroad. The foreign service therefore suited him well. He enjoyed an excellent career, reaching the levels of Consul-General and Ambassador, but much more important to him than titles was the opportunity it gave to be directly, personally involved in advancing those interests that in turn benefitted the Canadian good.
Bob had a successful career, as he had a successful life, in considerable part because he was a reservoir of goodwill and generosity. It radiated from him and touched the hearts of those with whom he came in contact. I know that around the world today many, many people are pausing to reflect on the fact that a vital force has been calmed, a strong voice and a hearty laugh stilled, and that a very special flame has flickered and died.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 24, No. 3 (2009) — Summer/Fall 2009 // Été/Automne 2009, pp. 30–31. Read the rest of this issue →
