bout de papier, Vol. 21, No. 4 (2005) — Winter 2005 // Hiver 2005, pp. 7–8
The measure of a man’s life is the well spending of it, and not the length.” Plutarch
Len Mader’s sudden death on March 5, 2005 at the age of 57 was a tragedy for his family and a shocking loss for his many friends in Canada and around the world. It was especially poignant because Len had recently retired and was having the time of his life. His days were filled with the joy of doing the things that he most wanted to do in life — studying, teaching, spending time with the people he loved and admired. It was those last eight months of Len’s life that provide the key to understanding the whole man.
Len was born and raised in Calgary. After graduating from the University of Calgary and University of Western Ontario, he joined External Affairs — as it was then called — in 1974. He had postings in New York (as a stagiaire at the United Nations, with a full term at the Consulate-General), Dublin and London. With his communications skills and astute sensitivity on issues of messaging and methodologies, Len became one of the principal architects of departmental communications strategies in a series of headquarters and overseas jobs.
By the end of the 1990s, after serving in personnel, quietly untangling problems, dissecting conflicting policies and working his way quietly towards consensus solutions, he was ready for new challenges. It was a considerable leap of experience and background when Len became director of the Security Operations Division, but his calming style of management and careful ways in managing people made him an ideal candidate. Len brought to the job his typical blend of rational assessment and subtle wit, even while attending to the most difficult and wrenching problems of foreign service life in an increasingly insecure world. In the post 9/11 environment, when his Division became a lightning rod for so many issues, reasoned or not, Len worked his way through the intense pressures without ever losing his cool. The motto he coined for his Division — “keeping careless people alive in exotic locations” — lives on, a tribute to Len’s dedication, professionalism and good humour which were at the core of his 30 years in the foreign service.
For those who worked with Len, probably the first word that comes to mind when thinking of him is “balance.” Len was always even-tempered and calm, though he held strong views on many subjects. When others around him were flapping, he would simply bear down and get the work done.
For those who knew Len outside the office, balance is also a term they would use, but balance in a much wider sense. Balance as a sense of proportion, as an understanding of how to value the things that matter most to a person and assign them their relative weights in a life lived honourably and well. Balance as a passionate commitment to doing right by the people he loved and cared about.
Family was paramount. Len met his wife Robin while posted in New York, and with their two sons, Daniel and David, they formed a close-knit foreign service family which was the cornerstone of Len’s life. He was immensely proud of his family, in the quiet, unassuming way which was his manner. Those who heard the eloquence of Daniel and David at Len’s funeral as they spoke of their father’s passing were struck by their strength of character and the family that had nurtured it.
There were other passions as well, particularly his growing commitment over the years to Judaism, not only as a matter of faith but also as a way of life. Len had always been impressed by the deep traditions in Judaism. He talked often of the lines of Jewish learning and inquiry that could be traced back unbroken for thousands of years. Perhaps most important, however, was the sense of community and continuity that he found in Judaism. When he retired, Len had the time to pursue these interests with enthusiasm and delight. He met and prayed regularly with a group of Jewish scholars. He volunteered as a teacher at an Ottawa Jewish school. In retirement, Len had the time to give back to the community he loved, and he did so passionately.
There is, in the Jewish tradition, a simple moral principle passed down from parent to child: “Be a mensch.” Be a human being. It is not a matter of high philosophy but of ordinary decency. Take your responsibilities towards others seriously, be the kind of person that other people can trust and count on. At Len’s funeral, the room was packed with many hundreds of people who had assembled within hours of his death to pay tribute to him. It was a remarkably diverse group, and many people looking around the room were struck by how many lives have been touched by Len and his family. It brought home to everyone just how lovely a man he was. Len was a real mensch, and we miss him very much.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 21, No. 4 (2005) — Winter 2005 // Hiver 2005, pp. 7–8. Read the rest of this issue →
