What Makes Us Great

For 11 years, I have written and produced the tribute video for the recipient of the Northern Lights Award Of Distinction. It is an honor bestowed by the Edmonton Chamber of Commerce on those who exemplify the best in terms of contribution to the community through business and philanthropy. The recipients take it very seriously. We all take it very seriously.

In the process, I have met, interviewed and had the chance to learn much about people like Stan Milner, John and Barbara Poole, John and Bunny Ferguson, Eric Newell, the Hole family, the Wheaton family, Don Stanley’s family, Sandy MacTaggart, Irv Kipnes and Bill Comrie.

I have had the privilege to meet and chat with Peter Lougheed, Don Mazankowski, Dr. Mike Percy, Bob Stollery, Tony Franceschini, Anne McLellan — politicians, CEOs, industry leaders — a parade of local icons.

Every year, I meet these highly successful people and help them navigate their way through the tribute process, which essentially means taking a lifetime of accomplishment and cramming it into 10 minutes of strategically layered images, footage, spoken word, interviews — and anything else I can use in an attempt to capture the essence of their stories.

In the shadow of their greatness, I take my own pulse to see what I have accomplished and try desperately not to measure myself against the stories I tell of others. Often, I remind myself that it is ok for some of us to be scribes while others spread the wealth through philanthropy.

As a scribe, I have the opportunity to articulate the greatness of others. As a person, I learn about greatness and what it takes to achieve it. If there is one thing I have gleaned from this process, it is that humility is the biggest part of who they are. Deep down, they have a deep respect for life and others.

Irv Kipnes, one of the recipients I created a tribute for, had more or less divested himself of most of his archive material. I had very little to work with.

Of course, creativity finds a way, but what intrigued me most was why he did not choose to keep anything.

His answer was, “What am I going to do with it? It’s just taking up space unnecessarily.” In other words, what mattered to him more were the results of his efforts left behind to endure — and to sustain art, culture, health and business and the future of bright minds.

In a discussion with John Poole, I encouraged him to write a book about his career. He was reluctant, because he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.  He viewed it as something negative — being egotistical and self centered. This was not how the Pooles behaved. But I was tenacious, urging him to consider that his story would inspire others; that there were John Pooles out there who would benefit from his experience.

He was beginning to reconsider his position about the book shortly before he passed away. If nothing else, the scribe had inspired the master.

Sometimes, I compare myself to Virgil who, in ‘The Divine Comedy’ by Dante, was assigned the role of being a guide to souls traveling from purgatoria to paradiso. Because Virgil, the philosopher, had never made a clear commitment to faith, God assigned him the role of the guide serving other spirits without any promise to him of ever entering heaven — or hell for that matter.

It reveals how God (according to Dante) is clever, wise, shrewd — one might even see His humor and perhaps the shades of irony in this judgment.

So, perhaps I am Virgil. When I embrace the body of work and experience that is my life and career, especially at a time in my life when I am pausing to measure it with some diligence — I appreciate much of what I have learned, especially when I think about all the people with whom I have walked many paths.

It has been so wonderfully imperfect. The question is, will I be like Virgil forever? Would it be easier to stay the course and walk the same path over and over; back and forth? Do I have a choice? Is my process a predisposition or a destiny determined by the Great Creator?

Will the words of the scribe take him beyond the page? Will my articulation of the things I have witnessed be a worthy contribution? Will the pages be the legacy? I may never know. Funny, when you think of it. By implication, it reveals God’s humor — and, perhaps, his ironic twist on things.