Lastday at Hole's

March, 1998: Earl begins his work at Hole's

Ah, Lastday! When citizens ascend to the heavens in Carousel to be Renewed!

That's my hope, at any rate. Today was my last day at Hole's, the end of a seven-and-a-half year gardening odyssey. During that time I've cowritten hundreds of articles, contributed to over a dozen books, helped produce a handful of short television episodes, and written over a thousand speeches. That's a fair chunk of verbiage, and I'm very grateful to Bruce, Bill, Jim, Valerie, Dave, Ted and Lois for taking a chance on a very green writer. I had a lot of fun, learned about the art and the craft of writing, and helped make a real difference in the lives of my fellow Canadians. Not many jobs can offer that.

I was particularly moved by the generosity of my coworkers, who presented me with a very nice card overflowing with warm thoughts and a hefty gift certificate for Chapters.

But most of all, I have to thank my boss and friend Bruce, who not only gave me an absolutely gorgeous collected Calvin & Hobbes with a personalized bookplate, but with a few simple words helped me understand that my changing relationship with Hole's isn't a calamity, but a brand new beginning, full of opportunity. Bruce took a big risk in hiring me back in 1998, and I'll always be very grateful.

Thanks Bruce! Serial commas rule!

October 21, 2005: Earl's last day at Hole's

Ted Hole, 1926-2003

Mr. Hole died last Wednesday, and today I was one of the thousands who went to the Winspear Centre to pay their respects. It was a beautiful memorial, held in a beautiful building, with beautiful music.

I really only knew Mr. Hole as Lois' husband, but despite our casual acquaintance I did feel a connection with Ted. He made a point of telling me what a great job I was doing, and I admired his quiet dignity and wry sense of humour. He was a philanthropist, a gentleman, a man who appreciated the fine arts, a man who never hesitated to give anyone a helping hand. Family friend Donna Powell, Ted's sons Bill and Jim, his granddaughter Kate, and U of A President Rod Fraser all spoke eloquently of Mr. Hole. It was probably Bill who moved me most, if only because he was so obviously distraught; the Holes generally keep a tight reign on their emotions in public, and it was a little shocking, if understandable, to see Bill cry.

At the reception, I ran into Carol Mellors, who had been playing timpani with the Edmonton Schoolboys Alumni Band at the beginning of the program. Carol used to serve as a director of the Western Board of Music, the outfit I used to work for. As we were chatting, Lois passed by, and she touched my shoulder; I almost didn't see her, and all I had time to say was "Hello, Your Honour" before she and her escort were off. Then, just a few seconds later, Bill passed us, and he reached out and gave my shoulder a firm squeeze, saying, "Thanks, Earl." And then, almost as if they'd timed it, Jim came by and squeezed my shoulder as well, giving me just a nod.

I'm not a touchy-feely kind of person, but for some reason, those three brief moments of human contact really meant a lot to me. If anything I did (and I really did very little for this sad event) made any of this any easier for them, I'm very glad, and very grateful.