REMEMBERING OUR MAX
Right to the end, Max Keeping served the community he loved, refusing to give up hope and his unbridled joy of living and being with his family, Al MacKay writes.
My friend Max died the other day.
It’s not like we didn’t see it coming. Max Keeping was very public about what most of us would want to keep private. Even as cancer took an increasing toll, his struggles were there for all to see. He used his situation to increase awareness about cancer detection and treatment, to help with fundraising and to show the rest of us how to never, ever lose hope. Even to the end, he was serving the community he loved and the people in it.
Max was not for hiding. He truly lived his personal motto Live Life to the Max, staying fully engaged right up until he could not. He went to Sens games, enjoyed going out with his family for meals, and stayed in touch with former colleagues, who continued to visit even as his condition deteriorated. He was an inspiration with the way he handled the last few years; his courage — especially his courage — his eternal optimism, his refusal to give up or give in, his unbridled joy of living and being with his family.
Ottawa without Max. It just does not seem right to say that sentence.
Did we know what was going to happen when he became news director and then 6 p.m. anchor at CJOH in 1972? After all, news anchors come and go, and news directors, well, they’re mostly behind-the-scenes executives.
Did we expect the slew of honours that came his way — the Order of Canada, the Order of Ontario, honorary degrees from our two universities, a Gemini for humanitarian work and countless other citations? Don’t think so.
Did we expect to see a wing of CHEO named after him? Did we expect he would have a street named after him and be given the key to the city? Not sure that was anyone’s expectation when he took over the newsroom at 1500 Merivale Rd.
About all we did know that he was he was a proud Newfoundlander and one hell of a good journalist.
So what happened? Leadership happened.
It happened in the newsroom first. His former colleagues will tell you he was their best boss, ever. He cared deeply, not only about the quality of the work, but about his people, and he was loyal to a fault. His newsroom had high energy, low drama and zero backstabbing. You helped each other and helped the newsroom. Max was a teacher. When it came to reporting, he set his standards high, standards that you had to match. He set a tone and created a positive newsroom culture; he was sparing with praise and smart enough to trim egos when folks got ahead of themselves.
His journalists were grateful that he pushed them to really learn the craft, and taught them that small stories about life in the Valley were just as important as the stuff coming from officials at news conferences, if not more so. Max respected them and gave them lots of opportunity to succeed, and sometimes they did. He schooled his team about what journalism was really all about: Make the story mean something. Serve the viewer with your work. Make journalism your passion. And if a new and bigger opportunity came your way that took you out of his newsroom, Max was your biggest cheerleader, celebrating your new success, perhaps with a rum and Coke.
One former colleague summed it up this way: “I bet a lot of people who worked for Max think the same thing, that they were lucky to land in the best newsroom in the country at just the right moment.”
He also had fun at the anchor desk — but we’ll not dwell here on those memorable St. Patrick’s Day broadcasts that sometimes featured an anchor in less than formal settings and feeling no pain.
Then there was the leadership in the community, averaging well over 260 appearances a year at charity events, fundraisers and speaking engagements up and down the Ottawa and Seaway Valleys. No wonder that, over his 40 years at CJOH, he helped raise $100 million for charitable and community causes. There were also the countless actions where he quietly helped out people, down on their luck or facing tough times, with cash and other forms of assistance — none of which was to be made public. His friends finally convinced him to set up a foundation because he was far too generous with his own money, caring more about others than himself.
Of course his biggest community love was CHEO. Not surprising, because at heart Max was just a big kid himself, and he wanted to do anything and everything for those youngsters who were dealing with serious health challenges. He often said he couldn’t feel sorry for himself when he saw what his CHEO kids were dealing with and how they faced it. He drew his courage from them. There were many times he arrived
Was Max a man without his faults? … No. But he was a good man who did much more than was expected of him. He truly made a difference. Life cannot ask more of us than that.
without fanfare at the wards, new video games and other gifts in hand, to raise spirits and create smiles. CHEO said thank you by naming a wing after its biggest champion and by taking over his foundation when he was unable to be involved.
While all these things were important and highly public, the private Max was perhaps proudest of his family. Over the years he supported and guided troubled teenagers who had faced some difficulties in their life, and his leadership helped them mature into fine young men. He pushed them to get through school, taught them the value of hard work, accepting responsibility and setting and achieving goals. Some of these boys are now fathers with their own children.
His grandkids gave Max a whole new set of experiences, and he was never happier than when he was around them. He spoiled them as only he could, by taking them on trips or going to rock concerts, with Max being the most excited “kid” in the audience. He applauded their accomplishments, providing a shoulder to lean on whenever required.
While all his boys stepped up to help Max deal with his health issues, a special place in heaven is reserved for Shane, who has gone to incredible lengths to help his Dad through the last few years, assisted by a legion of Max’s friends who have provided food, driving to medical appointments, or even just sitting with him for a few hours.
He was beloved by his colleagues, respected and admired in the community, and adored by his boys and their families. Was Max a man without his faults? No. Was he a saint? No. But he was a good man who did much more than was expected of him. He truly made a difference. Life cannot ask more of us than that.
If you really knew Max, then you also knew the opening verse of that traditional Newfoundland folksong:
I’s the b’y that builds the boat, and I’s the b’y that sails her.
For so many of us, he was our Captain. He built the boat, and allowed us to crew it with him, even if only for a little while.
God bless, Max, and Godspeed. Al MacKay worked with Max for 25 years at CJOH TV. A celebration of life for Max Keeping will be held on Tuesday, at noon at