Not all memorials are created equal
One service for a departed colleague was warmly intimate, and another was anything but
This week, down from the rig for two trips down memory lane with happy and sad memories.
May 2017 was a tough month to pay tribute to two old friends. I preferred life when I was much younger, when it seemed every month we were attending yet another wedding.
I graduated from high school back in the 60s. One of my best buddies Ron on to become a high school teacher, and a very popular member of his community. When he retired, his computer website was a reference to “wanting old cars.”
He was always a car nut, as were all of us grads from that era. Girls were a close second, but if they drove a wicked car or pickup they’d move into first.
Ron died recently. There was a memorial service for him, and it was well attended with friends and relatives from all over the Excited States, as well as yours truly heading south from Canada.
Everyone intermixed, introduced themselves, and new old friendships flourished. No name tags were needed. Nice classic vehicles in the parking lot. Lots of wild and crazy stories, and it was a wonderful way to remember, and say goodbye, to a special long-time friend. A friend who was a true friend to the end ... a span of over 50 years.
The second memorial I attended recently was a polar opposite to Ron’s service.
I first met Neil Macrae in 1971 when we both were working in sister radio stations here in B.C. He was in News and wanted to do Sports; I was in Sports and wanted to get into News. Our mutual boss would not allow the swap, so the two of were resigned to just have fun on our respective beats, and enjoy ourselves to the max. When I moved to Vancouver radio, I was still in sports but had a chance to move across the hall into news. I called Neil and told him of my move, and to come apply for my old job. He did, and got the gig.
Some years later, he followed me over to another station, and the fun continued. It was at the third station together that he changed his delivery — found his niche as it were — and the rest is history.
Despite his often-abrasive on-air shtick, turn the microphone off and he was still the big-hearted and fun-loving Neil whom I had made a pact of friendship with back in ‘71.
Neil passed away at the age of 65. Too young, but the Big C claimed him. His family had a memorial service for him in the Vancouver Hotel last month, and it was ‘show time.’
Name tags were the order of the day. There was an open bar, lovely ladies moved around the convention room with trays of snack food, and others with large glasses of wine, all generously paid for by Neil’s family.
Hundreds of former broadcasters, radio salesmen and even some successful and un-successful politicians were in attendance.
In my opinion, most were there for all the wrong reasons. They were there to be seen, and to relive the time when they thought they were ‘hot stuff.’ I found it sad to watch. It was a vivid display of over-inflated egos. The rest of the world really does not care. Out of sight, out of mind. But they were still trying for one last kick at the can.
I lasted for 55 minutes. I visited with a few old broadcasters who think the same as me … ones who had moved on with their lives, and were successful and happy to be out of broadcasting.
I signed Neil’s family memory book. I paid my respects, and left the show for what it was. A spectacle that had too many players who had forgotten their place and forgotten their lines.
Rest In Peace, Ron and Neil. You will always be two of the good guys in my lifetime of memories.
I could fill a newspaper with stories about life on the road, but why not share yours? Send them to Driving editor Andrew McCredie at amccredie@postmedia.com.