This week’s Sunday Story is actually a Monday story. That’s because on Saturday, the day I normally write and schedule this blog for publishing, Teryn and I were at a wedding of a very dear friend. The festivities continued until 4:30 AM - so you know it was a good wedding. As a couple of professionals knocking on the door of 40, we recognize acknowledging we were out partying till 4:30 AM might not be the most “done thing” to cop to in our weekly blog. But it is the authentic thing, so here we are.
Before I tell you more about that wedding, I need to tell you about a man named Gord. This tale tracks back to a keynote session I’ve delivered a few times, and the incredible power that comes from simply being aware of how fleeting life’s amazing moments truly are. If you are a Canadian, you’re likely going to know the Gord I’m talking about. He was the frontman for the most Canadian band in the world, and I’m confident in saying they are the most Canadian because the band actually had two guys named Gord in it. In this case, I’m talking about Gord Downey.
The Hip, as we call them here in Canada, provided the sound track to Canadians from coast to coast to coast for a long time; they were uniquely ours, singing about sundown in the Paris of the Prairies, or letting us know how uncouth it is in Canadian culture to say that you don’t give a %^&$ hockey - most of us never heard someone saying that before, after all. They captured the zeitgeist of Canada in a way that only artists can. And I never cared for them, really - at least, not for most of my life. It’s not that I disliked their music, it was just that I didn’t understand it when I was younger; I’ve written elsewhere that I’m the child of Irish parents, and all of us had to figure out Canadian culture together. Once I learned what a “Bobcaygeon” was, it was a lot easier to get into them.
But that didn’t happen for me until their final concert. It was a few years ago now, and it took place in Kingston, Ontario. To say it was a huge deal is an understatement - more people in Canada watched that concert than have ever watched a Stanley Cup Championship or gold medal hockey game. Based on ratings data on number of screens, it looks like about 2/3rds of the country watched this concert, and since so many of us watched it with others, its very likely that there are few Canadians who didn’t at least catch a glimpse of the Hip’s last concert on that warm summer night. Our Prime Minister was there - not with an entourage, but in a T-Shirt, standing in with the rest of the crowd.
The reason it was a big deal is because this concert was Canada saying goodbye, in a way, to Canada’s band, and it was Canada’s band saying goodbye to us. Because the magnetic frontman of this band, Gord Downey, was diagnosed with a glioblastoma and was terminally ill. The diagnosis was the start of what proved to be a massive tour from coast to coast, but it wasn’t until the Kingston show where I sat down and listened and watched - my wife was a big Hip fan, and I was happy to share this experience with her.
As the concert went on, I heard the familiar tunes that ring a bell to Canadians everywhere, but I also saw something else. Every once in a while, Gord Downey would pause, look around, and seemed to be taking it all in. It occurred to me about halfway through that we were watching something incredibly profound.
We are often aware of our firsts. Our first kiss or our first love. The first time moving away from home. Firsts are momentous occasions, and even if something becomes a matter of routine, we often do not forget our firsts.
Our lasts are another story entirely. Do you remember the last time you were magically transported from the back of the car to your bed by your parents? Do you remember the last time they lifted you up and held you in their arms? What about those friends from college - Most of my readers are reaching the age where life stops giving as much, and starts taking away, and I know we’ve all experienced some losses - do you remember the last time you spoke to those you loved before they were lost?
The thing about “firsts” and “lasts” is that we are always aware of our first time doing something, but we often do something for the last time and are totally unaware of it. When we have the privilege of being aware that we are doing something for the last time it is a gift. It’s a reminder to pause, take a moment, and allow all your senses to take in the experience. It was what Gord appeared to be doing that entire concert. His occasional pauses to look around struck me that this was a man aware he was doing something he loved for the last time.
I found it inspiring, and since watching that concert I’ve tried to be aware of my Gord Moments and snap a photo - my wife and I have a shared album of these moments in our lives spanning quite a few years now.
Back to this wedding: A very dear friend from college was getting married to his wonderful partner. As with many of you, I had a group of “found family” in my years as an undergrad student, largely forged through connections made in Student Housing. Not only was this the chance to celebrate my friend - my brother, truly - but it was also a family reunion of sorts. People I’d not seen in years were there, and it was fantastic to catch up.
It was also a moment in time where I found myself wondering if this would be a Gord Moment for me. This crew has been spread and scattered literally all over this earth. Catching up with so many, the conversations in many cases picked up right where they left off with the same fun and games, as so many people came together to celebrate the bride and groom. But interspersed in these conversations were the updates: ailing parents. Minor wellbeing challenges that creep in as Father Time ticks away are starting to hit my generation. Some have had kids, and all of us agreed that time is going by far, far faster than it used to. There were moments when the music was playing, the fire was roaring in the field, and the stars were painting the sky with the beauty of the Milky Way galaxy and I was next to my wife where I sincerely wished I had a “pause” button.
But we don’t get to have a pause button - we get Gord Moments. It was a beautiful wedding, a wonderful reception, and a nostalgia-filled afterparty that managed to somehow avoid a noise complaint in the hotel (probably because everyone from the hotel was invited). But it was also a reminder that as a human - and as a leader, because I don’t believe those are separate things - these people have had a profound impact on who I am and what I’m about. Weddings don’t happen that often.
When was the last time you got together with the people who shaped you?
Was it a Gord Moment for you?
Are you OK with that?
Because if not, it doesn’t have to be.
If you are as lucky as I am to have friends like I have, then you’ll take this Sunday Story as a sign that it’s time to pick up the phone, plan a trip, and somehow connect back with those who shaped you, if they are still around. Someday they won’t be, but for now they made you the human you are and the leader you are, and you should connect with them from time to time for a reminder. Do that this week - it’ll be worth it - and we’ll see you next Sunday. Thanks for reading.
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