A Little Help from our Friends

A Little Help from our Friends

In the fall of 1979, as the new school year was about to begin, I found myself in exile, shunted to a crowded, windowless office space in a remote corner of our tiny college, Champlain St. Lawrence CEGEP in Quebec City.

As a young, part-time English instructor, I didn’t have dibs on a real office. The space allocated was more of a warehouse for the near superfluous, populated and surrounded by strange and uncouth people milling around.

 

The “office” had at least 10 official denizens and welcomed many more, a sort of way station in academic Hades.

 

The neighbouring office belonged to the student council, a raucous, hirsute bunch, who puffed on substances that were illegal then, but now form the backbone of the Canadian economy.

 

And two doors away was a hybrid student lounge/ necking gallery from whose confines tobacco smoke billowed and rock music blared. Scandalized faculty called it the “den of iniquity” and derisively decried “the din of the den.”

 

One of my office mates was a young man in his 20s, like myself. He taught business law. His name: Tom Mulcair. Tom and his wife Catherine soon became our closest friends.

Tom and Catherine had a toddler at the time and a little house in the suburb of Cap Rouge, which they couldn’t really afford to furnish.

 

We went out for dinner on numerous occasions with Tom and Catherine, sampling the delectable cuisine of establishments in Place Royale and Old Quebec.

 

Tom and Catherine took us under their wing. When Anne had a miscarriage in the winter of 1980, she was able to turn to Catherine, who accompanied her to the hospital and provided sympathy and support.

 

For his part, Tom was determined to help me deal with my problematic parents, who were ruthlessly hounding me to finish my doctorate.

Tom was a pragmatic man of action. His first notion was to tell my father to get his own doctorate, and when that suggestion didn’t fly, he proposed that the four of us set aside a weekend, purchase several cases of beer, and complete the doctorate as a team.

 

Tom provided a ray of sunshine in that dingy, congested office warehouse. He reserved his best witticisms for the philosophy teachers who held impromptu conclaves in our midst. “Did you hear that bovine excrement?” he would ask me after the erstwhile philosophers finally vacated the premises.

 

Tom was always extraordinarily generous with his time and energy. He went out of his way to find a lawyer who could extricate me from my first marriage, so that I could wed my precious Anne.

We have remained in touch with Tom and Catherine over the last 45 years as their personal and public lives have evolved, Catherine becoming a psychologist and Tom, a renowned politician, professor, and pundit. We have crossed paths at political party conventions, conferences, and protests and always warmly share the latest news of our lives and families.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Mulcair

 

When Tom and Catherine learned that Anne had been stricken by incurable brain cancer, they reached out once again to offer assistance and support.

 

A little help from our friends…

 

Your friend,

Robert

https://robertmcbrydeautnhor.com/