Various people I know have met the great and the good in the course of their lives and have spoken with people that are 'household names'. Not me.
Two of my closest encounters were Jackie Kennedy having lunch in the Carlyle Cafe in New York several feet away from my husband and myself and seeing another former first lady of the U.S., Betty Ford, being greeted a few feet away from me at Le Cirque restaurant. In Canada, Brian Mulroney attended a cultural event I was at. Otherwise, I met the present and two former mayors, a former premier and a couple of other politicos. Saw Ken Thomson of the Globe and Mail on the street at Eglinton and Yonge and spoke to Adrienne Clarkson in a Buffet line, but she did not speak to me. I also saw Princess Anne from a few feet away at one year's Royal Winter Fair and finally, last year, I saw Prince Edward in Hamilton.
Other people I know, including members of my family, have seen or met the Queen, Princess Anne, Pope John Paul II and many other famous people either when they were visiting Canada or otherwise in the course of their working lives.
In contrast, as detailed above, my own experience with the famous is limited and casual with two exceptions.
The second was being at a luncheon and press conference hearing Audrey Hepburn speak for Unicef, a unique experience which I will write about separately.
However, when I was in the 12th Grade, I had the honour and privilege to meet privately with one of the most extraordinary people of all. His name is Jean Vanier. I will write briefly about him here.
People around me were very excited that he was coming to speak at Convocation Hall at the University of Toronto and also to give a series of lectures at St. Michael's College.
A couple of days before the event on March 5th, 1967 however, his father, a former Governor General of Canada had died. About a year before, as a young teenager I had my first experience of the loss of death when my elderly grandfather had died. The great sorrow I felt, made me feel that the speaker would likely not be available to give the lecture, but I was mistaken.
Convocation Hall was packed. A group of Hari Krishna's came into the auditorium chanting and drumming for probably about 10 minutes and lifted the mood of the large room. A few minutes later, the speaker was announced. A very tall thin man, dressed in what my mind registered as a 1940's suit, stood up in the second or third row, lifted a long leg over the seat(s) in front of him and walked to the podium and began to speak. He hadn't said a word, but I was immediately surprised and impressed.
I wonder why we know someone is special...but we do. I knew then, shortly after he began to speak, that even with my very limited knowledge of the world, that I was in the presence of someone very special.
Jean Vanier began a home for young people with intellectual disabilities in 1964, by taking 2 young men into his home in Trosly-Breuil France. The organization he started called L'Arche - the Ark is now has 150 communities.
Though I hardly knew anything about him, it was quickly obvious that someone who could go anywhere in life and do anything, had decided instead that these young disabled men and women could be taken care of when their families and the government had left them without a place to go after they turned 18.
Subsequently, I attended another lecture or two and, filled with admiration, asked whether I could come and talk to him about working in France with Retarded Children.
When I met with him, one morning in a residence on the U of T campus, the humility I saw in the no nonsense Convocation Hall entrance carried over into what he said and did.
Naturally, he needed to tell me a bit about his organization and ask a little about me. He quickly realized, I am sure, that my enthusiasm for the concept of helping disabled people, in France no less, far outweighed any ability or qualifications I might have to do so.
It was easy for him to discover that I had never met a retarded person so, if I was serious, I should be aware that if my nature required seeing a sense of learning and progress, I would be disappointed. On top of this, I would need to speak much better French. It was gently suggested that I visit a nearby facility that worked with retarded children and finish high school.
Then he did something I will never forget. He took a piece of paper on which I had written my name and address, transferred it to a small pocket notebook he carried and asked me if he could put my paper into the garbage.
When I asked him what he meant, he simply said that I had given this to him and he wanted my permission to dispose of it. I have never forgotten this.
Ultimately, I met two groups of retarded people, children shortly after meeting Vanier and a several years later, a group of adults at a house where several of them lived in a community and worked in the larger world. These latter were introduced by my high school friend, Janice, who actually had worked with Vanier in France for eight years.
I never worked with Vanier although for many years I received a hand made Christmas card from L'Arche in France and made small donations to them.
That however, continued long after I was the young adult who told Vanier that I had been reading a book by Tielhard de Chardin and, of course, I understood what he was saying. Wiser, then and now, than I am, he said that he was trying to.
Perhaps someday I might learn this kind of humility. I am glad I remember it now. Perhaps it will remind me of another thing I need to work on.
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