There are people who come into our lives and leave a lasting impression. Of the thousands of people we may meet in a lifetime only a few persist in our minds. I don’t count family and friends and lovers in this category – they have formed an inerasable memory because of some emotional intensity, or long relationship. Memories of many others in our lives have to be probed to be recalled; some fade completely into the disused caverns of our minds. But the exceptional people come unbidden to consciousness whenever a characteristic or trait they manifested is in play. Such people persist in our minds for their mostly positive traits. (It must be acknowledged, though, some exceptionable people also insert themselves into persistent memories.)
But the people exceptional in the demonstration of positive characteristics are the ones that endure: Courage, wisdom, tolerance, passion for truth and virtue, intelligence, sense of humour. I have already eulogized two of these people (see Travels with Myself). And now I find myself pondering the impact of another exceptional person who happened into my life: Francine Pharand.
Francine was an accomplished lawyer, practicing in her hometown of Hull, Québec. Her parents were both from long-time prominent families in West Quebec. She herself was well-known in the law communities of both Ottawa and Hull, but especially the smaller and more intimate legal community in Hull, which often included penetrating the public barrier between lawyers and the judiciary with private parties. She might have had a successful career in politics as her maternal grandfather, but she eschewed that for lack of interest in public policy and more in providing legal service to her clients.
But her professional résumé was not what made her an exceptional person. She was not a saint, but she manifested, freely and easily, some wonderful traits that set her apart from most of the rest of us.
I’ve written previously about the great virtues, referencing in particular André Comte-Sponville’s A Small Treatise on the Great Virtues. Sponville describes eighteen of them (there may be more but the philosophers generally agree these are the in the top tier); Sponville may agree with Aristotle that the best that human beings can do is try to find a balance in their lives between virtue and vice, but he probably exhorts his fellow travelers to not limit themselves to ‘the golden mean’ but to strive to live one’s life virtuously, maximizing virtuous behaviour.
Sponville would concede that it is likely impossible for mere mortals to be fully virtuous in all eighteen domains, but can strive to do the best they can, and seek excellence in a couple of them. With this guidance I have picked six I value most; some are comparatively easy for me to practice, a couple are more challenging.
I don’t know if Francine would describe herself as a virtuous person, or someone consciously seeking to live a more virtuous life. I doubt she had a ‘top six’ list of virtues she aspired to, but I do believe she was naturally virtuous in two or three domains. And these are the things that, for me at least, make her an exceptional person: generosity, tolerance, sense of humour.
I met Francine through Match.com during my ‘year of living dangerously’ (though, it might be said, my year lasted at least three years, and may be still ongoing). (You can read about these adventures and ruminations in my first blog set, Travels with Myself. Or buy the book of the same name.) She was attractive; she had that undefinable ‘sparkle’ in her eye (something her photo, even though an on-line low resolution digital ‘pic’, did not hide). Her smile signalled there was a good-natured, good-humoured, genuine person who inhabited that image. She was age-appropriate, though I never knew until recently what age she actually was, or maybe I knew but I hadn’t remembered; it seemed irrelevant. She exuded energy.
I don’t recall which of us initiated contact. It doesn’t matter. We exchanged emails and quickly progressed to telephone conversations. (In on-line dating, this is always a good sign – reluctant coy respondents are the first sign that this relationship will be hard work. Francine’s first language is French, but her English was strong, certainly stronger than my French.
Like the thorough lawyer she must have been she had picked out of my profile that I liked the occasional cigar. So she suggested as our first meeting that we have dinner at the Hilton Lac Leamy and afterwards move on to the cigar lounge there. Hmmm, thought I, winner/gagnant, though I was a bit intimidated by the potentially high facteur I might face. Not to worry, she divined, I have a coupon.
And worry was not altogether immaterial. Our dinner started with a double martini for her, Campari and soda for me; steak or roast beef followed accompanied by a bottle of red, probably a California cab, and then, for me, some sort of sweet for dessert, chocolate something or other. Francine demurred. And for good reason – Francine weighed well over 200 pounds.
We repaired to the cigar lounge to indulge me in my cigar, a decadent treat for those of us in Ontario forced to smoke outdoors. Francine didn’t smoke but she had no problems keeping me company. Engaging conversation continued but all the while I was calculating how I would tell Francine I had no romantic interest in her. The easiest thing to do was to say nothing and let the evening and the relationship end of its own accord. But I couldn’t do that to her, it seemed cowardly to avoid the truth. But how to tell it without unnecessary hurt?
I don’t know what I said or how I said it but I hope I was gentle enough.
Francine was no fool – she was a lawyer after all, and a smart one; and she possessed high self-esteem and self-awareness. ‘Regardez, celà’, she said, or something like that, ‘I know I’m no Hollywood starlet, but I am good company and I think you need that. And besides you’re pretty good company yourself. Maybe we could just be friends.’
Part of me judged this was not a good idea – better to make it a clean break and get on with my search – but part of me thought, this is an interesting and collected person, maybe she’s right. We agreed to have dinner again – this time a modest raclette restaurant in Gatineau.
And so began a long series of dinners and lunches, all the while both of us exploring our futures with other potential partners on Match.com. We’d meet and discuss our mostly misadventures of the previous week. We also explored many other topics, and her agile mind was comfortable with almost every topic; she took life much less seriously than I did, and, even though a good Catholic, much more tolerant of the ambiguity and pointlessness of life than I. I called her a lazy Liberal and asked her what her famous grandfather, a Conservative Member of Parliament would think; she just smiled and shrugged. I’m sure she was the happier person.
And that was to be the pattern of our many lunch and dinner dates thereafter – engaging conversation over lunch or dinner. They weren’t always expensive restaurants – though she did have a preference for Al’s Steak House on Elgin; she always seemed to have a gift card or other coupon at the ready to reduce our joint bill. I may have been living recklessly (for me) but I still worried about money.
She thought I was drifting to the extreme when I told her, four months later, I was off to The Philippines to assess this Filipina prospect I had just met on Filipinocupid.com. Be careful, she advised. We continued to have lunch over the next four months as I reported on my ongoing dating adventures and the progress of my Filipina affair. When I brought Carmen to Canada it seemed perfectly natural to me to have her to meet Francine, though they must have wondered.
Francine had been married twice – and stood by both of them as they succumbed to serious illnesses. She never had children of her own. But she did have a long and extended set of relatives, nieces and nephews, and also with the families of her previous husbands. She had a massive dining table in her large ranch style house on Pink Road in Aylmer Quebec, and she threw a huge Fête de Noël each Christmas Eve in the classic Québecois tradition, full Christmas China service for 24. She began her Christmas shopping in October, which sounds daunting but spent mostly at craft shows and gift certificates at SAQ and Al’s Steakhouse. I think she began cooking in early December, tortières, sugar pies and I don’t know what else. I was never invited to these parties but I’m sure I benefited from some of those gift certificates.
Ms. Pharand supported my writing. She bought a few of my books, and she subscribed to my blog. She often commented on whatever was the topic of the day and she certainly read the covering letters. This became the principal way we kept in touch. Interspersed twice a year with another lunch at Al’s. She knew the Saikaly’s personally.
Francine was not in good health. She was grossly overweight but she always claimed her blood pressure was good and her glycemic index fine. But she walked with a cane, and sometime used a walker; And she was often breathless after just a short excursion to and from her car. Her old Chevy Malibu was equipped with assists for disabled persons and wouldn’t give it up. That’s one of the reasons she liked to have lunch at Al’s Steak House, because they had free parking at the back and an easy walk into the restaurant.
She lived alone after her second husband died in the big elevated ranch bungalow on two acres of land. I’d say to her, ‘Francine, really? This is a big property, how do you manage?’ Well, she hired handymen and her neighbours were very helpful. She’d enter her house by the lower-level garage and ascend to the main level by a Stairmaster. I often talked with her about downsizing – we even visited a few Seniors’ apartments in Alymer – but she wasn’t ready. And I understand that. Downsizing and leaving your home of 30+ years is not so simple a task, physically, and especially emotionally.
But then she agreed to tests for her breathlessness and discovered she had a number of serious blockages. She agreed to heart surgery and though she faced it with fortitude and with foreknowledge – her second husband had had open heart surgery. Her recovery was complicated: she suffered a serious bacterial infection of the pericardial cavity and was in and out of hospital for a year.
She slowly recovered and finally downsized to a two bedroom apartment in a new complex in Alymer. I went to see her in her new digs; it was claustrophobic, crammed with her furniture and many boxes still waiting to be unpacked, no doubt some of which were filled with her Christmas china. We had a light lunch she had prepared and a nice bottle of Bordeaux, but our reunion seemed to me slightly awkward. I left mildly depressed. I promised I would visit her again, but there was always some reason I couldn’t quite bring myself to make the drive from Kanata to Alymer, and cursed myself for my lack of courage.
A curious thing happened this past summer. I started a career counseling program with a young lawyer. It transpired that this young man was a member of the extended Francine family. In September I wrote to Francine asking when would be a good time to talk. She replied almost immediately, ‘I am hospitalized presently. Heart condition and kidneys. Still undergoing tests before deciding on the best action to take.’ The following week, a Wednesday evening, Carmen and I were watching Wheel of Fortune, the phone rang and for once the caller i.d. was displayed: Francine Pharand. I answered right away and we chatted for about twenty minutes. She was her usual good-natured self, strong voice, talking easily about her health situation and prognosis. She was to be medi-transfered the next day from the hospital in Hull to the Heart Institute in Ottawa. ‘Call me when you are settled, Francine’.
Two days later I got an email from her niece, Danielle Pharand: ’Francine was transferred to the Heart Institute Friday morning but she was very unstable. Her body just could not take any more, she was so tired and she passed at 20h30.’
It was distressing to get that message, not surprising, but nevertheless disquieting. Over the last year or more we had talked about going to Al’s for lunch one more time but we could never manage it. Pity. I’m so glad that, almost by chance, I had been able to talk to her two days before she died.
Francine’s funeral was last Saturday at St. Joseph’s Cathedral in Hull. Her many extended family and friends were there. The eulogies were lovely, and none of them talked about her noteworthy career in law; they were about her character.
She was a person who will remain in my memory for a long time, an icon of virtue.
Doug Jordan, reporting to you from Kanata
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