Gord lightfoot

Call him a legend. An icon. A superstar.
But the reality is, Gord Lightfoot never thought of himself as any of those things. “I’m just a guy from Orillia,” he’d say.
And now he’s left us.
At age 84, Gordon Lightfoot passed away yesterday.
I’ve been listening to the accolades and stories on the radio about this troubadour from those who knew him, or claim to have known him. Which brought to mind my own encounter. No, not as drinking buddies or at a concert lining up for autographs. This was decidedly different: we were two guys watching our kids play floor hockey.
Let me explain.
Back in the day, in Toronto, my two young sons Charlie and Jamie enjoyed the sport of floor hockey. It was played mornings in the school gymnasium. Now, in order to get access to the gym, the team had to play at 7am. Having been a “ morning man” at the radio station where I worked years before, I was used to waking up when the world was still dark. And so, I’d get the boys their breakfast and we’d hop in the car to make our way to school. (BTW, the nice thing about driving in Toronto at that hour: very little traffic!) The boys would head in to put their books and lunches aside, change and head to the gym. And I always ventured into the gym as well, grabbing a chair and hanging out to watch. What the heck: I was there anyway and I always enjoyed seeing my boys play sports. I think there may have been one time where another parent was present, but typically, I would be on my own, sitting at the end of the gym, watching.
 
Well, one fine morning, who should walk in but Gordon Lightfoot. I recognized him immediately. I knew the man lived nearby, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised his kids went to the same school. Now, I don’t know if it was the early hour or the impact of substances, but he looked a little “uneven”. Anyway, he ventured over to the chairs near to where I was ensconced, sat down, drank from a coffee cup, and watched the game unfolding. Never said a word to me and I, being the respectful guy I am, didn’t bother him either.
This went on for three mornings, neither of us so much as acknowledging the other guy. Until one day he ventured in and saw me there again. This time he nodded, said “Hi” and then focused on the game and his coffee. I replied “Hi”, and that was that.
Then, a couple of mornings later, when Gord walked in, I mentioned something about a new coach (teacher) being in place. This apparently took him by surprise and he asked me “Why?” I won’t bore you here with the reason, but I did share it with Gord and that seemed to satisfy him. And it was at that moment the ice was broken. From there, I guess he realized I wasn’t some groupie or an autograph hound, and over the days we went on to talk about our kids, their abilities, the town of Orillia (where he hailed from and where I visited often) and more. It was fun, and you know, there was a quality about him even then that here was a guy whose thoughts could be pretty inspiring.
Never saw Gord again after floor hockey season ended.
And I certainly can’t claim he was a friend, as so many are now doing. Yet, we did share some lovely moments as parents that I won’t soon forget.
Gordon Lightfoot was surely a marvellous songwriter and performer. We’ll miss him. But we Canucks can be proud he was one of us.
Rest easy Gord… it was a pleasure spending time with you.

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