Treasured memories of Mr. Larsen, a valued mentor

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 01/04/2017 (3290 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

I don’t know how many of you had a favourite high school teacher, but you might want to reflect on that while I pay tribute to mine.

Why now?

Because Norm Larsen will celebrate his 82nd birthday on Tuesday.

And also because of a recent email exchange with my Grade 10 British History teacher at St. James Collegiate that left me deeply saddened.

It had been primarily emails and his reading the Free Press that have kept us in touch over the years. What made that contact uniquely enjoyable was his casual commentary continued to teach me history.

Especially Manitoba history.

Norm’s emailed comments also tended to touch on a variety of other themes — mainly justice and humanity, with a side of humour.

Now as I do my own reflecting on my own favourite teacher, I realize that’s what has kept us connected, even though we’ve rarely actually been in each other’s presence over the last 50 years.

As I recently realized, though, the connection goes deeper than our shared interests, which became apparent earlier this year when I left a message on his phone. I had called because, even though Norm’s emails only arrived sporadically over the years, there was something about his recent silence that worried me. As it turned out, when he finally replied via email, I had reason to be concerned.

Norm revealed he hadn’t been well for the last three years.

Yet during that time, he had celebrated his 80th birthday by publishing Notable People in Manitoba’s Legal History — his third book in the genre, law being one of his other passions.

“Mr. Larsen,” as we called him in the classroom, left teaching after only a few years to get a law degree and ultimately a Masters of Law from Harvard University. That opened a career path that immediately suggested a particular political leaning. Initially he articled, then partnered, with Joe Zuken — the avowed Communist who was elected year-after-year to city council — and Roland Penner, who become an NDP attorney general, a close friend and a co-author.

By 1972, when Legal Aid Manitoba was founded, Norm was its first staff lawyer. Within five years, he was the executive director.

He spent time with the Manitoba Law Society, too — and returned to teaching, this time at the University of Manitoba’s Faculty of Law.

He drafted statutory laws for the Manitoba government for the last dozen or so years of his career.

By 2000, he had retired and begun delving back into history and other matters he cared about. For five years he conducted seminars on funeral planning that offered practical alternatives for making them simpler and considerably less costly. That was his way of giving back while, I suspect, keeping himself and his restless intellect busy. So were the books that followed.

That last time I recall seeing Norm was six years ago when we had lunch together with his son, Kenton, who’s an instructor in advertising and public relations and teaches comedy writing at Red River College. Years later, I asked Kenton what Norm was like as a father.

“Exactly what he was like as a teacher, I bet. He’s a very analytical person. He thinks about everything but beneath that he’s a very sensitive man. In a very good way. In the sense he thinks about other people and what they might be going through and I think he likes to help people out.”

I wondered if his dad was also his teacher. “Very much so. The thing that was the bond over the years is humour. That probably influenced me more than anything.”

Which reminds me of a column from 2011, when I made mention of Norm and his partner, Linda Perry. It was after they found a headstone in rural Manitoba with an epitaph that I later declared my quote of the year: “Friend, as you pass by as you are, once I was. As I am, soon you will be. Prepare yourself to follow me. Make a will Dummy.”

Norm and I both laughed about that. But then, last month, that email arrived in response to my call of concern.

After he referred to the long illness I hadn’t known about, Norm wrote:

“When I think of you, Gordon, I see you standing at the back of a classroom at St. James, gym bag in hand, as the other students departed. You stayed for awhile and we had a pleasant conversation. You were such a likable guy. And still are, of course.

“I well remember your first column and being astonished that you could write under that kind of pressure. Your style was then quite unique, but the world has since caught up to you. I’m sure I’ve read more than 90% of your columns and enjoyed 89% of them!”

He was still marking me after all those years. Except higher.

“I always wanted to be a writer,” Norm continued, “and, at the tail end of my professional career, became the only kind of writer I could have been — a writer/drafter of statutory laws. My hours and pay were probably better than yours, but I might well have chosen your route if there had been a choice.”

Norm ended his email with these words: “Let me say that it has been a great pleasure knowing you and reading you for some 50 years. Thank you for your contribution to my lucky life.”

When I think about Norman Garrod Larsen, I think of a man possessing an unrivalled combination of intellect, caring and curiosity, wrapped in a grace that can’t be taught.

Or, I could put that in a way that might bring a smile as he reads this.

He is a man who wears his heart and his politics on his sleeve. His left sleeve, of course.

Happy birthday, Mr. Larsen.

gordon.sinclair@freepress.mb.ca