Pushing My Wares: An Interview with Holly McRann

Returning to those long turned-over journalistic roots of my high school days, I recently had the privilege of talking to a colleague, Holly McRann, on the subject of the birth defect of her left hand.

While she confessed to being a little nervous at having to think about what to say, I never told her how nervous I was in interviewing her. With such a sensitive topic, I knew that I had to be well prepared. On the day of the interview, I was skittish and the armpits were humidifying my shirt. Despite the initial jitters, I found my voice and she found hers. Holly spoke with her down-to-earth plain speak and quirky sense of humour. I listened and then I wrote.

Thanks must go out once again to Holly McRann for helping me to get such a high from this stuff; as usual, the 'what-ifs' about my life and career kick in but I know that it's much more fun as a hobby than as a job. Check out amateur journalism at its finest here.

Death. Again.

A colleague of mine died yesterday morning, at work, about 200 meters from me, most likely at the moment he fainted and his body struck the cold, hard, granite landing of that corner stairwell. I was not there. I did not see him. I was not there when my friends and co-workers rushed to his side, attempted CPR and escorted him to the hospital.

He was not a close friend of mine, and though our community here is relatively small and the lines between the fraternal and the collegial are blurred, the moments of deep connection did not occur. It is that way sometimes, and I could never pretend that it was any other. I feel privileged to have had those chances of friendly banter and the good cheer of a joke in the hallways.

It is also no lie that we share that common bond of all humanity, the one we are so often reminded of and the one that we so often forget. Those who come into this world, will at one point leave it. And knowing that, we must not be callous or indifferent, but strive to live to the fullest extent that our powers allow. Like so many before him, he has reminded us once again that we must, no matter how difficult, cherish each second of unhindered breath, each victory against the inevitable. We must not restrain our love for our friends, and we must forgive our enemies. For when that day comes, it will likely not be of our choosing. Our debts must be repaid because we will leave our friends and loved ones bereft of something greater than the material. Rest in peace, my friend.