| Between the ages of 50 and 60 I would declare to anyone who would listen, "When I grow up, I want to be like Lois Hole." Now it seems the time has come for us all to grow up a little by picking up her fiery torch – her enthusiasm for life, her love of others and her sense of fair play – and continuing to shed light in this province’s dark corners, where she was forced to leave off last week.
When Alberta’s most beloved lieutenant-governor, also known as the Queen of Hugs, died last Thursday, she left a vision. "I have a dream," she said at Alberta Theatre Projects Bob Edwards lunch in the fall of 2004. Her dream, which brought the assembled crowd to its feet, was the dawning of a day when teachers, artists and librarians were paid the same as hockey players.
As so often in her speeches, there was a political subtext for those with ears to hear. In every formal speech, she would slip in a call to arms. When money for public education, health care, social services and other causes dear to her heart started to dwindle, she might suggest, for instance, that listeners find time, energy and money to support their public library so that all children would have an opportunity to read.
As a little girl growing up in Buchanan, Saskatchewan, where she wandered down the streets with her friends eating sunflower seeds and spitting out the shells, her father instilled in Lois the value of education because his stepmother had made him leave school early. It was a message she never forgot.
For more than 30 years Lois was a school trustee in St. Albert, where she and her husband Ted ran their family horticultural business. The appointment to the chancellorship of the University of Alberta brought her much joy for two years. She travelled across the province, making friends for the institution wherever she went. In 2000 she was appointed lieutenant-governor and she continued to travel, talk and make friends, except perhaps with some provincial politicians.
The Queen’s representative was very much of and for the people. Even in her elevated position, she still asked friends to check her nylons for runs, "Oh crumb," she would say if something was found amiss. But Lois was equally at ease walking around the family greenhouses in muddy gumboots and a faded denim skirt, as she was elegantly clad while reading the speech from the throne on television. She was looking forward to meeting the Queen when Alberta celebrates its 100th anniversary and would probably have treated Her Majesty to one of those famous hugs. No tepid handshakes for Lois – we were all included in her warm embrace.
I first met her many years ago over breakfast in a Calgary hotel room. I was there to interview her about one of the first of her many successful gardening books. Within minutes she was trying to arrange a marriage for me. When I left, my notes were somewhat skimpy, but my heart was full – I had found a new friend.
I was one of many whose lives were touched by Lois.
Customers at the nursery pushed forward, eager to tell her their gardening successes or to ask for tips; staff liked to engage her in conversation in their sunny coffee room; she donated plants to disadvantaged women; a patient support group at Edmonton’s Cross Cancer Centre was cheered by her presence and her hugs; she was an avid patron of the arts. Lois was the kind of person who lit up a room with her energy, zest, compassion and laughter, and she also committed secret acts of kindness known only to those of us fortunate enough to be on the receiving end.
Lois derived her deep-seated sense of justice from her father. As a Doukhobor, he had experienced discrimination and insisted on people being treated with dignity. "He never allowed us to talk against a religion, a nationality or a culture. We grew up without prejudice," she says. "My dad really liked people. He always treated people so nicely. Example; example is everything." From her mother she acquired her passion for flowers and classical music.
In 1950 she met Ted Hole, fell in love and became a farmer’s wife – not a future she had envisioned or even desired. The young couple struggled to make ends meet on the parcel of land near St. Albert. "The funniest thing is that we never got discouraged." After many hardships, they realized that wheat, chickens and cattle never turned a profit, but their vegetable garden did. And so Hole’s Nurseries was born, eventually to become a multimillion-dollar business and turning Lois into the earth mother of Canadian gardening with her books and newspaper columns.
Instead of a boardroom, the family – sons Bill and Jim, and Bill’s wife Valerie – met daily over lunch. It was here all decisions were made, but conversation ranged from music to theatre, to the homeless, health care and politics, to greenhouse temperatures and newspaper articles.
Lois was a role model for us all, but especially for women. She made it to the top without ever severing connections with her roots and she made it without losing her femininity and her maternal qualities – in fact, they were key to who she was. She once presented a visiting member of the Japanese royal family with a home-baked rhubarb pie, minus a tiny test slice, and not missing a beat, proceeded to give him advice on how to grow rhubarb in Japan.
Lois, who saw us all as equals, was fearless, warm, funny and energetic. She always made a point of trying to say yes when asked to do something, but there was still so much she wanted to accomplish in terms of making this a better province for all Albertans.
It’s hard to write about Lois in the past tense, but her spirit will live on and her dream will come closer if we honour her by taking up her causes – education, public health care, the arts and social justice – and fight for them with the same conviction, fervour and intelligence that she did.
"I love the fact that maybe I can help," she once said. Maybe we can help too. |
Copyright ©2005 FFWD. All rights reserved.