... a man you don’t meet every day
Marc David Richard Rigby
July 27, 1969 – January 21, 2011
Obituary | Tributes | Service of Celebration | Photo Gallery | Marc's Xmas Baskets
Rob's Remarks (Long-time Friend)
Marc took his family and his friendships very seriously. For him this was a serious business, probably more so than any other. He worked hard on friendships, invested his time and attention, despite his globe trotting career. He was the very centre of his friends, and the glue that kept them all together.
I wish I could say I place my priorities as he did, instead of doing what many of us do and getting caught up in work, letting it sap all your energy and so on. He lived his life knowing what really counted and acting accordingly.
There are some things that we know. We know he died far too young, that this is a tragedy. That we are all grieving and each in our own way. That it will take a long time to grieve. That it will never be the same without him in our lives. And that these tragic events make you realize what’s truly important in our lives. Like he always knew and lived. People no doubt have been saying for hundreds of years how terrible it is that it takes something like this to be a wake up call and recognize what is truly important. And unfortunately no doubt people will continue to say for hundreds of years more, that we need to learn to truly take time for friends and family and live life to its fullest, take risks, and really celebrate life rather than just get through it. But at least there are examples like Marc that continue to show us the way.
I imagine a lot of us feel, not just that he has been taken away from us, but that a big part of who WE are, has been taken away from us. We all find ways to make sense of the world, but I suspect many of us right now don’t quite know how to understand our place in the world, where we fit, who we are, without him being in it beside us.
Surely key qualities of Marc were reliability and loyalty as a friend. For many of us, he was a constant in life, he was always there for you, always ready to contribute, to help, to celebrate, ... to drink beer, to go to fancy restaurants, to bring the very best wine, to throw good parties, at his place, a.k.a. Stately Rigby Manor, to travel half way around the world to see you, or worse, into the middle of nowhere in deepest darkest Northwestern Ontario where some of us choose to live.
When some years ago a close high school friend died far too early, Marc was there.
When someone was moving furniture time and time again, he was there.
When I had to build a fence, he was there.
When there was a party, he was without a doubt there.
When there was a friend in town, he was there.
When we went to Copenhagen, we casually asked if he’d like to come, and he said ... sure.
When I celebrated my 40th birthday this June, he flew to Winnipeg, drove 3 hours to Kenora, then Sioux Narrows, then met me, boated out, and stayed on an island cabin for a few days to attend at a resort on Lake of the Woods, notwithstanding all his ailments and difficulties. Of course he did.
And of course he never once showed the slightest sign of tiring or being in pain or complaining, never. He was remarkably courageous in the face of his disease. I believe he didn’t want people like me to either have to think about his suffering, or to treat him any differently. And it worked. I was able to maintain a comforting illusion about his prospects, I admit. And so, for example, he did the CN Tower stair climb, to the amazement of all his doctors....
And Marc was there for you with some wise advice once in a while. Never unsolicited, always respectful, but if pressed or if someone was having a hard time he always helped. This was someone who defied certain stereotypes about engineers or at least those from Queen’s [added: no offence and present company excepted] – it that he was cultured and well-read in every way. I understand he set up a scholarship to encourage those in science to also study classics, as he did, to promote interdisciplinary, arts and science learning. So yes his "5 oh and go" slogan learned from engineering, whereby one need only a 50% to pass so why worry about getting 80%, may not have been the best advice, but there are other examples. He once told me something very simple yet profound that I still find very true and wise.
It probably only made sense in the context of someone struggling with not getting the world to be the way one wanted it to be, but I remember he said, just apply the 15 minute rule. I think it goes to his stoicism, as Alistair says, from his Classics background. He said, the 15 minute rule is a rule whereby you have very little expectations about life, it doesn’t owe you anything, but one can still have a meaningful and great life by cutting life down to size and just looking at it in fifteen minute increments. And once in a while you get a great fifteen minutes, maybe even a perfect fifteen minutes of maybe good times with friends, being at a great performance, concert etc. They don’t all have to be great fifteen minutes. The world doesn’t work that way anyway. But I think Marc had more great fifteen minutes than most.
[excerpted from speech: Years ago, Marc even came on a canoe trip I organized to Algonquin Park. Because of course he came, because that’s what Marc did. I have no doubt that to say it was not his cup of tea is a gross understatement. But again, we never heard him complain. And he was happy to be with his friends.]
I think it is fair to say that Marc prided himself on a certain level of eccentricity, certainly in his sense of humour. His humour had a sense of the absurd and the ironic to it, as well as a bit of sillyness. I think we all had enough of the horse walks into a bar series of jokes.
But who can forget about him becoming student council president in High School. Basically on the slogan that he was the Prince of Darkness. Then through the year every speech was given in a dark cloak or cape while juggling, with circus music playing in the background.
And he had a real sense of style. He enjoyed the fine things in life. The kid in high school with the jag, often parked beside our rusty beaters. And a stellar wine collection, which he would always break into and bring a bottle sometimes great distances for all our special events. He was an amazing cook and appreciated fine dining. Expensive and fine taste in clothing such as his snake skin jacket, which, for example, I don’t think I could pull off. He would love special events, theatre, opening night at Stratford every year even when it was protested by the National Anti Poverty coalition. Marc in his element right there he must have just loved every minute of that unusual situation while others were horrified or scandalized.
We had a lot of fun. A lot of it. Some people are serious; Marc was ... not so much.
[excerpted from speech: In fact Michael and Melissa and I were working on a gift to give to him this year which regrettably was not completed on time. My speech was a collaboration from many voices including those too, Alistair, Sandy, his family, and many others I spoke with as part of the remembering process. This gift was a make your own monopoly board where we were naming the place names according to where shared memories occurred. Some of the familiar haunts were Lasalle Park including the pavilion and forest where fireworks were dodged, people were tackled down hills and who knows what took place; Sauble beach, all around Aldershot high school, all around the hidden valley/RBG including the second bridge... It is a veritable homage to misspent youth.]
Perhaps it could be said that one of the few joys of raising teenagers like Marc is that 20 years later you can make fun of your teenagers and their friends for all the outrageously stupid things they did back then. Barb and Malcolm have a lot of quote unquote fond memories they seem to be eager to share with me whenever I drop by about my complicity if not leadership in these events.
They’re probably going to say teenagers, what about last year.
And then there was the circus classes that Marc took, on the flying trapeze, perhaps to compliment his juggling, which continued to be a draw on special occasions sometimes while wearing a Mexican wrestling mask.
Of course he was brilliant. A friend talks about playing chess over thirty times with Marc and only winning once and that’s no doubt because Marc let him.
One of Marc’s many friends posted a quote from Emily Dickenson on the Facebook page we set up to spread the word, responded to from around the world. It was impressively succinct: "unable are the loved to die – for love is immortality."
I also wanted to read a few small excerpts from a poem:
He disappeared in the dead of winter:
The brooks were frozen,...
And snow disfigured the public statues;
The mercury sank in the mouth of the dying day.
What instruments we have agree
The day of his death was a dark cold day.
Far from his illness
The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests,
The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays;...
But for him it was his last afternoon as himself,
An afternoon of nurses and rumours;...
Silence invaded the suburbs,
The current of his felling failed; he became his admirers....
But in the importance and noise of to-morrow
When the brokers are roaring like beasts on the floor of the Bourse,
And the poor have the sufferings to which they are fairly accustomed,
And each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his freedom,
A few thousand will think of this day
As one thinks of a day when one did something slightly unusual....
What instruments we have agree
The day of his death was a dark cold day.
You were silly like us; your gift survived it all;...
Earth, receive an honoured guest....
So I will leave it at that. We will all miss Marc greatly. I imagine like me, it is too hard for many of us to come to terms with what that means for us yet. But I think I can say this – that this is one life that will live on in so many ways, in all of us, and will never be forgotten. Thank you.