Alan was a dear friend of mine. For a number of years, I would have called Alan my best friend. When my father took ill, I moved back to Ontario, but thankfully I was able to continue our friendship for over a decade longer.
Alan hired me to do a corporate culture study on Penn West, as his company was experiencing growing pains. During the time that we worked together on this project, he took the time to learn who I was, he believed in me, and he accepted me for who I was.
When the project was completed, I was offered a full-time job and I accepted the offer eagerly. Working on Alan’s team —which included June, Anne, Shauna, John, Jennifer, Renee, and Danielle—wasn’t really work. It was more like going downtown to hang out with friends.
Alan and I ended up having memorable scotch nights where he cooked beautiful meals, we had excellent conversations, and he introduced me to some of the strangest music I’ve ever heard. We shared our thoughts and feelings on countless topics.
Regularly, we hunted around the city for the best burger in town. I think the “Burger Bus” was the best, though the MSG made me want to sleep under my desk.
He was the first boss who showed an interest in my success in life, and he took an active interest in me despite the fact that this would yield few dividends to him directly. He was the kind of friend / boss that my wife would call when she was worried about me. At company Christmas parties and team dinners where Nicola was present, the two of them could and would tease me in a way that few can, as both knew my flaws inside and out.
Alan taught me that the highway to hell is paved with good intentions, and that a person should actually get involved in helping out their fellow man. He felt it was important to have physical involvement and emotional investment in “the doing of good.”
Alan took the time to care for his mother long after she lost her mind. And you could tell that he still loved the spirit of this broken woman whom he went to visit. He believed in the importance of loving someone and respecting their existence even in when their mental existence was absolutely broken.
Alan often thought of the outcasts in society and reflected on how small acts of decency could be very meaningful for those folks. The poor, the beaten down, the unloved, the forgotten. He was a good example to those around him, of how to treat their fellow man and woman. Even the “undesirables.” Those whom most of us try to avoid eye contact with. Those folks Johnny Cash sang of, “living in the hopeless, hungry part of town”.
He was always telling me about his days with the John Howard Society and about the troubled souls that he encountered there. Well he didn’t forget about them after moving up into the skyscrapers of the downtown. He told me about how he and Donna would go for lunch, and how they would often order an extra meal or two and then they would drive past the Mustard Seed and drop off a scrumptious package to “one of the boys” hanging around outside. He showed me on lunch runs to one burger joint or another, the ugliest underbellies of the city. He didn’t let me detached myself from the realities of life in the ugliest corners. He reminded me that outside of the downtown core, the struggle was real. Johnny Cash sang:
Well, we're doin' mighty fine, I do suppose,
In our streak of lightnin' cars and fancy clothes,
But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back,
Up front there ought 'a be a Man In Black.
Alan was my Man in Black.
He refused to let me live in a fantasy world. He would say, “Don’t cut a cheque to the charity. Go get your hands dirty and help out where the help is needed.” My daughter and I took Alan’s advice literally this past summer picking potato bugs off potato plants, and later picking potatoes for the food bank. So his approach to life has touched more forgotten folks in another province 3,300 kms away.
Alan told me about leaving ice cold 6-packs of beer out in his alleyway for the garbage truck workers on hot summer days. He even left the beer in a cooler so it would stay cold. Who does that? I mean really… What a guy!
Alan was quick to question and critique the prevailing political and economic order. He was never satisfied with the status quo, and always wanted to see society attempting to move in a forward direction. We debated social structures and social change at great length over good food and drink. And I will miss those conversations a great deal. He helped me find a centre-position in a world prone to extremes.
Alan spoke to me often of Donna, Lauren and Jenica. All I can say of his family is what a wonderful crew. He was deeply in love with his wife and soulmate, and his children were clearly two of the brightest lights in his life. He was lucky to have them, and they were lucky to have him from what I could tell.
Alan’s other baby was Penn West. Oh, did he ever love that company and his fellow Penn Westers. He wanted to create the most epic corporate culture in Alberta, and I dare say he did it. What a wonderful place to work. Many of my fondest memories and closest friends were born out of my time at the Penn, and I feel that it can be said unequivocally that Alan was the mastermind behind the excellent culture at that phenomenal place.
When I heard that Alan was sick, it broke my heart. I’m glad that I was able to speak with him numerous times following his initial diagnosis and prior to his end.
He was a special person to so many of us. He was such a special friend to me.
He was kindness, integrity and loyalty. I thank my lucky stars that I had the good fortune to spend time with this lovely soul.
We’ll miss you.
Shane Silverberg
