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Globe and Mail
16 hours ago
- General
- Globe and Mail
It broke my heart when Dad asked me, ‘Was I important?'
First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at My father was often described as a big man. Some of his students would call him the Jolly Green Giant or, more often, Uncle Norm. He was tall, with broad shoulders and large hands. Despite his size, he played varsity sports and eventually coached high school basketball teams both as a physical education teacher as well as a principal. People would also say he had a large heart. If someone needed a hand, he was there, without fanfare or the expectation of recognition or a thank you. My father was also incredibly well organized. As a high school administrator, he knew that the devil was in the details. He taught his three children: 'preparation is key, plan for the worst but keep the faith.' He used that last phrase often, not because of his religious beliefs, but as a reminder to always have hope, to support something or someone although it may at times feel difficult. 'It's not what you have, it's not who you are – it's what you do for others,' he'd say. Once retired, he focused his time researching his family lineage – from Ireland to Scotland to Canada. Both he and my mother grew up in the same small town in southwestern Ontario and the interconnections were numerous. He invested time and money documenting five generations of history. He was proud to have completed this sprawling family tree and was happy to disseminate copies to our extended family. My father was confident, but later in life he needed reminding of his good works. In his 80s and once his mobility and cognitive skills declined, our family made the difficult but necessary decision to place him into a local long-term care facility. We co-ordinated visits amongst friends and family and we all watched him decline, often to the point where he no longer knew us. But we would talk to him like he did. That was us trying to keep the faith. During a recent visit I told him I was going away on a long trip but I would be back soon – very soon. (Code for: don't die when I'm away please.) He asked if I had the papers. 'The papers?' I asked. 'Yes, the papers,' he said. 'You mean my will, my burial plans, my itinerary?' Defiantly and remarkably, he said, 'NO, the papers!' After some time, I thought, he means the family tree. He wants to talk about his family. I started talking about his mother, whom I'm named after; his father, the hard-working labourer; his three older brothers who served in the Second World War; and his two older sisters, one of whom he'd looked after as she aged. He was surprised to learn they had all died. I reminded him that he was still happily married to his childhood schoolmate, our mother, for over 60 years. His answer was 'Really?' (I'm not sure our mother quite appreciated that answer.) I described how he had worked as a math teacher, coached basketball and became a respected principal. 'I was?' he asked. Near the end of our visit, he looked at me curiously and asked, 'Was I important?' I didn't know how to answer at first, then realized he was wondering if he did something hopeful, impactful and lasting. I could tell him about the time he helped a terrified young woman whose car had spun out of control on the highway by waiting with her until her parents arrived. Or about how he read in the newspaper about an elderly man who required a drug that was only available in Europe, and how he found a way to get that drug to that man. How he won a Canadian magazine's 'carpenter of the year' through all the woodworking he did for friends and family, and to help the needy. How he volunteered to assist students who had fallen through the cracks to ensure they received their high-school diplomas. How he and my mother were leaders in advancing a hearing-impaired children's charity. How he would do anything for his wife, children and grand-children. 'Yes Dad,' I replied with a smile, 'You were important.' And that comforted him. Anne Purdie Morash lives in Toronto.
CBS News
01-05-2025
- CBS News
Southern Minnesota Museum of Natural History digs into state's prehistoric past
Small towns can offer a variety of businesses, but rarely will you come across one with full-grown dinosaur fossils. That's now the case in Blue Earth, Minnesota. When you think of Blue Earth, you might think of the Jolly Green Giant near Interstate 90. He's 55.5 feet tall with size 78 shoes. "It draws a lot of people from all over," said Karen Hickok of Amboy, Minnesota. "Busloads of people." But the roadside giant isn't the only giant in town. "There are many examples of tyrannosaurus. T-Rex was the biggest, baddest example," said Jim Pollard, of the Southern Minnesota Museum of Natural History. Main Street is where you'll discover the museum, which Pollard and others opened in a former antique shop. Now, they're displaying a different kind of relic. "I made my first big fossil find, I was about 7 years old with my friend George Walker," he said. Growing up in Wisconsin, near the shores of Lake Michigan, Pollard collected beach fossils at a young age. Years later, he teamed up with paleontologists to do digs in South Dakota and Wyoming. "We drove out there and we'd sleep under the truck, and we'd dig fossils all day. And as a young guy, it was heaven to do that," he said. When Pollard left his day job as a portrait artist, he decided to move to the town that was halfway between his childhood fossil hunts and his adult dinosaur digs. Those digs often left him bone tired, but with enough artifacts to open a museum, fulfilling a lifelong dream. "I wanted to have a variety of fossils that if a kid came in he could see a little of everything," he said. Much of what you discover at the museum has a story, like a 40-pound humerus bone from a triceratops. "The end of the bone was bitten off by a Tyrannosaurus rex. The bite force distorted the shape of the bone," he said. The only display from Minnesota is what the Cherney family discovered decades ago in Coon Rapids. "It's a herd of bison that were killed together with wolves, deer. Possibly by a glacial dam breaking," he said. Having made connections over the years, people send Pollard all kinds of things. A friend in Siberia recently came across petrified mammoth droppings. "You can still see what it ate. It's got this grassy material in here," he said. With the exception of the mammoth droppings, Pollard wants visitors to get close to relics that are anywhere from 7,000 to 7 million years old — and even older. All that's required is a desire to learn about the past, and the present. The museum will also lend a telescope to kids. It's like checking out a book at the library. And through it you can see the Earth's moon up close and even the moons of Jupiter. Just another reason why this place is known as the biggest, little museum in Minnesota. "We have footprints, we have bones, we have mammals, we have dinosaurs. Basically, if you come in, it's sort of like a time machine," Pollard said. The museum is free to visit. Pollard says many of the fossils in the museum were actually discovered by amateurs.
