|Remarks from Cheryl Richardson|
| My name is Cheryl Richardson and I have been a friend of Mr. Colsonís for the past 10 years.
When I think about all the things we did together it really was pretty ordinary- we talked on the phone, drove places, ate vanilla wafers, sat in the sun. But somehow he made each of these ordinary events, extraordinary.
He had that gift that all creative minds seem to share- the ability to see magic in every day life and people and events. And not only see it, but make that magic evident to others .
His creativity in the workplace is legendary but his appreciation for innovation and risk and detail extended over the boards and into every part of his life.
|No detail was too small to escape his notice. A few months ago he called to say he was going to get a cat. He thought it would be good company. And he wanted to know everything about it- all the different breeds, where to get one, what they ate, where they slept, what kind of kitty litter to get. That was him.
He knew all the nurses in the hospital by name, what shifts they worked and a little of their personal lives and I could tell by the little jokes they shared that they too had had a little magic dust sprinkled on them.
It didnít matter whether you were an Olympic hopeful, a doorman, a former student, World Champion or the zamboni driver, he was equally interested in everyone. I suppose that is why it took so long to come and go from skating events. He knew so many people and of course, stopped to chat a little with each one always introducing me as though I were the most special person in the world.
He was involved. That was his fountain of youth. I remember going to a modern dance performance at Harbourfront several years ago with another friend and afterwards as we were leaving the theatre I noticed Mr. Colson with one of his older lady friends helping each other to the door, one in charge of walking, one in charge of steering and raving about the performance as they went.
His range of interests was astounding from tennis and golf to wildflowers, ballet, music, politics. When everyone else was just happy to get through a day of work he would do that too and also be able to tell you how far Tiger Woods drive was on the 14th tee.
That was him- always right in the middle of life with all its crazy ups and downs and heartaches and joys.
So his repeated hospitalization in the last months of his life was a real cage for him and I know he fully intended to recover his full capacity each and every time including the last.
On his final day of life he desperately fought against the prison of his condition. He wanted his shoes; he wanted to go home. And as if to prove he was ready to go, he showed me his chin-ups on the bar above his head. I would not for a minute have thought these were his last hours.
This enduring spirit, this zest for life, this perpetual optimism is what I will remember and miss and keep with me always. My friend- Mr. Colson.