My English was hardly efficient when I first met Doug 30 years ago. Strange enough that he had found way to connect with me and became a big part of my and my family’s life.
Doug used to stop by our farm on his way back from seeing his family in Vancouver. His eyes lit up when he spoke about those visits, and Christopher and I were delighted to hear the beautiful stories he told. With big smiles on his face, he often ended his sentences with “Geez”. We knew he was impressed. His love and caring were not just limited to his immediate family. He took a genuine interest in what my family was doing, and he always gave genuine support and empathy.
There are many things that I miss about Doug. Other than missing his pun-tiful mind-bending intelligent use of words, I miss his capacity to investigate different aspects of different issues without prejudice. Although I often left a conversation feeling more confused than with clarity, he taught me not all things needed to have conclusions, enjoying the process was more interesting and rewarding. Doug was a philosopher and a great storyteller. I loved being invited into his mazes because he designed them in a way that no one wins by being first out of the labyrinth. His mazes were always full of surprises and intrigues. Some of the designs were massive in scale but he never judged the ones that got lost and quit early.
My experience with Doug wasn’t always positive. His dropping off the face of the earth phases used to worry and frustrate me. It took me years to understand his desire to figure things out on his own terms. He seldom took an easy way out. Despite strong oppositions, he always chose to stay true to what he believed in.
He was an enigmatic man. He was methodical, meticulous and yet a free spirit and untethered soul. Many of us knew that Doug loved driving at a high speed. I asked him about what made him want to take the risk. “It wasn’t about taking risks. I was addicted to the experience of weightlessness”, he said.
Goodbye Doug…. Weightless, sending my gratitude in the wind.
You are deeply missed.
Su Mei