ROTHENBURGER — Al’s poster — Attitude is Everything

COLUMN — I must tell you about Al McNair’s poster.

He had it made, got it framed and hung it in the boardroom. Every time we had a meeting, that poster reminded us of the importance of approaching our jobs and responsibilities with determination, professionalism and a positive attitude.

It said, “Attitude is everything.” It was Al’s favourite saying. It spread from the boardroom to a duplicate poster at the front counter, then onto keychains and other company swag.

It was more than a catchy slogan, though; it described Al’s personality perfectly.

I’ve never met anyone so unfailingly cheerful. He was kind, generous almost to a fault, and smart. But most of all, he was cheerful. “Hey, kid, how ya doin’?” was a typical greeting. And he really wanted to know.

We were only a few months apart in age. Over the 30 years I knew him, he was my boss for some of them, my friend and my mentor for all of them. On the last two counts, hundreds of people can say the same, because people came to him, depended on him.

You never ended a conversation with Al without feeling better than when it started. Even when discussing things that weren’t going as well as they should, he’d chuckle — an actual, three-huh chuckle — and sort of shrug as if to say, “What can you do? It is what it is.”

He was a genuine family man. It’s not an exaggeration to say he doted on his wife, daughters and grand-kids. He talked about them all the time.

Naturally gregarious, he was perfect for the media and public relations businesses, in which he spent most of his life. He was also a natural-born leader, both in business and community life, and was recognized for it in many ways but probably never enough.

When he lost his wife Lynne to cancer three years ago, he got through it and carried on. When he found out he had leukemia he just kept going.

When he found out he wasn’t going to make it, he phoned his friends to say goodbye.

“Hey, kid, how ya doin’?” the conversation began, as always.

When somebody is upbeat, you tend to respond in fashion, so you cheerfully return the greeting.

Then he tells you he doesn’t have much time left, but before you can react — the way you naturally do at such news — he cheerfully explains what’s happening and how he’s fine with it.

“Hey, I can’t complain. I’ve had a good life. I’ve done what I wanted to do, I’ve got a wonderful family, and I’ve had two great loves,” he says, the latter reference to Lynne and to his fiancé Jan.

The strength of the man. He’s dying, and trying to make everybody else feel better.

Then he says, “I want to thank you for all you’ve done for me,” and you try not to lose it, because it’s Al who did so much more for you than the other way around.

After his daughter Alison phoned Monday afternoon with the news that he’d died in hospital at 3:30 after saying his goodbyes to his family, I spent three days in contemplation of all the years I’d had the privilege of knowing him. I thought about times at work, his boundless energy, going for drives in his Corvette, friendly arguments over politics, his 50th birthday party, the way he loved to dress up in his tux for special occasions. I smiled a lot thinking about things like that.

On the fourth day I cried my eyes out.

Al wouldn’t have stood for that from anyone — he’d have been quick to cheer you up with a smile, a laugh and reassurance there’s nothing to worry about. And if there was anything he could do to help, just name it.

There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of people who proudly considered Al their friend and who are thinking this week about the positive influence he had on their lives.

Attitude is everything.

Mel Rothenburger can be reached at armchairmayor.ca, @MelRothenburger or Facebook.com/mrothenburger.7.