Alan Dolan Memorial

I first got to know Alan when he would visit and later move into the apartment I shared with Bob, Ron, Judy, Maureen, and Glenn on Hotel de Ville in Montreal in the early 1970s. Great if somewhat foggy memories of making and listening to music, playing three-handed chess, and proposing solutions to all the world’s problems.

Without question, Alan had a major influence on my life.

When Alan moved to the cabin he shared with Susan on Lake Opinicon, my visits there led me to a decision to try to emulate what seemed so obviously the right way to live.  So, in 1979, I moved from Montreal to a cottage on Leo Lake, owned by the wife of the landlord of the farmhouse on Cranberry Lake that Alan and Susan had moved to, and enrolled at Queen’s, following their earlier example.

Around 1990, when my landlady found my garden, Alan let me move the plants to the property they were renting near Tamworth and then he did the majority of the watering of them for the six or so dry weeks until they flowered.

Alan made me the top of the table, that still sits on my porch, for one birthday, and called or visited on most of the others, over the five plus decades of our friendship.

One time when money was tight, Alan insisted on buying me a set of replacements for my bald tires.

More recently, toward the end of a long winter, when I had mentioned that my wood supply was getting a little tight, Alan took it upon himself to call the local social services people and arranged for them to surprise me with a load of wood.

Countless times, over the years, Alan was there when I needed to talk to someone sane about life’s absurdities, to chuckle or laugh about what was going on in our lives.  Fewer but precious were the times we got together to play guitar.  Always, I could count on coming away from an interaction with Alan feeling better about life.

I do not know if I deserved to have such a friend but I do know what a blessing and privilege it was.

There is a curve on my road home from Kingston that Alan thought I took too fast.  Every time I take it now, I apologize to him and slow down a hair.

By Doug Palmer