As strange as it is to say, it was a great funeral.
Randy Starkman's worlds all came together at a memorial service for him yesterday (April 19, 2012) in Toronto. Friends. Family. Journalists. Olympic athletes such as Marnie McBean,Mark Tewksbury, and Curt Harnett were there.
"If Randy were here, he'd be the first person to discount all this fuss over him," said his brother Laurie, in a wonderful eulogy that seamlessly moved from heartfelt to hilarious.
The two brothers were intensely competitive growing up in Toronto. "Ali-Frazier had nothing on the Starkman brothers," Laurie said of their neighbourhood hockey games. "Our friends kept waiting for the big blow up to happen and we never let them down."
Randy Starkman's death shocked Canada's journalistic and sporting worlds. He had been suffering from a sore throat, and by the time he checked into hospital, strep throat, pneumonia and then a superbug overcame him. He was just 51-years-old, and was looking forward to covering his 13th Olympic Games in London this summer.
He met the woman who would become his wife at United Press Canada where they both worked three decades ago. Randy and Mary Hynes would travel the world together, covering amateur sports and reporting those stories back to Canada.
"Nobody covered those events like Starkman-Hynes," said Laurie. "Then he got his dream job at The Toronto Star and became the pre-eminent amateur sports writer in the country."
That's not just brotherly pride talking. Randy was just that, winning two national newspaper awards over his career.
How did he propose to Mary? With sweet icing on her birthday cake.
"Will you marry me?" the writing on the cake said. "Please say yes. Reuv."
I was fortunate to have known Randy for two decades. His wife Mary and I were the original co-hosts of TVO's "Studio 2," the network's first ever nightly current affairs program which ran from 1994-2006.
She used to call her husband "Tall, Dark, and Starkman." I called him "Groovy Roovey," a takeoff on his Hebrew name Reuven. They truly were a dynamic duo.
Here they were a couple of years ago at my 50th birthday party, and yes, every time I saw them together, they were this happy.
Laurie said Randy wanted nothing more in life than to be a parent "because he was a big kid. And when Ella was born, he had someone to play with."
Ella, now a teenager, also spoke at Randy's funeral, and was simply astonishing. Poised, funny, and a wonderful story-teller, she reminded the packed hall that her father left covering the Atlanta Olympic Games to see her birth, "which was the only thing that could have got him to leave those games," she joked.
Ella described a father who made her chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast every day. "And I'm a little worried about what kind of breakfast I'm going to have now. My mom's not a great cook."
While I was delighted to see such a powerful show of support for Randy and his family, I confess I am still furious. Furious that this good man was taken from us at such a young age. Saddened that he had so much more to write about and contribute to the world. Outraged that with all of our advances in health care, no one was able to save him from the ravages of a virulent super bug. And absolutely heartsick for my friend Mary, who should not be a widow at such a young age, and for Ella, who should have had so many more years to enjoy her doting father's company.
Randy, it was a magnificent funeral. The tributes were amazing. The hall was packed.
But it shouldn't have happened for several more decades.
Rest in peace, my friend.
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