Working at Parliament Hill

April 24th, 2006
Remembering Laurent

In the past few weeks, many people have asked me how I knew Laurent. When I respond that I worked with him at Parliament over the summer, many assume that I could not have known him very well. However, they are mistaken. Laurent made a lasting impression on everyone that he met, even if he knew them for only a few years, a summer, or a week-long conference. His desire to understand the world was matched by his desire to understand the people surrounding him. This summer was an incredible experience for me because of the dynamic group of people with whom I worked. Central to that group was Laurent. I have nothing but good memories of Laurent from the summer, and I will remember him as someone whose passion for life coloured his surroundings and touched his friends and all who knew him.

The first time that I met Laurent was in February of last year at our group interview for a guiding position on Parliament Hill. My first impression of him was that he a focused and very serious individual. After a few tense days of work in early May, my impression had changed. Laurent’s laughter became familiar and his smile revealed his playful nature and genuine joie de vivre. His charisma, intelligence, confidence and humour drew others to him, both friends and strangers. I never went on any of Laurent’s tours so I’m not sure about his methods, but he always kept his crowd engaged and laughing, and would receive tremendous rounds of applause after his conclusion. He was especially charming to all of the elderly women in his presence. On several occasions, my female co-workers and I were asked by captivated older women how we were able to restrain ourselves when working with such a handsome young man. Laurent’s smile was at least partially to blame, and like all of the elderly ladies, I felt fortunate whenever I was on its receiving end.
That same smile often betrayed a certain mischievousness, which I learned about on a weekend camping trip to upper state New York. Though we began the trip with no concrete plan, Laurent, Ben and I with 2 other friends ended up at a remote and beautiful spot on a lake where we were the only ones for miles around.
On my last camping trip to upper state New York, I had several run-ins with bears, an experience that I did not wish to repeat. So after we had eaten, I insisted that someone put our food out of the reach of bears, by climbing two trees, hanging a rope up between them, and suspending the cooler from the rope. Laurent, ever the outdoorsman, volunteered. He was gone for quite some time, and returned worse for wear with scratches on his legs, but he assured me that the bears would never get to our food. I should have known from his mischievous smile that the mission had in fact not been accomplished. Only later did I learn that Laurent’s attempt to shimmy up a tree had failed, so he had put the cooler on top of an ancient outhouse only a few feet from the tent, and then scraped up his legs to authenticate his story. Luckily the bears did not visit.

Laurent was greatly respected by all of his colleagues and supervisors on Parliament Hill. When we were at work but not on tour, all the guides had to remain in the guide lounge, a fancy title for a former broom closet. One of the best ways to pass time was to read, and over the course of the summer Romeo Dallaire’s book Shake Hands with the Devil on the failure of the international community in the Rwandan genocide, was read by most of us, Laurent and myself included. Partway through the summer members of Dallaire’s family were in Ottawa and wanted a tour of the Parliament buildings. Laurent was specifically chosen to give the tour to Dallaire and his family, a gesture that spoke loudly to his presence and ability, as well as the high esteem in which he was held. While all of us who had read Dallaire’s book would have loved to the chance to spend an hour with him and his family, there was a quick consensus reached in the guide lounge that Laurent most deserved the honour.

In my eyes, Laurent was a Renaissance man: poetic, athletic, well read, well spoken. Laurent’s enthusiasm to learn was contagious, as he searched for meaning in the ordinary and the extraordinary. Thoughtfully provocative and intellectually stimulating, Laurent engaged others in debate on everything from the necessity of the division of church and state, to the medicinal virtues of eating full cloves of garlic. He would engage anyone on these various issues, but my most heated debates with Laurent were about myself. It did not take ten years to build a friendship with him because once he had your trust he sought to find out who you were. At first I was taken aback when Laurent challenged me on certain things inherent in my personality, my beliefs, and my actions. But I learned with time that his willingness to confront me on things that I took for granted was a symbol of his friendship. He saw better in me, and I appreciated his honesty.

I thought for a long time about how to conclude this reflection. In an essay or a story, one wants to conclude by tying the loose ends and making sense of what’s just been said. This is difficult to do because Laurent’s death does not make sense to me. He gave so much to the people in his life, and sought meaning from everyone he knew and from every experience. I wish that the world would pause so that everyone who didn’t know him would understand this tragedy, and what the world is now missing. Laurent’s spontaneity and lust for life inspired those around him, and his presence marked all who were fortunate enough to cross his path. He will be missed.

Anna Gruending