A Truly Rich Man

October 22, 2018

At one point in my career as a teacher I was tasked with the challenge of teaching a course in financial management to a classroom of 14 year olds. As this was the beginning of a new term, I thought I should start by addressing the obvious fact that wealth is not necessary for living a fulfilled life. So I asked, what to me was a simple question: “Would you rather be rich or happy?” The students would easily see the trap that I had laid for them and would have to arrive at the obvious conclusion that wealth doesn’t necessarily bring happiness. Instead, I was in for a bit of a surprise as, unanimously, the whole class voted for riches. When I pressed a bit deeper on why they made this choice, I was presented with the undeniable fact that, if one was rich, they would automatically be happy!

I am not sure if the students learned anything that day, but I certainly came away better informed about human nature, particularly in the adolescent form! I don’t believe I made any progress in getting those students to see the point that I was trying to make. Had I been more astute, perhaps I could have provided them with an object lesson. And looking back on it, I could probably have not provided a better object lesson than a man named Norris.

Many long time residents of Lacombe and area might remember Norris Lowry.   Norris was born in 1914, in the state of Missouri, and had come to Alberta with his family in the mid 1920’s. The family rented land in the Lakeside Canyon district south of Lacombe where he went to school. In 1936 the family moved to Abbotsford, B.C. According to the local history book, “Wagon Trails to Hardtop”, Norris moved with them.The exact details of what happened next are not clear, however, we know that at a later date, most likely in the 1940’s, Norris moved back to the Lacombe area. He built a shack out of poplar logs and squatted on land about 5 miles (as the crow flies) southeast of Lacombe.  At some time in the 1950’s, perhaps due to the difficulty with transportation, he relocated, building another squatter’s shack a couple of miles south of Lacombe. This would remain his home until his passing in 1994.

Even if you didn’t know him by name, you would be at least familiar with seeing Norris around town, as he was, shall we say, a bit “peculiar”. Norris could often be spotted on the streets of Lacombe, and nearby roads riding an old battered bicycle, his only mechanized source of transportation. On his head was a dirty flat cap which complemented the rest of his raggy old clothes. His weathered skin of his face and hands had the colour and texture of an old leather baseball glove. One look would indeed confirm that he was a bachelor, as no women would have put up with his grimy, disheveled appearance.

Many would have shrugged off Norris as a dirty old vagrant and left it at that. However if one looked a little deeper, they would have observed that there was more to Norris than that which was first apparent. For one, it was obvious that he was no idle deadbeat. He was often engaged in doing gardening and yard work for residents of around town. And not just any residents. Nancy Locke, who gave the eulogy at his funeral, stated it was his policy to only work for the disabled or the elderly. He would not help out if there was a healthy husband or teenager in the family.

In spite of his eccentricity, Norris was not a recluse. Norris loved baseball and was a frequent attender of any local tournaments and other sporting events.. He often frequented the local library, where he would spend many hours reading and educating himself about current events and the state of the world. He was friendly, always having time to chat. My dad used to tell of the time that he encountered Norris on the street in Lacombe. In short order, Norris went into the nearby grocery store, where his purchased a pint of ice cream. Producing two spoons from his pocket, he invited my dad to sit on the sidewalk and share his treat. (My dad never did say whether he questioned the cleanliness of those spoons.) 

Norris always kept a few horses. In the summer, he would use a horse drawn mower to cut the hay in the ditches, putting up enough hay to supply the animals through the long winter. Norris loved his horses. It is rumored that at one point he brought a sick horse into his shack, perhaps to protect it from the cold. According to the story, at least as I remember it, unfortunately, the horse died and Norris was forced to remove the carcass in pieces.

As Norris entered his later years, friends and neighbours would check on him periodically. As he did not serve in the armed forces during World War II, he refused to take any government pensions or assistance. He continued to live in his log shack long past the age when most would have considered moving to the comfort of a retirement home. It was rather inevitable then, that Norris would die there, which he did, as his shack was engulfed in flame on Dec 27, 1994. The fire department was able to get the flames under control and rescue the horses in fairly short order, however, Norris perished in the fire. Although it was tragic, perhaps it was also merciful, as being forced to live in a hospital or nursing home would, for Norris, have been a fate worse than death. His funeral was well attended by the community, a fitting tribute to a man well loved.

Although I knew him by sight, I was too young to have known Norris personally. There is an interesting personal connection to him, however, that I am reminded of every time I take a walk through the poplar bush just east of my home. The quarter section where my wife and I now live was purchased by my father in 1967. As an eleven year old, I enjoyed exploring this new addition to the farm, which was primarily covered in native poplar bush. One of my favorite places was an old log cabin, none other than the first one that Norris built, in the 1940’s. Some time in the 1950's Norris had relocated to squat in a similar shack, just south of Lacombe. In 1967 it was long vacant, however it still stood, its tar paper roof still intact. There was still some rusting pots and pans and and the remnants of an old stove inside. What fun we had imagining life on the prairies in the early days of settlement. Unfortunately, no one thought to take a photo or two of the structure when it was still intact. Slowly time had its way and today it is still possible to locate the site, but none of the logs remain. Fortunately we were able to get some photos before its final demise. The shack, just like its builder, has returned to the earth, leaving nothing but memories.

Had Norris been in my classroom that day, I’m sure he would have been the sole vote for happiness over wealth. Those who knew him best gave account of his happiness and serenity. Treena Mielke a columnist for the Lacombe Globe, in a tribute to Norris, quoted his friend, Mary Blair.

“No, he had little of value in the physical sense, but, in the spiritual sense, he had everything. He had peace of mind and happiness of heart; he had an inner serenity which showed on his face and best of all he had faith”.

Perhaps in the likeness of a modern St. Francis of Assisi, Norris exhibited a love for nature, animals and his fellow human beings as he lived life in his simple, unhurried way.  Although there are plenty of examples of wealthy people living meaningful, fulfilled lives, Norris life was testimony to the fact that wealth is not essential. At no point in his life would his net worth been more than a few hundred dollars, yet he died, truly a rich man.