The Queen of Hugs Stole My Heart

Lois Hole biographer Scott Rollans, '82 BA, remembers the gardening hero and former lieutenant-governor 10 years after her death.

Back in the late '90s, I was one of Alberta's most beloved public figures. Or, rather, I almost believed I was.

I had been hired to help Lois Hole write her memoirs, eventually published in 1998 as I'll Never Marry a Farmer. Completely immersing myself in her life, I sometimes lost track of where she ended and I began. I'd spend hours at my computer, listening to her voice in my headphones, editing text written in first person: "My husband Ted and I …" Suddenly, realizing it was time to make supper for my kids, I'd give my head a good shake. "You're not Lois Hole," I'd chant on my way to the kitchen. "You're NOT Lois Hole."

At the time, Lois was one of Canada's leading garden experts, a best-selling author and matriarch of Hole's Greenhouses and Gardens, the family business. She went on to gain even further prominence when the University of Alberta named her chancellor, right around the time "our" book was published. Lois considered it a massive honour - her husband and sons had graduated from the U of A but she had never attended university.

Then, in 2000, Alberta's "queen of hugs" became the actual queen's representative as Alberta's 15th lieutenant-governor. She brought warmth and wit to the post until her death on Jan. 6, 2005, as a result of abdominal cancer.

When she passed away, I felt a personal sense of loss. Though she and I had lost touch by that time, her influence persisted and sticks with me to this day.

My project with Lois was a tremendous privilege. For a freelance writer and editor, life's most dreaded question is often, "So, what are you doing these days?" It was nice, for once, to have an impressive answer: "I'm working on a book with Lois Hole." This would invariably draw one of two responses; either, "Gee, that sounds like fun" or, more often, "Lois is a friend of mine!"

Throughout that spring I trailed Lois, tape recorder at the ready. That was no small feat given her hectic schedule. Each week, her eldest son, Bill, combed through her schedule looking for an hour here, an hour there, for the two of us to work together. He even urged me at one point to pester her during a brief hospital stay. "It's perfect," he said. "Mom's going to be in bed for a whole week; she won't be able to go anywhere."

Spending so much time in and around the Hole's gardening centre, then on St. Albert's Bellerose Drive, I absorbed a sense of the family philosophy. There was a hierarchy at Hole's but there was also an unforced sense of solidarity. I'd often see Bill or Jim manning a broom, cleaning up a mess because staff were busy with customers. And every morning and afternoon, the entire staff would take a break together in the common room, from the Hole brothers right on down to the newest rookie cashier.

I also gained a privileged glimpse into the Hole inner circle. Through the years, Lois had made a point of being at home at midday whenever she could to cook for her family and a few long-time senior staff. Promptly at noon, everyone would leave the office, head down the sidewalk to Lois and Ted's house to sit down for lunch. Between bouts of good-natured ribbing, everybody had a chance to catch up. I often found myself at that kitchen table, cheerfully tossed into the mix.

My favourite memory is a road trip Lois and I took together that May. She was scheduled to deliver a gardening talk in the tiny central Alberta village of Tees, and Bill figured the long drive offered a perfect opportunity for his mom and me to work uninterrupted for several hours.

By the time she pulled up in front of my house, it was nearly 6 p.m. The talk was at 7:30. By my reckoning, it would take us just under two hours to drive there. But if my chauffeur for the evening was tired or stressed, she wasn't showing it. (Her laid-back attitude never failed to amaze me. If my schedule were as packed as hers, I would be afraid to get out of bed in the morning.)

At 7:15, passing through Lacombe, Alta., Lois pulled into the A&W drive-through. Neither of us had had time for supper. Within minutes, she was back on the highway, steering wheel in one hand and Teen Burger in the other. "Gee, that tastes good," she said cheerfully. "I haven't had one of these things in ages."

As we neared Tees, Lois wondered if perhaps we might be racing around for nothing. "There's an Oilers playoff game on TV tonight. Who on Earth is going to want to come to a gardening talk?"

She got her answer as we approached the Tees community hall. Cars and trucks overflowed the parking lot onto the shoulders of the highway.

As she stepped through the door, Lois was greeted with a warm wave of applause. Every chair in the hall was filled and people were standing in the back. The stage was decorated with the town's finest houseplants, lovingly transported there for the occasion by their proud owners. For more than an hour, Lois held the crowd enthralled with her advice and stories and her knowledgeable answers to their questions. It may have been hockey night in Canada, but it was Lois Hole night in Tees.

As Lois finished her talk, I glanced at my watch. It was nearly 9 p.m. With a two-hour drive ahead of us, I thought, Lois surely would be eager to hit the road.

But as she stepped from the stage, a throng of fans surged forward, gradually sorting themselves into an impromptu queue. One by one, they stepped up to greet Lois, to ask her a question or to tell her a story or two of their own. This was not your run-of-the-mill, impersonal receiving line. It dawned on me that we were not going to leave until absolutely everyone had had a proper one-on-one visit with Lois. By the time she dropped me at home, it was well past midnight.

These are the memories that linger with me a full decade after Lois's death. She was a rare person, one whose public image was the perfect reflection of who she was in private: open, generous, energetic and down-to-earth.

I may not be Lois Hole, but I'm forever grateful for my chance to learn from her example.

Check out the "Lois Hole: The Queen of Hugs" exhibit from the UAlberta Clothing and Textiles Collection, showing at North Campus until March 22.