THE DINNER

6:00 p.m.

University of Toronto Faculty Club – Downstairs Pub

Vegetarian Flat Crust Pizza with Pesto, Sundried Tomatoes, Mozzarella Cheese, Goat Cheese and Black Olives

THE DISCUSSION

It may seem unusual to visit a university faculty club with a man who grew up in a town that was too small to offer him the opportunity to finish high school.  It might also seem unusual that the bartender knows this same man by name from his monthly visits as a member of the rather select group of academics that forms the Brodie Club for Life Sciences. Not only is Fred Bodsworth among peers in his sheer knowledge of the natural environment, his relentless questions reveal a keen and unselfconscious mind that enjoys the ‘fun of discussion and exchange” above all else.

At some point in our education we must all become self-taught, embracing the curiosity that appears born into every child and lost to many adults.  Driving home at night through the city Fred Bodsworth has lived in for over 65 of his 91 years, he does not rail against the changes that take place but marvels at the fact that the lights for pedestrians now beep to provide cues for the visually impaired.  This keen observation of his surroundings, empathy for others and pleasure in innovation are characteristic of the self taught scientist and author.  In fact, Fred Bodsworth attributes some of his longevity to the fact that he can and does think for himself.

When asked what sustains him, he notes first that he must “concentrate on driving.”  This is a practical answer from a pragmatic man who is accutely aware that some of the details that now occupy him are more mundane than those of his youth.  He notes that he is “now doing what two people used to do” in order to continue to live independently in his home in the Beach and describes being a nonagenarian as a “full time job.”

That has not stopped him from putting aside his years of non-fiction work on climate change to return to the unique style of writing that had schoolchildren studying him for decades.  He acknowledges that his writing about the final bird of its kind in Last of the Curlews was written from his heart.  While he feels his researcher’s mind has developed in the decades since, he is still preoccupied with finding the balance between a story that captivates the reader and the factual information that is his love as a scientist.

So he wakes every day to continue his work on a fiction novel about a northern bird.  By way of explanation he notes that it is imperative to “retain the capacity to get excited about learning new things” and he prides himself on being “capable of discovering new aspects of the same old interests.”  Our conversation moves easily from the pleasures of “making music with words” to the latest research on birds and on to family anecdotes.

When asked to explain his work as a writer, he is clear that “you’ve got ideas that you want to sell to others.  Of course I do – environmental protection, conservation. First we must recognize that this planet we live on is not as safe and sound as we think. We have a responsibility to leave it for the people after us the way we got it.”

As he expands, his passion is clearer.  “I get so mad at some people who think they’re not going to be here so they don’t care. Their genes and their grandchildren are going to be here.  What if our grandparents and great grandparents thought to hell with future generations?”

This passion for the natural environment that he “was born with” has guided all aspects of his life from the raising of his family to his career as a writer and his service as a naturalist. While he moved from his canvas tent to bed and breakfasts as he entered his eighties, it is clear that into his nineties his heart and mind continue to race, not against time, but well beyond the tedious tasks of daily living to the next great story.

STILL DIGESTING

My grandfather Fred Bodsworth has watched me grow up, cautioning me against the perils of writing as a career while acknowledging that if you have a story to tell you must tell it. While he wants to guide and protect his family, he intimately understands the need to follow your excitement.

I can think self-consciously to a time in my late teens when I was terribly excited about the environment.  I was speaking and being interviewed more frequently and it is thanks to my late granny Margaret Bodsworth that I can still cringe over some of the clippings.  Of late I have been much more comfortable admiring the enthusiasms of my students from the distance of teacher and trying to keep my own excitement appropriately checked.

Launching this project I had worried that my enthusiasm for people was unbecoming if not a little niave; so it was with amazement that I lost count of the number of times my grandfather, a wordsmith if ever there was one, used the word ‘excited’ over our dinner.   This remarkable ninety-one year old man seems to practice excitement as a way of life.  This excitement about the world we live in is our birthright and we would be wise not to wait too long to exercise it.