It seemed like all of Edmonton was streaming towards the Jubilee Auditorium on Thursday, November 16, 1995, for the University of Alberta's fall convocation. My wife Alison and I were among the crowd milling around the foyer and then scrambling for seats inside. We had driven up to Edmonton to attend our daughter Jennifer's graduation in nursing. When the band played the processional signalling the arrival of the chancellor and members of the platform party, we and everyone else in the audience rose from our seats as they slowly made their way towards the front and onto the stage.

From where I sat high up on the balcony, one member of the platform party looked strangely out of place.

There he was, sitting comfortably in his wheelchair among the academic elite of the University of Alberta. His repetitive facial grimaces were odd - certainly signs of something abnormal within, I thought. He gave the appearance of having a mouthful of sticky toffee. I had to wait almost two hours to satisfy my curiosity.

In the meantime, some 760 capped-and-gowned graduating students paraded across the platform. Chancellor Lou Hyndman, garbed in the magnificent blue gown of his office, shook the hand of each one, and President Rod Fraser, wearing the traditional green and gold of the university, greeted and congratulated the graduands.

Then Dr. Robert Steadward, professor of physical education and recreation, and chair of the International Paralympic Committee, introduced the man with the wheelchair. Not only was he to be presented with an Honorary Doctor of Laws, he also had been given the awesome task of delivering the convocation address.

When Dr. Steadward introduced Gary McPherson as "adjunct professor, community volunteer, provincial administrator and proactive crusader for the rights and betterment of people with a disability throughout the world," I began to realize how wrong my first impressions were. He went on to describe Gary as someone who "exemplifies the very finest qualities in a human being: concern, commitment, enthusiasm, initiative, diplomacy, compassion, pride and integrity" As the hood for the honorary degree fell over his shoulders, Gary was greeted with thunderous applause, the audience standing to acknowledge this man who would never be able to stand again.

Gary gave an inspiring address, filled with wit and wisdom. Early on, he answered the question: why the odd grimaces? In years long past, he explained, a disease had paralyzed his limbs and breathing muscles. To compensate, he had learned how to do glossopharyngeal breathing, also known as "frog breathing." By opening his mouth and then gulping in air, he could force air down his windpipe.

Gary went on to say that receiving an honorary degree from a prestigious university did not necessarily confer a corresponding respect from his family and friends. In order to be properly fitted with a cap and gown, he had asked his wife to measure the circumference of his head. When he asked her what size it was, she quietly muttered, "It's getting bigger." And meanwhile, in the backyard, a neighbour was conversing with Gary's son, Jamie, saying that his dad was a pretty important man. After a long silence, Jamie replied, "I'm four and a half!"

Now associated with the University of Alberta for a number of years, Gary McPherson was then, in 1995, chairperson of the Premier's Council on the Status of Persons with Disabilities, spanning six hundred organizations. His contributions on behalf of the disabled have been outstanding.

During his thirty-four years of being confined in institutions and imprisoned in a severely disabled body, Gary found that if he had the right attitude and motivation, he could do all sorts of things. Most of his schooling came from correspondence courses; his real education, from everyday life. Dependency on others for most of his daily needs proved to be a great teacher. He learned to respect and be prepared to learn from everyone he met. He tried to be as active as he could, within the limitations of his disability, and to learn as much as he could in order to be a fully participating member of society.

Describing his wheelchair as "a tremendously liberating tool", he seemed to personify freedom from the restraints that hold so many people back.

In his convocation speech, he counselled the graduands to commit themselves to a process of continuous learning, as "the microchip is causing information and knowledge to double every eighteen months." As one who had looked into the face of adversity for most of his life, he felt comfortable suggesting that this audience turn adversity into something positive by "taking the lessons it teaches us and applying them in our lives for the benefit of ourselves and others." Further, he advised, adversity can put us in touch with the deepest part of our being - our soul and our spirit.

When Gary concluded his address, the crowd in the jam-packed Jubilee Auditorium had learned a lot more besides what frog-breathing was. In appreciation, they rose to their feet a second time in tribute to a man who had overcome great adversity and remained thankful for life.

On this day in 1995, I first met Gary McPherson. What follows is the story of his remarkable life and career.