Regel

Looking back at this part of my life makes me outright laugh. What a period piece this was in San Francesco weird and wonderful looking people with Afros and flared bell bottom pants tinted funky glasses ornamentation and beading on jackets and jeans. This was a cultural mecca in the 1970's popularized by groups like the village people and the song "YMCA". The more experienced traveller was of course my cousin and as this leg had been littered with petty bickering about one thing or another he decided it was my turn to find us a place to stay. I looked at him and before words could escape my gaping mouth he lit into me, "Fuck you! I have found us the last five places to stay, you do it!" I am not really sure why but his tirade made me giggle. I want to believe my difficulties in finding a place was a result of driving through the night and being overly tired, and not just being stupid and inexperienced. Standing in a phone booth I felt nothing like Clark Kent ready to emerge us Superman. I flip through the Yellow Pages looking under Youth Hostiles (nothing) and then Hostiles only (nothing) Camp grounds (nothing of course in the city) and then started looking at motels and hotels none of which we could afford. Five minutes passed and then ten, I continued to flip through pages getting confused and side tracked under the glare of my hooked nosed cousin. Fifteen minutes had passed and the Fiat door opened and a pissed off Domenic squeezed into the phone booth after yanking me out. "You're useless." In a matter of seconds he found a number called and then said "Get in the car."

Literately we drove around the corner and there was The Young Men's Christian Association. We parked and then went into the buildings front door.

While the two of us where born two weeks apart Domenic was the smaller of the two of us by easily fifteen pounds. His older brother Frank was two years our senior and at least twenty pounds heavier than me. Our relationship was first off friends, secondly family, close family. The intimacy we had with each other tended to breed contempt. While we were in Domenic's car I was always playing the role of visiting team. The problem was my nature. Generally easy going, a bit of a joker I often clashed with Domenic on many fundamental beliefs about life and people. What neither of realized is how this trip would ultimately define us both. Domenic was a very serious pessimist with an uncanny ability to read the negative in people quickly. Myself I was the optimist with a serious blind spot to people with an alternative agenda. Our collective strength was the balance we brought to each other. The problem that was developing was Domenic's estimation of how far I could be pushed. I was rapidly coming to the end of my rope. Fifteen hours into the day we still found ourselves eight hours outside San Francisco. The West coast's beauty was cloaked in darkness now and we shared the road with truckers and very few others. The midnight shift came up and I told Domenic to just pull over and we will both get some sleep. His rant was unbelievable, questioning my manhood and berating me until I reacted and said "Fine! I drive but if I decided that I can go any further I will pull over." A few more expletives and challenges came but the fatigue was enough that Domenic eventually fell asleep. One hour turned into two and the only thing holding me together was the music. One brief second I faded and the wheels of the fiat crossed over the center line causing the raised dividers to awake me. My heart and my eyes wide open my adrenal gland kicked in and I drove down road another hour. Now close to three in the morning I started to fade again and once again the tires made the noise that told me I was crossing the center line. I mentally and possibly verbally screamed the word "Fuck!" corrected my drift and slowly pulled the vehicle over to the shoulder. My cousin slept and I turn the ignition off. We stayed there for about ninety minutes. At first light I awoke, started the car and began again. The short nap had refreshed me and as the day brightened so did I. Around six am Domenic awoke an asked me where we were. The sign we passed suggested Redding was still in front of us. "We should be on the outskirts of San Francesco by now. At the least we should have been to Chico." I left a small space in my reply. I gave it a moment to collect myself and get myself calm. "We could also be dead by the side of the road between Eugene and Grants Pass but we are not. I pulled over after I crossed the center line for a second time. You got a problem with that?" I could tell that the calm in my voice must have unnerved him. He sat slack jawed without further comment. The most beautiful sunrise greeted that silence and we slowly drove towards the outskirts of San Francesco.

To the proud members of the armed forces. Yours is not to question the chain of command that sends you to where ever they do. You are not where my anger is ever aimed. Your lives are to precious and those of the people you fight beside. I wonder what motivates a politician to send young men and women to foreign soil to defend what and whom from what and whom. Defending our citizens and our homes I understand but in recent years the lives and blood spilled in parts of the world where the average citizen of these places could care less that we are there or worse still despise us for being there confuses the hell out of me.

A lesbian is a citizen of the Greek island of Lesbos? And here I thought it meant a Shakespearean actor.

 

Actually the L word is just a word like "brick" or "wall" it conjures up images ideas and or concepts. They don't always mean the same thing to all people so if you get them wrong there could be trouble. What bothers me more than the word lesbian is the concept that people find it offensive to be one. I have come to realize (slowly) that these are simply people first, male and female second ,attached or unattached third. Why do we concern ourselves with peoples sexual orientation? They like you or they don't. They find you attractive or they don't. If the lesbian in front of me is a big Greek man I think I can some up with another way to refer to women that find other women attractive or potential partners.

My dear Friend Wyvern,

 

I hope the day was full of surprises (all of them pleasant) and that you were in the company of those dearest to you. My goodness how much time has passed! Twenty six years young! I met you on line as a teenager with a talent for spinning a good arrow. Best wishes my friend.

I see him going down

and fear takes over me.

I race to the waters edge

two strides I am at my knee.

He's out quite far

perhaps too far we'll see.

 

Let me save him lord,

he's young, take me.

Just for the record I borrowed heavily from the song Fade to Black by Dire Straits as far as the poems structure and frame work. I needed a way to serve it up and this seemed to fill the bill.

You haven't been sleeping well

 

Why you keep your room so black?

 

Lock you self away upstairs

 

Then the mirror started talking back

 

Telling you some crazy shit

 

You're pacing like a caged rat.

 

Fade to black

 

 

 

 

 

I tell you you're coming unhinged

 

You telling me it is not like that

 

I see the fear in your eyes

 

Staring right through your lies

 

You know it's coming back

 

Fade to black.

 

 

 

Pacing around the house at night

 

Are you searching for a way out?

 

Let me help you son, try and get some sleep

 

"I'm fine!" you say in a whispered shout

 

I want to believe you,

 

The mirror tries to deceive you.

 

Fade to black

 

 

 

What is it that you fear?

 

Is it your situation?

 

Is it what you hear?

 

Is it God's creation?

 

You know I hate to leave you here.

 

I tell you I'll be back

 

Fade to black

I was invited to a friends cottage this weekend for an all boys weekend of golfing drinking and card playing. The weather was sketchy and I had serious thoughts of missing it this year. The reason a mix of things that included bad weather, poor finances, and an overall mailase I have been experiencing lately. I decided ultimately that I would go and I traveled down to just between Colburg and Trenton just off the #401 highway.

 

This strech of the 401 was renamed the Highway of Heroes for a couple of reasons. The first reason is that is very close to CFB Trenton were all of our fallen soldiers from Afghanistan are flown in to be repatriated. The second reason is that the motorcade that leaves the bases travels down the 401 to Toronto so the young men can be autopsied before being released to their families. I must admit that while I had hear of the attack that claimed the lives of three young Canadian Soldiers and wounded five others I did not know them or their names.

 

Let it be known that I am firmly against the deployment of our young men into this area of the world and the cost far too high. Pte. Horn 21, Cpl. Grenon 23 and Cpl. Seggie 21 were killed in an ambush Wednesday while conducting a security patrol in the volatile Zhari district. Five other soldiers were wounded in the attack. This brought the total cost in death to 96 Canadian Soldiers killed.

 

 

We had finished our round of golf and many of the guys were relaxing (code for asleep in arm chairs) while the rest of us were playing cards and or a few of us perparing supper. We had needed to run out to the store to replenish our supply of ice and Candian Whiskey when I saw her. A young woman perhaps in her early thirties (obviously a local) standing on the bridge with a red T-shirt that said " We support our troops" holding a small Canadian Flag. Johnny was the driver a local guy that was either sober enough to drive or local enough to know it would not matter. I asked him what was going on? "Oh they will be repatriating those three dead soldiers today" he stated matter of factly. "It has become a tradition around here to turn out on every bridge to show the bereaved families some support and appreciation." I turned to him and said "I like to attend tonight." He smiled and said "...then we will."

 

To my surprise all of the guys visitors and locals alike decided they would turn out so at approximately 6:30 pm we turned all twelve of us. The bridge suddenly jumped up from 6 to 18 a few minutes later some of the local representatives from the Canadian Legion arrived. A few minutes later a local fire truck and two fighters arrived and stopped right in the middle of the bridge. While we waited I people watched. I was amazed at the range of people both younger and older that were there. All of them including me we affected by this enough to show up. A legionaire was walking by and offered us a poppy and I made a small donations. Later he returned with a small Candian Flag (free) which we all gladly accepted. Traffic passed below us in a constant stream as they saw us people would wave hnk their horns and we would wave back. It was getting busy on this bridge people now totaled well over sixty. I looked at a watch a woman beside me was wearing it was now 7:45pm. We had been waiting over an hour and yet the stream of traffic just kept on coming. When would they pass? It seemed no one knew for sure and I overheard conversations about supper and watched as the sunset on a mixed sky changing gray clouds into crimson and violet.

 

Then at 8:07 on a radio I heard "There on there way." The restless crowd was up as were waves and flags. Suddenly the constant stream of traffic stopped entirely for over three minutes no cars abd no trucks. Then we saw the lights on the police cars coming and the three hearst. Behind them the Limos carrying the families. The windows were down and the families were smiling at us and waving back out the windows as the passed our bridge one of many on that Highway of Heros. All of them filled with grateful proud Canadians commited to saying thank you and saluting these brave young men. Suddenly the long wait was over the deed was done and the crowd quietlly dispersed and we returned to our friends cottage. I was moved to doing a little research and read some off the newspaper accounts of the day when I got back home to Kitchener the next day. I read something that made my stubborn head rethink the whole thing, a rarity I can assure you.

 

In a poem Cpl. Grenon wrote in November of 2006, halfway through his first tour of Afghanistan, the soldier wrote of seeing "hate, destruction and depression," but also of seeing "love, warmth, kindness and appreciation."

 

"Why do we fight?" Cpl. Grenon wrote in the poem released by his family. "Because, if we don't fight today, on THIS battlefield, then our children will be forced to face these monsters on our own battlefield. I fight because I'm a soldier. I fight because I'm ordered. I fight, so my children won't have to." These were the words I read from an article written by ALLISON JONES in the Globe and Mail.

This young mans words moved me. Idealistic honorable and fiercely proud to wear the uniform they lived in Canada and died on foreign soil.

 

 

Absolutely stolen from Stargazers Funnies:

 

Words to Live By

 

Never argue with an idiot. The people watching might not know the difference.

 

If you must choose between two evils, pick the one you've never tried before.

 

On the keyboard of life, always keep one finger on the escape key.

 

When you're laying in bed at night looking up at the stars, don't panic when you suddenly wonder "Where the Hell is the ceiling?!"

 

Remember, when someone annoys you, it takes 42 muscles in your face to frown. BUT, it only takes 4 muscles to extend your arm and SMACK the asshole upside the head.

 

The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four people is suffering from some sort of mental illness. Think of your three best friends -- if they're okay, then it's you.

Just remember........if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off.

 

Everyone has a photographic memory. Some just don't have film.

 

Some people are like Slinkies . . . not really good for anything, but you still can't help but giggle when you see one tumble down the stairs.

 

In the 60's people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.

 

There is a theory which states that if ever anybody discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened.

 

The 50-50-90 rule: Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there's a 90% probability you'll get it wrong.

 

It is said that if you line up all the cars in the world end to end someone would be stupid enough to try and pass them.

 

Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.

 

The things that come to those who wait may be the things left by those who got there first.

 

Birds of a feather flock together and then crap on your car.

 

If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.

 

Don't assume malice for what stupidity can explain.

 

The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing in the right place, but also to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.

In spite of the love hate relationship we had Domenic (Don back then) and I had a unique bond. We were more brothers than just first cousins and brothers especially those close in age often defined boundaries and staked out territory. As long as we were in Don's car he would ultimately have the final say. This leg of our trip would be a first for both of us. The trip would be a 24 hour drive which neither of us had ever done. During the day as much as I tried sleep was dam near impossible. The state of Oregon was beautiful country. Country I had never seen and at the time I thought I probably would never see again so in spite of my cousins advice I watched the thick forest and dramatic scenery roll by. The tunes in the fiat really never stopped while we drove. It seemed to keep our spirits up and reduced our bickering. Roundabout by Yes was playing on the cassette player and my speed crept up over the speed limit to 65 mph. My cousin came out of his road induced coma and started circling his right index finger and then accompanied it with "BLIP...BLIP...BLIP". His attempts to simulate a siren just made me smile and slow down.

As I think back to that leg of our trip I can't believe how incredibily naive I was. "Stupid" is the word my cousin would use not just inexperienced but thick, slow, unable to grasp the big picture. For reasons I wouldn't want to get into (a 63 in geography) I was thinking that we would be staying in Seattle or Portland Oregon and this would be a short drive today. When I saw the city limits sign to Seattle at shortly after 10:45 am I realized we would not be staying in there so I assumed Portland would be where we would spend the night. I offered it up like a shallow lob in tennis, "So we are spending the night then in Portland I take it?" Domenic looked at me sideways and half laughed half sneered. "You joking! Portland! Ha! We are not stopping until we get to San Fran man." At first blush I thought I had miscalulated the distance so I didn't say anything I just went back to looking at the map and estimating the distance at 55 mph and a few stops and it still added up to like 22 hours of straight driving. After a few more minutes I folded the map up neatly and fired up a cigarette. This time it was me with the sneer looking at him side ways. "Your fucking nuts...that is a 22 hour drive non stop to get to San Fran. Considering washroom breaks, gas fill ups the occasional stop for food it will be at least that." He shrugged his shoulders and said "So? You're not man enough to drive that far? Poor baby." "Fuck you you horny prick!" I am not driving day and night just so you can get layed for one night!" I was not smiling. Let me remind you gentle reader we are in a Fiat 128. A car small enough to touch both windowsfrom either seat I glared at him and he started smiling. I wanted to punch him, he was always ordering me around or trying to manipulate me into doing what ever he wanted me to do. "Look the idea of driving four hour shifts is ok but after 15 hours of driving we will both be done in. We will have to stop." Unrelenty Domenic continued with "So look just get some sleep I will drive 8 hours in a row and you can drive the next four." The last drag on my cigarette was hot but not as hot as me. I flicked it out the window and before I could say anything Domenic said " Only you can prevent forest fires." Another couple of minutes and I would have butted out on his head and crushed it with my clenched fist. "Screw you, we will shift every four hours like we have always done, besides it's like 11:00am your shift is over and I am hungry. Pull over and lets find somewhere to eat."

Some things you don't get over, you just get through them.

The earth is no longer ours

powerless we watched it taken

now at last they destroy themselves,

 

and release us from our bonds

to embrace the sweet oblivion

maybe soon there we can forget.

 

Our memories erased

and pain obliterated

of our loss and our guilt.

 

For all we should have been able

to rise our voice

strike a fist

 

but already weary

we let it pass

gave way to the dying age

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rage is not the domain of a superior race, especially if something as persistant as man nudges you into the great beyond. Perhaps the resignation comes as a result of an understanding that this might be part of a great cycle that has happened before and will happen again. The piece itself is interesting enough without the explaination Silver Wind but I would tend to agree with Da Yog.

Domenic was right. The border guards decided to flag our vehicle for closer inspection. The line up of cars with families inside them were quickly waved through but when our turn came the Guard decided we looked like pot smokers (which we were) and torn apart the car. Everything we had brought was strewn across the parking area. After they went through every bag, piece of luggage, camping equipment and found nothing they could hold us on they simple said "Your free to go." My cousin was looking at the devastated vehicle and was about to say something stupid when I quickly blurted out "Thank you." and commenced to quickly gather up the mess as quickly as I could. My cousin soon followed my lead and withing 15 minutes we were on our way. Angry and pissed off we crossed into Washington State and started heading to Seattle. The drive was specularly beautiful but there was not very much conversation. One of many life lessons had just been taught to us.

1. What are the things that you feel you MUST have in your life to be comfortable on a day to day basis.

 

Enough money to cover my bills.

Some signs of affection from the people I hold close.

Respect for myself and for others.

A relationship with all living things seen and unseen.

A chance to grow and develop.

A few minutes for myself.

 

2. If you are uncomfortable, but not from pain or loss, but more because you're outside your bubble or element, what do you do to overcome this and find comfort? This is a discomfort that would most likely be situational. (awkward, shy, overwhelmed, etc.)

In my business life I research and try to learn as much as I can to fully understand the products, systems or people I will need to interact with.

I would be uncomfortable in situations where there are no clear directions and outcomes are largely outside my abilities to control.

 

 

3. How do you handle true, deep, devastating pain or loss? Soul Shattering pain. How do you find Solace?

 

While you found this one easy Salinye I find this last one extremely difficult.

Everyone is different but getting back into a routine and finding something to do helps me. I have a belief structure that gives me some comfort but in truth there is no greater healer than time.

With time comes many things. Perspective is one and fatigue is another. You can only carry soul shattering pain around for shorter and shorter periods of time. Solace is not anything more than acceptance.

 

From an old Joni Mitchell song "Both Sides Now" this verse:

 

But now old friends are acting strange.

They shake their heads; they say I've changed.

Well something's lost but something's gained,

In living every day.

The meaning of this eluded me for so long as a young man, but every experience gained comes at a price.

 

Experience gained, innocence lost is a fair trade off except over a period of time you carry so much experience that almost all your youthful innocence is lost.

With the Rockies behind us we rolled into (what I think anyway) one of Canada's most beautiful cities. Vancouver was like no other city I had visited.We found a youth hostile and I believe for five dollars each got a bunk and a roof over our head. A lot of young people in there mixed in with a great many foreign visitors. It was a people watchers paradise and yet my cousin was on a mission. He was such a driven person back then and that hot chick would soon be leaving California so while I wanted to linger a day or two we would be leaving in the morning. The real shame was I was having a really interesting talk with this Swedish couple amd they wanted us to see Vancouver Island with them. They were two free spirits and free thinkers the kind of people that I had never really gotten the opportunity to met before. After a few hours of conversation and coffee it was soon twelve midnight and I had to say my goodbyes. The wake up call was 6:00 am. I was never a morning person and my grump was on as we pulled out and started heading for the border crossing. "I need a coffee." I said to Domenic. It was not so much conversational as much as it was a statement of fact. "Ok, right after that we go to the car wash." I lit a cigarette, took a drag and exhaled, "Why? You need a shower?" I blew the smoke at him because I knew how much it irritated him. "No! You dumb fuck! We need to vacuum the Fiat and make sure there are no marijuana seeds in the carpet or seats. The ashtrays are full of butts and spliffs and these US border guards are ball busters!" I loved setting him off. The first smile of the day crossed my face and he knew when he saw it, I got him.

I never meant to hurt you

 

But hurt you I have.

 

You think I 've stopped caring

 

But you know that's not true.

 

Yes, I'm unhappy

 

But I am not angry at you.

 

You're a woman

 

And I'm a man.

 

How differently we see the world.

 

How differently we are treated

 

How different, yet

 

How much we are the same.

 

I care, you care

 

You hurt, I hurt too

 

I can't always show you my heart

 

And I could never read your mind

 

But if we could….you and I would know

 

That we love each other still

 

even when it doesn't show.

Congratualtions to all. very much deserved

One is mine Mr. Sassy the black and white short hair domestic..the other is Benny my son's cat

February sucks. It seems to last far longer than it's usual 28 days but it particularly sucks on a leap year.

 

Recently I had a rare opportunity to do some self reflection in a warmer climate and I wondered why Febuary fails to impress me.

 

First of all it is in the dead of winter and winter in Canada sucks. Also I know that Auzzies are currently wearing shorts and bikinis and that continues to piss me off.

 

Second reason is you guessed it Feb 2nd "Ground Hog Day". Everybody knows rodents lie. They really don't care what they see when they are dragged out of their hole. They are pissed off that some body (usually wearing a Top Hat) has made them get up from a comfortable snooze and that's why they lie. "Winter is still here dam it!" They are probably thinking "Wake me up in six weeks!" Some how we construe this to mean Spring is around the corner. It is a marvel that anyone gives these toothy creatures any credibility.

 

Finally my snow shovel has worn down. Excessive use has literally worn the dam thing out. Man that ticks me off. Why do passersby find a guy with a tan shoveling his driveway amusing? I will tell you why, we Canadians are sadists. They find it amusing because I was dumb enough to have gotten this tan and still come back! The only part of Febuary I like is Feb 29. Why you ask, well I will tell you. It is the last day of this month and that one only comes around every four years. See you all later I am off to the Canadian Tire Store (aka Newfie Speed and Sport) to by a new one.

Missed it by nearly a week! Darn, hope it was a good one. Happy Belated Birthday greetings.

I'm sitting here in the wireless hot zone (free I might add) at JFK airport enjoying one of the rarest of things I have ever done. I am traveling by myself to Sarasota Florida to spend a week visiting my father in law. My wife and two youngest sons are at home and the cell phone activity from home suggests that minutes of all kind now are free!

 

 

 

My drive to Buffalo was uneventful. The Niagara region was sunny and frosty unlike the day before.

 

It was a very strange contrast as the wind storm that blew through this region was both cold and brutal with wind chill factors approaching -35 C. Not sure what that feels like? Exposed skin freezes very quickly so cover it up or it will freeze and then fall off. The damaging winds and light snow fall caused utter chaos on the roads so I wisely stayed home and used the time to pack.

 

 

 

The next nine days might prove to be very interesting. The one person I would have never thought I might enjoy visiting was my father in law but I do enjoy his company and I know he will enjoy having someone around.

 

My flight lands me in Tampa approximately 8:00 pm. My father in law will be waiting I am sure after having made the one hour drive from Sarasota. He is a good man and a very generous man. That is not to say he can't be difficult! Things for Bert rarely have been anything but difficult. In the early days my father in law and I could not agree on what day it was and if I argued that the glass was half full he would defend the opposite position. Red wine at the dinner table would often bring out the debating skills from both of us. I remember my mother in law always asking me to just try and agree with Bert at the dinner table. I would always try but sooner or later I would no longer be able to remain silent and the heavy discussions would begin. I remember asking my then girlfriend “...does your father like me?"

 

She assured me that if he didn't like me he would never even talk to me.

 

 

 

I remember him asking me to come and work for his company and I have to be honest the money was way better than the job I had at the time but the idea of being an employ of my future father in law worried me. What if anything ever happened between me and my wife???

 

 

 

I would be single heart broken and unemployed all in one phone call home. :

 

 

 

 

 

Fortunately my relationship with my wife was always good even when things around us were not, and as to my career working for my father in law I can honestly say I have never regretted my decision..

 

 

 

They are making the final call at Jet Blue for my connecting flight out of New York. I’ll pack it up quickly and talk to you all soon.

You read my mind.

It's been exactly a year since my mother-in-law passed away. The first Mother's day came and went without her. So many birthdays have come and gone without her. Our first Christmas came and went without her and a New Year came in to being without her. So many adjustments have been made so many plans changed so many people stuck and unable to move on. It has changed us in so many different ways.

 

They say "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I know what the meaning of that saying meant but I also know it isn't always true. A loss like this didn't kill me but it sure as hell didn't make any of us stronger.

 

What kills me on this one year anniversary is that it coincides with the twentieth anniversary of my own father's death. I survived it didn't I?

 

I don't think the person I was did.

 

 

 

I wasn't just shaken a very important part of me died as well. How is it possible to partially die? Optimism, hope, naiveté, and happiness they all died that day and while I was suffering my family and friends rallied around to support me. A year ago I was the outsider that had to be strong and support those around me that could not be strong. It occurs to me that I have never allowed myself to truly grieve, a thought that weighs heavy on me today.

 

 

 

Wallowing in self pity is not my style so once again a serious character flaw of mine (anger) reared its ugly head. I am not happy with myself but I will muddle on.

 

 

 

The very next day I will attempt to celebrate my own mothers seventy fourth birthday, a luncheon is planned and most of my family will be there. Too much there for me to go into but Sunday will be my Mother's Day. Hope I can rally to be there.