Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

As is the norm at the turning of the year, we tend to reflect and look forward on our lives and the state of affairs near and far. Strengthened by the arbitrary Hallmarkish holiday season and the pablum that is forced down our throats from the get go, I think it's second nature to do so. And as I've said before, that's not a bad thing as long as it doesn't cripple us in any way. Reflection is good, it's a way to learn from experience and hopefully point a way forward. Use it as a waypoint in our lives to take stock and maybe look around a bit, smell the roses or smell the crap, such as it is.

I'm not one to make resolutions so I won't be making any promises to you, or myself for that fact, that are probably destined to fail anyway. Leave that little bit of nonsense to all the people that will be crowding the gyms on January 2nd and promising to swear off the devils juice for good. I on the other hand will promote more sharing of wine and food with good friends. The convivial spirit will remain intact. And since "wine is constant proof that God loves us and loves to see us happy." (Thank you Ben) who am I to deny his or hers loving gesture. Salut!

I think it goes without saying that 2017 was a trying year for the world around, both small and large scale. I think the steady bombardment of news at our fingertips and the polarizing effect that has grown ever more rapidly around us makes it seem that it may have been the worse year ever, but I don't think it has been. Alongside the negative there is quite an array of good things that have happened. Not to diminish the buffoonery that is Drumph and his enablers, how could I after all? He has sucked the oxygen out of the entire world after all, with his daily twit storms and lies upon lies being spewed forth like the projectile vomiting circa 1989...ugh. Or the daily stories of mass killings, sectarian violence, religious blood baths, environmental calamities and the ever present 1 percent that, as a whole, are seemingly counting their money and plotting for more. Just that for every "bad" thing that happens you can, if you look, see a lot of good out there.

Logic dictates that it's a fools hope at play here but I'm nothing if not a fool. So there. We hope for the best to rise to the top. We hope that Drumph is kept in check long enough to give reasonable people time to do something about it...maybe we are even doing things to that end. The resistance is real and sometimes it even works. But what's an average bloke to do faced with these almost insurmountable odds? I don't know to be honest. I do know that perspective matters, state of mind matters and choice matters....so having skin in the game becomes a matter of degrees, a matter of being pushed to the red line and no further. Standing between that devil and that sea and saying no more. That's when, as they say, the chips are down and you have to throw down. And that's when I think of this quote...

“Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.”

Carl Sagan

What comes next? What will 2018 bring? What will be be talking about in the days and weeks and months ahead? Will there be a defining moment for us to point at and say, "you see, there it is." Who knows but it will be interesting to find out. The home of ours, the lives we lead...the one constant is that it always moves on. Our world is on chapter 4 billion and something, chapter 50 is about to start for me, and I think it's just starting to get interesting truth be told.

Happy New Year my friends
Ciao

You're Not Where You Think You Are

You go through life knowing that there are things in life that you are completely sure of like longitude and latitude, the sun rising and setting, people losing their limited ability to drive at the first dusting of snow. You expect these things, you know they will always be there, and like a well worn sweater you find comfort in the surety of it all. The original comfort zone if you will. That water is coming out of that tap hot, the kids won't speak to you all day until the second you get on the phone and the cat will pounce on your bladder at 5:15 in the morning on your only day to sleep in. I would imagine many of us take comfort in these certainties, and Christmas rituals may very well be one of our most prized of these.

Growing up as immigrants in Toronto, our Christmas and New Years rituals always seemed to be a work in progress. Maybe it was the creation of the hybrid Serbo/Croat/Canuck Christmas morning that we were in the midst of but it seems that every year was a little different from the year before. We moved a lot growing up so maybe we were reinventing things as we went along in the search for "our" traditions. Later on, when I met my ex new traditions were introduced to make her feel welcome. Stockings and turkey come to mind. Both things that we never really did. I ate, lamb and duck and pork at the holidays....not turkey. And I still don't get stockings so as of this Christmas I am starting a new tradition. It may only last this one year but it will be unique, as my kids would expect coming from me.

And there in lies my thing today. Driving back from the store on Christmas eve I listened to one radio announcer talk about what she cherished most at this time of year. Her family tree was decorated not with store bought ornaments but keepsakes gathered over the years that all held a story or a memory. Hanging the ornaments evoked nostalgia and brought her pleasure. My first thought was, how nice that was and what a beautiful sentiment it was. And than I thought that I was somehow a failure at the whole Christmas thing because, in my broken relationship aftermath world, I didn't have that anymore. That little bit of self pity ended three seconds later as I sped along because I have different things that matter to me. Not to take away from the announcer in any way, or anyone else that has "traditional" things that they look forward to. Not at all. Simply that as my journey continues on, one of the things I have come to learn is that it all changes. The only thing I can count on for sure is that there will be love around. And food of course. After that, as long as we are happy and healthy nothing else really matters.

This will be the first Christmas that my daughter is out living on her own. Inevitably that changes things and that is OK. Our morning rituals have changed quite a bit over the past five years with the changes that happened. Without a doubt the first few years were the hardest as we all had to adapt, harder still on the kids because the adults had destroyed the one thing that they probably believed to be certain even more than longitude and latitude. Resilience and adaptation to ones surroundings is evolution in a nutshell, and they evolved as did we all. For my part, I don't put expectations on this sort of thing anymore other than to do my part in making it a happy occasion. Leave the stress elsewhere, because really, life is too short for that kind of negative aura.

You look at a map and think that you know what you are staring at until you come across something completely different, the Peter's Projection map instead of the Mercator and your world is a little different now. Well guess what? That happens all through life so we might as well get used to the idea. I believe a measure of that understanding is helpful in progressing through life with some semblance of sanity. Even longitude and latitude are now different, so really you're not where you thought you always were. It's OK, we'll all be fine.

So today I find myself at work, serving turkey's to go to people that either can't or don't want to make their own bird. No wallowing in self pity because I have to work or anything like that...and the funny thing is, the other people here with me today are fine as well. Maybe they'd like to be curled up in their onesies or ugly Christmas sweaters but they understand the bigger picture, and since the boss is here as well...what the hell right.

Later on I will gather up my brood to start our time together. We will have Christmas tunes and movies in the back ground. Perhaps some classic Vinyl Cafe stories or Fire Side Al's The Shepard. Too much food will be made with leftovers all around. We'll exchange gifts and go on as we always do, not far from each other, comforted by the knowledge that we are all together and grateful for what we do have.
 
So, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, Seasons Greeting or Happy Festivus...whatever you wish.

Ciao my friends
D

Tell Me a Story

What's going on in that picture? Who are they? What are they talking about? What has their attention so firmly?

Well, who they are is easy, since I happen to know. The lady is Emma Castro, sister to Fidel and the gentleman is Gabo, Gabriel Garcia Márquez. The other questions? Who knows, could be just about anything. Discussions of rebellion and passion? Secret communiques between Gabo and Fidel with Emma as an emissary? A recipe for butter tarts? OK, maybe not the last but that's the point, it could be just about anything.

Disney made a fortune assigning human characteristics and emotions to cartoon animals because we like to see ourselves in others and seemingly in animals, cartoon or otherwise. When we see a cute picture of a sloth "smiling" at the camera, is that what is really happening or is it seeing what we want to see? Do we see reality as it is or as we want it to be? I don't know. What does it matter anyway? We're seeing what we want to see, which is a discussion for another day.

I like to think about the lives of those people and what might have been happening. That picture, a moment frozen in time could be something innocuous or something profound or simply somewhere in the middle. Like looking at old photos of your parents, seeing them as young teens or adults, before they became mom and dad. What were they thinking, dreaming, feeling? You can only use your own prism of experiences to view them through, but it should make you wonder at what the back story really was.

Back in the day I would, from time to time, ride the subway for no particular reason then to watch people. Kipling station out to the east end of Scarborough and back, just to observe. I would make up rich side narratives of what I thought peoples lives were all about. I recently did this very thing in Montreal. Nestled into our booth with good wine, good food, good music and good company, we observed a few people near us and built rich back stories around our perception of what we were seeing.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that you never know what that person across from you is going through. Everyone has their own story and their own set of circumstances they are dealing with, the good, the bad and the ugly. Maybe taking that into consideration, even just a bit, will make our little corner of the world that much better. Help us to be better versions of ourselves by taking the road towards the greater good...you don't know what battles are being fought, so why add to them? Be a better person, if only for yourself but really, in the end, it makes the world that much better.

I often find myself wondering about this. So much so that I feel maybe, just maybe, I am going to get to the point that I am going to openly solicit stories from complete strangers. Sit down next to someone and simply say "hello, tell me a story." See what happens. Other than charges of one kind or another, perhaps a punch to the throat...what could possibly go wrong? On the other hand, imagine the rich possibilities out there. I imagine the things to be learned would be surprising and possibly profound.

Our lives, as intertwined as they are, are affected by all the interactions we have on a daily basis. The other day I helped an older lady by grabbing a shopping cart for her, giving her mine and then grabbing one for myself. Not a big deal in any way on my part but maybe it brightened her day a bit, seeing that there are still polite people out there. Or maybe the lady watching this unfold in front of her while she sipped coffee was reminded that maybe she should call her mother. Or maybe she was simply staring into nothingness and thinking about her day ahead and didn't even "see" what was happening. Regardless, and without agenda, I simply did a nice thing and moved on. I'll leave the rippling effect to the universe to figure out.

Go ahead, tell me a story.

Ciao
D

Raising a Glass

If my calculations are correct, this past Monday was the two year anniversary of something going amiss with my eye. A shimmering blurring of my vision alongside a sort of dark arc across my field of view led me to text my MD sister. With dire warnings of detached retinas and strokes she badgered me into going to the get it checked out. The rest, as they say, is history. At the time no one would have thought it was what it became but I consider myself lucky that I did show symptoms of something that night. Because ten days later I got the news, on December 28th, ocular melanoma. Pardon me? You have cancer in your eye. Well, what the fuck! Fuck Cancer!

And there it was and here I am. Still alive and doing well. I may never have perfect clear vision in that eye again, scuttling my dreams for a motorcycle, but I am here talking about it. And so much more.

I won't delve into it all again as this blog has done a decent job of conveying my thoughts and emotions at the time and since. What started as an attempt at shaking my fist at something, anything, has turned into a vehicle of self expression and rant therapy. Nothing is off limits here. And while it began as a very private but effective way of speaking out it has morphed into a public way of expressing whatever may be on my mind at the time. As is evidenced by the 230 plus posts in the past 23 months, anything and everything is up for discussion. For better or worse, warts and all, it is something that I have come to enjoy very much.

I guess the milestone serves as a marking line for the graph of my life. "You see, here is when you could really see the changes taking place....right here (pointing at some spot where the x and y cross)" As you well know I don't deal in regrets very often, or ever, but I do think about the "what ifs". The road not taken makes me wonder about what might have been. Not just recently of course, but always. The choices made and not made that have brought me to here, the where I am...not in Memphis but here. Not a lawyer but here. Neither alone or with someone, but here.

Life is funny. Life is complicated. Life is messy but in the end...life is beautiful. And I really do believe that and I think, in the end, that is one of those things that I like the most about me, that I have a mostly positive outlook on life. I don't sweat the small things, actually I don't sweat much of anything, and I like that the "nice guy" is doing alright through it all. Far from perfect but quite comfortable in how life is unfolding.

Maybe I will pour myself a drink on the 28th with a resounding "fuck you cancer!" but I think I am more interested in what's next. Where is it all going and what will it bring? To me, to my family and to my circle of friends....time will tell I suppose. And while I am in some ways celebrating being alive, I pause for more then just a moment of thought for people dealing with their own crap.

Fitting perhaps that this "celebration" falls at this time of year, a time full of mixed emotions mingled with expectations, food and too much glow wine....the "perfect Christmas" is rarely perfect for everyone, often far from it. The simple truth is that it is a cruel joke that times of celebration can also be times of despair. Feelings are heightened and emotions are in full force when you can't help but see that your brothers and sisters are not feeling the joy as Hallmark and West Jet have laid out for you.

So while my first toast will be to fucking cancer my second raise of the glass will be for my family and friends that maybe need a hug or a shoulder to lean on. Thinking of you all.

Ciao
D

Music Head

Do you have a theme song? One song that, if you had to choose, encapsulates you the most? I, for one, can't think of one for myself. One song that is me? There are plenty of songs that are defining in their own way, important to me for any number of reasons but I'm hard pressed to pick one...save for maybe the clown theme music from the circus. Sooooooo, what songs are significant to me? In no particular order and with no explanations (if you want one, ask) here is a tiny tiny smattering of songs I love. Drop the needle!

Sing Your Heart Out - The Trews
Kiss Me You Fool - Northern Pikes
Jesus of Suburbia - Green Day
I Walk the Line - Johnny Cash
Closer to the Heart - Rush
In the Cage Medley(live) - Genesis
Waiting on a Friend - Rolling Stones
Woman in Chains - Tears for Fears
2112 - Rush
Xanadu - Rush
La Villa Strangiato - Rush
Into the Mystic - Van Morrison
Bossa Nova - Elvis
Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls
Talking out of Turn - Moody Blues
Ahead by a Century - Tragically Hip
Bobcaygen - Tragically Hip
All I Want is You - U2
Where the Streets Have No Name - U2
Bad - U2
Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald - Gordon Lightfoot
Marriage of Figaro - Mozart
Fairy Tale of New York - The Pogues
No Women, No Cry - Bob Marley
Life in a Northern Town - Dream Academy
Down by the Crazy River - Robbie Robertson
Everybody Knows - Leonard Cohen
Poison and Wine - Civil Wars
Sinnerman - Nina Simone
Rock and Roll - Velvet Underground
Old Man - Neil Young
Check it Out - John Mellencamp
Minutes to Memories - John Mellencamp
Take the Long Way Home - Supertramp
Have You Seen My Skates - Lennie Gallant
Paradise By the Dashboard Light - Meatloaf
Lost Together - Blue Rodeo
In The Valley - Midnight Oil
Everyday People - Sly and the Family Stone
Number of the Beast - Iron Maiden
Hoedown - ELP
Ah! Leah - Donnie Iris
Magic Bus - The Who
Sound of Silence - Simon and Garfunkle
It's My Life - Talk Talk
Stairway to Heaven - Led Zeppelin
Burning Love - Elvis
Shelter from the Storm - Bob Dylan
Don't Walk Past - Blue Peter
The Weary Kind - Ryan Bingham
House of the Rising Sun - The Animals
Shine - Junkhouse
Biko - Peter Gabriel
Rumble - Link Wray
Blackbird - the Beatles
A Day in the Life - The Beatles
Imagine - John Lennon
Just Like Starting Over - John Lennon
Wolves - Big Wreck
Lover of the Light - Mumford and Sons
Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons
Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd

As I started adding songs to this list even more started coming to the forefront in my mind. The sheer magnitude of influential music to me is impossible to quantify. I could just as easily simply list albums here and have the same effect. Additionally one can easily see my sweet spot or comfort zone with what I gravitate towards by this list. Of course there is so much more...so much more. You see, I may have to stick with the circus music idea as my theme song as I would have oodles of trouble finding that one song that best defines me. Perhaps on my death bed the inspiration will come. Until then I will be listening to these and so many more for the next 30 or 40 years. Being inspired, moved and entertained by the sheer brilliance of some amazing artists and what they have to say.

Do you have that one song?

Drop the needle!

Ciao
D

Say What

Communication is everything they say. Not sure who "they" are but I tend to think "they" are right in this case. It's interesting how communication has developed, different tools and methods of expressing oneself, how things get misinterpreted and the fallout there after. In an effort to be open and honest with people we sometimes run into situations that would have made it to a Three's Company episode with the ridiculous misunderstandings....people are funny.

In this way, I think a lot of us use idioms and cliches because they are what they are and because they are easy. While casting about for something to say we reach for old favourites because they are well known and we almost instantly can recognize the message contained within. When I am trying to convey a bit of dime store wisdom to my cat it might go like this...

"Listen Boots, you can't cry over spilt milk, it is what it is my furry friend and we simply have to understand that shit happens. The ball is in your court now and you're going to have to shape up or ship out before I let the cat of the bag. I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore, you need to look at this as a blessing in disguise."

I'm not really saying anything specific but my cat should understand what my message is. Not unlike the interviews between periods with hockey players that say varying versions of the same things across the board. You know they are reading from the same playbook. Just once I'd love to see Sidney Crosby say something like "well Bob, we're down a bit right now but I think that maybe we're lucky to be down only by two goals. We are stinking the joint out right now and if I can be more direct, if Kessel doesn't start skating and maybe, you know, hit a few people instead of being a fucking cherry picking goal slut we might be able to mount an offence that doesn't look like my grandmother trying to get out of bed after an 8 hour sherry bender."

Reaching for an old saying or a well worn phrase can be a place holder. A way of contributing to a conversation without really contributing. And I would argue that it's OK to do so in certain situations, say the non important work and social conversations that happen every day. Walking by someone in the hall at work..."hey, how are you?" "I'm doing well thanks, how about you?" as we continue to walk in opposite direction. Not listening or hearing. Or my favourite, "not bad for an old guy." I don't think anyone actually wants to hear anything past that in these situations. "Hey, how are you?" "Well, I'm OK but I think I might have a case of scabies going on right now, not to mention the fact that I owe $2000 on a cock fight last night. But how are you Jack?" Stick to the banality. And know your audience.

While idioms and, by extension, cliches are easy to use and can be quite useful in a wide range of circumstances they detract from real communication, the kind that can get down deep with people. If you've read any of my posts you know the world of dating and relationships provides constant fodder for this blog o' mine. The ups and downs to a degree but more what I am learning through it all. One of those things, which I have known all along really, now just on a deeper level, is that being able to brush aside the pablum and space fillers in a chat is what makes for some wonderful possibilities. It's being able to communicate with your partner, your family and your friends that sets things apart. To use my best friend as an example, we can range in topics from Drumph and his machinations, the trouble that is caused by the religions of the world, the Leafs, grief of a lost son, ultrasonic tests on composite materials, sushi, Willie Nelson and poop stories. We get each other and we do so because we can communicate. We don't agree on all things but we have enough common ground to have a solid foundation. Over the years we have built up our own version of the stealing horses key to success, it can make no sense to some others and we really don't give a fuck. We are ourselves and provide zero fake moments. That, in a nutshell, is what all relationships should be built on. In my humble opinion. 

So, I think it's time to put my nose to the grindstone and get back to the drawing board.

Ciao
D

Echoes

"No one can change the sound of an echo" 

I told you I would come back to this the other day. I liked this quote and I couldn't put a finger on why at the time so I decided to leave it be. And like an echo it kept playing in the background, there but not really there. Straining to be heard and understood, or maybe it was me simply wanting to understand it better.

The imagery of time and reverberation of ones actions and words is what I feel when I read that quote. Like skipping a rock over the surface of a still pond, the ripples have expected and unexpected resonance. Science can explain the expected ones, nobody can predict the unexpected ones. A light breeze, a fish swimming near the surface, a butterfly flapping it's wings in China, who knows really and for certain not all echos will be understood. The same can be said for words spoken out loud. You can't take back an angry word, a hurtful insult. Think about it for a moment, I would venture we have all been on the giving and receiving end of a mean word and how it has stayed with us over all these years. There have been times that I wish I could have sucked those words back into my mouth before they did the damage they did, but unfortunately, despite my super powers, I was not able to. Be it a hyped up argument where emotions got the better of us or simply because of an ill timed thought or, worse, a desire to hurt someone for whatever reason, the end result is the same. Once you have seen the wooden nativity scenes on peoples lawns as an epic battle between two dinosaurs over a table saw you can't unsee it, just as you can't unsay what you just said. You cracked the glass, you pulled the cover back to reveal your thoughts and that shit sticks.

And try as you might, the sincerest apology is not going to change the fact that you broke the covenant, you set in motion a chain of events that no one can tell you how it will play out. My ex wife, before we were married, called me a jerk once. And it bothered me then and it bothers me now. Not only because it was undeserved in my opinion but because it spoke to a certain kind of attitude and way of thinking I simply didn't and don't care for. 25 plus years on and this still echoes with me. Words matter. They always have and they always will.

I suppose this plays against the backdrop of all that is going on around me. the fuzzy cloud of all of life's vagaries, seemingly on full display. Not just for me but for others as well. Maybe it's the holidays, maybe it's the world or maybe it's simply echoes from the past bouncing around. 

Photo courtesy of my dear friend Margo

Ciao
D

Tis the Season

A long, long time ago I spent a summer working at a golf club in Oakville, just out past Mississauga, also known as the boonies back then. This was right after graduating college and my buddy Pete, who had worked there the previous summer, asked if I wanted to come out and work hard and have some laughs...you betcha!! And so began the last true summer of debauchery before the whole adulty thing began.

Working with Peter was and will always be one of my fondest memories coming out of college. We went into business not long after this adventure but this is where we cemented our friendship and drove our boss a little crazy in the process. We worked monster hours that summer, par for the course (pardon the pun) in the chef world. But honestly it never seemed like a lot of work, we simply buckled in for what we had signed up for and learned as much as we could while having a good time. This by the way is the key to working life success...work hard and try to enjoy what you do with a few laughs. Go home alive. Rather, rinse and repeat.

Peter and I shared a certain sense of humour that borders on the asinine with healthy doses of brilliance and wit. Our opportunistic forays really were about entertaining each other and ourselves as best we could. For example. We had a small elevator, dumb waiter, that led up to the dining room from the kitchen. That is how food went from our stoves to the waiting maws of the golfers, lovingly carried from said elevator to the table by some old school servers. Lena and if I recall right, Ted...or maybe Ed. Maybe Henry. Doesn't really matter, they were a piece of combined work. Slightly older than Moses and blessed with the bitter acerbic way that only the living dead can pull off, they were a joy to behold. And a joy to torment. One night we sent some steaks up on the lift and dutifully pushed the intercom buzzer for a pick up. "Yeah" came the surly reply from Tenry, "steaks are on the lift". "Mistakes! We don't make any fucking mistakes! You god damned cooks make all the mistakes!" How do you not love that?

I mentioned before that I was a Big Brother to a kid named Christian. On one of my rare days off I brought him to the club for an outing. As one would expect from a guy like me I sent him up on the lift for a little surprise to lovable Lena. "Food order on the lift Lena" was the intercom communique. And forgetting that there wasn't anyone in the dining room at the time or not even knowing where she was, she slid the door open and let out a little yell at seeing the little black kid smiling up at her. Or the time we sent up live lobsters....something truly satisfying about hearing that shrill yelp from above.

In the midst of all this we actually did cook some food. A lot of that food revolved around tournament bbq's that we both loved and hated. It got us out of the kitchen and surrounded by the intoxicating smell of burning charcoal and sizzling T-Bone steaks, but it meant having to talk to some incredibly ignorant and rude members that seemed to feel that they were the funniest guys on the planet. One such fellow we hated above all else, let's call him Mr Johnson. Johnson had the same stupid jokes as we waited his turn for his steak, "just rip its horns off and wipe its ass boys" when asked how he would like his steak prepared. Obviously not aware of the important work of enzymes in the ageing process we simply looked for the rarest piece we could find to hand over. Except this one last time. Peter nudges me and points to a pair of tongs he has in the embers of the bbq, "watch this" he says. Boy oh boy! So when Johnson offers up his plate to receive the ceremonial dead beast, Peter, using the slightly warm tongs ensconced in the red hot embers, flips the steak onto his plate being sure to kiss Johnson's thumb with the edge of the tongs. Plate went flying out of his hands and the steak flew over the balcony to the ground below. Pure poetry my friends.

Somehow our boss had given us both three days off together so we made the most of it with pursuits of scholarly endeavours. Oh wait, wrong story...we went to visit our friends up at Deerhurst Resort and spent the days and nights pretty well pickled. We tried to learn how to water-ski. We used up 50,000 pellets on our buddies air rifle, shooting out cans and dropping them between the cracks of the decking. Getting to hang out with our school buddies and meeting the cast of characters that can only survive in settings such as these. Lanka, the knife wielding hard as nails cook that shared a nearby cabin and had a proclivity for some sort of warm knife activity. Jacques, maybe not his real name but it should have been, the French Canadian butcher that looked a little like Mad Dog Vachon. Seriously? Where in the world do these people come from...oh right, right here in our own little corner of the world. Good times to be sure.

I guess some of our craziest misadventures revolved around the biggest event of the year, the Wimpey Construction Company Tournament. The owner of the company was also the owner of the golf course and our boss went to the nines for this event. I was warned by Peter to be ready for this thing, it was a beast with three straight days of work simply to get ready for the tournament. Truth be told we could have done everything in a day or two if we only worked smarter and didn't let our boss create the Fruit God. No word of a lie, he used up two rolls of aluminium foil, balled up into this large roundish sphere that he proceeded to cover in glazed lettuce and then stick with fruit skewers. Kind of old school even back then, now simply unbelievable. But that's what he spent a lot of time on while we all went about producing massive amounts of food to throw out later.

Somewhere out in the universe is video that Peter had taken of this day, and on that video you can witness my not entirely slow slide into insanity. I was tired and thus, silly. For whatever reason we had latched onto the Looney Tunes "duck season, wabbit season" routine, so from time to time you could hear any number of us, in that cartoonish  voice yelling out "It's duck season!!" from various areas of the kitchen. The reply came "wabbit season" followed by a chorus of "shoot him now!!" The video had me, nearly buried in mounds of spinach, literally losing my marbles as I recited the whole spiel myself - SHOOT HIM NOW!!!!!

At the end of that night, as Peter and I went through the fridges, organizing and consolidating the massive amount of food left over we can be seen on video poking some fun at each other and our boss, especially around some of his favourite catch phrases such as "save that, I'll make something out of it." By this time we knew full well that we would be throwing out that little smidgen of zucchini in a week but we were saving it. It was funny to us, not so funny to him as a few months later when we all got together for an end of season party and that video was played....errrrrrrr

In the end some great bonds were built between us all. While life has taken us in new directions and places I would like to think that we all remember this time fondly. Here we made our bones.

Ciao
D

The Moment Before

Often I am left shaking my head and wondering what exactly people were thinking before they said or did something that, seemingly, with a moment of pause, could have avoided so much pain, embarrassment or mocking. What was that YouTube "star" thinking when he cemented his head inside of a microwave? Seriously?

I know, it's ironic that a guy that has jumped off of a racing station wagon and stepped across a gap between buildings twenty or so stories up would ask what people were thinking prior to doing something stupid. I get that. And I guess that is, maybe, the point.

In the moment before, those few precious seconds before committing to a course of action, are we thinking straight? I can only speak for myself of course...I would never encase my head in cement for a few YouTube likes. But maybe this mental midget thinks I'm completely whacked for my contributions to the "why am I still alive" file. I was looking for other things. In the case of the station wagon, I was choosing the lesser of two evils in my mind and in a split second decision. My Spider-man act was to shock my buddy, partly, but mostly to see if I could do it. Risk takers unite! So yes, I was thinking straight...and I'm alive to talk about it.

Which brings us to why women live longer than men. We of the hairier sex are really that stupid sometimes. The 'hold my beer, I want to try something" moments are well documented and circulated to deny the existence of the vortex of stupidity that we seem to thrive in. Some are legit forays to full-fill the need for thrills and speed; sky diving, crotch rocket racing and so many more, with quasi rules and expectations of living through the event. Others are quite literally simply Darwin's theory in practice, writ large. You don't often see women building ramps off of roofs to try and jump over pools on their bikes or on roller blades now do you? Seriously, why do you women even like us?

I like the imagery around the line "in the moment before". The deep breath before the plunge. The pause for gravitas prior to stepping into the light. I remember when we were working on opening our B & B 22 years ago. We were fully committed at this point, both financially and emotionally, but there was a moment just before the excavator took it's first bite out of the earth, as it rumbled up the driveway to begin the transformation of our land, that it seemed to be something happening to someone else. Surely this yellow behemoth isn't here for anything to do with us. It is here for us...what the hell are we doing? I was a little panicked at the largeness of what we were trying to accomplish...who the hell were we to think we could undertake such a project? All in the moment before. And months later, with the finishing touches being applied, the project complete as we closed the door on each room satisfied with the accomplishment, ever so thankful for all the hard work and effort from family and friends we arrived at the next moment before.

And here in lies the lesson. Our lives are full of moments just before. The moment before the first kiss. The moment before the sip of wine. The moment before the first word. Are we being in the moment to see, to appreciate and to understand the thing as it unfolds before us? With this whole getting older thing I can appreciate more deeply and often the importance and beauty of these events that are happening all around me and to me. One of the gifts for the privilege of growing old I suppose and we can all probably work a little more to be fully in that moment before and every moment after.

And on to the next moment...

Ciao
D

Goldilocks Syndrome

John Cleese told me to steal from other people so that's what I'm doing. Are you gonna argue with Mr Cleese? I didn't think so. I know I wouldn't.

What am I stealing? Words and ideas. Pearls of wisdom. Sometimes nonsense. Today I am lifting from my guru Aaron Sorkin to be exact. What a surprise eh?

To paraphrase:

"You know what a Goldilocks planet is? It's a planet with the potential to support life 

because of its proximity to a star.

Not too hot, not too cold.

Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water

Enough oxygen, but too much nitrogen

And of all the planets, 1300 were identified but only two were confirmed. 

And of those two, one is radioactive.

Which leaves only one planet in all of space that is perfect.

You're talking about what I think you are? I think so." 

I've spent a bit of time this past week or so talking to friends, using my down time of recovery to catch up and such with people. Drank a bunch of coffee...too much coffee. Since most of these friends are women that I have met in the dating process over the past few years, that have become friends, inevitably talk turns to the eternal search for the "one"

We speak about the experiences we have had, both good and bad. We speak about the what ifs. We speak about where we are. And we speak about whether or not there is a "one" out there. From my perspective, yes. There is someone out there for me that will one day leave me completely vulnerable and happy to be so. Not everyone thinks that way though, and I'm pretty sure my doughy naivete in this area is both funny and annoying to some of my friends. But because we are friends we go along with the whole thing because, in the end we truly want everyone to find whatever it is they are searching for.

This isn't going to spiral into dating advice, simply some observations on the world of dating in your 40's. In case you missed it, the place to meet people now is online since, and lets be honest here, I'm not going to a bar to pick anyone up and I'm a bit too shy to start up a conversation with someone at the local Sobeys. I can just imagine my ill timed comment whilst perusing the melon section of the produce area. Bam! I have enough trouble with my mouth and my warped sense of humour. I don't need to be banned from the grocery store to boot.

So, a few observations:

We all have baggage. How can you be our age and not have them? As long as it doesn't rule your every day life it should be cool. In fact, and here is the tapestry thing at play, I do want to know the story. How did you get here from there? Pretending something didn't happen or didn't have some effect on you is disingenuous I think.

I try not to have boxes to check off or fill. Those deal breakers in some ways have the potential to limit you and limit your possibilities. I'm not talking about height and hair colour here, which is silly in it's own way. If you're attracted to blonde I get that, but don't discount that red head...you have no idea what is possible in that direction until you walk in that direction. Granted, I do have a few litmus tests that I have developed. I'm sure most would agree with me that they aren't too far fetched.

• You can't support Drumph and his ilk
• A cruise to Europe is not really going to Europe
• Be nice

Easy right? 

We are all crazy to some extent. We all have our own proclivities that make us who we are, as it should be, lest we all be the same. Who wants to live in a world full of storm troopers after all? And holding out for "perfect" is a good way to ensure that you won't be celebrating Christmas with someone special. I like a little bit of crazy, the trick is to find how much crazy you're willing to welcome in. I am almost positive that I'm not always an easy person to be with, I have my ways and my views, but I hope I am accepted for what and who I am. For sure I am not changing because as I have stated before, we simply don't change who we truly are. So why bother trying to push on the ocean? And who am I to ask you to change so you can fit into my ideal of a partner? That's why I wouldn't even consider asking. Be yourself, because I certainly am going to be. Be messy, be quirky, be weird...be you.

In the end it still, for me, boils down to opening yourself up. Allowing the possibility of something special to walk in the door as you sit down for the umpteenth beverage. You'll get hurt, you'll have false starts and sometimes it will seem like it isn't even worth it, but like the great philosopher Dory so poetically said...just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

Let me leave you with one last little nugget of wisdom. Curly's Law can be found in the movie City Slickers as Mitch and Curly ride the open range, grand vistas all around as they sit atop their faithful steeds. 

"Do you know what the secret of life is?

This (holding up one finger)

Your finger?

One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that and the rest don't mean shit.

But, what is the "one thing?"

That's what you have to find out."

Is it as simple as that? Maybe. Maybe not. But it certainly seems like a good place to start.

Ciao

D

To analyze the atmosphere and find planets that match the different requirements.
1,300 planets were identified, but only two confirmed.
And of those two, one turned out to be something.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water.
Enough oxygen, but not too much nitrogen.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

Not too hot, not too cold.
- Right.
Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

- Right.
Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

- Not too hot, not too cold.
- Right.
Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water.
Enough oxygen, but not too much nitrogen.
And we use something, um - Transit spectroscopy.
- I think that's what it's called.
To analyze the atmosphere and find planets that match the different requirements.
1,300 planets were identified, but only two confirmed.
And of those two, one turned out to be something.
- Radioactive.
- Yeah.
So right now that leaves one planet in all of space that's perfect.
You're talking about what I think you're talking about, right? - I probably am.
- All right.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

- Not too hot, not too cold.
- Right.
Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water.
Enough oxygen, but not too much nitrogen.
And we use something, um - Transit spectroscopy.
- I think that's what it's called.
To analyze the atmosphere and find planets that match the different requirements.
1,300 planets were identified, but only two confirmed.
And of those two, one turned out to be something.
- Radioactive.
- Yeah.
So right now that leaves one planet in all of space that's perfect.
You're talking about what I think you're talking about, right? - I probably am.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

Bleed Out Your Heart

Did you miss me? Well, I'm back, sort of, after my surgical induced hiatus from access to a computer and, well...sight. But here I am once again as I work my way back to normal and some version of sanity in this world.

It's been a bit of a strange few weeks for me, so much so that I feel a tad askew lately. Things change, things end and things happen. I feel like I have a ton of things to say and yet I don't know what I want to talk about. Weird huh? I almost feel like I am in a holding pattern, which makes sense since I am in some aspects. Nothing to worry about of course just pondering.

A song has been endlessly playing in the background this past week, an inescapable earworm that for some reason simply won't go away. Not that I hate the song, quite the contrary, I simply want to know why.

The song is Wolves by Big Wreck. The song, to me, feels like it should have been a huge hit in my youth. It's melodic, soaring and has a depth to it that makes me want to claim it as the music of my generation as opposed to something from this decade that doesn't know how to appreciate it for what it is...a great rock and roll song. Period.

Of course, the music is great but as you can probably guess the lyrics behind it are what keeps playing through my mind with Ian Thornley's soaring voice providing the colour. 

"Oh mark my words

In between the lines

And every little piece

Of the story's entwined"

Invoking the theme of my life lately, the imagery and symbolism of life as a tapestry, my love of stories and authentic experiences that, hopefully, teach me something every day and in the end simply choosing to live life as if I was alive. Lately, I feel like I am nibbling at the edges of something deeper, something more real in my writing and in my life. The nagging feeling that I have something to say but am not saying it. Wandering around the grounds outside instead of joining the party inside the palatial palace.

Ernest Hemingway said that “there is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” And that may very well be the case, but what of this...

"Oh, they said bleed out your heart

If it's still beating for someone else

Trap all those chains

That keep you tethered, that keep you safe"

Taking those chances, allowing yourself to feel pain, to feel fear, to feel. It's not easy of course. Fucking ponies, people and our own heads get in the way too often, but I do think there is both value and virtue in trying regardless. The journey, and not the destination, are what we should be focused on. The experiences we have, the stories we collect and the people we meet are what our tapestries are weaved from.

"And all of my favourite stories are about you"

It's funny how simply writing about this has helped to clear my head a bit. The act of "bleeding on the page" has helped to clarify my thoughts and feelings. Cathartic some may say. I know for me, over the past two years or so, this blog has been a bit of a lifeline in times of doubt, in times of confusion and in times of revelation. I recommend it highly my friends...do it for yourself, I promise that it will help. Write for yourself.

When writing I often do Google searches for words that I have running through my head, lyric meanings and so on to help with clarity and direction. One of those searches provided this quote that I want to think on for a bit.

"no one can change the sound of an echo"

I like this. But why?

Photo courtesy of my incomparable friend Margo 

When the Wolf Comes Home

Every once in awhile there are moments in time that you know are significant in some way, a whisper of an idea, seeing or hearing something profound. Or a feeling that maybe you're supposed to remind yourself of something very special...that you are missing something you don't remember.

One such occasion happened to me just about 5 years ago now. A night that was supposed to be about celebration that had turned to a realization, to resignation...and has brought me to where I am right now. I'll say this...life is never uninteresting.

On a night that my ex and I were celebrating our 19th wedding anniversary with a night away, a movie and a dinner out we ended up on opposite sides of the table staring at each other over souvlaki as if we were complete strangers. And I guess, in essence, we were. Later on that brisk evening, walking out of the theatre after seeing the movie Cloud Atlas, I found myself feeling like I had seen or heard something profound. Maybe it was a line in the movie, maybe it was the movie itself, I wasn't sure. And in that moment, as we walked back to the hotel, I was trying to articulate my thoughts when I was jolted back to reality..."I didn't like the movie." What? What did you say? How could I feel a seismic shift in thinking and she nothing at all?

Now, I'm not saying that her dismissal of my thoughts on the movie were the reason for us separating, I felt it was inevitable before that fateful night, but it is true that we separated two weeks later. A moment, frozen in time, when I realized that I could not, would not, live like that any more. I'm not casting blame on her here either, this was a failure on both our parts to be what we each needed to be for the other. We grew apart, we didn't talk to each other, only at each other and we stopped dating each other...our mojo gone. Lost in the years of doing what we were doing. No relationship can last in that sort of vacuum...the wolf had come home.

"There's bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet

No matter where you live

There'll always be a few things, maybe several things

That you're going to find really difficult to forgive

There's going to come a day when you feel better

You'll rise up free and easy on that day

And float from branch to branch, lighter than the air

Just when that day is coming, who can say, who can say?

Our mother has been absent

Ever since we founded Rome

But there's going to be a party

When the wolf comes home"

We all carry baggage around with us. The things we have done, things done to us, feelings hurt and spirits lifted, we are, as I have said a few times now, the culmination of everything that has happened to us up until this very moment. To my way of thinking, that wolf is us not making peace with our past and how that failure has helped to shape us. Which reminds me of the adage "you can't know where you're going without knowing where you've been."

These lyrics come from the song Up The Wolves by The Mountain Goats, which I heard on the show The Walking Dead...how's that for profound imagery, we the walking dead waiting for our wolves to come home, with either the sweet pain of death releasing us or finally realizing that all we have is what we have and our happiness comes from within first. 

I wonder what my next profound moment will be. Where will I be? Who will I be with? What is going on in the world? Not knowing is painful but exciting all the same.

And five years on, what was it that turned my world ever so slightly? This quote is as good as I can offer....

"Belief, like fear or love, is a force to be understood as we understand the Theory of Relativity and Principles of Uncertainty: phenomenon that determine the course of our lives. Yesterday, my life was headed in one direction. Today, it is headed in another. Yesterday I believed that I would never have done what I did today. These forces that often remake time and space, that can shape and alter who we imagine ourselves to be, begin long before we are born and continue after we perish. Our lives and our choices, like quantum trajectories, are understood moment to moment. At each point of intersection, each encounter suggests a new potential direction."

...and maybe that is good enough for today.

Ciao
D

Expectations

In the annals of music there are some pretty horrible songs that give credence to the idea that being strung out on coke or comfortably numb on Willie Nelson lead people to believe that their musical journey is pure magic. All the proof you need is here High AF Of course that is an extreme example but I believe you get my drift. And to be fair, one persons version of nails across a chalkboard is another's theme song to their life...that's the way it is right. Which leads me to The Stanfields, a band from backwoods Nova Scotia that broke out with a small local hit called The Dirtiest Drunk in History of Liquor. Yep...you read that right. I hated that song. A waste of digitized space pure and simple. I wouldn't pay money for their music, much less see them live. Didn't give them any thought what so ever.

Until I was forced to see them live. They were opening for The Trews, another backwoods Nova Scotia band that I did like. And you know what? They were great! First, they didn't play that song but more importantly they played an acoustic show which opened up the music to me in a way I didn't quite expect. And my was I pleasantly surprised. So much so that I mused about suggesting they permanently ditch the electric version of their band. Of course, as is often the case with music, an opening leads to new discoveries and an appreciation for things I knew little of. They are a pretty good band of songwriters with a hard and true view of life that they cast a light on in their own way. I so love that about music.

Anyhoooooo, their song Vermillion River is what brings me here today.

"What would they say if I went back empty handed?

They won’t know who I am for all I know

But I know they'd compare me to my brothers

And laugh behind my back if I went home"

This line caught my attention. The idea of living up to expectations and the effects that has on us and others around us specifically. I think of my daughters and what it means to live in a world that bombards them with images of the perfect body, the perfect clothes and the perfect hair. I think of my son and the just as ridiculous notion that a man can't be vulnerable and must join in behaviour they know to be simply wrong so as to fit in. I think of people around me striving for someones notion of what it means to be happy...the white picket fence, 2.2 kids, two cars in the garage and a labradoodle at your feet. No wonder advertising is such a huge business, because someone has got exactly what you need to help you on the path to happiness. As if that was actually possible through things; I've got a Swatch, I'm happy as fuck now...woooohoooooo

From an early age we are all subjected to expectations, not all of them are material and some are quite benign but they are there. As parents we want our kids to grow up healthy and successful to maybe have an easier way than we may have had. That's cool, I can dig that. What I can't dig though is living vicariously through your kids..."little Jake there is going to make the NHL...hey ref!!! What the hell are you doing....did you swallow your whistle?" Sound familiar? When my kids were in basketball I knew it was a thing to do for them, it wasn't the path to their future success. I didn't bank on their NBA signing bonus. I hoped that they would learn to play a team sport, have some fun and exercise and simply enjoy the game. While I could not care less for basketball, two of my kids loved it, so I sat in the stands like a good dad and politely cheered them on while my butt went numb on the bleachers. All around me there were pockets of the vocal parents that had other ideas in their heads. Talk about pressure from expectations and the downright rude behaviour that followed with these wannabe superstar parents. You should have seen the dirty look I got at the end of one championship game that our team lost. I went over to the other teams coach, shook his hand and congratulated him on his teams play and his coaching...they were better, plain and simple, and a lot of it had to do with his approach. When I turned to go back to my "side" I was greeted with side way sneers and whispered condemnations...you already know what I was thinking GFY.

That is not to say, by any stretch, that I am the perfect dad...far from it. For some reason I was too hard on my son when he was younger. And I have been guilty of being shocked and a little dismayed when one of my kids got less than their normal results on a test. I suppose when you get used to the high marks that they have been bringing, a B+ seems like a problem might have been brewing. Thankfully those days are long gone for me and I have chilled quite a bit, but I do think of them as my lapses and failures as a positive role model. I suppose those would be my own Leave it to Beaver expectations on myself. Funny.

Expectations can become like prisons if we let them dictate to us, surround us like walls and make us feel like failures if we haven't busted through them, exceeded those expectations. And maybe none more so than the ones we almost willingly place on ourselves. You know what I'm talking about. I have to have this career and earn this much money. I have to go to Cuba every year. I need this car and that watch. If not, I must be a failure...my friend or my sister has those things, I suck. And those are just the materialistic ones. The ones surrounding success of the emotional and intellectual variety are really draining if you allow them to get the better of you....making for hard miles ahead. I say no, what do you say?

Ciao
D

Land of Confusion

A whole year. A year of his sucking the oxygen out of the world while we listened to his ridiculous press conferences and easy as pie Fox interviews. His crazy tweets picking fights with just about everyone, supporting "nice people" Nazi's and still, for some reason, fixated on Hillary Clinton. Do you think he has a thing for her?

Yes my friends a year ago we went to sleep with fear in our hearts and awoke to America asking the world to hold its beer while they did the most ridiculous and scary thing ever...elected Donald Drumph as president. God knows I could rant on for a few minutes easily on the abject failure that this moron is, but I don't think I will. Instead, let us discuss those things that we do not know.

Huh? I know right, sounds crazy but by now you have come to expect that from me. I'm OK with it so you should be too. Splattered across the internet and in newspapers alike is the latest scandal to take our attention away from whatever the last scandal was, the Paradise Papers as they have come to be known, is the latest whistle blowing exercise in trying to pull back the sheets on the murky world of the uber rich and supremely powerful. And like the indictments of Drumphers the week before it got me to thinking about what we don't know.

When 9/11 happened and the world got a little more fucked up, the scary part was not knowing what we didn't know. Who was whispering what into the hairy ear of George W Bush? What was really going on with the Saudi's and who the fuck was Osama Bin Laden? I feel that way now. If rich people have this level of exposure with these leaked documents can you imagine what else is out there? The level of douche baggery it must take for the wealthy to go to the extremes they go to in order to hide their riches from the tax man is almost unbelievable. For sure it's rotten to the core and needs some actual attention paid to it, not the candy ass crock of nothingness that politicians will spew forth in an effort to look like they're doing something but actually are doing less than nothing.

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded

Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed

Everybody knows the war is over

Everybody knows the good guys lost

Everybody knows the fight was fixed

The poor stay poor, the rich get rich

That's how it goes

Everybody knows

Monsieur Cohen had it right on, as he often did, the rich get rich and the poor can suck it. The notion of the American Dream has, for the most part been destroyed...by the very people that realized their own version of that dream. Armies of lobbyists, politicians bought and paid for by secret and not so secret donors all in an effort to advance someones agenda...usually not yours or mine. The system is rigged against us not because people are against us per se, but because those doing the rigging want more. And in the absurd reality that these people live in, they can justify their actions by saying things like it will help the middle class or trickle down economics will solve the problem or my favourite one, let the market take care of things. Except when we need handouts, bailouts and laws designed to protect us. I feel a throat punch coming on!

Personally I think the things we don't know would scare the crap out of us first, but then would probably result in some form of revolution. The population out there would finally be forced to stand up and be heard. That, my friends, is what the scares the powers that be in China the most, that their billion or so people begin to realize that they really don't have freedom and thusly deciding that today might be a good day for a walk down to Tienanmen square. The June Fourth incident, as some call it, was at its height a million people trying to be heard. In a country of 1.4 billion people that's a drop in the bucket. What they don't know helps to keep them in line. And the powerful in power.

What I find most objectionable is the fact that these douche canoes are actually taking away from the people that need the most help. Our tax system is supposed to be about providing for the general community as a whole. Roads to drive on, planes to bomb the shit out of people and a health care system that doesn't bankrupt you for having a kidney stone. These people have some guile to attend fundraisers and contribute to the arts while being 'philanthropic', all the while literally hiding money from the system that would actually eliminate the need for your local hospital to fund raise for a new MRI machine. At best its objectionable, at worst illegal and immoral. Maybe I should say it should be illegal...the loophole brigade works very hard to make sure it's "legal". But it is immoral without a doubt. 

Will it change? Probably not sad to say. It's been going on too long and just enough of the table scraps are being dropped for us to gnaw on to keep us quiet. All they have to do is hunker down and withstand any assault, we have to tear it down brick by fucking brick. They're fight is a lot easier. Ours is almost impossible.

Ciao

D

The Dark Arts

Two days ago when I first started to write about what was on my mind I was going to title it "Dear Fuckheads 2.0" because I was angry. Pissed and frustrated with extreme stupidity and downright meanness. But, I had time to calm down and allow the garbage to fade away from immediacy, I didn't allow it to couple together with other similar things, such as Drumph and his daily displays of buffoonery and bad drivers that seem to get in front of me all too often. In other words I let time give me another view and approach.

I think by now we all have had to deal with people in our lives that seem to have but one purpose, pissing us off, screwing with our lives or simply standing on our necks trying to choke us out while attempting to elevate themselves somehow. I will tell you that I simply do not understand these people anymore than I can understand why anyone would support Drumph. I truly don't get it. What would cause someone to act in a such a way? Is it a character flaw of some sort? Were they treated this way and they figured that's the way to do it? Did they fall and hit their heads on something hard? I don't know and don't care, most of the time. But I will admit it got to me a little this week, reminding me of a quote from the movie Hannibal

  "People don't always tell you what they are thinking. 

They just see to it that you don't advance in life."

This got me to thinking about how the world seems to work on some levels. We see it everyday, people that walk this world seemingly in constant conflict...fists together in the universal sign for butting heads. As if it only makes sense for them when there is chaos of one sort or another. Dripping poison into other peoples lives without regard of consequences or retribution, karmic or otherwise. I have to tell you, the idea of schadenfreude was probably born in the embers of this fire. Recently, one of these people in my life had some comeuppance visited upon them in their own work world, and while I generally let things go and move on with my life, I did do a little mental happy dance at the thought of his self inflicted misery. Hubris...it's a thing.

Drumph will soon see what this all means. Slowly, too slowly, even some of his enablers are seeing that the orange turd is full of shit from any angle you look at him. He is in constant combat mode. The dark arts of division, diversion, deflection and distraction lead him to point at the Democrats and Hillary for all sorts of "high" crimes, throw his own people under every bus around, lie about everything - "believe me" and, as Hitler and his goosestepping Nazi fucks did, find scapegoats for all the ills, real or not.

This douche bag is on a completely different level when it comes to the dark arts, in the hopes of hiding his own short comings and abject failures, he uses division and distraction as very real ways to point everyone else in another direction, in the hope that people won't notice that he stands there with no clothes on. And while his particular brand of idiocy requires medication to get through I think the everyday common type of bullshit we all deal with from time to time is what we should be wary of. It is more directly poisonous to us and certainly more widespread then we give credit for.

So. What do we do? Throat punch the lot of them? As appealing as that is I think the authorities might have an issue with that particular approach. I wish I knew what to say here. I'm as guilty as anyone for reacting badly, if justifiably so, in these scenarios. I admit I get my back up when I have to deal with a known fuckhead, it may very well be a natural response. I just wish I was a little better at letting this particular shit slide down the drain.

Perhaps understanding where the other person is coming from and what they have dealt with can open our eyes to other ways of dealing with as issue. We really don't know what the other person is going through, and while it doesn't excuse them for their bad behaviour maybe it helps in finding a way forward.

At this rate I'm going to rename this blog Reflections in Real Time...hmmmm, sounds like a Hip line somehow.

Ciao
D

Photo courtesy of Marguerite

Music to My Ears

There is a certain almost indescribable and surprising beauty to the sound that a busy kitchen makes. At least to me. A cacophony of noises that range from pans skidding across cast iron burners, plates being stacked and arranged, steaks sizzling on the broiler, knives flashing across cutting boards and the distant hum of the dishwasher running through its never ending cycle. Punctuating this rhythm section are the constant barking of orders and responses, colourfully interjected with a patois that can make a sailor blush. Music emanating from a battered hotel room clock radio with a coat hanger as an antenna, genres ranging from ear aching rap and country to classic rock and a shocking amount of ABBA, provide the background soundtrack.

From my office I can sense, by the sounds coming from the kitchen, when something isn't the way it should be or if there is trouble brewing in the near future. The dishwasher has a squeak in it and I'm thinking ball bearings on the washer arm. Grinding noises from the fan in the walk in and I'm thinking the fan motor may be on its last legs. Uncharacteristically quiet from the team and I know something isn't quite right. This super natural power serves me well as I have learned to keep my finger on the pulse of my work place by mere noise. Things like the following happen on a regular basis....I walk out into the main kitchen area, just observing really as the team gets ready for service. "Brian? Yes Chef. Do you need me to slice some tomatoes for the line?" The look on his face was brilliant. "How would he even know that?" was the whispered commentary as I sliced up a few toms for the boys. Truth is I didn't know for certain but I know my kitchen and I know my team. I love doing that. I think it helps build an aura around me that helps in my management style. As if nothing can be pulled around me because chances are that I would know. And I would.

I think the best noise though is the sound of laughter. The jocularity and hilarity that accompanies people that work with sharp knives and raw meat while fermenting under the dull glow of too may shifts standing beneath fluorescent lights...it is something to behold. I have seen first hand how a joyless kitchen is something to avoid at all costs and I work to ensure that my team is here to work hard for sure, but also to have fun while they are doing it. Why live in fear of a crazy ass chef that might fly off the handle for a piece of misplaced parsley when you can open yourself up to some self deprecating humour and you know, laugh a little while you work. What a radical idea...have fun at work.

Being someone that has always bristled at authority I look for people to work with that share my sense of humour and adventure. When I dumped a pound of salt on my bosses burger before he grabbed it for the road I knew there was a good chance I was in for some sort of retribution....it took a while for my shorts to defrost that night. Just saying. Which leads to the practical jokes and impromptu funny things that help to bring that laughter. Be it my helium antics, sending naive newbies on a mission for the electric egg peeler or bacon stretcher or the classic drained egg in the face gag. There is no end to the ways that make you laugh in the bowels of most kitchens. I'm smiling foolishly right now at the mere memory of the chopping flour incident.

It's no wonder to say that the way I am now is in a large way due to the world I have worked in for the past 30 plus years. It has shaped and reshaped me into the somewhat sarcastic, often brilliant, shit disturber that I am. It's been quite the ride so far and the music continues to play.

Ciao
D

Scars

"All my nerves are naked wires

Tender to the touch

Sometimes super sensitive

But who can care too much?

I get this feeling...

Scars of pleasure

Scars of pain

Atmospheric changes

Make them sensitive again"

I'm an idiot. Wallowing in my own ignorance and my own self described good life I have come to believe and even live by certain ideals that may very well be insensitive and even hurtful to people I care about. I have written extensively here about living without regret..it's almost a mantra with me really. And while I still believe that and will continue to live that way I must sound so bone headed insensitive to some people when I preach my sunny ways. On a long ride along the shores of eastern Nova Scotia with the fall colours muted but still a sight to behold, inlets and coves and heads slipping by only to reveal another magnificent vista just around the next bend, I had my ignorance shown to me in full glory yesterday.

In a case of "walk a mile in my shoes" I didn't realize that maybe, just maybe, my proclamations of living life abundantly and without regret might be insensitive to someone that has suffered loss greater than I can possibly imagine. That maybe I should calm my self down and think about the person I may be saying this to. Stands to reason that not everyone sees life as I might and it stands to reason that I couldn't possibly know what another person is fully going through...I am truly sorry for this.

I thought a lot about "scars" last night and today. The seed planted, without fanfare, when I noticed a few marks on my dining room table that weren't there before. My table was scarred. I looked to my arm with my one good eye where I sport an ugly reminder of surgery years ago. I have numerous scars on my body that have stories attached to them. I'm waiting to go in for eye surgery again to fix some scar tissue. But they all pale in comparison to the scars on my heart. Those aching and sweet mementos from my past that can bring great joy and great pain in a micro second, triggered by just about anything. A scent, a word, a colour. Those are the scars that I am talking about...the ones I may know and the ones I couldn't possibly know in the people around me that cause feelings of deep regret, of deep pain. Not the ones that you can take a lesson away from, a learning opportunity...that's a different beast all together.

"Each emotional injury

Leaves behind its mark

Sometimes they come tumbling out

Like shadows in the dark

I get this feeling...

When I think about all I have seen

And all I'll never see

When I think about the people

Who have opened up to me

I get this feeling..."

I rationalized that I really haven't had traumatic things happen to me. The worse thing that I have had near me was the death of my best friends son. A terrible time and truly all I can say is that I can't even imagine - but this happened to him, my pain was secondary if that makes any sense. Even my diagnosis of a rare and often fatal fuck off cancer thing didn't change my thoughts on the subject. I was laughing and making jokes about it by the time the elevator got down to the main floor of the building I was in. So maybe this outlook has spared me in some way...I really don't know. 

Everyone is going to have their own way of dealing with hard and painful times, their scars will be theirs to own, to live with. And maybe they are too much, too overwhelming, too raw to ever not think of them and be in pain because of them. And than I come along smiling with my no regrets...ugh

While I will continue to live as abundantly as I can, leaving regret aside as much as I can, I hope I can be a little more aware of my surroundings...not so casual in my ignorance.

"I've stood upon my mountaintop

And shouted at the sky

Walked above the pavement

With my sense amplified

I get this feeling..."

Photograph courtesy of my dear friend Marguerite 

The Cedars of Lebanon

Psalm 92

It is good to praise the Lord

and make music to your name, O Most High,

proclaiming your love in the morning

and your faithfulness at night,

to the music of the ten-stringed lyre

and the melody of the harp.

For you make me glad by your deeds, Lord;

I sing for joy at what your hands have done.

How great are your works, Lord,

how profound your thoughts!

Senseless people do not know,

fools do not understand,

that though the wicked spring up like grass

and all evildoers flourish,

they will be destroyed forever.

But you, Lord, are forever exalted.

For surely your enemies, Lord,

surely your enemies will perish;

all evildoers will be scattered.

You have exalted my horn like that of a wild ox;

fine oils have been poured on me.

My eyes have seen the defeat of my adversaries;

my ears have heard the rout of my wicked foes.

The righteous will flourish like a palm tree,

they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon;

planted in the house of the Lord,

they will flourish in the courts of our God.

They will still bear fruit in old age,

they will stay fresh and green,

proclaiming, “The Lord is upright;

he is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in him.”

Those of you that know me know that I am, how to put this, not religiously inclined at all. In fact I am pretty much anti religion. So you know that I am not suddenly filled with the holy spirit and have decided to rejoin the ranks of the sheep when I put this Psalm down in this blog. I started thinking about the imagery of the Cedars of Lebanon, or the Cedars of God as they have been referred to, so I went to the source to see what was what with regards to the religious meaning. So here is Psalm 92 for your perusal. 

I have included the whole thing so as to not be accused of cherry picking a line out of context. I think there is more than enough of that already when you can take a line or two and use it as a basis for blowing yourself and a crowded market up in the name of destroying the infidels or attacking an abortion clinic or denying basic rights to homosexuals...more than enough. 

I've read through this a few times and I have to say it pretty well encapsulates what I think is wrong with religion in general. Blind acquiescence, righteous superiority and an appalling lack of plurality. It literally makes me mad to think of people that I know and have known that bandy about their particular "ism" as a way of raising them above the crowd...a massive throat punch here. And to be clear, any "ism" would deserve the wrath of my disdain. This is not simply geared to religious zealots, atheists as well, who seem to believe that their lack of belief in God makes them better than everyone else. 

So while this started as an idea around the beauty and strength in these cedars I got pulled into, by my own self of course, a diatribe on the failure of man trying to convey God. Because that is what religion is to me. Man trying to explain the meaning and purpose of God. How arrogant of us to presume that we can know this. How did we ever get here? Crazy I say. 

But wait. Maybe I can help steer the conversation back to what I wanted to talk about.

In grade four or five I had to illustrate and put words to something in nature. I chose a tree and drew the worst picture ever of a large tree with roots reaching down into the ground. I somehow showed the roots reaching for a pool of water in this picture, badly I am sure as I have never been good with the visual aspects of any artfulness I may have. But the words must have worked because I recall the teacher telling me it almost made her cry. I spoke of the struggle that the tree faced everyday for the simplest and most powerful need to us all....water. 

Those roots sought out life giving water, all the while growing stronger and going deeper, providing more sustenance and more stability, ensuring it's growth and longevity. In turn allowing it's influence to spread, helping the forest to thrive and grow. Purifying the surroundings, fostering growth of other living things and offering protection to others still. The Cedars of Lebanon, the Great Forest of the North, The Boreal Forest, The Rain Forest....we are these things. We men and women can be all these things to our brethren. 

So unlike the co-opting done by the religions of the world we can take back the tree as a symbol of inclusion, of life and of plurality. Not for the righteous but for all of us. Churchill said that "history is written by the victors", well, if this is true, then the chapter around the soul of us all needs a re-write. Not based on winning, as this implies someone losing, but on the simple idea that we are equal and part of this world together. Those roots reaching down as a foundation for us all while the limbs and leaves reach up to show us the beauty around us.

Brought to you by the riot of colour at this glorious time of year right outside your window.

Ciao

D