Risk

Out in the greater world of socioeconomic policies and procedures there is what is known as disaster risk reduction. A concept or theory, that I can imagine was probably funded by the insurance companies, that revolves around essentially mitigating the effects of disaster. Build better structures to withstand earthquakes, early warning systems for tornadoes, dikes to keep the oceans out of our basements...and so on. A worthy cause I am sure as the effects of natural disaster can be, as we have witnessed too many times, catastrophic.

There are also those involved in this that think that too much protection isn't always a good thing. This may seem counter intuitive, why wouldn't you want to ensure as much protection as humanly possible to protect life and property after all. I tend to agree, as most would I think, but maybe you haven't heard of the paradox of flood control. Don't worry, I didn't until two minutes ago as I was bandying around Google looking for an one thing and coming across another.

As I understand it, while building channels, dikes, damns and flood-ways to help lessen the effects of flooding we also increase the chances of a catastrophic event because of those efforts. The unintended consequences of better preparing for regular high tides and annual frost melting is that we run the risk of doing more harm than one could imagine. Changing the nature of nature runs risks, on that we can all agree, so it stands to reason that if you build a damn to hold back water for whatever reason...when that water finally decides to go where it wants, well...make sure you have your rubber boots close by. In essence, the greater the protection the greater the chance for disaster. Interesting.

The same could be said of the precautions we all take to protect us from matters of the heart. Yeah...I tied disaster risk management to love. Deal with it. But I'm not wrong.

Those walls that we all have of varying degrees, help us but maybe they also hinder us. In an effort to not get clobbered by feelings, to not feel like the meat grinder of our lives are getting the better of us, we have constructed channels, dikes, damns and flood-ways to help lessen the effects of emotion, of love. Speaking strictly for myself, as everyone has their own way of dealing with all that life has to offer, I think flooding can be a good thing. Others think so as well, since we have seen a greater understanding of ecosystems and the advent of controlled forest fires and floods. There are benefits from the replenishment that comes from an event the same as there can be benefits to opening our hearts up to the possibility of disaster.

"And if I've built this fortress around your heart,

Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire,

Then let me build a bridge, for I cannot fill the chasm,

And let me set the battlements on fire."

Maybe, like Sting sings, we can't fill the whole void of what we have built or had built for us, but we can start with a bridge. So much possibility exists out in that great big world of ours that we can use all the bridges for our betterment and benefit. Break those chains, tear down those walls, let loose the flood, insert whatever metaphor you want here but do try, it's the journey that matters after all.

Remember your Tolkien

"Not all those who wander are lost"

Ciao
D

Photo courtesy of my friend Margo

Sugar Mice

One of the things that I am most proud of, in my work world at least, is what was accomplished by my ex and I when we opened our B & B in Lunenburg back in 1996. An arduous journey that cobbled together amazing support from family, a lot of hard work and a healthy dose of the Greater Fool theory...a wing and a prayer in the belief that if you build they will come.

I'd like to tell you that is was all sunshine and roses but it wasn't. It was hard work and incredibly stressful to all involved but I don't regret it for a moment, as it was also a rewarding experience with lessons learned, friendships forged and a spit in the eye resilience that fit in with my character at the time.

The entire scenario was almost other worldly. The long story, made slightly shorter, is that we had latched on to the idea of running our own place. Either through osmosis or inspiration we realized that we had skills that would make for a pretty good business partnership. And it was to be honest. We were, at the time, the youngest innkeepers in the province and we had garnered quite a bit of attention with the renovations, the subsequent battle with the town over opening a restaurant within the inn and our finished offering. We opened in June of 1996 after a just over a year of planning and construction...after we had bought the building essentially on a whim the previous April. Crazy eh?

Fast forward to the fall of that year, the tourists are gone and reality sets in...bills to pay and no steady money coming in. We had our first child, born in March earlier that year and my parents living with us. I made one of the hardest decisions I had to make by leaving for Toronto to work over the winter to keep the lights on. It's nothing that any other responsible adult would do, so I don't feel like I did anything extraordinary but it wasn't easy. Walking away from my young family for a few months was hard on many fronts.

The idea was to find a job ASAP and keep the cash flow flowing. I stayed with in-laws and quickly found a job as chef at a place that could have been renamed Chef Loses his Noodle. A crazy ass place that offered the patrons the ability to create their own pastas. As a guest, great idea...as a chef running the show....what the fuck were you morons thinking??? Well, this new found reality was my life for the next few months. Not at all a happy time for me. I missed my family, especially my daughter. A lot. 

The winter trudged along and as my birthday neared I was not feeling particularly joyous. I'm not a big birthday milestone kind of guy to start with but I do have certain things that I like to have around me and my family would be at the top of the list. I remember two phone calls around that time. One, on my birthday, where my ex didn't realize it was my birthday. It felt quite good to be forgotten in this way. I'm sure it simply slipped her mind or she didn't realize the day, and I get that, but it doesn't change the empty feeling one has. A couple of days later, a little piece of my heart was ripped from my chest when my daughter was put near the phone to hear daddy's voice...her cute gurgles and happy sounding laugh led me to be grateful that I was in the lower level of the restaurant with no one around to see me. I'm sure you can figure out the look on my face. Back then I wore army boots and could, when needed, look pretty imposing....except for right then of course.

This moment in my life is what I always think of when I hear the song Sugar Mice by Marillion...

"Well the toughest thing that I ever did was talk to the kids on the phone...

...So if you want my address it's number one at the end of the bar

Where I sit with the broken angels

Clutchin' at straws and nursin' our scars

Blame it on me, blame it on me

Sugar mice in the rain"

I felt lost. Like I was not whole. Like sugar mice in the rain, I was fading, a mere shadow of what I thought I was. I was missing a part of my daughters life and I didn't like it. I was missing her. The better parts of me were 2000 km away while I trudged around cursing the weather, the Greek guy that owned the restaurant and the "consultant" that came up with the idea for chef loses his noodle...dumb fucker. Mostly though I was cursing the separation.

The plan was to stay until spring and be back to re-open the place in May. When we realized that we were getting a rather large tax refund I was home by mid March. Hightailed it out of there as fast as humanly possible and was literally towed back into Lunenburg as my car had broken down near Halifax, but I was back where I belonged. 

I leave you with this snippet from a poem by Pablo Neruda that, for me, speaks to those feelings that I couldn't articulate all those years ago. 

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”

And now, years later from this time, the kids are one by one spreading their wings. The next five years will bring much change and it's natural to be pensive about it all. Will they be happy, healthy and successful in their choices? I've done what I could do and now I'm here for moral support and a touch of hilarity to lighten the world a bit. Lessons learned, the hard way most often since that is really the only we're truly going to learn anything, and lessons passed along. In the end, the message is simple...

"Don't worry about a thing

'Cause every little thing gonna be alright

Singing' don't worry about a thing

'Cause every little thing gonna be alright"

Cioa

D

Strange and Beautiful

It seems like everday I am struck by the magic that is around us all if we simply choose to listen or to see or to feel. I really do feel, very strongly actually, that the answers to everything are already out there for us. They have been spoken, sung and painted by people that have been inspired to release to us all the "confines of their hearts."

I was re- reading a little blog post that someone had written on the death of Gord Downie and the lyrics to Bobcaygen were front and centre.

"I saw the constellations
Reveal themselves, one star at time"

The gift to be able to turn an elegant phrase in that way is pure inspiration for me. It feeds the mind and the soul. It opens the door to so much more. And as is often the case, a few clicks later I am listening to Blue Rodeo...

"Strange and beautiful

Are the stars tonight"

Whatever we may be looking for, the answers to the questions we have, the love that we seek...it's there for the taking. Maybe I'm a dreamer or a romantic fool, certainly a fool to be true.

"And I want all the world to know

That your love's all I need

All that I need

And if we're lost

Then we are lost together

Yea if we're lost

Then we are lost together"

To quote fictional President Bartlett...

"Words, when spoken out loud for the sake of performance, are music. They have rhythm, and pitch, and timbre, and volume. These are the properties of music, and music has the ability to find us and move us, and lift us up in ways that literal meanings can't. Do you see?"

That last part, to me, is the crux of it all...to find us and move us, and lift us up in ways that literal meanings can't. Be it an elegant turn of a phrase or music that simply transports us to the beyond. Listen to a great version of O Holy Night and tell me that you're not moved in some way when the music and lyrics take you through the divine night. You don't need to be a believer to feel this...you just need to be open to it.

What becomes even more magical is when you can share that moment, that feeling with others. Witness the wonder of concert going in all its forms. U2 this past summer was one such moment, me and 55,000 new friends swaying and belting out tunes, young and old sharing a moment in time with a soundtrack that delivered. Lennie Gallant at the Chester Playhouse, small and intimate and oh so good. And then this...the other night, spinning some vinyl and sipping wine after an agreeable meal with a dear friend. Things I love all coming together for a wonderful time; the crackling of 35 year old records, listening to gems that are like finding lost love again...you let yourself forget how good something is, but you found it again. Love is rekindled. The joy in sharing a meal and sharing time, letting the music be our companion for the night. There isn't much better. And more of it, lots more, would be what we should all strive for.

Set off on that long walk, the music of your life carrying you on lofty wings...paint a picture and set it to music. Have hope, have love, have belief in you. The reasons we live out loud for are personal and many, the important thing to remember is to do it.

Be strange, be beautiful.

Happy New Year!!

Ciao
D

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