10 years without mom

10 years today mom died.  I remember getting the call that we should go back to the hospital after just landing home in Cornwall.  I remember being upset the whole drive there just assuming that mom would bounce back as she had so many times before.  When we landed at the hospital it was obvious we were too late.  She had passed.  They gave Cheryl and I the courtesy of a final moment with her, but she had been gone for a bit.  

The nurses rushed us into a sort of training room area with computers.  This was our place of comfort alone.  It felt so surreal and out of place.  I remember jokingly saying "I called you all here for a reason" as if I was chairing a meeting.  It broke the ice and we continued with our shock and the beginning of this 10 year process of moving onward without my mom.  

When Dad was ready to move on and sell 774 Osborne Street I was still not a place to really process things and I think I really missed out not going through all the stuff from the basement.   I was given every opportunity to sort through some of my past, but instead it was picked over by strangers and much was stored until it could be either distributed or discarded.  

Now that I am ready to process things, mom is gone, and so is much of the history that made me who I am up to the age of 18.  I now take comfort in all of the little nuggets of writings, pictures and memories that I have, because that is all I have.

I have written more extensively about mom in other writings in an effort to help figure out who she was and by proxy maybe understand myself a bit better.  I see a lot of similarities between mom and I with how we viewed the world, but I am learning to be gentler than she was.  I also have the support of Cheryl which is invaluable.

I miss mom in so many ways, but most of all I wish we were able to break through some of the barriers that she still had up right until the end.

"Sponges live in the ocean. That kills me. Imagine how much deeper it would be if they didn't" ~ Steven Wright

 I grew up listening to Steven Wright, the comedian.  To me, he was like George Carlin's kid brother.  Not as mature and developed, but quirky and insightful in his own right.  I still remember so many of his jokes which are still timeless today.  Jokes that evoke a curiosity and unique perspective on the world rather than a self-deprecating, self-indulgent, or judgmental look at the world. 

Without googling anything, these are a few that I remember.  There are literally hundreds. 

• It is a good thing there is gravity, otherwise when birds died, they would just stay up there. 
• I live at the end of a one-way dead end street.  I don't know how I go here. 
• I got a dog and walked him all at once.  I said, "there, now you're done"
• I want to get a tattoo of myself on my body, only taller.

To have that kind of staying power as a comedian, especially during the cancel culture of today's generation, speaks tremendously of his talent and relevance.  

Winston and I used to listen to old mixed tapes of comedy albums and just for laughs episodes and Stephen Wright was a staple for us.  He misunderstood the world and it misunderstood him in much the same way as it treated us.  We could relate.  Why was it that the things you learn in school don't really translate the way you think they will outside of the training we received?

Between Stephen Wright and George Carlin, I learned that words and language are so important.  I see this particularly as I get older. It sounds like an old man yelling at the clouds, but I understood language better than most of my peers who, in turn, understand language much better than today's youth.  That puts me in a unique and enviable position.  As the world toward AI for easy solutions, the person who can think independently and can verify authenticity will be come highly sought after as these skills are not being taught or learned organically by a generation that is more readily accepting of the content that that bombards them incessantly.  /End old man rant.

New Year Same Fantastic You

2023 was a very prolific year for writing in my blog.  I hope that continues, although I am now splitting my writing between various formats.  I realize that while trying to write here personally, I am acutely aware that others do read my blog, and I hope others will read in the future, so that limits me a bit in this forum.  I have been journaling quite regularly outside of this blog and writing various stories, poems, songs, ideas, thoughts etc.  I am now in the process of trying to organize them into themes and ideas so that I can untangle my writing thoughts.  

I am getting better at being less self-conscious as I write and am choosing my words more discriminately which I hope will me on my path of clarification and understanding as I seek to improve my writing.

While I still struggle with my priorities of work, creativity and fun, I am finding a better balance of late as I understand that my work term will draw to a close in the coming years.  I am trying to open myself up to creative outlets such as writing and reading again to remember how creative and open I used to be to the world around me.  

Musically, I am finding my groove as well.  I spent a lot of years not fully understanding music and just glossing over the same stuff I already knew.  Partly this was because I did not have the time to commit to it and partly, I just didn't know how important it would be to me later in life.

It is so great that I can delve back into it with a new gusto and am playing just for me now instead of others.  Even when I play and sing badly, I can play into the discomfort of knowing that I realize it sounded bad which is better than not realizing it.

While I used to regret being a generalist and not being able to settle into a specific hobby or career or idea, now as I get older, this quirk has given me multiple options to bounce around to if I become stagnant.  Of particular value to me are Biking, Going to the Gym, Reading, Writing, Playing Guitar, walking on the beach, talking with Cheryl.

I could go on about the amazing state of my life right now, but I will save some of that for my other writing, but know that I am as happy today as I have ever been in my life and am looking forward to this next chapter.

Let's Carpe this Diem!

Who da man? You da man!

I spent the first 17 years of my life trying to please my parents, my teachers and my religion while trying to reign in my inquisitive inquiring nature and the desperate feeling that I felt out of place, needed to learn to be more like others and essentially toe the line in order to succeed.  My quirks and mannerisms made me stand out, but I deflected this with my sense of humour, ability to articulate and good practical logic of how to navigate the world.  Not unlike John Wilson in the TV series we are currently watching, albeit much more social and aware.  I just seemed to find my stride by graduation when I had the lead in the high school musical, was rewarded for all of my hard work, was patted on the back and then we were all shuffled off to continue our journeys elsewhere. 774 Osborne Street was my home growing up.  I think there might be something to not having that home in my life anymore that makes me value our home on Candlelight Park so much.

I spent the summer of my 18th year trying to figure out who I was going to be.  It sounds strange now, but amid all of the chaos of graduation, accepting a full time scholarship to UPEI, working full time hours to save money for my first year of university, yet somehow Winston and I managed to squeeze in a 2 week triple threat course in Charlottetown that proved to be enlightening.  I hope to dwell more on that in another post, but it was a strange 2 week reprieve from the real world.

I was so excited to be at UPEI.  I had dreamed of this for a long time.  I loved my family, but Summerside had gotten small for me and I couldn't wait to get to the big city of Charlottetown and away from the gossipy minds of a small town.  It was everything I had hoped and more.  Marion Hall was as close to the legendary "animal house" style of college dorms stories I had heard of.  I hope to dwell more on this chunk later as well, as I believe we were one of the last vestiges of that college experience before times started changing.  So many UPEI stories, so little time.  The stories and the friends that I made are still around today.  But I digress.

September to December 1991 was a non-stop party which I continued by moving in with Greg, Rod & Wayne.  That's when I met Cheryl which was a game changer. Who knows what where we both would have been if we had not met in January of 1992, but that set the course for the rest of our lives.

1992-1995 was a chaotic 4 year period where Cheryl and I proved to everyone, especially ourselves, how strong and tough and legit we were. I found out that I lost my full tuition scholarship (by 0.2% which is still a sore point for me) on the same day that we found out that we were pregnant.  Shit got real.  

We owned it.  I would not have bet on us, but we did it.  Day by day.  Course by Course.  Diaper by Diaper, we trudged on and supported each other.  I remember distinctly handing Andrew off to Cheryl as she exited her 8:30-9:20 class and I prepared to enter my 9:30-10:20 class.  And when I say "handed off" I literally mean passing of an infant child from parent to parent in a sea of students while trying to communicate vital information about Andrew, while at the same time trying to remember when the study group meets and when the exam is taking place.

In 1995 we bought our house on Corrigan Court.  It was a game changer.  Not paying rent, but paying into something that we hoped to eventually own allowed us to relax just a slight bit about the uncertainty of the future.  It afforded us some semblance of stability as our family grew.  I hope to dwell more on this later, but Corrigan Court was an amazing time for us.  As usual, we were the first of our friends to do everything, including being homeowners.  Parties, therefore, gravitated to our house  as we did not have landlords.  And we also had kids and could not go out to party as much, so this worked out fantastic.  My memories here are of a great started home that had TONS of problems.  But what this initial investment did was allow us to sell for a great profit and buy our house on Candlelight Park in 2003.

Roughly around 2003 things started to click for us, whether through sheer stubbornness (resilience) or actual learning and pattern recognition as well as realizations of the skills we actually possessed.  Regardless, we started to level up a bit.  My provincial job qualified me for a federal job which greatly increased my salary and earning potential.  I did not fully realize this at the time. 

In an effort to wrap this post up, 2003-2023 was a long and complicated journey that will need numerous posts, and probably several therapists and possible a blowtorch to decipher :) e in my life anymore that makes me appreciate my current home so much more.  

The final comment comes full circle to the picture at the top of the page.  I did not forget.  I spent the first 18 years of my life trying to please my parents, my teachers, and adhering to a religion that made no sense to me.  I spent the next 4 years trying to please professors, in-laws, extended family and anyone who would listen.  The next 7 years were spent raising a family of 5 on a meagre income in a small outdated duplex rapidly becoming unsuitable for a growing family. The next 20 years have been a blur, but I have still been focused on so many exterior things and have put so many things on hold along the way to appease others and "do the thing" and "be the man" and "be responsible".  

So, after this long rambling narrative, I both realize and remember, that the goofy man in the red glasses, red bow tie, red cummerbund and blue suspenders is, was, and always shall be the man I need to  please.  And, at age 50, if I am happy to report that he is feeling fucking fantastic!