Monthly Archives: February 2016

First Date

In thirty years.  At 2:35 yesterday, I sat down in a London coffee shop, waiting for 3:00 to roll around.  I was going to talk to a woman whom I’d met on Zoosk, a dating website.  I’ll call her Erin.  Strangely, I wasn’t nervous.  But I sure was excited.  A new human being, potentially a new love.

As I sipped my tea, a little smile adorned my face.  I was happy.  It’s been 15 months since Jody died, and it’s time for companionship.  From my window table, I watched people cross the street, including several women, none of whom matched the photo on the website.  I realized that 3:00 pm could be a huge moment in my life, or maybe not.  The smile remained.

I needed a napkin for my pumpkin tart so I headed to the counter.  A woman was making a purchase, her back to me.  “Is that her?” I gushed on the inside.  No.  Her hair was curly and Erin’s was straight.  But my heart did a few flippy-flips before I figured that out.

Back to the sanctuary of my table.  More human beings outside, slow slogging through the snow.  The neighbourhood was an older one – classic brick buildings with most of them turned into restaurants or shops.

There!  That’s Erin.  Oh my goodness, she’s probably coming into the coffee shop.  She’s probably going to order.  She’s probably going to come looking for me.  Now the smile has turned into a laugh … aimed at moi.  And sure enough, a woman named Erin is soon walking down the aisle towards me.  I wave.  We smile.  And so it begins.

Erin is a lovely person, full of energy and with a smile that shows up easily.  We both enjoy meditating and yoga.  When she used the words “opening the heart”, I jerked.  Oh my.  Another person who says stuff like that in everyday conversation.

We talked for an hour-and-a-half.  It was easy.  It was fun.  We agreed to meet again sometime soon.

The mystery will continue to unfold.  I will continue to smile.  Whatever happens, I’m so glad to be walking this path.

 

Letting Jake Go

Last September I auditioned for the part of Jake in the Neil Simon play Jake’s Women.  The director chose someone else.  I was sad, and that sense of woe has been a frequent visitor in the months since.  I so much wanted to be Jake.

The play is about a writer who lives in his head, working on characters and plot while largely ignoring his wife Maggie.  Jake has conversations (some imaginary and some real) with the women in his life – his current wife, former wife, daughter, sister, therapist and new girlfriend.

Jake’s Women opened a few days ago in St. Thomas, Ontario.  I went last night.  I’ve known for months that I would see the production, rather than staying away from something that represented pain.  The truth is that I love the play.  It has both funny and tender moments.

I got there early and scored a front row seat.  The set was spectacular, especially Jake’s home office at the top of the stairs.  I sat quietly for half an hour, and all sorts of thoughts came my way.  I wanted the theatre to be full (about 150 people).  I wanted the theatre to be virtually empty (How small of you, Bruce).  I wanted the actors to be great, totally inhabiting their roles.  I wanted the actors to stumble over their lines.  I wanted Jake to be superb in his happiness, sadness, anger, giddiness and love – the best Jake ever.  I wanted him to be ordinary so I could think I would have done better.

As the story unfolded, I realized that it was a first class rendition of Simon’s play.  And Jake was brilliant.  Perhaps far better than I would have been.  I enjoyed the evening immensely.

At the end, as the actors were fanned out across the stage for their bows, I stood, clapped and smiled.  They deserved the standing O.  Although I had planned to see Jake’s Women once this week and once the next, I won’t be coming back.  I am complete with Jake.  What’s in him is in me.  On we go.

Daypacks

I’ve owned a small backpack for 20 years or so.  It’s been my faithful companion … in the Rockies, on the beach in Cuba, and in the gym.  If an inanimate object can be a friend, this is it.  But my maroon and grey Bruce attachment is showing its age.  The rubberized coating on the neck of the bag is pulling away in big messy globs.  Plus one of my beloved liquid black pens gave up the ghost a few months ago, spilling ink over big parts of the exterior.

I decided today to replace my pack with something bright and new, and give the old one to Goodwill.  It’s not like I’m recycling a person, of course.  I would never do that.  This is an object, and I’m willing to let it go, with sadness.  So many adventures we’ve shared.

So off I went a couple of hours ago to Mountain Equipment Co-0p to see what 20 years has wrought in the world of daypacks.  Turning down an aisle, I was welcomed by countless packs of every size, hanging proudly on their hooks.  My eyes fell on a bright red jobbie – my favourite colour.  The salesman owned this exact model and waxed poetic about its virtues.  On MEC’s website, here’s what I encountered:

What sets this full-sized daypack apart from the rest is the unique Aircomfort suspension system.  A powder-coated steel frame tensions a mesh back panel between the pack’s body and your back.  The result is a narrow air space that allows continuous ventilation and airflow, which leads to greater comfort for the wearer.  The pack also features two sets of zippers and an internal bag divider that can be quickly removed.  This means that you can access the bag from the top or bottom and retrieve items without unpacking the entire bag.  It’s a great size for long day-hikes.

Who am I to argue with such praise?  Maybe with the price, though – $160.00.  Ah, what the heck?  It’s an investment.  I grabbed my red treasure and headed to the till.  When what to my wondering ears should appear, but a totally unexpected dollar figure – $49.00.  The supervisor told me that my choice was “on clearance” because of the colour.  People didn’t want a red pack.  They were all for Granite/Black and Forest/Emerald though.  How strange, I thought.  Red is so passionate.  Granite/Black is so trendy.  I’ll take passionate any day.

The salesman told me that there was one more of these red packs in the store.  Another $49.00 and it would be mine.  First I said no.  “Let someone else buy it.”  Even if I intended the second one to be a gift, the double purchase seemed excessive, another example of knee jerk consumerism.  Planning out my future.  Making sure I have enough.  But that’s wrong.  The second one’s not for me.  It’s a gift for a special someone in my future.

So I paid the guy $98.00 plus tax.

I now own three daypacks.  One will always be in my heart.  One will be on my back tomorrow and will gradually work its way into my heart.  And one will help someone else move through the world.

 

Admitting Deficiency

I could have done better

So said a Canadian political leader yesterday about his party not doing well in a recent election.  And how often do we hear words like that?

I love golf, and I love following the heroics of professional golfers.  Years ago, there was one particular fellow that I was cheering on.  It was sad … I was living and dying on whether he got a birdie or a bogey.  Part of the reason that my enthusiasm for him waned was that when he scored poorly he would blame bad lies in the fairway, an unlucky bounce into the rough, or less-than-smooth greens.  Anything but the fact that he hit a lot of poor shots.

My political friend apparently looked at himself in the mirror and saw that he had made some questionable campaign decisions, or that he had focused on the shortcomings of his opponents rather than on a thorough analysis of the issues and his response to them.  Whatever he was thinking, he then spoke to the media and took full responsibility for the lukewarm results.  Not the party organization, strategy or candidates.  Just him.  How refreshing.

I too need to look in that mirror.  Here are some things I see:

1.  As a young adult, I was often irresponsible with my money, even to the extent of getting a cash advance to make the minimum payment on my credit card

2.  In marriage, I sometimes bulled ahead with what I wanted to do rather than seeing what Jody’s needs were

3.  Many a time, friends would send e-mails to me and I would take forever to respond

I’m a good person, and a thoroughly imperfect one
Just like that politician
Just like all of us

Glistening

A light snow covered the world as I woke up this morning.  It clung to the branches and adorned the bushes.  And it had stopped falling.  The day was cloudy, with the soft light bringing all this to a quiet glory.

So you have bare trees in winter and you have bare trees today.  You have the events of daily life and you have those same events imbued with wonder.

What words can paint such a picture of illumination?  How about …

Glow
Love
Animation
Vibrancy
Magic
Luster
Shine
Gleam
Halo
Oh my

What will it take for me to see with these eyes throughout the day?

What will it take to animate the gentleman sitting across from me right now in the library?

What will it take for me to see the beauty around me always?

And what will it take for me to be moved by it all?

***

Will

Unseen

The substance of things hoped for
The evidence of things not seen

What beauties are hiding in this world, so we puny human beings aren’t aware of them?  Well, if I’m not aware, how can I possibly write about such unknowns?  I don’t know but it’s worth a try.

1.  Lines of connection between people who walk by each other on the street … maybe fine red strings that entwine

2.  Roaming at night over the world, visiting friends old and new, alive and dead

3.  Whatever’s under the ground … roots that go way down, insects that scurry to and fro, moles that construct long tunnels

4.  What goes on inside of dogs, cats, horses and dolphins

5.  The future laying itself down as we wind our way through the present

6.  Blood coursing through my body over 60,000 miles of arteries, veins and capillaries

7.  The marvel of the brain, allowing me to suddenly relive moments from decades ago.  (As I wrote this, I was transported back to kid-dom, lighting firecrackers in the back alley, and being terrified of the noise)

8.  My friend gravity, constantly keeping me from zipping off into space

***

Simple stuff, really, but fun to imagine

 

 

Waiting For The Light

One more time I couldn’t think of anything to write today on my blog.  So what did I need?  Some sort of stimulus that I can then reflect on.  Okay, where do I find that?  “Get in Scarlet, drive to the nearest convenience store, buy a copy of The Toronto Star or The Globe and Mail, head to Wimpy’s Diner in St. Thomas for an early supper, find an article that moves you, and write about that.”

So who am I to argue with a voice like that?

I had just started my pursuit on the front page of The Star, perusing an article about two teens who died on the Olympic bobsled track in Calgary.  They snuck in overnight and launched their toboggan.  So sad.  I was sitting here in this booth half an hour ago, wondering if this was “the one”, when I glanced up at the TV.  There sat Barack and Michelle Obama, being interviewed in what looked to be the Oval Office.

I watched transfixed, leaving Calgary far behind.  Barack and Michelle sat on a love seat, facing the female interviewer.  Their arms were touching.  What a couple is supposed to do.  When each of them smiled, often at each other, their faces were genuine, thoroughly so.  No beauty contest winner show of teeth.  No brief raising of the mouth that disappears in the next second.  Instead … lingering love.  So sweet to see.

Did I mention that the sound was off?  I didn’t know the topic, but since it was a pre-game show for the Super Bowl, I had my guess.  In fact, though, I didn’t care what they were talking about.  The visuals said all I needed to know.

One might expect the President of the United States to do most of the talking but not so.  The three of them shared the floor pretty equally.  Mr. President often reached over and took Mrs. President’s hand in his.  Just folks … really caring folks.

***

Time to go.  No wi-fi here so I’ll go home to publish my post.  I’ll take my copy of The Star.  Didn’t really need it.

New

Well here I am on Zoosk, a dating website.  I’ve sent messages to several women who appealed to me.  So far, no one has expressed interest.  Oh well.  I’m sensing that whether it’s from Zoosk or some other source (such as Cuba in April!) a new love will be entering my life.  Someone unknown to me today will be by my side within the next year.

New.  What a concept.  A letting go of the past to some extent.  My love for Jody and for my friends will always be there but there’ll be some type of breakthrough.

1.  A new human being.  Maybe shy or maybe assertive.  Maybe athletic or not so much.  Older than me?  Younger than me?  Likes to travel or a homebody?  A great cook or “Let’s eat out”?  Action movies or romantic ones?  A cyclist like me or a swimmer not like me?  Oh, what mystery.

2.  Your home or mine?  I’ve lived on Bostwick Road in Union, Ontario for 21 years.  It’s a big place.  Lots of upkeep required and I’ve never been good at home maintenance.  Maybe it’s time to let go of all that.  Perhaps my future love lives in a downtown condo.  Neighbours on the other side of the wall.  Someone else cutting the grass.  Take off to the Caribbean without a worry in the world.

3.  Your city or my village?  I could find myself living in Toronto, the city where I grew up.  Or near the forks of the Thames River in London, Ontario.  Walk to cool places to dine.  A city park just a stroll away.

4.  Europe?  I’ve never been.  All those ancient buildings.  Sitting in a sidewalk café on a cobblestone square.  Trying out my high school French.  Why not?

5.  Family  The only close family members Jody and I have had are her brother Lance and his family in Alberta.  I especially love my nephews out there.  But in Ontario we were alone.  What if I discover a prospective partner who has children and grandkids?  I would love that.  To perhaps be a grandpa-type figure!  I miss all the fine school conversations I had over the years with young people from Grades 1 to 12.

***

I’m open to whatever beckons me

Being Hated

There was an article in The London Free Press this morning about an actor who’s rehearsing the title role in a local play about the life of Martin Luther King.  Twice in our mostly fair city, E.B. Smith has been taunted with “nigger” out in public.

I don’t understand.  Sure, I know the history of racial discrimination, especially in the United States, but I can’t get my mind around the consciousness that would do such a thing.  It’s just skin.  I guess that even for us of the white tone, there’s some prejudice against old skin (wrinkled and dotted with age spots) as compared to young skin (smooth and firm).

“Different than and therefore inferior” could be applied to anything, if one really wanted to be small about it.  Being lefthanded.  Being 6’2″ and a woman.  Being 4’10” and a woman.  Being fat.  Being anorexic.  Hardly ever smiling.  Needing a walker.  Having a facial tic.  And one humungous etcetera.

The article today mentioned another shameful moment in London’s recent history.  At an NHL pre-season game, a black hockey player saw an object thrown at him from the stands … a banana.  I wonder what the reaction of the fans was that night.  Stunned silence, I hope.  Outrage, I hope.  Surely no laughter, I hope.

It’s a tough job each of us has, living this life.  Existence on our planet seems to come with gobs of suffering, even for people like me – white and privileged.  Please, no extra and totally unnecessary pain.  It hurts too much.

Zoosk

I never would have thunk it … I’ve spent most of my evening on a dating website.  Who, me?  First of all, I haven’t dated for 30 years and that was with my lovely pre-wife Jodiette.  Gasp … I don’t know what to do!  Well, I suppose being an ordinary human being would be a good place to start.

It’s now 14 months since Jody died.  And I can feel it: I’m ready for a relationship, one that could be love for the rest of my life.  My goodness, how thrilling … and terrifying.  I don’t want to be alone.  I want to love and be loved.  I’m going to Cuba in April and somehow I want to go with a fine woman.  Maybe the timing is unrealistic but it’s sure fun being in the ballgame.

Yesterday and today, I’ve looked at the profiles of hundreds of women: divorced, separated, widowed.  All of us reaching out for love.  I hope all of us being truthful about the person we are.  Human beings wanting to be happy.

I’ve sent messages to six women who appeal to me.  They all seem kind and alive and independent.  So far no one has replied, and that’s a good healthy jolt to the ego.  I’m no perfect person but I am a good person.  Someone out there in Zooskland will see that.  Sometime in the weeks ahead, I’ll be in a coffee shop with a woman.  We’ll discover each other some.  Maybe there’ll be a second date, maybe not.  But love definitely looms ahead for me.  It’s what both Jody and I want.

Me on a dating site.  Makes me smile.