The Best

Here’s a photo of my friend Cara and her mom Petra. The family, including sister Tessy and dad Pascal, took me out to dinner a few nights ago to l’Heritage – a fancy and delightful restaurant only a one-minute walk from my home.

I’m not going to write about our fine evening. The picture reminds me of the most precious moments in my life.

Long ago I thought that sublime times immersed in nature were the best. I once scrambled up Mount Lineham in Alberta, Canada (i.e. no ropes needed). The vista revealed was a circle of snow-capped peaks. I was speechless, and lingered long at the top. Now there’s a sadness that I’m not strong enough to gaze upon that beauty again.

Or the best sometimes settled in my mind at a concert. Last August 50,000 of us witnessed a joyous Lady Gaga performance in Toronto. She gave ‘er and gave ‘er some more for over two hours. No breaks in the driving beat and soaring voice. Surely that was the top of the mountain in my life moments.

Another candidate is the epiphany often revealed when I’m alone. In October I spent twelve days in Quebec City. One evening I walked a narrow street, alone in the darkness. It was just Bruce, so simply me. A smile came easily.

Above the mountains, above Lady Gaga’s Edge of Glory, above just me in the quiet of the night … are times when I’m with one person. We connect in the eyes and share our world with each other. And it’s good.

The Best

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