Tag Archives: Family

Day Thirty-Seven … The Jagger, Jace and Jaxon Story

I just sat down in the camper and wondered what I was going to say about yesterday.  There was a 12-year-old hero sitting beside me, Jagger by name.  So the title came to me: “Day Thirty-Seven … The Jagger Story”.  The next thing I know, the young man (age 12) took over my laptop and wrote thusly:

“it’s all about this awesome boy who everyone cared about so much they give him respect over it.  And the person who is writing this is a goofy, crazy uncle.  An uncle of jagger himself I worship him .well everyone does like he’s a god he is so nice I wish I was him.”

“Even though I’m smarter and handsomer.When we sleep he wakes up and eats 100000000000000000000000000000000000 large bags of raisins and lisens to us breath he is weird even kookoo in the mind he is still my uncle and I love him and my cool family I love em all especially my uncle who reaminds me that I need to go to the washroom when I think of cheese.”

To which said uncle replied:

“Oh, give me a break!  I’m certainly not as goofy as Goofy.  And I only listen to you breathe when we’re all in the camper.  Plus what’s all this about cheese?  That was a pretty cheesy comment!”

Jagger continues:

“My uncle is a cool guy but not as cool as me.he’s not my only family member there is still Jaxon,Jace,Mom,Dad but still I’m cooler than all.  Again my uncle is a 80 year old raisin loving hat wearing cool machine.”

Uncle again:

“I’m not that cool.  Seems to me I’m a normal 98.6 degree human.  And, just so you know, Jagger, I hate raisins and I’m not too fond of hats either.  As well, you really should work on your Math.  Calling a 45-year-old man an 80-year-old is simply the wrong answer.”

And now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear from Jace (age 8):

“My uncle may be a bit crazy and weird but he still loves raisins he scarffs them down he has them for breakfast lunch and dinner also for chrismas I bought him a hat yay he’ll be so happy he’ll rush to the bathroom he so great but he scared me once by lifting up his shirt I was blinded I passed out I love him”

“so my uncle … this is secret last night I saw him with 53 bags of raisins he was chugging them he also whispered to the raisins he said my presious little things and sais he stole them from wal mart so im guessing he ran all the way there cause his car was still in the driveway when I heard him shut the door and ran. So my uncle loves raisins so much I see him with a box every second so ya”

Uncle Brucio:

“Well, Jace, I’m really not that scary when I lift up my shirt.  No one has ever fainted at the sight.  And Christmas with raisins would wreck my holiday mood.  The only thing I scarf down is chocolate peanut butter waffle cones.  So there!”

“They are not precious!  Good grief, what’s happened to the young people of today?  And I would never steal anything, especially raisins.”

Not to be outdone, another young man, known as Jaxon (age 14), approaches the keyboard:

“First of all Jagger is not cooler than me he is more like 5th coolest in the family but my Uncle Bruce is definitely 2nd he is great with making us and everyone he meets laugh. Which I could use some lessons on since usually I am really shy. Also another concept on my Uncle is that he loves RAISINS!!! He says he doesn’t but I can tell he is hiding his true feelings he secretly likes them I bet he sneaks them whenever we aren’t in the room. He also hates hats….but one time I put my skater hat on him and he wore it the whole time probably forgot it was on his head either he wore one before and hated it or never put one on before because he thinks it doesn’t work for him. So even though my uncle says he hates stuff that he really likes I still love him.”

“Hi guys I’m back and I’ve heard that Jagger thinks that he is the only person who is cool in the family but really all five of us Dad(Lance) , Mom(Nona) , Jace , me and Uncle Bruce are together the most coolest. I really enjoyed Uncle Bruce coming to visit us this summer he has made the past two weeks very fun either it was trying to make him eat Raisins or beating him in Laser Quest by 300 points it’s been a blast. But the one person who I really miss from all this fun was my Aunt Jody I was and still am sad that she was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer back in November 2013 we had so much fun together I remember coming to Waterton in 2011 and having such a blast. And she and Uncle Bruce camping with us in peter Lougheed and hiking many trails. I still love her very much.”

Uncleness responds:

“I’m happy to be second coolest.  There’s nothing wrong with being a runnerup.  I make a lot of people laugh but some people frown.  Both are okay.  As for raisins, why are we still talking about those horrid little creatures?  And hats make my head too hot!”

“Thank you, Jaxon for loving Aunt Jody so much.  Me too.  Jody made a huge difference in the lives of many, many people.”

***

So there you have it, folks
As you can tell
Day thirty-seven was pretty special

Day Thirty-One … Zapping, Bugging And Laughing

Jody and I used to love going to LaserQuest in London, Ontario.  We’d blast each other with our guns and then hide away for a bit.  And who introduced us to such rampant fun?  Lance and Nona one Calgary day in 2012.  So yesterday the family headed back for more heroism, minus my dear wife.

On the ride in, I spoke up about the reality that was no doubt so obvious to all concerned: Ontario was going to kick Alberta’s butt!  There was moderate disagreement in the car but I ignored it.  I knew the truth.

After game one, I finished in the top 18, out of 18 shooters.  Humble pie time.  I’d shoot my dear ones, and any other participants, and they just wouldn’t succumb.  I kept hearing that moaning electronic sound that meant I’d been hit.  I made a major recovery in game two: 15th out of 22.  But my nephew Jaxon scored 5th, 2nd and then 5th again.  As for Jagger, it was 3rd, 4th and 2nd.  I was totally outgunned!  Even the Dorams’ dog Ember beat me (Okay, she wasn’t playing.)

Wait a minute, I just had a thought.  If you add up Jaxon’s scores, you get 12.  Jagger 9.  I (18, 15, 17) , the great Poobah from the east, was 50.  There you go … I won!

The worst, or maybe the best, was two little boys who gleefully ganged up on me again and again.  I couldn’t pop ’em if my life depended on it.  But they sure popped me.

Then there were Supernova (Nona) and Billy Bishop (Lance).  I won’t mention their placings but it’s just possible that they rocked and ruled.  Jace was short but fast, and gave it his all to zap his parents and brothers.

***

After the festivities and a yummy lunch at East Side Mario’s, we were off to Costco in Okotoks.  Now I have a history of roaming around that building in London, talking to employees and members about silly things.  So what if I’m a tourist in Alberta?  Shouldn’t I be consistent with my previous personality?  I think so.

I went up to a few food demonstrators and shared some of my favourite lines:

“Will this make me happy?”

[Upon a second visit] “My twin brother was just here and he thought this was yummy.  May I have some too?”

[And my all time favourite]  “May I sing you a little number?” > “Okay.” > “3!”  Most people laugh.  Some stare.

As we roamed the aisles, Jaxon saw a pretty girl (maybe 14) who looked like someone he likes at school.  One of us said “Go over and talk to her, Jaxon.”  His non-verbal response was basically “No way.”  So I helpfully added, “Okay, then I’ll go talk to her.”  And I proceeded to walk purposefully to the meat cooler where the girl and her mom were examining the hamburger.  I do believe I sensed horror from behind me.  It looked like I was walking right up to them but I just kept going, making a tidy circle which allowed me to peruse the faces of my family.  Not sure what their faces said.  Great fun, although perhaps not from Jaxon’s perspective.

***

In the evening, we once again turned on “Just For Laughs Gags”.  My two favourite pranks:

1.  A woman in a dress was sitting on a bench with a stranger when she had to pee.  She walked up to a tree on the other side of the path.  Her back was facing the onlooker.  Then a stream of pee anoints the bark while Ms. or Mr. Onlooker’s mouth drops.

2.  An elderly gentleman has a bad cold.  As he walks along the sidewalk, he honks his nose with great gusto and throws the Kleenex over his shoulder, landing on the chest or face of the person approaching from behind.  More horrified looks!

I laughed.

***

It was a perfect day of bipping here and there with folks of whom I care

Day Twenty-Eight … Just Fore The Fun Of It

Have I ever told you that I’m a champion golfer?  Actually, I haven’t even told myself.  After a round of golf, I love returning to the pro shop and telling the desk clerk “I shot 70 today.” > “Really?  That’s wonderful.” > “Yeah, and the second nine was even better.”

In my deep dark youth, when I was really serious about the game, I would sometimes throw my club after an abysmal shot.  Thank goodness there were no foreheads nearby.  Once, on the raised tee of a par 3 hole, with a shallow pond right in front of me, I swung mightily in an already upset kind of way.  The ball bounced aimlessly over the smooth green grass and deposited itself into the drink.  I did what any normal deranged person would do.  I picked up my golf bag and threw it into the water.  A mighty splash it was.  And then I just stared at the ripples as my golf budget sunk.  After a brief pause for sanity, I clambered off the tee and waded in.  Adorned with muck, my bag and clubs were resurrected.  My goodness, I was young back then.

Yesterday, armed with decades of maturity, I agreed with Lance that a golf game with the kids would be a good idea.  Family.  What a blessing to be out on the course with Jaxon, Jace and Lance.  The golf club in Okotoks only allows foursomes so Jagger got to hang out with Nona while Ember was getting her locks cut off.  She’s one smooth dog now.  And I’m one smooth swinger of the club.  Maybe.

We rented two golf carts and it was Jace and me riding together.  Like all the rest of us, he hit a few good shots within a symphony of not good ones.  Okay, my not good ones were just plain bad.  But back to Jace.  He’d get a bit frustrated but would come right back and give it his best on the next shot.  And he smiled a lot.  Pretty cool for an 8-year-old.  It could be that he was the more mature golfer in our cart.

I always have visions of an effortless swing followed by the ball soaring through the air and landing softly on the green.  Now since I am a retired vision teacher, you’d think that I could bring these images into reality.  Trouble is, in my short life, whenever I’ve completed my followthrough after a shot, and I look up, the ball is already coming down!  Tiger Woods never had these problems.  Well, maybe he does now.

Oh well.  Back to the heroics of the day.  Lance lent me his old clubs but he didn’t have a putter for me.  So I putted with a driver, the straightest face club in the bag.  And I sunk one 20-foot putt!  I raised my arms aloft and yelled out “Yes!”  Those male golf pros just aren’t demonstrative enough for me.  And then unfortunately there was my five-putt on the last hole.

Lance hit all these booming drives.  No problem for him when he looked up, I’m sure.  Putting, however, was a challenge.  Jaxon also hit some good shots mixed in with the bad.  So really we were an epic foursome.  The truth is that golf was just a convenient excuse to be together and talk about silly things for four hours.

And I hope we talk about many more silly things over the next ten days.  Come with us.

Day Twenty-Seven … Music To My Ears

I love traditions, even ones that I’ve only been marginally a part of.  Most every Sunday in the new millennium, Lance has made breakfast for his family – fluffy pancakes and bacon.  I mean this guy knows how to make pancakes, and when they’re drizzled with maple syrup …  Yum!  On Sunday, Nona was still dozing but “the boys” (five of us) chowed down.  I suggested we talk “man stuff” but none of us could figure out what that was.

Ember was bipping here and there around our feet, hoping for a tasty morsel.  Tasty but not very good for her.  She managed a piece of bacon.  Above the table, all mouths were kept discreetly closed as we chewed, except for sometimes.  All this was a convenient, but nutritionally necessary excuse to hang out together.  I wonder if Jagger, Jace and Jaxon will realize at 35 how very special their morning breakies with dad were.  I hope so.

In the afternoon, it was off to the Longstock Music and Arts Festival, held in a park only a block from Lance and Nona’s place in Longview.  How’s that for convenient?  We six carried our lawn chairs down the way and plunked ourselves down among the audience.  Ten gallon hats were sprinkled among the crowd.  Smiles were far more common than that.  And onto the stage there strolled “The Travelling Mabels”, three Alberta women anchored by the spirit of Eva Levesque, who actually is a neighbour of Lance’s.  These women told great stories within their melodies and harmonies.  I hummed along and sometimes sang along.  I tried to get Nona to get up on stage with me to sing a few ditties but she demurred with a smile.  Ahead of us, I saw a woman whose long hair was a gorgeous combo of auburn and blonde.  I wanted that, rather than the current grey highlights that I’m sporting.  Nona wasn’t sure I could pull it off.

My favourite song from the Mabels was “Teach Your Children Well”, written by Graham Nash.  I definitely sang along to that one.  It’s part of my history.

Words for me:

You, who are on the road must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself because the past is just a goodbye

Words for Lance and Nona:

Don’t you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you

Words for Jaxon, Jagger and Jace:

 And you, of the tender years can’t know the fears that your elders grew by
And so please help them with your youth, they seek the truth before they can die

After the music, I strolled into a tent and met an artist named Carol.  On the wall was a pencil drawing of Andy Russell, an outdoorsman who lived on a hill just outside of Waterton Lakes National Park in Alberta.  As a young man, I worked at the Prince of Wales Hotel in the park and often looked up at Andy’s place and longed to follow the driveway to his soul.  But I never did meet the author of Tales Of A Wilderness Wanderer and Horns In The High Country.  Reading those pages, I got such a sense of the Southern Alberta foothills and mountains.  It was like coming home.  And next week, Lance and Nona will be bringing me home to Waterton.  I’ll be saying hi to the Bruce who lived 40 years ago.

***

I told Jace that it was his turn to add a final word to today’s post, if he wanted to.  I said that who knows how many people would be reading this.  What do you want to say to them?  Dad piped up with “Imagine you’re speaking to all of them in a big hall.”  So what was the result, you ask?

“Get off your butt and go outside!”

Day Twenty-Six … Back Home Again

To be clear, I’m 3200 kilometres from Union, Ontario, but I’ve arrived at my second home.  Lance, Nona, Jaxon, Jagger and Jace have thoroughly welcomed me.

On Saturday, Holly and I had a sweet goodbye hug on her driveway.  As I waved to her smiling face, I was already turning toward the kids who are the closest thing I have to children of my own.  I knew we’d have fun for the next two weeks.

First though, it was back to Bruce and Isabelle’s place in Calgary for an afternoon visit.  Bruce served me tea and I munched on banana bread and apple slices as we talked.  Isabelle told me of her oldest daughter Andrea who once upon a time felt moved to go to India.  She came back the richer for it.  Andrea moved to Edmonton for school (either college or university) and gradually adopted another mom, this one of East Indian origin.  Isabelle said she was genuinely happy that her daughter was close to this woman, who would be looking out for Andrea in the far north.  (Okay, that was exaggeration: Edmonton is only three hours away from Calgary.)

Now here’s where my memory is doing tricks on me.  It was either Andrea’s graduation or her wedding and both moms were present.  The first person she went to after the ceremony was her Indian mother.  Andrea knelt down and kissed both of her feet.  Isabelle shared that she was sad that her daughter hadn’t come to her and kissed her feet.  And there we have it, another one of those bittersweet moments that life presents to us.  We want to be the most important person in someone’s life and yet we try to let go and rejoice in the loved one’s relationship with another.  So not black-and-white.

Goodbye, Isabelle and Bruce (after they took me out for a delicious meal at an authentic Indian restaurant).  My nose was turning to Longview, less than an hour south.

I had imagined the moment of arrival on the driveway.  I would get out of Scarlet wearing my “Shine A Light Upon My Day” T-shirt (yellow print on red).  That’s one of my favourite lines from Nona’s poetry.  All together, I’d had three of them immortalized on shirts.  I told her that months ago but I was hoping she’d forgotten the conversation.  Oh, I love moments of surprise!  Anyway, I could see Nona walking down the driveway, seeing the message, and being totally startled.  However … it was cold on Saturday and I had my coat on.  Hugs from everyone awaited in the hallway.  Nice.  Nona went to sit on a kitchen chair and I took my coat off.  I moved to stand in front of her.  (No, Bruce, You’re wrecking the surprise.)  Well, I couldn’t resist.  Nona’s eyes were going everywhere except my shirt.  “Stop staring at me.”  Finally I pointed at the poetry and she gave me a little smile.  She doesn’t like to talk about her achievements.  Oh well.  Today I’m wearing “Lovely Is Your Heart” (white on black).  I wonder if Nona will say anything.

We sat around the dining room table in the evening, eating watermelon.  Young Mr. Jace (age 8) started in on me about raisins.  He’s had fun on previous visits bugging me about my intense distaste for the noxious little wrinkled things.  “They’re just dried grapes,” someone said.  Great, now it’s a whole family thing.  Jaxon (age 14 in a few days) thoughtfully placed three of the offending objects on my placemat while I was trying to consume the watermelon.  Just as thoughtfully, I lifted my plate and plunked it down on the beasts.  And on we went, with smiles all around … except for me, that is.  I’ve made feigned revulsion into an art form.  Good family fun.

Jaxon came up to me and said he had read Jody’s book.  I’m glad he did.  I was tempted to ask “Did you like it?” but I’ve learned not to go there.  People will volunteer their reactions if they choose to.  I told Jaxon how very much I miss Jodiette.  He said that he misses Aunt Jody too.  It was a quiet moment.

And then there’s the sixth member of the Doram family – Ember, their fuzzy black cocker spaniel.  Driving down from Calgary, I wondered if she would remember me.  After all, it’s been three years.  As I made the hugging rounds, the little fur ball was bouncing at my feet.  “Hi, Ember!  Do you remember me?”  I’d say the answer is yes.  During the evening in the living room, Ember would often come over for rubs and lyings down but I wanted my little friend to go say hi to Jagger, Nona, Jaxon, Lance and Jace too.  And she did, some.  I guess I’m a novelty.

Here I sit two days later, on the same couch.  Nobody else is up yet.  It’s just Ember and me hanging loose.  Later, I’ll see if Jagger wants to do some proofreading with me, and whether he wants to compose a final blog comment.  And now for some toast and coffee.

***

Jaxon was upstairs and Jagger was down so I asked Jaxon if he wanted to proofread again.  He said yes.  And now … here’s Jagger!

“I don’t know.  You’re never too old to have fun.”

Day Twenty-Two … Family

A couple of recollections from days past:

Rita started talking about a trip that she and Dave had been on.  I can’t remember where to – let’s say Seattle, Washington.  She began “Bruce and I headed down to Seattle …”  My heart stopped.  I didn’t say a thing but I was transported back to happy times with my former wife, adventures we went on, times when that big smile of hers was shining bright.  Oh, the chapters of my life.

***

When I was visiting Rhonda (Jody’s cousin) near Vancouver, she talked about her dad Roy, who died about five years ago.  She talked with love in her eyes and in her voice.  I think I only met Roy once.  He was in a wheelchair at Norm’s funeral (Jody’s dad).  We chatted a bit but I didn’t get a real sense of him.  Rhonda definitely helped me out there.  “Dad sometimes walked into the kitchen in the morning wearing a flip wig.  He would brush it back with his hand.”  Oh my.  “Other times, he would use a grease pencil to draw a big moustache on his face.  He’d sit there as if nothing was out of the ordinary while we kids were dumbfounded.”

So, I sat near an outrageous character at Norm’s funeral and I didn’t have a clue that he was perhaps more “out there” than his kids.  My loss.

***

After leaving Rita and Dave, I drove long and hard towards her sister Beryl in Yakima, Washington.  I even gave away two of Jody’s books at a gas station in Mount Vernon, Washington.  Got into Yakima after dark, and directions from a friendly McDonald’s employee saw me through the last few kilometres.

Beryl and I spent two hours talking that evening.  I told her that she was always my favourite of Rita’s siblings.  She told me that her children Scott (46) and Tricia (42) still call me Uncle Bruce.  (Sigh)  Now I have a new generation that calls me Uncle Bruce – Jody’s brother Lance’s kids – Jaxon (13). Jagger (11) and Jace (8).  Blessed again.  I get to be with Lance’s clan from August 15 till 30 in Longview, Alberta, southwest of Calgary.  Oh my some more.  What a trip this is.  Lots of people who still love me, and some who are new to me that I’m starting to love.  The big human family that we are.

The next morning, Tricia texted her mom from Portland, Oregon.  She works in the running department of Nike and remembers me as a runner.  Beryl asked if I wanted to reply, and I did.  “I have great memories of you as a kid.  I hope we meet again.”  Tricia responded by saying that she thinks of me often.  My goodness, time and space are such flimsy barriers to love.  Really no barrier at all.  Love wins.

Family … such a fine word.  I vote for a hugely broad definition of the term.  Like perhaps “All beings everywhere”.  Including Portland, Yakima and Vancouver.

Day Twenty-One … Kids!

Since Jody got sick in November, 2013, I haven’t had kids in my life.  During the years that I taught blind children, I got to know and love many of the child’s classmates.  We had some great discussions – 1-1 and in groups.  Long ago, I’d visit my nieces and nephew through my marriage to Rita and we’d be silly.  More recently, it’s been fun with my nephews through my marriage to Jody.  But not much contact with children for the last two years.

But then – as in Monday – Rita’s husband Dave arrived on the train from Edmonton, with his son Rocky and his granddaughters Hannah and Josie.  They’re elementary school-aged kids.  Off the train they bounced (even after 24 hours of travel) and gave Grandma Rita big hugs.  I’m standing in the background watching.  Then I was introduced.  I stepped forward and shook their unsure hands.

We crammed into Rita’s car.  Dave, Josie, Hannah and I were wedged together in the back.  As we cruised the Vancouver streets, Dave turned into a tour guide, showing the kids this and that.  They were tired but looked like they were enjoying grandpa’s enthusiastic descriptions.  Hannah kept mentioning that she wanted to go to a restaurant like the cool pork ribs place back home.  I just loved being there with everyone.  It felt like family, even though I’m not officially a member of Rita’s family anymore.

At one point, I said to Hannah, “I hear you’re an artist.”  She smiled a wee smile.  “You did a drawing of Rita and Dave for their wedding.  I liked it.”  Smile a mite bigger.  The framed black-on-white line drawing hangs proudly on the wall.

Then we were home.  After a bit of hustle and some bustle of the house tour type, we were all in the kitchen.  I thought “Why not?  I know I’m out of season but give it a go.”

“Do you girls like the poem ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas’?  Or is it a so-so?”

Hannah: “So-so.”

Bruce: “I’ve learned to say it in a special way.  May I recite the poem to you?”

Josie and Hannah: “Okay.”

And I was off, attempting the land speed record for reciting “Twas” really fast.  Eyes widened.  Mouths curled up, especially Josie’s.  I got lost halfway through and paused for effect, but soon I was pouring out the syllables again.  I finished with a flourish, arms in the air.  Enthusiastic applause greeted me from all sides.  It’s such a fun way to make kids happy.  The adults didn’t seem to mind either.

I wonder if I’ll meet other kids on this road trip.  I hope so.

Day Thirteen … A Family of Love

Sunday I spent lots of good time with the Chamness family near Barriere, BC.  Luana and Larry hold hands.  Hey, maybe that’s all you need to know about them!  Luana is a poet and homemaker and Larry is very mechanical.  He’s an expert on installing septic tanks and is working on his own design for a 70-foot floating irrigation pump.  Farmers have trouble with pumps that aren’t on the water and Larry’s prototype could make a big difference for them.  Waydago, Larry!  It wasn’t important that I didn’t understand a lot of what he was talking about.  I got him – the human being.

Brady is Luana and Larry’s 16-year-old son.  Like any kid, school is not a bed of roses.  He talked though about an English teacher that he really liked.  She listened to him and was always ready to help when he had a question.  Yay for teachers.

Ron is the older son, 30 or so.  He’s a whiz with engines and is a good big brother to Brady.  Like the whole clan, Ron is willing to get his hands dirty, diving into his mechanical problem-solving with gusto.

Tashina is Brady’s girlfriend.  She loves having fun with him on their longboards (really big skateboards, for the uninitiated).  They seem very happy together.  I gave a few of Jody’s books away to the family and I was thrilled that Tashina dove into it right away.

Jackie is the 19-year-old daughter.  She too has Brady’s back and helps her mom and dad a lot.  Jackie is off to Chilliwack, BC in January for nursing studies.  She’ll be a good one.

These folks are so close, forged in part by some experiences they’ve had on the land.  Once Brady, Tashina and Ron were hiking and she slipped down a slope, grabbing on to a tree to break her fall.  Ron scrambled down and somehow pulled Tashina up to safety.  It must have taken incredible strength.  Can you imagine the bond created between them?  Wonderful.

Another time, Luana was determined to reach a waterfall high up on their property.  She has some balance issues but kept going, on her own.  Brady noticed that mom had been gone a long time and went looking for her.  There was a very happy ending, which included falling water.

While I was there, Brady, Tashina and Ron headed off on a trip to the BC coast

***

Wait a minute … interlude time.  I’m sitting in the lobby of the Delta Town and Country Inn in Delta, BC, tapping away, and a mite bit concerned that I’m writing about events which happened two days ago.  How am I going to ketchup?  When what to my wondering ears should appear but a group of folks singing “O Canada” in a meeting room.  So cool.  I’ve decided to take on as a personal project to have every Canadian sing their anthem.  I think I’ll start with maternity wards and branch out from there.

***

Okay, where was I?  Oh yeah.

… for some kayaking.  As they piled into Herbie, their Volkswagen bug, Brady made sure he said “Love you” before his mom could get the words out.  And a few minutes later, he said the same to Jackie.  It’s truly what makes the world go round.

On Sunday evening, Luana wanted to show me the path that led up through their property, so we went.  She pointed out berry bushes, now past their prime, and the creek was roaring downhill beside us.  Plus all those tall cedar trees.  Wow.  I got a photo of Luana and Larry holding hands as they climbed.

Yesterday morning, I hugged Luana, Larry and Jackie before I left for Vancouver.  We all waved.  And they were still looking at me in the rearview mirror as I drove down their dirt road towards the highway.  Then I cried.  It’s hard to say goodbye to natural people.

Day Eight … Folks Just Like Me

I often see myself as unusual, not of the norm, a little too silly for some.  Just plain different.  Looking more closely, though, we’re all pretty similar.  When I taught blind children, it was so easy to fall into the trap that they were really different from other kids.  After all, they can’t see.  And seeing stuff is a big part of my life.  But as I got smarter and looked more carefully, those young non-see-ers wanted the same things that their classmates did – to be loved, to be included, to make a mark and thus say goodbye to invisibility.

Yesterday I experienced a parade of humanity.  Here they are:

Eleanor (Jody’s aunt)
Cam (Eleanor’s son and Jody’s cousin)
Veronica (Jody’s late aunt Joan’s daughter and Jody’s cousin)
Real (Veronica’s boyfriend)
Fernando (Real’s friend)
Frank (Jody’s uncle)
Shirley (Frank’s wife and Jody’s aunt)
Carey (Frank and Shirley’s daughter and Jody’s cousin)
Pierre (Carey’s husband)
Taylor (Carey and Pierre’s daughter)
Taylor’s boyfriend (I’m sorry that I’ve forgotten your name)

Eleanor – Presented me with assorted foods and a warm smile, as well as showing me where Jody sat in the family farm’s kitchen as a 15-year-old.  I loved sitting where Jody did.

Cam – Smiled when I was enjoying a flavour of Mike’s Hard Lemonade that I hadn’t tasted – pink.  He loves hunting.  I don’t.  So what?

Veronica – She of the smiling Buddhas adorning her home.  “Life’s too short to hold grudges.”  As she and I were leaving Carey and Pierre’s place, she approached her Uncle Frank and said, “You’re not getting away without a hug.”

Real – Loves riding his Harley and is a member of a biker club that stands for integrity and non-violence.  In the pub, I asked him to sing, and he replied, “Only if it’s a Frank Sinatra tune.”  He has a beard and wears a biker jacket.  I couldn’t grow a beard for the life of me and favour t-shirt and shorts.  So what?

Fernando – Another biker club member who laughed with us as Veronica and I resurrected memories of Jody and her mom Joan over a steak sandwich (her) and nachos (me).  He was comfortable sitting beside me.

Frank – I sold real estate with Frank in the 80’s.  Well, he sold real estate – I “prospected” and dreamed of sales and listings.  Last night, he talked of family, of how important his wife, children and grandchildren are to him.

Shirley – Had a mischievous little smile on her face most of the evening and actually used that very word to describe Jody as a kid.

Carey – The lady of the house who cried when she talked about Jody.  As kids, they stole neighbours’ flowers and placed them under their family’s power mower so there’d be a flower shower upon start up.  I saw photos of the miniature Christmas scenes that she creates all over her house during the holidays.

Pierre – Is a night supervisor on a oil rig in Kuwait for six months of the year – 28 days on and 28 days back home.  Temperatures can reach 44 degrees Celsius … at night!  I couldn’t do that.  He can.  So what?

Taylor – She laughed at a few goofy things I said.  I liked her immediately.  As a young adult, she seemed totally comfortable with all those older folks yapping away.

Taylor’s boyfriend – (Okay, Bruce.  Let go of trying to remember his name > But a person’s name is important > I know, but you can appreciate him just as much without knowing it > All right)  He joined into the conversation, especially enjoying his talk with Pierre about oilfield adventures.  When I was leaving, he looked me right in the eye and said that he hoped we’d meet again.  He meant it.

We’re all the same height when we’re lying down

Elton John

Day Seven … 1975 and 1324

I roamed around Lethbridge yesterday in Scarlet.  Many of my musings were about my first wife Rita.  We were married for seven years and divorced in 1985.  And on August 9, I’ll be visiting her and her husband Dave near Vancouver.  I’m so glad that we’re still friends.

I think it was for two years (1975-1977) that Rita and I slept on a single bed in a residence room at the University of Lethbridge.  Now that’s true love!  We worked hard, training to be teachers, and laughed a lot.  We had great friends in the residence and out.  I remember setting up a table and having meals on a stairwell landing.  I remember shooting the breeze in the cafeteria, and sometimes having profs sit down to chat.

I roamed University Hall yesterday and reminisced.  The U of L is a long, dramatic building set into the coulees – hills that slope down from the prairie to the Old Man River 300 feet below.  In the winter, with a dusting of snow, the coulees past the far shore looked like people sleeping under blankets.  Cool.  I remember Rita and I sometimes not leaving the university for a month or more when it was super cold outside.

I descended from the main level 6 down a stairwell that held the ghosts of dinners, and pulled on the door to section D4, our old sleeping place.  Locked.  Protected from intruders and my memories.  I went into a lecture hall … yes, I remember.  And sat in what’s left of the cafeteria.  Hi, Rita.

Where to next, Bruce?  How about the home that Rita and I bought in 1978 (for $48,000!)  It was a lovely two bedroom sanctuary with white metal siding and a great shade tree in the backyard.  1324 7th Ave. South.  I held my breath as I rounded the corner a block away.  And there was my old friend, now adorned with a bright red front door, which looked great.  I parked on the street by the side of my no-longer-home, just like I did every night 35 years ago.

***

Another pleasant interlude.  Ray just came in from the yard and we got talking.  For some reason, he referred to himself as “nonchalant”.  Being the shy type, I thought of not sharing the following, but the imp in me couldn’t resist.  “Have you ever thought, Ray, about what a chalant person is like?  I’ve roamed the world and never come across one yet.”  (Smile from Jody’s uncle)  Okay, enough said, which will definitely be my stance on September 12 when I begin that long silent meditation retreat.  But I regress …

***

I walked up the front sidewalk and knocked on that red door.  Dad and I had installed it long ago.  I had attached the big wooden 1 3 2 4 numbers that adorned the siding to the left of the door.  Oh, what a handy fellow I was!

A young man opened the door.  I smiled and told him my story.  He smiled back and invited me in.  I met his wife and went on about Mom and Dad visiting Rita and me from Ontario, and Dad and I building the cedar fence to enclose the backyard.  Dad was the brains and I was the brawn.  Hmm … or maybe Dad was both the brains and brawn, and I hammered a few nails.  I recollected Rita and I sitting in the cozy living room.  I told the young folks that I had planted the Russian olive trees that graced the side yard … trees which now showed personal growth from 3 feet to 20.  I loved the few minutes in my old home.

I walked outside and strolled towards our fence.  I put my hand on a board and remembered my father.  “You did a good job, Dad.  Thank you for being here with me.”  Some tears.  I was a pretty good son to Mom and Dad but I could have been a lot better.  “So forgive yourself, Bruce.”  Yes.

Quite the journey …these lives of ours.  I’m glad I’m along for the ride.