My folks are both passed, on to the next realm or merely in the ground I dont know. My dad's birthday was Ides of March, March 15, and my ma's was April 1, April Fools Day.
Hence, this time of year I go through some stuff. Its not mourning, or regret, or looking back, its just a time of awareness, some gratefulness, and a lot of reflectiveness. I think about being a kid who had parents, and of being a parent, and of taking care of others.
For instance, I have been sorting through stuff to go to Goodwill because we are moving soon, and I have lived here for 10 years, about a third of that with my son Ed living here too. Found an Alberta flag that used to be the curtain on his bedroom window, took it to work to give to some young guys who are moving into a pad together. Felt a bit dad-ly doing that.
Shared some dad stories with a woman working the till at a liquor store, she was telling me about taking courses on hunting with her son, and going out on hunts with him. I used to jam with my son, not shoot critters with him, but we fished together a number of times. Ed was a really good guitar player before he got into the daily pot smokin, unfortunately that sapped his motivation to practice and get better and is currently limiting him. However, he did get in on some good jams with some talented players, some of whom used to make their living with their axes (or sticks). Dad thoughts.
My mum was a woman (obviously) and its sometimes hard for a guy to imagine how women feel, but taking in some fruit for the young guys at work is something I feel like doing these days. Man cannot live on noodles and McD's alone. She was a deep thinker and feeler, and she was a bit spooky. I think she hovers a bit closer to me this time of year. We both loved spring. I always liked 'making rivers' with the meltwater, and I find myself doing that now, and think of me ol Ma. Tomato soup and grilled cheese sammitches eaten with socks drying on the heat register.
Thanks for taking care of me, Mum n Dad. Hope all is well with you, wherever you might be.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Sunday, February 23, 2014
My insightful buddy at Brown Guys Liquors
Windchill -30 C. Canada won gold in Olympic hockey this morning, but its just another Sunday. My usual routine on Sunday, my only day off for 7 months of the year, is to make a big elaborate chow, currently jambalaya with chicken, hot sausage and shrimp and as many kinds of peppers as I have, plus celery and onion. Poker tourney at 4, the Sunday 2 Grand on Jokerstars. Those remain constant.
Today I went for the beer run up to Whyte Ave by 112 St. , and my buddy Mridul was working; we often chat about stuff. He is a very bright guy, working on his master's in something erudite, like computer modelling for engineering solutions. He works a few 12 hour shifts slangin booze to keep the food in the fridge.
We didnt talk about hockey at all, for some reason he said something about being a Buddhist and washing in the Ganges River, maybe he is tired of being cold. I countered with my own experience which approached Zen, living in the Manitoba bush in winter in an under-insulated cabin. The daily tasks of feeding wood to the stove, and especially hand-augering a hole in the ice to scoop out water for washing. The ice can get to 3 feet thick in winter, and it takes a good half hour to auger through it. My first time, I tried to go too fast, and got sweaty and almost got pneumonia: sweat in -30 can chill you to the core, and the germs jump in. Eventually I learned to time the turns on the auger handle with my breaths, count of 2 in, count of 2 out, pause. It was instructive, even transformative. I also learned to stop the noise in my head that most people have, the muttered worries and plans.
I think the essence of our conversation was that it would be nice to shut that head noise down, so we can think or not think, at will. Turn off the Twitter of the brain. I bet some great people did that, Einstein, Gandhi, Tesla. That's how they were able to invent, they didnt have all that background chatter, so they were working on a clean page.
I aspire to that, but so far, its just been within my grasp a few times in my life.
Today I went for the beer run up to Whyte Ave by 112 St. , and my buddy Mridul was working; we often chat about stuff. He is a very bright guy, working on his master's in something erudite, like computer modelling for engineering solutions. He works a few 12 hour shifts slangin booze to keep the food in the fridge.
We didnt talk about hockey at all, for some reason he said something about being a Buddhist and washing in the Ganges River, maybe he is tired of being cold. I countered with my own experience which approached Zen, living in the Manitoba bush in winter in an under-insulated cabin. The daily tasks of feeding wood to the stove, and especially hand-augering a hole in the ice to scoop out water for washing. The ice can get to 3 feet thick in winter, and it takes a good half hour to auger through it. My first time, I tried to go too fast, and got sweaty and almost got pneumonia: sweat in -30 can chill you to the core, and the germs jump in. Eventually I learned to time the turns on the auger handle with my breaths, count of 2 in, count of 2 out, pause. It was instructive, even transformative. I also learned to stop the noise in my head that most people have, the muttered worries and plans.
I think the essence of our conversation was that it would be nice to shut that head noise down, so we can think or not think, at will. Turn off the Twitter of the brain. I bet some great people did that, Einstein, Gandhi, Tesla. That's how they were able to invent, they didnt have all that background chatter, so they were working on a clean page.
I aspire to that, but so far, its just been within my grasp a few times in my life.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Late February, and reflections
Beautiful robin's egg blue sky with little white brush strokes of clouds. I went out in the back yard of this rather run-down but comfy place I have lived for almost 10 years, remembered when my dog was 7 and my son was 11 and we were all living in this 'cabin in the city'.
I remember when Ed and his buddy Nick were out making a fire in the pit, and it was drizzling a bit. I looked out the kitchen window, thought to myself, 'these boys have a pioneer spirit, makin a fire in the rain.' One was holding a piece of plywood over the pit, while the other lit the kindling. 15 minutes later, I heard a WOOMP, exactly like gas burning up fast, and looked out to see them standing there with sooty faces, and a fire burning. Not so pioneer, but humorous.
I remember when Walter my fine dog was trotting around out in the back yard, keeping the perimeter secure, he had an insulated dog house (built by Ed and me) and an old couch to lie upon. Had some good sessions out on that couch, me and my buds, and Ed and his. Cam , the guitar player from my band in Wpg, he had his son out for a B-ball tourney, he came over and we took the VCR n TV out in the yard and watched Surviving Picasso, one of those great Alberta evenings when it is light until 11:30.
Moving to a new place soon, not far away, but it isnt dog-friendly, and it doesnt have a big fenced yard with backyard couch and coffee table. Nicer, newer, cleaner. I am still an old cowboy/trapper/artist/punk rocker. I want a lot more space than I can afford, a wood stove, a faithful dog, maybe a cat for mice, a vegetable garden, a little distance. Harder to afford that all the time, but I keep hoping.
I remember when Ed and his buddy Nick were out making a fire in the pit, and it was drizzling a bit. I looked out the kitchen window, thought to myself, 'these boys have a pioneer spirit, makin a fire in the rain.' One was holding a piece of plywood over the pit, while the other lit the kindling. 15 minutes later, I heard a WOOMP, exactly like gas burning up fast, and looked out to see them standing there with sooty faces, and a fire burning. Not so pioneer, but humorous.
I remember when Walter my fine dog was trotting around out in the back yard, keeping the perimeter secure, he had an insulated dog house (built by Ed and me) and an old couch to lie upon. Had some good sessions out on that couch, me and my buds, and Ed and his. Cam , the guitar player from my band in Wpg, he had his son out for a B-ball tourney, he came over and we took the VCR n TV out in the yard and watched Surviving Picasso, one of those great Alberta evenings when it is light until 11:30.
Moving to a new place soon, not far away, but it isnt dog-friendly, and it doesnt have a big fenced yard with backyard couch and coffee table. Nicer, newer, cleaner. I am still an old cowboy/trapper/artist/punk rocker. I want a lot more space than I can afford, a wood stove, a faithful dog, maybe a cat for mice, a vegetable garden, a little distance. Harder to afford that all the time, but I keep hoping.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
addictions and farewells
First, to my friends who are trying to kick tobacco (or whatever) this new year: Good luck, good heart, feel loved and respected. It's the same as any shit your body got used to, you have to get rid of it, then get used to not having it, then convince your brain it aint comin back. Count in 12 hour chunks to 96 hours, then count in days to 30 days, then count in weeks till you forget to count. But dont think you can have 'just one', because you cant. Back in the bottom of the fuckin hole if you do. Bad minkey.
Happy and grateful to say I have 4 months and 22 days off tabac.
Farewell and adieu to you fair Garneau ladies, farewell and adieu, ladies of Garneau.. For the landlord has willed that my house be demolished... by April the 10th I must be well away..
I have lived in this fine but eroding house (11246 75 Ave.) for longer than any place I have ever lived except me folks' house at 69 Norham, West St Paul, MB. From which domicile I departed (and sometimes returned, me mum still dwelt there) in the fall of '77. I got here in August 2004, when me fine young feller of a son was 11, and me fine young feller of a German Shepherd was 7. Ed is growed up, Walter is passed on, we are older and different.
I hope that I and my lady shall find swell dwelling in the shire of Pleasantview. I like it down there. I often walk down 106 st to 51 ave, its 15 mins walk to work from there. Close to Big Grocery Stores for her, and 3 liquor stores for me. And Chinese and Empanadas for takeout and delivery.
Wish us all well, butt kickers, movers, lovers of places and people.
RIP Robert Shaw. and Lou Reed.
Happy and grateful to say I have 4 months and 22 days off tabac.
Farewell and adieu to you fair Garneau ladies, farewell and adieu, ladies of Garneau.. For the landlord has willed that my house be demolished... by April the 10th I must be well away..
I have lived in this fine but eroding house (11246 75 Ave.) for longer than any place I have ever lived except me folks' house at 69 Norham, West St Paul, MB. From which domicile I departed (and sometimes returned, me mum still dwelt there) in the fall of '77. I got here in August 2004, when me fine young feller of a son was 11, and me fine young feller of a German Shepherd was 7. Ed is growed up, Walter is passed on, we are older and different.
I hope that I and my lady shall find swell dwelling in the shire of Pleasantview. I like it down there. I often walk down 106 st to 51 ave, its 15 mins walk to work from there. Close to Big Grocery Stores for her, and 3 liquor stores for me. And Chinese and Empanadas for takeout and delivery.
Wish us all well, butt kickers, movers, lovers of places and people.
RIP Robert Shaw. and Lou Reed.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
further to: smart people, stupid wages
What started this off is a convo with a buddy at the till of a liquor store, he is a brilliant man, working on his Master's thesis. He is working for 10 dollars per hour. Many of his co-workers for 9.50, all with at least 3 years of Uni education. Because it is convenient.
The owner is not a bad man, he is paying them the least he can get away with. These guys could go work flogging shit on the phone, big co's. , like Shaw , Telus, etc. But they stick where they are at because it is convenient. These are single guys, with no kids. But what about the single mamas with kids, who work for 9.50. Really? Are we so impoverished in spirit that we cannot give someone the equivalent of what we used to, 35 years ago, as a living wage, so kids and moms can eat ?
Thank you , conservative revolution for increasing our poor , and jailing those who react to that.
12 bucks. 15 bucks. Might cut into the profit margin a bit, but you wont have to hire and train every month.
The owner is not a bad man, he is paying them the least he can get away with. These guys could go work flogging shit on the phone, big co's. , like Shaw , Telus, etc. But they stick where they are at because it is convenient. These are single guys, with no kids. But what about the single mamas with kids, who work for 9.50. Really? Are we so impoverished in spirit that we cannot give someone the equivalent of what we used to, 35 years ago, as a living wage, so kids and moms can eat ?
Thank you , conservative revolution for increasing our poor , and jailing those who react to that.
12 bucks. 15 bucks. Might cut into the profit margin a bit, but you wont have to hire and train every month.
smart people, stupid wages
Back in 1977, I was 18 years old. I worked for 3 dollars per hour. That could buy me a 6 pack of beer, a pack of smokes, a McDonalds cheeseburger, and a phone call. For one hours work.
Now, with a B.A., 38 years work experience in a variety of fields, including hiring, training, firing, budgeting, cash management, customer retention, etc. etc, I work for 17.25 plus bonus.
That buys me either a 6 pack and a McD, or a pack of smokes and a McD. Not all the above.
At 18, I could rent a house for 300 bucks including utilities= one week's work. If you pay rent, you know what it is now. If you dont pay rent, keep doing whatever you do in exchange.
One would think that after earning a degree (B.A., geog and poli sci, admittedly not like engineering) and spending almost 4 decades in the work force , one would be earning more in real wages than one did when living out of cardboard boxes in a rental and beer came before groceries or rent.
The Reagan/Thatcher revolution happened, a calculated assault on working people that created a huge gulf. Yes, its nice for those who got into the well-paid streams, electronic toys are cheaper, air fare to slave regimes are cheaper, but it has left the vast bunch (used to be called masses, but nobody liked that) making less year to year.
The one-dollar raise on a 17 dollar rate doesnt mean much when your expenses (groceries, rent, utilities) go up 10-15%.
If you are making good money now, I am happy for you. If you want the same conditions that enabled your folks to buy a house to be around for your kids, think about it.
Its not lower taxes for the rich, its higher wages for the workin cats.
Good workers will earn more, but lets raise the bottom.
Now, with a B.A., 38 years work experience in a variety of fields, including hiring, training, firing, budgeting, cash management, customer retention, etc. etc, I work for 17.25 plus bonus.
That buys me either a 6 pack and a McD, or a pack of smokes and a McD. Not all the above.
At 18, I could rent a house for 300 bucks including utilities= one week's work. If you pay rent, you know what it is now. If you dont pay rent, keep doing whatever you do in exchange.
One would think that after earning a degree (B.A., geog and poli sci, admittedly not like engineering) and spending almost 4 decades in the work force , one would be earning more in real wages than one did when living out of cardboard boxes in a rental and beer came before groceries or rent.
The Reagan/Thatcher revolution happened, a calculated assault on working people that created a huge gulf. Yes, its nice for those who got into the well-paid streams, electronic toys are cheaper, air fare to slave regimes are cheaper, but it has left the vast bunch (used to be called masses, but nobody liked that) making less year to year.
The one-dollar raise on a 17 dollar rate doesnt mean much when your expenses (groceries, rent, utilities) go up 10-15%.
If you are making good money now, I am happy for you. If you want the same conditions that enabled your folks to buy a house to be around for your kids, think about it.
Its not lower taxes for the rich, its higher wages for the workin cats.
Good workers will earn more, but lets raise the bottom.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
two sides of the same intersection
Lovely day, soft evenin, I have some bevvies at home, then I go up to the Ave. to restock about 11pm. I walk the first few familiar blocks then I am waiting for the 'walk' signal, taking my time cuz lots of Albertans think red means go. I am crossing from the south, a party is crossing from the north: 4 guys with mean ass looks on their face and new Walmart fashions, one chick in a dress, but also sporting a "I have a nasty bug up my ass" look. They are all muttering and casting evil looks about, halfway across the Ave., the chick starts going 'fagGet, fagGet, fagGet' like from a bad Tobe Hooper movie, and the guys are all flexing their cocked arms and darting their eyes around like rats in an empty granary. Not to profile, but they sounded like New Brunswickers, and maybe the priests there are a little too free with the Sunday school class. I have noticed some hate comin out of that province. Lots of nice people too, I am sure, but maybe those arent the ones that come to the Big City out West.
Allright, I tinks to meself. I didnt change expression or look at them, doin my New Yorker thing. I go to Brown Guys Liquor, get a few beers and a shortie of Jameson's, exchanged some pleasant words with the regular Saturday guy, then reverse course to go home. On the return trip, I was following some guy with bags of bottles who looked kinda gay-ish, and sure enough he was met halfway up the first block by 2 Asian guys who definitely seemed gay-ish, and they hugged him, in a friendly way. Then told him he was 'expected at the Hive cuz hundreds of thirsty worker bees were waiting', and they all laughed and went on.
Now, who would any sane person want to be friends with? The first group, or the second?
Hate or hugs?
Hugs for me, thanks.
Allright, I tinks to meself. I didnt change expression or look at them, doin my New Yorker thing. I go to Brown Guys Liquor, get a few beers and a shortie of Jameson's, exchanged some pleasant words with the regular Saturday guy, then reverse course to go home. On the return trip, I was following some guy with bags of bottles who looked kinda gay-ish, and sure enough he was met halfway up the first block by 2 Asian guys who definitely seemed gay-ish, and they hugged him, in a friendly way. Then told him he was 'expected at the Hive cuz hundreds of thirsty worker bees were waiting', and they all laughed and went on.
Now, who would any sane person want to be friends with? The first group, or the second?
Hate or hugs?
Hugs for me, thanks.
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