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“Maybe the happy ending is this:
Knowing that through all the unreturned phone calls and broken hearts, through all the blunders and mis-read signals, through all of the pain and embarrassment …
You never ever gave up hope.”
PS – Thanks for talking me into this tonight, K 
Regardless of your thoughts on the man, you can’t debate the music. One of my favourites:
“You and I must make a pact/ We must bring salvation back/ Where there is love, I’ll be there
I’ll reach out my hand to you,/ I’ll have faith in all you do/ Just call my name and I’ll be there
And oh – I’ll be there to comfort you,/ Build my world of dreams around you/ I’m so glad that I found you
I’ll be there with a love that’s strong/ I’ll be your strength, I’ll keep holding on/ Yes I will, yes I will
Let me fill your heart with joy and laughter/ Togetherness, well that’s all I’m after/ Whenever you need me, I’ll be there
I’ll be there to protect you/ With an unselfish love I respect you/ Just call my name and I’ll be there
If you should ever find someone new/ I know he’d better be good to you/ ‘Cos if he doesn’t, I’ll be there
Don’t you know, baby, yeah yeah/ I’ll be there, I’ll be there, just call my name, I’ll be there
I’ll be there, I’ll be there, whenever you need me, I’ll be there”
I was given the news today, nonchalantly by my mother, that my father was taken to the hospital this weekend to be told he has high blood pressure and Type 2 diabetes. I’m not as nonchalant about the diagnosis – I see this as only a harbinger of trouble yet to come. About a month ago, I had an uncomfortable feeling about my Father’s health:
“I didn’t realize how much this was bothering me until I started crying on the phone with my mother yesterday. She was complaining about how lazy my Dad is around the house and I jumped to his defense. I told her that for all we know he’s full of cancer and don’t know it. My Dad is a stubborn man. He refuses to see doctors, smokes and drinks [is overweight, not active, eats terribly] – AND – even if he were in any kind of pain or discomfort, he would never let on. I guess she perceived my crying as anger and was quick to get off the phone … leaving me sobbing alone in my apartment on the other side of the country. This news about my Aunt kinda got me thinking about the realities of coming from a family with a genetic predisposition to cancer and a father who lives a terribly un-healthy lifestyle. So, yeah … I’m concerned.”
My first reaction was for tears to well in my eyes. My second reaction was to call my mother and get more information. My third reaction was anger – anger at how we have seen this sort of thing staring us down for YEARS and yet my father doesn’t seem to care. I’m worried that words will simply go in one ear and out the other and that my father is too stubborn to take this seriously and my mother is too permissive to strictly enforce any rules.
I know, everyone says I’m over-reacting. Maybe I’m just scared.
… As frustrating as I find my father, I do not want to see what life will be like without his stubborn, obstinate, and ridiculous pig-headedness before I have to. These problems are far too prevalent … and preventable! He needs to take this seriously … there’s no sense in suffering needlessly. I don’t want to watch him do this to himself anymore … or get worse. I want to call him up and tell him off for having been so irresponsible.
I’m over-reacting because I love him.
… And, I feel powerless because he hasn’t listend to me up until this point and I’m not so sure how strongly I can make my case from the other side of the country. Though, even if I were to pick up the phone looking to pick a bone … I’ll probably just end up sobbing into the phone that I don’t want my Dad to die an early death the way his father did before him.
Sigh … I’m just looking for catharsis with this post.
… In all honesty, I accept that there’s nothing I can do at this point except try to have faith that my father will realize the right thing to do … and will follow through. The only thing I have any control over are my own actions. My father’s lifestyle choices are one pattern I will not be following. I need to take care of me and stop trying to take care of everyone else, like I usually try (and fail) to do. I will do everything I can to prevent heart disease, diabetes, and cancer in my body. I have made a lot of changes to my own lifestyle over the past couple of years … this news is a reminder not to become complacent or take my health for granted.
AGH! Sorry, a little late this month …
On the last day of each month I post the top 10 most played songs in my iTunes library. You know, because music means a lot to me … and also because it sort of keeps a record of the soundtrack to which I lived the previous month.
1. Lovefool – The Cardigans (Romeo & Juliet Soundtrack)
2. Poster of a Girl – Metric (Live It Out)
3. F**k You – Lily Allen (It’s Not Me, It’s You)
4. Faith – Limp Bizkit (Three Dollar Bill, Yall)
5. Talk Show Host – Radiohead (Romeo & Juliet Soundtrack(
6. Got the Life – Korn (Greatest Hits)
7. Smile – Lily Allen (Alright, Still)
8. All Good Things (Come to an End) – Nelly Furtado (Loose)
9. Yellow Brick Road – Raine Maida (The Hunter’s Lulaby)
10. Wake Up – Arcade Fire (Funeral)
I’m going to rant for a second here … because it’s my blog, and I can. If you don’t like it, stop reading right here.
I’ve been waiting for my tv to be shipped from Ontario since August 2008. I hesitated for a little while because I wasn’t certain I was going to stay in BC. But once I decided I was, my Mother offered to ship it to me … to save herself having to actually pay me a visit this summer. Anyway, it finally arrived and had been waiting with my family for me to pick it up. Today, I finally got to open the box and set it up …
I was so happy to see it, I was practically in tears. Then those tears turned to disappointment. My sister’s boyfriend packed the box up last summer … and did an absolutely awful job. Broken styrafoam all over the place. Nothing put in the box the way it was supposed to be. I don’t even know if it works yet … because they forgot to pack the frigging power cable. I’m pretty angry about it, actually. Tomorrow I will have to wander over to Future Shop to see if they can somehow sell me one that works with my tv. Who knows how much that will cost … dollars I don’t have in the budget.
I just wanted to come home and commune with my tv … I guess not tonight.
/rant
So, it seems Pat had to go and get a job outside of Vancouver.
Of course, no one likes to see someone they like having around leave. But, I suppose it’s that time in our lives where we start trying to balance what we ‘need’ to do with what we ‘want’ to do. Good Luck, Pat!
And as such, I will be cutting my Maple Ridge 5-day weekend to 4 so I can be a part of saying ‘goodbye’ right.
Nah, ‘goodbye’ sounds too morbid … let’s just say ’so-long’.
Um, don’t really have a lot that’s appropriate to report.
Day three of lying in the sun just lounging and lushing.
Oh, and loving every single solitary second of it.
I think I’m going to try to find a lake this weekend and go jump in it.
Much Love,
Me
PS – Love you, Peach xo
Tuesday, The Peach and I – in our infinite wisdom or infinite insanity – decided we were going to climb The Grouse Grind. Perhaps you don’t appreciate how hilarious this idea was … still IS! Peach is – how do I say this kindly? – a little lacking in the ability to coordinate her limbs. Oh, and forget about Murphy’s Law – Peach should have her own law that dictates something along the lines of: what is the absolutely unlikliest thing that’s so tragic it’s hilarious that you can imagine? … that’ll happen to her. You’ll be laughing so hard you’ll be crying – or vice versa. And me? Well, I’m just lazy. I was once rather rotund due to a combination of that laziness and depression. This recent fitness interest is still shocking, even to myself. So, to sum, simply the thought of such a thing is … absolutely ridiculous.
A litte bit of info for those not in the know: The Grouse Grind is the name of a popular hiking trail on Grouse Mountain in North Vancouver – just north of Vancouver. Nicknamed ‘Mother Nature’s StairMaster’, The Grind is 2.9 km in length and the elevation gain, from base to summit, is 853 metres … over 2830 stairs total. You know, where there actually ARE stairs.
I was somewhat embarrassed to admit that I’ve lived in Vancouver for almost 11 months without having attempted the hike. Peach is in town visiting and mentioned under her breath that she had thought about trying it. I immediately confessed my own impulse and before you knew it, we had set a date for Tuesday afternoon.
Lulus, tank-tops, sunglasses and lots of water we found our way over to the North Shore. We got off to a kind of discouraging start … we almost ‘hiked’ up to the wolf area. Whoops. When you arrive on the bus, you kinda fly by the sign at the start of the path, so yes, we were a little confused. Luckily, we found a regular on her way over who took pity on us Ottawaans.
Base to 1/4 Mark:
Let’s just say, Peach and I are not what you would call … child-friendly. We curse like sailors … you know, on a usual day. The first 1/4 of the trail I have to say is the hardest … psychologically. I mean, you’re literally staring up at a mountain from the bottom and knowing you’re about to climb it. We’re as novice as novices come when it comes to hiking. We were wheezing and sweating and cursing. It was challenging. And then I saw it … the half way mark! Or, at least what I thought was the half way mark – Lol! When Peach realized I was wrong, she yelled out “OH, YOU WHORE!!!”… affectionately, of course. 
I started laughing hysterically. I’m surprised we didn’t roll back down the hill laughing our asses off. It was so sad that it was hilarious. … And we continued.
1/4 Mark to 1/2 Mark:
This part wasn’t so bad. Less swearing. Breathing got easier. Just looking for the elusive 1/2 Mark. You know, the one I thought we had hit. Kept alternating between saying to myself “OMG, I can’t believe I’m doing this!” and “You can do this!” And SO relieved when we finally found the actual 1/2 Mark sign. Stopped to take photos … you know, cause we could have just lied to corroborate each others story. The whole time we kept yelling at each other “You’re damn right I’m buying that god-damned t-shirt at the top” (the ones that say “I Survived The Grind”) …. and contemplated t-shirts which could be sold at the mid-way point that say “I ALMOST Survived The Grind”. Lol!
1/2 Mark to 3/4 Mark:
Felt a breeze, so less sweating. Mentally not fighting the mountain, anymore. Fatigue setting in, so less swearing. Head-down, one foot in front of the other. Probably the second hardest section. I believe I shed a tear on this leg when I saw downtown Vancouver through the trees and was overwhelmed with the beauty and realization that I’m here … I live HERE.
3/4 Mark to Summit:
Knowing you’ve passed the 3/4 means just one thing … the next sign is the finish! Less than 1/4 left? Pssht – Of course I can do that! Of course, I was a little delirious … I believe I started singing Genesis out loud at one point. Yes, Genesis. ‘In the Air Tonight’, I believe it was. Because, I’m cool like that. When I saw the signs that indicated the end, I got a huge rush of adrenaline. I practically ran the last couple of metres and did a happy dance at the end. Any silliness can probably be blamed on the endorphins and altitude … well, that and I’m just silly, generally.
Once at the top we had 3 tasks left to accomplish:
1. Photoshoot!!!
2. Buy those fucking “I Survived The Grind” t-shirts like the non-Natives we are. Honestly, two days later I still kinda can’t believe we actually did THAT! … we EARNED those t-shirts.
3. Drown a pint of Granville Island Honey Lager – Mmm! Peach had a glass of BC wine. Then we split a heavenly goat-cheese, crab and artichoke thing with crackers. OMG.
The best part about this experience was that I got to share it with Peach while she was briefly in town. I remarked to her staring at the sunshine starting to set over downtown Vancouver – it felt entirely natural that she was there. Like, she wasn’t a tourist at all. It felt like we were both at home (in a city that was clearly not our hometown) and things were exactly as they were meant to be. She HAS to move here after JSchool ends. Honestly, when you’ve been here on a day like that day … why would you want to be anywhere else?
I miss and heart you Peach … and look forward to seeing you back soon!
PS- I remember remarking most of the hike up Grouse that I didn’t understand why anyone would torture themselves like that, let alone do it repeatedly over the season. But when you hit the summit, everything changes. And you suddenly understand why the regulars come back week after week trying to beat their previous times, swiping time cards. The experience is addictive. I quickly realized towards the end that I, too, would return soon. I’ve already lined up a couple of eager people for company, but I have no qualms about attempting it on my own. Next weekend. And, possibly every weekend this summer after that. My goal for the end of the summer is one hour, flat. We took a little longer than that our first time … room for improvement.
PPS – Lots of photos to share … just forgot my adapter cord for my camera when I ran out to Maple Ridge for my 5-day vacay. Will upload to Flickr at a later date, for those of you who follow me over there, too.
If you grew up in (Eastern) Ontario in the 1990’s, like I did, the words ‘white van man’ probably conjur memories of warnings to stay away from men with white vans trying to lure and abduct children from schoolyards.
If you’re British, the words ‘white van man’ brings to mind images of irate and irrational delivery men driving about all road-ragey and putting other drivers’, cyclists’, and pedestrians’ lives at risk.
In Vancouver, however, white vans (and lots of them) mean one thing … filming. Summer is upon us and so too is the summer filming season, it seems. The white vans are everywhere, parked in long lines along any given street. Those vans, and the fluorescent arrow signs that accompany them, mean that a film set is close by. And these days, they’re everywhere. It’s a phenomenon that Douglas Coupland has described countless times in some of my favourite books, but until you actually see what he’s talking about you can’t really grasp the surreal nature of your city becoming an ‘Anytown, U.S.A.’ Vancouver, it seems, can be easily made to look like almost any other North American (usually American) city/town. The other day, there was a crew at The University with a fleet of cars bearing California license plates. That day, we were supposed to be living in Santa Barbara – so told me the markings on the side of the black ‘Coroner’s van’. You know you’ve finally become a local when such things cease to amuse you and start to annoy you because they divert traffic, slow traffic or cause you to have to reconsider your route. I’m not quite at that point yet …
Last Friday, I was starstruck when I caught my first celebrity sighting since moving to Vancouver: Uma Thurman. As far as first times go, I think I got a good one. A-list. Thank goodness I didn’t do anything embarrassing like run up to her or ask for a photo. Nope. I just went into shock – eyes bugging out, raised voice, adrenaline rush. It could have been worse … though, I’m pretty sure I was sufficiently embarrassing for Keira.
On a hot tip, yesterday, I tried to spy Joshua Jackson on the way to the DVD store to buy One Week – I’ve never watched Fringe, but it’s filming recently relocated to Vancouver. No go. Heads up, Peach … we might have to make a slight detour today to take a second gander.
Can’t blame crews for shooting here: given the state of the American economy it’s much less expensive to film in Canada, Vancouver is an any-town, and it’s pretty much paradise weather-wise right now. If I weren’t already, I’d want to be here, too!
… So, when are you coming to visit?
“To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.
The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief;
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.”
~ Duke, from Othello (I.iii.202-207).
