Hi. Remember me? I live here. Haven't been here in a while though. Just haven't had the urge to blog (what the French call le joie de blogge). Or maybe my life just hasn't been interesting enough to blog about. Or maybe it's just that there are times when you simply have nothing to say. As has always been my way, when I have nothing to say, I say it.
(Did I just invent my own Yogi Berra-ism, or has that one been done?)
So here we are on the first day of 2006. I hope you all had/are having a wonderful holiday season, and I wish you all the best in the new year. Let's make it a good one, without any fear.
I had the past 2 weeks off, and it's been most joyful and fun. I went home to P.E.I. for the holidays. It was my father's 80th birthday on the 22nd, so everyone made it home this year to celebrate that occasion; the first time in about 10 years that all the "kids"--all eight of us--were home at the same time. My sister made it from L.A., as did my brother in Yellowknife, although his wife and 13-year-old son couldn't make it. But his 18-year-old daughter flew in from Vancouver Island, where she's just recently moved, having left the nest for the first time. It had been two or three years since I'd seen her, and there's a big change between 15 and 18. She's quite an interesting young lady now. Very sweet and engaging, and it was nice to see her stepping out into the world on her own, obviously excited by what life has to offer. It's always interesting to discover new relationships with my nephews and nieces as they move from their teen years into young adulthood. There's a whole gaggle of them in that age range now. Another niece, who's 20, had a baby this past summer, and it was cool to see my little grand-nephew again, and to see my niece growing into her new life as a happy and caring young mother.
I drove up with my brother from Oshawa. We drove straight through, sharing the driving duties, and stopping only to replenish the car's gas tank and refuel ourselves with Tim Horton's coffee and the finest highway dining. Couldn't ask for more perfect traveling conditions. The skies were clear and the roads were dry. We made it in about 18 hours. 1750-some kilometers. Not bad.
We had a big to-do for Dad's 80th. Rented the town's golf club (and no, I don't mean the sole available 9-iron...). Lots of old neighbours, relatives and family friends came by; people I hadn't seen in years. The mayor came by and presented Dad with a plaque. That was a nice thing. All in all, a fine night.
The major difference this year was that my parents had sold their house this past fall and moved into an apartment. It's been a bit of an adjustment for them, but they did so of their own volition. The upkeep of the house was just getting to be too much for them. Mom is 81 and her mobility isn't what it used to be. She has trouble with her ankles and knees, and has to use a walker or a cane to get around now. So it's much better for her to not have to go up and down the stairs for laundry, etc. It sure was odd, though, driving by the old house and seeing strange cars parked in the driveway and other people living there. We had moved to that house around 1973, when I was about 10, then we moved to Moncton around 76-77, sold it to our former next-door neighbours from the street I grew up on. Then, when my parents moved back around 1986, the house was on the market again, so they bought it a second time and moved back into the very same house they had sold 10 years previously! So we had two tours of duty in that house.
But things change and we adapt. Mom and Dad seem to be doing okay in the apartment. My three sisters who still live in town have been so incredible with helping Mom and Dad with the move, holding yard sales to get rid of stuff they don't have space for any more and just generally making it as smooth a transition for them as possible. God bless them.
Speaking of things changing... they renamed the street I grew up on!! I was floored when I drove by the old neighbourhood and saw the street sign that had always always always said Cedar Ave now said Oak Ave. OAK!!! What the fuck! They can't do that! Cedar Avenue was the centre of my childhood. I felt like every one of my childhood memories had been violated. Turns out it's for the purposes of some new 911 service. There were always two Cedar-named streets which connected in a T shape: the longer, north-south running Cedar STREET, and the smaller, east-west Cedar Avenue--our street--which topped the T. I guess the new 911 system couldn't handle two streets with the same name, so they changed my street to Oak. At least they kept the arboreal theme intact: above us had been Willow Ave, followed by Poplar and Maple. Elm Street was to the west. But that's cold comfort. Damn bureaucrats. They'll get theirs. I'll track them down and rename their kids. Bastards.
My sister and her family live on Maple Avenue, the northernmost entry in the (now apparently arbitrarily named) arboreal-themed street grid. Her husband has a tradition of making a large backyard rink every winter. With two young sons who play hockey, a dad who coaches hockey and a mom who's a former figure-skater, it's a no-brainer for that family unit. Unfortunately, earlier this winter, my brother-in-law suffered a hernia and needed surgery, and he was still in recovery mode when the time came to make this year's rink. So the call went out, and a whole crew of us showed up one afternoon just before Christmas to do the heavy lifting, putting up the hip-high boards that would eventually encircle the frozen surface. There were seven of us altogether: my dad, my brother, myself, two brothers-in-law and two nephews. Didn't take long to get the job done, as a light snow fell and the quips and jokes were almost as sharp as the nails we were using to whack the plywood boards together. It was a nice Rockwellian Christmas moment.
So it was a very nice family Christmas. We all had a lot of fun together and shared a lot of laughs. My mom and dad were obviously very happy to have all of us home. Chances are it was the last time that will happen, so it was one for the books.
Then came the trip back to Toronto. As perfect as the drive up was, the drive back was about as bad as it gets. My brother and I left at 5 a.m. Monday morning in rain, freezing rain, sleet, etc. My brother drove for the first stretch while I put the passenger seat in recline mode and tried to catch a few winks. Somewhere in the pre-dawn darkness between Moncton and Fredericton, we hit a patch of black ice. The car fish-tailed completely sideways, then back the other way, then back the other way, took out a small wooden stake on the roadside with the back of the car, then did a complete 180, and finally came to rest in the middle of the road, facing forward. Thank the deity or belief system of your choice that there were no other cars around. I had awoken and sprang upright as we began going out of control. Not a nice way to wake up. But my brother did a good job keeping us out of the ditch. Close call.
Then it started snowing. And blowing. 100 kph winds. And all the rest of the way through NB was just awful. Some of the worst winter driving conditions I'd ever seen. Poor visibility, blowing snow, slippery, treacherous road. Saw lots of cars in the ditch. Basically you just had to stay in the worn tracks from the vehicles in front of you or you were toast. We made it as far as Riviere-de-loups, just across the Quebec border in the Gaspe as it got dark, and stopped there for the night. Tuesday conditions were much better. Sunny skies, stopped snowing and the roads were clear, completely dry from Montreal to Toronto.
So I'm back, baby... back in the TO groove.
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