It's interesting how this has all unfurled......perhaps the best way to show what I mean is through allegory.......and so here goes..
As a kid there was a board game called Careers.....
The rules were simple.....we had 3 elements to choose from and with which to make a combination of a 100 points....this combination of Stars (Fame), $ signs (for money) and Hearts (for Happiness) was yours to choose.....
As a young man.....in my late teens and early 20's.... if I were to have picked my combination it would have been heavily weighted with hearts.....and less so with fame and money.....
I believed then, as I do now, in the power of the heart........it served me well.....when I listened to it...
Something happened to me when I was 20.......someone I believed in....someone who held my heart and soul in their hands betrayed me.....like a compass without magnetic north I spun out towards anything else that seemed safe...anything else where my heart was not in play......
In my later 20's, 30's and 40's.....my Careers combination changed drastically......the reasons were as simple as they are complex..... but to simplify.....a collision of many factors perhaps.....it was the 80's and greed was good.....I was kneeling at the altar of perpetual cash and my prayers were coming true.....my Careers combination was one of a life being heavily weighted with $ signs and Stars.......my heart.... was left to fend for itself......
after all ...it had not protected me from what had happened......perhaps my reason...my unfailing intellect would guide me through this game of life.....I could reason my way through the rapids and eddy's.....the smooth passages and the roiling whitewater......I would think my moves through.....each one calculated to build upon the next.....each choice predicated by the opportunities available......or so I thought.....
Each step along this path was one where reason and logic drove me to the outcome...bigger rewards, better cars, more of...well......more.....
Not once in all this time did I walk to the road and look down a ways.......not once in all of this time did I check in with my heart on a decision......Not one single scintilla of a moment....Not once......save for the birth and life of my daughters....
And I paid for it......
The heart is like a pebble in your shoe......it never really goes away......it can't....so it rests against your heel, occasionally stabbing you with pain, creating blisters and callouses...if for no other reason I supposed, than to remind you its still there.....
Now...in all of these times....I had my share of successes..... and failures.......to be sure
But as I now look back on them.....I see the pattern......just a plainly as one can....... my failures were not failures of the intellect....they were failures of the heart.......a failure to use my heart.....and a failure of not using my heart enough....after all...the heart is a muscle......the more it is used...the more it has muscle memory........the more it is used I found out....the more it is to be trusted......
So here I now stand.....in front of you....in front of me....in front of all who care to listen and look.......and say quite clearly....I am about to make another combination of life that will serve me well as I move forward........My dance card is empty........my Career combination is full of hearts with still enough $ signs to make it worthwhile (fame can wait...overrated) ...so I ask you......would you join me in a dance....long and slow.....punctuated only with tender kisses and a realization that we will never have this chance again.....
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Starting Over.
Starting over....is it failure or fruition?
Really, of all of the challenges we face in our lives that involve other people it is the starting over that requires us to face our greatest fears and self doubt.
We ask ourselves so many questions...are we a failure at what we once had and are now moving away from?...or are we a serial crazy person unable to maintain our focus on one world, moving like grazing cattle from one relationship to the next?...or are we reinventing ourselves to best match our needs as our needs change and evolve......?
What are our needs?
Needs are what feeds our soul engine. It may sound odd to say that, but truly if you think about it, it is true.
Our soul engine, if you will, is the vessel which we draw from, to offer to others in our life, our best words, actions and feelings.
I use the words soul engine, not for its religious connotations but more as a word set to best describe what it is in ourselves that collects and disseminates our experiences and feelings and turns it into meaningful actions....
Our soul engine (for example), is what helps us to not only express to our kids what is good and bad..(that knowledge of Good and Bad comes from experience) but our soul engine gives us the ability to express to them why something is....in a manner in which we can help them to understand why we feel as we do......the logic being, we can tell them that crossing the street without looking is wrong....but when we look them in the eye and they see our soul letting them know that we really do care.......the soul.....makes the message make sense.....
For better or worse...the soul engine is seemingly a vessel that needs refilling....the most effective way is to do this daily by being with and around others who inspire, reading, experiencing and otherwise experiencing positive (and less so, negative) input.
In a relationship ..by its very definition, this "refilling" comes from being with a person who truly meets your inner needs........we spend so much of our life concerned about the outer needs....his/her genetics, their stature in the eyes of others etc....these are all admirable qualities and needed virtues, but ultimately it is not the best fuel for our souls........it leaves us hungry....always....
Oh yes....we can say that we can do all of this filling on our own....we don't need anyone etc.....but in my experience...the people with the most to give...the richest source of soul engine fuel...if you will...are those who actively engage with others in an intimate way.......taking and feeding from their words and input....
So what to do when we are no longer having our needs met and our soul engine is not being filled?....do we stay?...or start over...?
It is true.....on rare occasions that once the heart is lost in a relationship it can be rekindled.......but its also more often true........that this does not happen?.....the outcome of a relationship stymied is a soul engine in depletion......slowly but ever so certainly, running down like an unwound clock..........and then, there we stand.....
When we question our choices and voice our concerns....is he right for me?....am I getting what I need?.......all those type of questions that rise to the surface are not as a result of the others person failure, but by our own failure to surround ourselves with another (or others) who fill our soul engine as we need it done......so....do we see the end of something as a failure......or a fruition...? Did we fail to make the relationship work...? Or did the components and fuel of the relationship fail to fill our soul engine?
So....do we stay...or start over?
Really, of all of the challenges we face in our lives that involve other people it is the starting over that requires us to face our greatest fears and self doubt.
We ask ourselves so many questions...are we a failure at what we once had and are now moving away from?...or are we a serial crazy person unable to maintain our focus on one world, moving like grazing cattle from one relationship to the next?...or are we reinventing ourselves to best match our needs as our needs change and evolve......?
What are our needs?
Needs are what feeds our soul engine. It may sound odd to say that, but truly if you think about it, it is true.
Our soul engine, if you will, is the vessel which we draw from, to offer to others in our life, our best words, actions and feelings.
I use the words soul engine, not for its religious connotations but more as a word set to best describe what it is in ourselves that collects and disseminates our experiences and feelings and turns it into meaningful actions....
Our soul engine (for example), is what helps us to not only express to our kids what is good and bad..(that knowledge of Good and Bad comes from experience) but our soul engine gives us the ability to express to them why something is....in a manner in which we can help them to understand why we feel as we do......the logic being, we can tell them that crossing the street without looking is wrong....but when we look them in the eye and they see our soul letting them know that we really do care.......the soul.....makes the message make sense.....
For better or worse...the soul engine is seemingly a vessel that needs refilling....the most effective way is to do this daily by being with and around others who inspire, reading, experiencing and otherwise experiencing positive (and less so, negative) input.
In a relationship ..by its very definition, this "refilling" comes from being with a person who truly meets your inner needs........we spend so much of our life concerned about the outer needs....his/her genetics, their stature in the eyes of others etc....these are all admirable qualities and needed virtues, but ultimately it is not the best fuel for our souls........it leaves us hungry....always....
Oh yes....we can say that we can do all of this filling on our own....we don't need anyone etc.....but in my experience...the people with the most to give...the richest source of soul engine fuel...if you will...are those who actively engage with others in an intimate way.......taking and feeding from their words and input....
So what to do when we are no longer having our needs met and our soul engine is not being filled?....do we stay?...or start over...?
It is true.....on rare occasions that once the heart is lost in a relationship it can be rekindled.......but its also more often true........that this does not happen?.....the outcome of a relationship stymied is a soul engine in depletion......slowly but ever so certainly, running down like an unwound clock..........and then, there we stand.....
When we question our choices and voice our concerns....is he right for me?....am I getting what I need?.......all those type of questions that rise to the surface are not as a result of the others person failure, but by our own failure to surround ourselves with another (or others) who fill our soul engine as we need it done......so....do we see the end of something as a failure......or a fruition...? Did we fail to make the relationship work...? Or did the components and fuel of the relationship fail to fill our soul engine?
So....do we stay...or start over?
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Yellow Pants and The Great Holiday Photo's
In 1985 I was 26 and had pockets full of cash.
I was also working in a very stressful environment...the music business......in the business you would work like a crazed dog until you hit the wall....one day after hitting the wall...the owners would come to your office and suggest...no....insist that you take a holiday........."not now" they would say..."but right fucking now......"
I hit the wall on a Tuesday....by Wednesday I had booked a couple of weeks in a Club Med 4 hours south of Puerto Vallarta ,Mexico.
On Thursday morning I was shopping for clothes and supplies for the looming holiday...
I was driving around looking for clothes....I needed something spiffy...this was after all, the era of Don Johnson and Miami Vice.....and I was going to Club Med....their saucy ads portend a 2 week delight of debauchery, debutantes and delicacies....
I was on 49th avenue....Look.....Its Goldman's menswear....they sound like a great place to shop........I strolled in...willing to be styled in the fashion for the day...
The sales guy greeted me warmly...."How can I help you today..?"
"My good man..." ..."I am off for a well needed vacation....Mexico.....I need something.....well.....to make me feel like I am on holiday....What do you suggest?"
Now...hindsight is always 20/20 and looking back on it I realize the sales guy saw my invisible name tag...it said..."Hi my name is Rube"....
"Have I got the clothes for you......, Polo's, Boat shoes.......and of course ....you will need dress pants.......this way sir...!!"
Sir?...I was in great hands....
He lead me to the back of the store to the pant racks...the special section for styling guys I thought........I was in deed in good hands...
"Sir...these Yellow (Canary) Linen Slacks will be the perfect pant for your holiday....great for dinner...".......
I was starting to daydream.....I could see it now.......I would waltz into the restaurant at Club Med......looking calm, confident and collected.....capable of being the man of "her" Club Med dreams.....
"Sold!" I said..
$300 lighter I walked out of the store...confident in my choice of attire.......dreaming of a sex filled romp on some nameless Mexican beach with some nameless Blonde professional from Connecticut or Georgia....some State where I would never visit and where it would be too inconvenient to keep up a long distance relationship........perfect holiday romance......all attributed to my suave nature and smashing new clothes...
I went home...one day left of work before my much needed break.....
Friday morning came early......preluded by a night of dreams of tropical romance and warm breezes....
"I know"...I said to myself as I got ready for work......."I'll show those jackals at work how much I won't miss them...I will wear my new outfit to work....in this rain soaked climate I will show them what I will be doing for the next 2 weeks....basking in the heat of the sun and sex.....they will be.....Jealous!"....
With that in mind...I got dressed and went to work......
I knew that something was amiss within 15 seconds of entering the office........an unusual hush from a generally manic workplace descended as I entered.....I hear the whispers.....
Casey, my most trusted co-worker, came right out and said....." Graham...what the fuck are you thinking......?" laughter peppering his each syllable......" Nice yellow pants....Hey Lenny....look at The Slab.....Yellow Pants!"....
For that morning.....there would be no mercy........I was a brightly colorful target......I took an early lunch and went home and changed....
Fast forward 3 days.......
I have traveled 4 hours through the sweltering heat of a Mexican jungle on a bus loaded with big-boned girls from the American Midwest.....long before reaching Club Med I knew.....the last thing I should have worn in this place was pants....let alone Canary Yellow ones...!
Arriving in Club Med my last vestiges of a sex romp in the jungle were shattered.......
The Club Med brochure clearly alluded to days of fun in the sun and nights of warm sticky romps..... the days to be one of scuba diving, snorkeling and volleyball...all in a mixer with scantily clad, trim and fit beauties...the nights....a moist mixture of dancing, drinking and dining leading up to a pairing off for non-committed sex..(or even a menage et trois....almost guaranteed said the brochure..after all Club Med is FRENCH!) ....but......
It was not to be.......apparently I had booked my Club Med vacation on the same week as Jenny Craig's convention and the alumnae event of Girls of the 4-H ......even if I had wanted unmitigated sex with or without the aid of my "lust be assured yellow pants" after a few days in this jungle bungle I was quite certain I would not be staying .....it was not at all what I had anticipated....!
I decided I was going to leave Club Med..........get a room in Peurto Vallarta......salvage the rest of the vacation..... ..PV...where I would be away from the teeming throngs of raw-boned maidens from Minnesota who aside from the promise of promiscuity were there (at Club Med) as much for the unlimited buffet and endless shrimp plates...!
But what about the $300 Canary Yellow pants......what could I do to get mileage out of this handsomely tailored but unfortunately colored pair of pastel pants?
I know......take pictures of my adventure.....
So..... I set about on my last day at Club Med to chronicle the adventure.....
I got on the Yellow pants and got out the camera and proceeded to capture the spirit of the place.....
I would don a scuba tank and flippers, all the while wearing my Yellow pants and have a stranger take a picture of me....(but only from the waist down) entering the water.......another of me squatting to return a volleyball....(again clad in yellow pants and only from the waist down)......and so went the day...the yellow pants pictures....in line for the buffet....on a wind surfer....the diving board.....in the disco......anything and everything I could think of...action Jackson goes to Club Med....only from the waist down...always in Yellow Pants..!
As the day came to a close....I was in the pool regaling the girl from Minneapolis about my collection of waist down images.......
I lamented the only thing I did not have was a picture of me in my Yellow pants alongside a naked woman...(of course me wearing the pants and she......au naturel!)
"No Way am I doing that!" she said........ten minutes later we were on her deck....her friend happily clicking away on the camera......her twin cities address in my hands ....a vague promise from me that I would send her copies of the shots.......
I spent the rest of the holiday in relative peace.......only with one oddly punctuated night where I climbed into a Mexican Taxi cab.....drunk and explaining I wanted to go to Senor Frogs..... only to catch the cabbie masturbating to a hand drawn flipbook of a couple having oral sex....... (I knew then, Mexico was truly a 3rd world country...) ........
I returned to the office and presented my Kodak moments....at least I got "some" laughs not at my expense.....
I still have those Yellow pants somewhere.........
I was also working in a very stressful environment...the music business......in the business you would work like a crazed dog until you hit the wall....one day after hitting the wall...the owners would come to your office and suggest...no....insist that you take a holiday........."not now" they would say..."but right fucking now......"
I hit the wall on a Tuesday....by Wednesday I had booked a couple of weeks in a Club Med 4 hours south of Puerto Vallarta ,Mexico.
On Thursday morning I was shopping for clothes and supplies for the looming holiday...
I was driving around looking for clothes....I needed something spiffy...this was after all, the era of Don Johnson and Miami Vice.....and I was going to Club Med....their saucy ads portend a 2 week delight of debauchery, debutantes and delicacies....
I was on 49th avenue....Look.....Its Goldman's menswear....they sound like a great place to shop........I strolled in...willing to be styled in the fashion for the day...
The sales guy greeted me warmly...."How can I help you today..?"
"My good man..." ..."I am off for a well needed vacation....Mexico.....I need something.....well.....to make me feel like I am on holiday....What do you suggest?"
Now...hindsight is always 20/20 and looking back on it I realize the sales guy saw my invisible name tag...it said..."Hi my name is Rube"....
"Have I got the clothes for you......, Polo's, Boat shoes.......and of course ....you will need dress pants.......this way sir...!!"
Sir?...I was in great hands....
He lead me to the back of the store to the pant racks...the special section for styling guys I thought........I was in deed in good hands...
"Sir...these Yellow (Canary) Linen Slacks will be the perfect pant for your holiday....great for dinner...".......
I was starting to daydream.....I could see it now.......I would waltz into the restaurant at Club Med......looking calm, confident and collected.....capable of being the man of "her" Club Med dreams.....
"Sold!" I said..
$300 lighter I walked out of the store...confident in my choice of attire.......dreaming of a sex filled romp on some nameless Mexican beach with some nameless Blonde professional from Connecticut or Georgia....some State where I would never visit and where it would be too inconvenient to keep up a long distance relationship........perfect holiday romance......all attributed to my suave nature and smashing new clothes...
I went home...one day left of work before my much needed break.....
Friday morning came early......preluded by a night of dreams of tropical romance and warm breezes....
"I know"...I said to myself as I got ready for work......."I'll show those jackals at work how much I won't miss them...I will wear my new outfit to work....in this rain soaked climate I will show them what I will be doing for the next 2 weeks....basking in the heat of the sun and sex.....they will be.....Jealous!"....
With that in mind...I got dressed and went to work......
I knew that something was amiss within 15 seconds of entering the office........an unusual hush from a generally manic workplace descended as I entered.....I hear the whispers.....
Casey, my most trusted co-worker, came right out and said....." Graham...what the fuck are you thinking......?" laughter peppering his each syllable......" Nice yellow pants....Hey Lenny....look at The Slab.....Yellow Pants!"....
For that morning.....there would be no mercy........I was a brightly colorful target......I took an early lunch and went home and changed....
Fast forward 3 days.......
I have traveled 4 hours through the sweltering heat of a Mexican jungle on a bus loaded with big-boned girls from the American Midwest.....long before reaching Club Med I knew.....the last thing I should have worn in this place was pants....let alone Canary Yellow ones...!
Arriving in Club Med my last vestiges of a sex romp in the jungle were shattered.......
The Club Med brochure clearly alluded to days of fun in the sun and nights of warm sticky romps..... the days to be one of scuba diving, snorkeling and volleyball...all in a mixer with scantily clad, trim and fit beauties...the nights....a moist mixture of dancing, drinking and dining leading up to a pairing off for non-committed sex..(or even a menage et trois....almost guaranteed said the brochure..after all Club Med is FRENCH!) ....but......
It was not to be.......apparently I had booked my Club Med vacation on the same week as Jenny Craig's convention and the alumnae event of Girls of the 4-H ......even if I had wanted unmitigated sex with or without the aid of my "lust be assured yellow pants" after a few days in this jungle bungle I was quite certain I would not be staying .....it was not at all what I had anticipated....!
I decided I was going to leave Club Med..........get a room in Peurto Vallarta......salvage the rest of the vacation..... ..PV...where I would be away from the teeming throngs of raw-boned maidens from Minnesota who aside from the promise of promiscuity were there (at Club Med) as much for the unlimited buffet and endless shrimp plates...!
But what about the $300 Canary Yellow pants......what could I do to get mileage out of this handsomely tailored but unfortunately colored pair of pastel pants?
I know......take pictures of my adventure.....
So..... I set about on my last day at Club Med to chronicle the adventure.....
I got on the Yellow pants and got out the camera and proceeded to capture the spirit of the place.....
I would don a scuba tank and flippers, all the while wearing my Yellow pants and have a stranger take a picture of me....(but only from the waist down) entering the water.......another of me squatting to return a volleyball....(again clad in yellow pants and only from the waist down)......and so went the day...the yellow pants pictures....in line for the buffet....on a wind surfer....the diving board.....in the disco......anything and everything I could think of...action Jackson goes to Club Med....only from the waist down...always in Yellow Pants..!
As the day came to a close....I was in the pool regaling the girl from Minneapolis about my collection of waist down images.......
I lamented the only thing I did not have was a picture of me in my Yellow pants alongside a naked woman...(of course me wearing the pants and she......au naturel!)
"No Way am I doing that!" she said........ten minutes later we were on her deck....her friend happily clicking away on the camera......her twin cities address in my hands ....a vague promise from me that I would send her copies of the shots.......
I spent the rest of the holiday in relative peace.......only with one oddly punctuated night where I climbed into a Mexican Taxi cab.....drunk and explaining I wanted to go to Senor Frogs..... only to catch the cabbie masturbating to a hand drawn flipbook of a couple having oral sex....... (I knew then, Mexico was truly a 3rd world country...) ........
I returned to the office and presented my Kodak moments....at least I got "some" laughs not at my expense.....
I still have those Yellow pants somewhere.........
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Putting the fun in dysfunctional....The Chinese Way!
ALL OF THIS IS TRUE!
Ahhhh just putting the fun back in dysfunctional.....
I often wonder ...is it me....? seriously......I am entertained
by the smallest things and find humour in things no one else does.....perhaps
that is what I collect the odd picture...
Here's a couple of things
1) the Belt Buckle
Typical Chinese....I know that sounds racist and
is.....for good sake there is 1.25 BILLION of them and they still haven't a
clue...One of the things I do is make high end custom belt buckles...when
looking for a new vendor I will always vet them to see if they understand the
language or that we can set up a accurate communication....generally their
letters start off with something businesslike, such as " Dear most
excellent belt buckle maker...your name was given to us by a person who know's
of your excellence in buckle rendering and we want to make friends to be in
business with"....Now that we have step one out of the way I always ask
for a sample of their work...the most recent one sent me the following...I shit
you not...they said that this is an example of their best work....
I did not have the heart to explain why this is so
wrong..
The Next thing we did was supply lapel pins and metal craft...The factory I use has some tremendous skills in the field of metal work but their images for their site were very poor...I asked them if they could provide a sell sheet that hi-lited some of their better work. As they do a lot of military hardware , buttons and badges etc...they sent a note say they thought this might work.....They obviously did not know their is a number of Jewish people in this business.
I was also dealing with a company/factory in China who provides soft goods, bags, knapsacks etc. They wrote me and were quite excited about their new line of corporate animal costumes?...They were quite sure these would be a tremendous hit in The US corporate marketplace. I was unsure where they would fit so I asked them to send me a picture of what they had in mind. They sent the following and said it was their best seller in China....I am wondering what kind of Corporate gatherings China has...I especially like the giant nads.....?
The following is all true.......but cannot be topped by the woman I had working for me at my previous company...a lovely woman who shall remain nameless...only her initials will be named (Rosetta Ho)....Rosetta was a typical Asian ...highly loyal, great worker but everything must stay between the lines.....if there was an unusual or odd occurrence at work, on the way to work or home to work...she would be totally flummoxed.....One morning she came into the office and you could see that she was embarrassed....she said about 2 miles from work she heard a big clunk in her front wheel and the car jerked to the left....she did not want to stop to see what had happened (ie hit a child, etc) so she kept driving.....when she got to work she got me to come and look at her car......She had run over a curved pitchfork which had stuck into the tire and had not deflated it....she drove for 2 miles with it just as you see it......(I should have become a lawyer)....
Monday, March 4, 2013
Pulling Mrs. Chesson's arm hair...
Perhaps its the fever I am trying to work through....or the ache in my joints from the fever that has set my mind to wandering.....as I am apt to do...I often look back on moments in my life that I find funny...or embarrassing...or just plain old stupid...but today I am remembering a spring day in 1980.
I was in a band with my best friend and writing partner, Victor. (Victors last name is Zupanc and our first band when we were 15 consisted of Victor, his brother and 2 cousins....all Zupancs...it was called Z...or in Canada, Zed....I was the lone Scotsman...)
The band in 1980 was a local Victoria phenom call "The Tumours".....the motto was..."They'll grow on you..." ......these were far less politically correct times.....but I digress......
Spring 1980...The Tumours needed a place to practice...now any parent who has had their kids rock band play in their basement will tell you how awful it is......how many times can Louie, Louie or Taking Care of Business be slaughtered all the while inviting the ire of every neighbour within 1 block............so it was that The Tumours found themselves homeless........(again) ....however in a flash of brilliance Victor and I had an "aha" moment....Mrs. Chesson...! Mrs. Chesson was the mother of our other friends Richard and Al......she was one of those rare breeds of older ladies.......an easy mark.....(.at the time she was about 60....or so it seemed) and being a proper lady of good breeding she was all Tea and rounded tones......
She also had a odd dark side in that she smoked pot with us.....it was a little freaky at first to have The Queen come in for a toke while we're listening to Black Sabbath ....anyways I digress....... again....
So on that warm spring night, Victor and I decided we should talk kind-hearted, old, Mrs. Chesson into letting us use her basement for the band to practice in.......
Usually I am the one giving the pitch....doing the talk up....making the deal....but this night for whatever reason I took a backseat to Victor in this department......
My job was to shut up........we had been kicked out of a number of basements for noise complaints...."well duh...it IS a rock band after all..... "
The tableau of me, Victor, Mrs. Chesson and her 2 sons (...good friends of mine at the time....) ....Al and Richard is still burned into my mind.......
Imagine a warm June evening.....7 ish.......front stairs to her house.....perhaps 8 or 9 steps.....On the top steps stood her 2 sons Al and Richard.......2 steps below them, on a step to herself, Mrs Chesson.......and 2 steps below her, Victor and myself........on this summers night she was wearing a short sleeved shirt, her thin bird-like hands resting on her bony little old lady-like hips........Victor to my left was giving her the pitch..." Mrs. C...we will be very quiet...we will shut the practice down by 8 o'clock every night....we will not make a mess and to top it all off we will give you 450 each month...."...All of this was a well know lie...a ruse to get into the practice space.......once in...its hard to get rid of a band.........much like raccoons in the attic they can be very testy and assume this is THEIR place.......anyways....I was listening...more or less to Victor give the pitch......I could see she was nodding in the affirmative....she was buying in...bonus...!.....
I am not sure if it was a residual pot hangover or just that I was mildly moronic that made me do what came next.........as I was 2 steps below the step that Mrs. Chesson stood on my head was pretty much eye level to her forearm......as it seemed Victor had the situation well in hand and no one was paying me any attention my mind felt free to wander.........I looked at her forearm......It had long strands of Black hair growing from it.......my inner dialogue spoke up....."hmmm...I said to myself....She has a cat....a Black cat at that....and it appears to me that she has a cat's fur ball on her arm....betcha she doesn't know its there....I know....I will help her out.....I will pull it off and let her discretely know I did so...saving her any embarrassment of having a cats fur ball dangling on her forearm..........with no warning....and no one watching me....I gingerly reached up....grabbed the forelock of Black hair and gave it it a good tug........"
"Ouch" she screamed.....it was fucking attached...! OMG.....what the fuck have I just done.....Her sons....looked at me in abject horror...."Why are you pulling my mothers arm hair" they asked......Victor looked at me in stunned silence......as if to say...."What the fuck are you doing..."........I could only stammer......."I thought it was a fur ball..."........not a great reply...but the only one that was available to me at the moment.........I looked down at my thumb and forefinger....3 lonely black strands of her arm hair still clutched between them........I felt myself turning beet red.......
Mrs. Chesson (who was a direct descendant of Stanley, the famed African bible thumper from the "Dr. Livingstone I presume...." moment in time...." was overly nice about the whole thing....she started to apologize.....(?) "I know dear....its alright...Its my fault I have arm hair....I should really pluck it out...."well this only made things worse....I now had to say....no its my fault...it is your hair after all........after a few awkward moments....and some shuffling of shoes on the stairs as we all tried to find the next sentence to carry us out of this abyss......I spoke up......."So...can we practice in your basement.....?" .....
The answer was "yes".......
I was in a band with my best friend and writing partner, Victor. (Victors last name is Zupanc and our first band when we were 15 consisted of Victor, his brother and 2 cousins....all Zupancs...it was called Z...or in Canada, Zed....I was the lone Scotsman...)
The band in 1980 was a local Victoria phenom call "The Tumours".....the motto was..."They'll grow on you..." ......these were far less politically correct times.....but I digress......
Spring 1980...The Tumours needed a place to practice...now any parent who has had their kids rock band play in their basement will tell you how awful it is......how many times can Louie, Louie or Taking Care of Business be slaughtered all the while inviting the ire of every neighbour within 1 block............so it was that The Tumours found themselves homeless........(again) ....however in a flash of brilliance Victor and I had an "aha" moment....Mrs. Chesson...! Mrs. Chesson was the mother of our other friends Richard and Al......she was one of those rare breeds of older ladies.......an easy mark.....(.at the time she was about 60....or so it seemed) and being a proper lady of good breeding she was all Tea and rounded tones......
She also had a odd dark side in that she smoked pot with us.....it was a little freaky at first to have The Queen come in for a toke while we're listening to Black Sabbath ....anyways I digress....... again....
So on that warm spring night, Victor and I decided we should talk kind-hearted, old, Mrs. Chesson into letting us use her basement for the band to practice in.......
Usually I am the one giving the pitch....doing the talk up....making the deal....but this night for whatever reason I took a backseat to Victor in this department......
My job was to shut up........we had been kicked out of a number of basements for noise complaints...."well duh...it IS a rock band after all..... "
The tableau of me, Victor, Mrs. Chesson and her 2 sons (...good friends of mine at the time....) ....Al and Richard is still burned into my mind.......
Imagine a warm June evening.....7 ish.......front stairs to her house.....perhaps 8 or 9 steps.....On the top steps stood her 2 sons Al and Richard.......2 steps below them, on a step to herself, Mrs Chesson.......and 2 steps below her, Victor and myself........on this summers night she was wearing a short sleeved shirt, her thin bird-like hands resting on her bony little old lady-like hips........Victor to my left was giving her the pitch..." Mrs. C...we will be very quiet...we will shut the practice down by 8 o'clock every night....we will not make a mess and to top it all off we will give you 450 each month...."...All of this was a well know lie...a ruse to get into the practice space.......once in...its hard to get rid of a band.........much like raccoons in the attic they can be very testy and assume this is THEIR place.......anyways....I was listening...more or less to Victor give the pitch......I could see she was nodding in the affirmative....she was buying in...bonus...!.....
I am not sure if it was a residual pot hangover or just that I was mildly moronic that made me do what came next.........as I was 2 steps below the step that Mrs. Chesson stood on my head was pretty much eye level to her forearm......as it seemed Victor had the situation well in hand and no one was paying me any attention my mind felt free to wander.........I looked at her forearm......It had long strands of Black hair growing from it.......my inner dialogue spoke up....."hmmm...I said to myself....She has a cat....a Black cat at that....and it appears to me that she has a cat's fur ball on her arm....betcha she doesn't know its there....I know....I will help her out.....I will pull it off and let her discretely know I did so...saving her any embarrassment of having a cats fur ball dangling on her forearm..........with no warning....and no one watching me....I gingerly reached up....grabbed the forelock of Black hair and gave it it a good tug........"
"Ouch" she screamed.....it was fucking attached...! OMG.....what the fuck have I just done.....Her sons....looked at me in abject horror...."Why are you pulling my mothers arm hair" they asked......Victor looked at me in stunned silence......as if to say...."What the fuck are you doing..."........I could only stammer......."I thought it was a fur ball..."........not a great reply...but the only one that was available to me at the moment.........I looked down at my thumb and forefinger....3 lonely black strands of her arm hair still clutched between them........I felt myself turning beet red.......
Mrs. Chesson (who was a direct descendant of Stanley, the famed African bible thumper from the "Dr. Livingstone I presume...." moment in time...." was overly nice about the whole thing....she started to apologize.....(?) "I know dear....its alright...Its my fault I have arm hair....I should really pluck it out...."well this only made things worse....I now had to say....no its my fault...it is your hair after all........after a few awkward moments....and some shuffling of shoes on the stairs as we all tried to find the next sentence to carry us out of this abyss......I spoke up......."So...can we practice in your basement.....?" .....
The answer was "yes".......
WTF....Single at 50
WTF....What the fuck...!...I say this as this is the new way (WTF) to say what the fuck....I always thought that wtf would be only used in a conversation...but apparently not.....why is this....? I can tell you why...its because we are in a new era of greying juveniles.....
When I was a kid I looked at older people (50) and we referred to them as "Raisins"...why...because they were picked over grapes, left to dry and shrivel....good for bowel movements and not much else......my how the world has changed...WTF....
50 and single...what does that mean.....well...let me tell you its no picnic out there......this is like grade 8 all over except the toys and ploys are so much grander..........I recently spent an evening in a local beach community...I used to go there 25 years ago to bang my girlfriend on the beach late at night.....I could do this at that time as most of the residents were neatly tucked in their beds.....sleeping away, hooked up to their CPAP machines....the only other night time prowlers were people my age looking to find a place to bang their babes (or in turn to be banged I suppose...)...On my return to this beach town the world had turned....and I am not sure for the better.........oh I am sure the residents were tucked into their beds, but the residents were now 30ish and sleeping on a Saturday night as they had no money left after paying their mortgage to go out with....a quiet night with a Blu Ray, the wife and a nice Chianti......the town though...was far from quiet .....
Who was there were the same people that had tried to bang on the beach so many years ago.........except they were now grey......(ing).........and that's not just it....It wasn't as if my mother had shown up there looking 50, wearing a silver wig and a muu muu....no this was full blown middle-aged teens.......WTF....guys 50-60 wearing Billabong board shorts with a T-shirt saying Anti-Everything and a Ball cap on backwards......I looked closely...I am sure one of these guys is my accountant......sitting in a bar/restaurant....I was surrounded by them....men in Bad ass motherfucking outfits...all very clean and some still with the tags on them...and women.....yes women....all dialed up....this is not my mothers world...WTF....these women came in all shapes and sizes as one might expect....but for many they had it dialed......they were buff and bronzed.....bootylicous and breathtaking.......these were not the high school babes...no those girls were long gone to the world of Jenny Craig....these were the ugly ducklings who (through Pilate's and cosmetic surgery at times..) had finally become the Swan.....WTF
So how can I snare one of these babes and secret her of to the beach to bang......whoa...apparently not so fast Kimosabe...( I think that's what Tonto would say if he was Japanese.) ....it takes a whole lot of coin to make a 55 year old board short wearing account look hot......and what do dweeb board short wearing bad ass motherfucking t-shirt wearing ball cap backwards accountants spend the money on....? Harleys....Fucking Harleys........WTF.....there was a time , not so long ago when the world was right and just, when the Harley was the domain of the loner, the greaseball, the biker.....the resident fuck up....it was a sure bet that when you heard that a rumblin' sound comin down the road straddling it would be some gap-toothed borderline personality sporting a nasty ass Tatt that said "Born To Lose".......you could count on it.....
Well no more........
Now the HD (Harley Davidson) is a sign of male emancipation.....it says.......I am a rich dweeb board short wearing bad ass motherfucking t-shirt wearing ball cap backwards wearing accountant loaded to the gunwales with Viagara and a Platinum Amex......Don't fuck with me........Ok I say.......got it.....
Where's my Mom....?
How does one compete in an atmosphere such as this.....women with more testosterone than men, men who are so stupid to spend all that cash on a 1200 cc behemoth capable of decapitating you with just one wrong turn of the forks......is it the danger these people crave........what do they talk about to make themselves sound even more dangerous........I can only think my accountant may have a conversation like this...." well last week was brutal....I had a client who has this motherfucking massive off shore account...and RevCan is seriously trying to dick him around.....so I got on the blower and told that fuckwad of a snivel servant to lick my boots...there was no fuckin way we were going to let him or anyother swinging dick have a look at the books......fuck them and all who look like them......hey btw...want to take a spin on my Harley.......?"
I think this approach might work......although without the Harley my conversation would swap out a Toyaota Camry for the Harley and the whole danger thing would collapse in upon itself.....(as a side note the Camry has won the JD Powers award for the safest car in a mid sized class for 7 years running....this is not really the stuff to tell a testosterone laden 50ish babe to get her all wet....)
So....what to do.......I can wait a couple of years and save up for a Harley........or come up with a brand new plan........tell you what.........let me think this over and I will get back to you with the final outcome........ok......
WTF
When I was a kid I looked at older people (50) and we referred to them as "Raisins"...why...because they were picked over grapes, left to dry and shrivel....good for bowel movements and not much else......my how the world has changed...WTF....
50 and single...what does that mean.....well...let me tell you its no picnic out there......this is like grade 8 all over except the toys and ploys are so much grander..........I recently spent an evening in a local beach community...I used to go there 25 years ago to bang my girlfriend on the beach late at night.....I could do this at that time as most of the residents were neatly tucked in their beds.....sleeping away, hooked up to their CPAP machines....the only other night time prowlers were people my age looking to find a place to bang their babes (or in turn to be banged I suppose...)...On my return to this beach town the world had turned....and I am not sure for the better.........oh I am sure the residents were tucked into their beds, but the residents were now 30ish and sleeping on a Saturday night as they had no money left after paying their mortgage to go out with....a quiet night with a Blu Ray, the wife and a nice Chianti......the town though...was far from quiet .....
Who was there were the same people that had tried to bang on the beach so many years ago.........except they were now grey......(ing).........and that's not just it....It wasn't as if my mother had shown up there looking 50, wearing a silver wig and a muu muu....no this was full blown middle-aged teens.......WTF....guys 50-60 wearing Billabong board shorts with a T-shirt saying Anti-Everything and a Ball cap on backwards......I looked closely...I am sure one of these guys is my accountant......sitting in a bar/restaurant....I was surrounded by them....men in Bad ass motherfucking outfits...all very clean and some still with the tags on them...and women.....yes women....all dialed up....this is not my mothers world...WTF....these women came in all shapes and sizes as one might expect....but for many they had it dialed......they were buff and bronzed.....bootylicous and breathtaking.......these were not the high school babes...no those girls were long gone to the world of Jenny Craig....these were the ugly ducklings who (through Pilate's and cosmetic surgery at times..) had finally become the Swan.....WTF
So how can I snare one of these babes and secret her of to the beach to bang......whoa...apparently not so fast Kimosabe...( I think that's what Tonto would say if he was Japanese.) ....it takes a whole lot of coin to make a 55 year old board short wearing account look hot......and what do dweeb board short wearing bad ass motherfucking t-shirt wearing ball cap backwards accountants spend the money on....? Harleys....Fucking Harleys........WTF.....there was a time , not so long ago when the world was right and just, when the Harley was the domain of the loner, the greaseball, the biker.....the resident fuck up....it was a sure bet that when you heard that a rumblin' sound comin down the road straddling it would be some gap-toothed borderline personality sporting a nasty ass Tatt that said "Born To Lose".......you could count on it.....
Well no more........
Now the HD (Harley Davidson) is a sign of male emancipation.....it says.......I am a rich dweeb board short wearing bad ass motherfucking t-shirt wearing ball cap backwards wearing accountant loaded to the gunwales with Viagara and a Platinum Amex......Don't fuck with me........Ok I say.......got it.....
Where's my Mom....?
How does one compete in an atmosphere such as this.....women with more testosterone than men, men who are so stupid to spend all that cash on a 1200 cc behemoth capable of decapitating you with just one wrong turn of the forks......is it the danger these people crave........what do they talk about to make themselves sound even more dangerous........I can only think my accountant may have a conversation like this...." well last week was brutal....I had a client who has this motherfucking massive off shore account...and RevCan is seriously trying to dick him around.....so I got on the blower and told that fuckwad of a snivel servant to lick my boots...there was no fuckin way we were going to let him or anyother swinging dick have a look at the books......fuck them and all who look like them......hey btw...want to take a spin on my Harley.......?"
I think this approach might work......although without the Harley my conversation would swap out a Toyaota Camry for the Harley and the whole danger thing would collapse in upon itself.....(as a side note the Camry has won the JD Powers award for the safest car in a mid sized class for 7 years running....this is not really the stuff to tell a testosterone laden 50ish babe to get her all wet....)
So....what to do.......I can wait a couple of years and save up for a Harley........or come up with a brand new plan........tell you what.........let me think this over and I will get back to you with the final outcome........ok......
WTF
Kelleigh, Kreatanine and profanity
As you know, once in a blue moon I write to you about what's on my mind….. usually I do this at Thanksgiving…….However, today I wanted to let you know about my daughter Kelleigh…….as many of you know Kelleigh has been sick with kidney failure and has long been staring down at a transplant…..….the transplant took place this past Thursday
……Kelleighs mom (the evil-ex) was the living donor…I am more than grateful for help sacrifice……as I am sure Kelleigh is…..….I am happy to report as of now (and hopefully going forward) Kelleighs transplant is a textbook example of success…..to give you an idea…
Creatanine, which is the level of toxins in our system that are always there waiting to be filtered by a healthy working kidney have a score of between 75-80 for a healthy adult…….120 would be toxic….Kelleighs creatanine prior to transplant was 800……..today….36 hours after the transplant, her creatanine is 72….!
All of this is good……and I can only hope the trend and recovery all continue to fall in place….in 5 or 6 days when she is released from hospital she will spend the next 5 months locked away in her house recuperating with her Mom (whose surgery was unfortunately very harsh…) ……this in and of itself could be one of the more dangerous parts of the recuperative process……
It is always amazing to me that even in the center of turmoil and tragedy there is almost always humour……..perhaps I am too Pollyanna…..perhaps I am slightly daft…..perhaps it's the glass half full vs. half empty way I look at things but throughout all of this episode some moments of light shone through…..
Kelleigh, her Nana (my former Mother-in-law) and myself hung out with Kelleigh before the surgery and then walked with her down to the operating room…….
Children's Hospital is brilliant as it gives both the parents and the kid the chance to confront their fears and anxiety in the most gentle of ways………when we got to the OR Kelleigh was understandably frightened….her Nana was ghostly white……..we kissed her goodbye and off she went to sleep…..4 hours later Kelleigh was in the Intensive Care Unit……..
Nana and I were allowed in immediately……we walked into a large, open ward with about 40 staff members and 12 patients….10 of which were newborns or under a year……massive tubes coming in and out of their tiny chests and medical monitors, beeping and brightly lit were everywhere……..
amongst the chaos were frightened and anxious parents waiting at each childs bedside…..truly helpless as their own helpless child was being tended to by absolutely brilliant and dedicated professionals……as we got to Kelleighs bedside…..it was a shock……12 IV tubes…half a dozen monitors, 3 renal surgeons, nurses and others were hunkered around Kelleigh, talking, watching, taking pulses and temps
……..all of a sudden Kelleigh had a spasm in her kidney and she screamed at the top of her lungs… "FUCK"…….now I firmly believe Fuck has a place in our lexicon….to me……creative use of profanity can have an effect on those around them that Shakespeare could only have dreamt of…….now Nana on the other hand has a different opinion…
Nana, was the prototype for Dana Carveys Church Lady….and is still lovingly referred to as the "Church Lady" by her kids…….I believe she suffers from arthritis in the right knee from too much vigorous genuflecting……anyways…I digress….to Nana…a good "Darn" is about as risqué as it gets…….however, after Kelleigh bellowed "FUCK"…Nana leaned over the tubes and across the nurses and said to Kelleigh….."Now honey….just say Ouch!"…..
Kelleigh, grimacing in severe pain quickly stated….."Ouch is for fucking wimps Nana!!" and then went into another very painful contortion….she was screaming….. as a parent ,it is a helpless feeling to hear your child scream in agony and be able to do nothing more than stroke her forehead……and whisper 'it will be all right"….not really knowing if it will be………
then another spasm came over Kelleigh….. she screamed.. "FUCKBALLSUCKINGSHITHOLE!!!"………Nana went white….as she was just about to hit the speed dial for the priest and surf the net for the download of the exorcism rites…..another bellow came fromKelleigh…"COCKSHITFUCKER"….
Now....even I have never heard any of these profanities strung together in such a manner before and I have known a few sailor's in my time….…….(as a parent I do not encourage swearing…Then again I probably don't discourage it enough…oh well…) …..I was struck by the horror of the moment and the extreme pain with which must have mustered up these profanities, but at the same time I was struck by the humour of the moment…….
My 16 year old daughter….gentle, kind, Kelleigh was expressing herself like never before…….it was like watching a Picasso or Jackson Pollack paint for the first time….wild and angry brushstrokes…..running off the canvas sides…colours splashing and colours clashing…….my daughter was working in profanity like a Van Gogh worked in oils……….
Soon, Kelleigh was started on the morphine to take away the pain….it took a while to have an effect……the spasms and profanity continued……until, softly and lightly as a feather the opiate took effect……..Kelleigh calmed down and drifted in and out……..a murmur came from her….. " I love morphine…" she said.. and then drifted off to a fitful sleep……..I looked over at Nana…….she at me…….I knew what the right thing was to say….." Swearing is genetic….it comes from my side of the family…" I said....... This seemed to relieve her……the business of getting Kelleigh back to the life of a normal 16 year old could now begin…….
……Kelleighs mom (the evil-ex) was the living donor…I am more than grateful for help sacrifice……as I am sure Kelleigh is…..….I am happy to report as of now (and hopefully going forward) Kelleighs transplant is a textbook example of success…..to give you an idea…
Creatanine, which is the level of toxins in our system that are always there waiting to be filtered by a healthy working kidney have a score of between 75-80 for a healthy adult…….120 would be toxic….Kelleighs creatanine prior to transplant was 800……..today….36 hours after the transplant, her creatanine is 72….!
All of this is good……and I can only hope the trend and recovery all continue to fall in place….in 5 or 6 days when she is released from hospital she will spend the next 5 months locked away in her house recuperating with her Mom (whose surgery was unfortunately very harsh…) ……this in and of itself could be one of the more dangerous parts of the recuperative process……
It is always amazing to me that even in the center of turmoil and tragedy there is almost always humour……..perhaps I am too Pollyanna…..perhaps I am slightly daft…..perhaps it's the glass half full vs. half empty way I look at things but throughout all of this episode some moments of light shone through…..
Kelleigh, her Nana (my former Mother-in-law) and myself hung out with Kelleigh before the surgery and then walked with her down to the operating room…….
Children's Hospital is brilliant as it gives both the parents and the kid the chance to confront their fears and anxiety in the most gentle of ways………when we got to the OR Kelleigh was understandably frightened….her Nana was ghostly white……..we kissed her goodbye and off she went to sleep…..4 hours later Kelleigh was in the Intensive Care Unit……..
Nana and I were allowed in immediately……we walked into a large, open ward with about 40 staff members and 12 patients….10 of which were newborns or under a year……massive tubes coming in and out of their tiny chests and medical monitors, beeping and brightly lit were everywhere……..
amongst the chaos were frightened and anxious parents waiting at each childs bedside…..truly helpless as their own helpless child was being tended to by absolutely brilliant and dedicated professionals……as we got to Kelleighs bedside…..it was a shock……12 IV tubes…half a dozen monitors, 3 renal surgeons, nurses and others were hunkered around Kelleigh, talking, watching, taking pulses and temps
……..all of a sudden Kelleigh had a spasm in her kidney and she screamed at the top of her lungs… "FUCK"…….now I firmly believe Fuck has a place in our lexicon….to me……creative use of profanity can have an effect on those around them that Shakespeare could only have dreamt of…….now Nana on the other hand has a different opinion…
Nana, was the prototype for Dana Carveys Church Lady….and is still lovingly referred to as the "Church Lady" by her kids…….I believe she suffers from arthritis in the right knee from too much vigorous genuflecting……anyways…I digress….to Nana…a good "Darn" is about as risqué as it gets…….however, after Kelleigh bellowed "FUCK"…Nana leaned over the tubes and across the nurses and said to Kelleigh….."Now honey….just say Ouch!"…..
Kelleigh, grimacing in severe pain quickly stated….."Ouch is for fucking wimps Nana!!" and then went into another very painful contortion….she was screaming….. as a parent ,it is a helpless feeling to hear your child scream in agony and be able to do nothing more than stroke her forehead……and whisper 'it will be all right"….not really knowing if it will be………
then another spasm came over Kelleigh….. she screamed.. "FUCKBALLSUCKINGSHITHOLE!!!"………Nana went white….as she was just about to hit the speed dial for the priest and surf the net for the download of the exorcism rites…..another bellow came fromKelleigh…"COCKSHITFUCKER"….
Now....even I have never heard any of these profanities strung together in such a manner before and I have known a few sailor's in my time….…….(as a parent I do not encourage swearing…Then again I probably don't discourage it enough…oh well…) …..I was struck by the horror of the moment and the extreme pain with which must have mustered up these profanities, but at the same time I was struck by the humour of the moment…….
My 16 year old daughter….gentle, kind, Kelleigh was expressing herself like never before…….it was like watching a Picasso or Jackson Pollack paint for the first time….wild and angry brushstrokes…..running off the canvas sides…colours splashing and colours clashing…….my daughter was working in profanity like a Van Gogh worked in oils……….
Soon, Kelleigh was started on the morphine to take away the pain….it took a while to have an effect……the spasms and profanity continued……until, softly and lightly as a feather the opiate took effect……..Kelleigh calmed down and drifted in and out……..a murmur came from her….. " I love morphine…" she said.. and then drifted off to a fitful sleep……..I looked over at Nana…….she at me…….I knew what the right thing was to say….." Swearing is genetic….it comes from my side of the family…" I said....... This seemed to relieve her……the business of getting Kelleigh back to the life of a normal 16 year old could now begin…….
Catholic Annulment, Waterboarding and other forms of torture.
Ok, ok....so some of the Catholics who may read this might be a little miffed..........but hey...its true.....so bite me...
Where does this story come from....
Once upon a time I married to a devout Catholic woman......(At he time she was not so devout.... drinking and partying......ok...maybe not partying....bit of a bore actually......but drinking a lot......come to think of that....she was just being a good Catholic...hmmmm) she is now a Catholic school teacher......we have 2 beautiful children.......redheads...girls.....
However...as life is sometime capable of doing..... a series of curve balls were thrown at the marriage......it broke up and we separated.....
Now..... most of you out there enjoying the bliss of a nasty divorce, generally only get to fight in a court of law.......arguing over important things such as.......who gets custody of the kids, who gets the timeshare in Podunk Idaho and the ownership of the Ron Popeil household appliance collection.......(as a side bar....notice the nifty legal jargon.......what the hell gets into people's heads when divorcing.......they spend about $5000 on lawyers to defend their ownership of a juicer....get over it...its a fucking juicer for Gods sake.....anyways...I digress...)
.......I know, I know, I know....you're probably saying your divorce was a tough row to hoe...... but let me tell you this about that...it is nothing compared to an annulment in the Catholic Church.........
An annulment of a Catholic marriage is a procedure set amid an arcane set of laws and rituals designed to determine if the marriage ever really existed.........the governing rules involved are called Canon Law.....lets be clear here.....this is not a divorce........a divorce is against the Catholic religion........an annulment is a process to deem that the marriage never existed......in fact as far as they are concerned....once you are annulled.........the marriage never took place..... ( I liken this to the Church's stance on pedophilia...but lets not get too far off of topic.......)
So you are asking yourself .........how is it a marriage of 9 years that produced 2 beautiful children ....all of which was performed in a full blown Catholic ceremony .......and in front of 100's of people could have never existed......? ...(As a side note........ I am reminded of Roswell, New Mexico 1947 and the aliens/weather balloon issue........the first thing was "Hurray...we found aliens"...and then ..."nope...sorry.......no aliens we were mistaken...it was a weather balloon....sorry"....how the fuck someone mistakes aliens for a weather balloon or vice versa is another matter altogether......)
back on topic
Some background......
If you are a Catholic you cannot divorce....if you do....you go to hell.......(the other choice of course is to stay in a hellish marriage and then go to Heaven when you die after living an unhappy life........as far as I see this is not much different than an Islamic Extremist suicide bomber....only the Islamic Extremist gets to go to Heaven a whole lot faster and in a less painful way.....not to mention the dozen or so nubile virgins awaiting you.......yummy....but I digress......again )........
If you don't go to hell at the very least you go to Purgatory which by my understanding is akin to waiting at a bus stop for an indeterminatetime......waiting as a number of "Heaven Express" buses go by....
In this analogy.......if you are a Catholic in Purgatory, you go up to the driver of each bus and say..." Hey can I get on board...I want to go to Heaven"....and the the bus driver basically waves you off...saying.."Hey this bus is full, ask the next one..."....all of of this reminds me of BillMurray's role in the movie Ground Hog Day.....it makes me dizzy just thinking about it.....
Anyways......as a Catholic if you are divorced and the marriage is not annulled not only do you wait at the bus stop to Heaven but you cannot go to confession....you do not get to eat the cookie...(aka the body of Christ) or the drink the wine (aka the blood of Christ) ........all of this behaviour sounds suspiciously like an episode of Twilight........
I am not a Catholic....which arguably is part of the problem with all of this.......however....
...this is my experience....
My ex was pissed when we split up.........pissed enough to make my life and hers miserable........for any of you who deal with a hard-boiled Catholic you will recognize this as what I call The "Karl Malden Syndrome"....similar to the Stockholm Syndrome but quite different.....The victim just gets all cranky and irritable........and it never goes away......much like Karl Malden...... (may he Rest in Peace)
Anyhow....early in 1999, 2 years after the separation and about $30,000 later in legal bills .....(see defending juicers etc) ....I came home one day to find an envelope in the mail....expensive envelope I thought....hmmm...and from The Archdiocese...and I'm not even a Catholic......Woohoo.....
I tore open the envelope....As I was in the midst of an already contentious divorce I was getting used to all sorts of official documents and letters from angry divorce lawyers......(they are not really angry...but a pretend-to-be kind of angry....divorce lawyers are akin to 2 combatants hiring proxy bullies to kick the shit out of the other persons bully.........all the while the 2 bullies are quite happy doing just that as they are paid handsomely for their efforts...............at the end of the joust... all the paid bullies go out for drinks and regale each other about their day jousting....... who ever thought this scam up is a fucking genius..!)
The document in may hands was request for an annulment ........I was perplexed......It stated... (pretty much verbatim but with a whole lot more words......)
You (aka Heathen) are being informed that your ex seeks to annul the marriage between yourself and her......as such, do you wish to not oppose the bond of marriage.....? huh...?.
Let me read that again.....The marriage is to be erased as if it had never existed......and do I wish not to oppose the bond of marriage...? What the fuck....what crazy-assed Catholic Lawyer from the 14th century wrote this............?
What the fuck..!....how can a marriage with 2 kids and lots of bills for hairstylists and manicures be made to have never existed......?.....why am I paying these lawyers all of this money and dealing with an angry fur ball of an ex about the freaking juicer when really...she is saying....hey....lets not get divorced.......no....lets just say it never happened...!
The first brief thought was...."Awfully White of her.".....my second thought...."whoa Nelly"...lets read more..........
" The complainant...is seeking to annul the marriage as it is claimed that it never existed....so therefore...do you not wish to oppose it.....
Of course I want to oppose it........why not.....sounds like fun.....
So....I got on my PC and tip tap typed my reply to the Archdiocese.......Nearly verbatim...pretty much........"Of course I wish to oppose this......and further more how can something that exists be made to never have existed.....
I got a rather snarly reply from the Church stating that it was up to them to say if it existed or not and that if I wished to oppose the annulment procedure I would have to engage a Defender of the Bond.......a D of the B is basically the church appointed public defender in all annulment cases...........
The defender is supposedly well versed in Canon Law...... Canon Law is an arcane set of laws based upon the Vatican's belief that their law shouldsupersede Civil Law.......
So..... I replied away...asking the Church to set me up with a Defender of the Bond.......a week or so passed and I got a voice mail from a very nice lady by the name of Beth....Beth was my Defender...she did this as an unpaid part time job for the Church.....she was lovely.... could I call her to discuss the Bond.....
Damn right I would....I got Beth on the phone to go over our strategy......we were going to defend this bond....yeah that was the plan.......we'll show them what exists and doesn't exist......
"So... Beth....on what grounds can a marriage be annulled....?" I asked...... "well" she said..."Its not easy to get an annulment......the process of the marriage needs review must meet some very rigorous requirements...."..."Such as...such as what?" I asked...
"Well...there are only 4 reasons for an annulment to be granted......"
1) You did not create a bond in the eyes of God.......(...Basically God would have to have been asleep on the wedding day and not seen any of the ceremony....but since God is EVERYWHERE and all seeing....that point was surely a no go... )
2) You did not intend to create a bond to God........( So......what does this mean...I went to the marriage counselling sessions with the Priest who married us and who would also annul the marriage...surely he would agree I intended to make a Bond?)
3) Your were incapable of creating a bond...(i.e. insane......curiously this seems like a perfectly good loophole...except....you only had to be sane on your wedding day.......any other day after or before the wedding day you could be a total loon and the bond would stand......as I was not raving or ranting on the wedding day I figured I was pretty sane......btw...who is ever really sane on their wedding day...?.....)
4) You were already in a bond to God.......(...I took this to mean I was already married to a Catholic or other.........or perhaps I was a Bride of Christ (aka Nun) or a Priest etc etc....
"Bonus!"...I said..... I got all 4 right!
I listed off my reply t o Beth about all of the 4 points.....
1) I went to Catholic marriage preparation and knew exactly what I was doing and the gravitas of the commitment......I spoke to God at the ceremony....not sure he replied at the time....but hey....when do you ever really get the answer to your question.....
2)On point 2.... I go to point 1...again......I was willing and did make the commitment....I got up there said my vows....all of which included a message to God....so I figured I was in the clear.... (as well.....there was no notice from God at the wedding or reception party...saying anything to the contrary ....sure signs such as a lightning bolt, burning bush etc so I figured he approved... )
3) Point 3 is always a little subjective....I mean ....there is legally insane ...(Which I was not...).... even Ted Bundy didn't get to be classified as legally insane........so I will go with the idea that I was not insane....
4) I was neither a nun or a Priest.....or married to another.....so on point 4.......I was in the clear...
"So Beth.....this should be a walk in the park....a cake walk.....a slam dunk...a no-brainer.....right?"
"Well...she said...it is not always so clear cut.......huh....? Well we will need to prove that the bond existed so we can defend it........ "
"Ok....but isn't this like being considered Guilty unless you prove yourself innocent....and then go ahead after that and get a statement saying that you are innocent...?"
Silence on the other end of the phone.....
"Hmmmm.......say Beth, How many of these have you done........?"....she answered....".Oh..at least 300...or so..."
Wow! I thought....I had a cracker jack defender of the Bond on my hands I asked..."So...How many bonds have you successfully defended...?"
."umm....Well that's hard to say" ...she says.........
"Ok Beth...how about this... how many have you won...?"
" Well...we don't look at it that way... "
"Ok....so you have done 300 of these....... how many of them were annulled.....found to have never existed...?"
"298" she proudly said............."What the fuck!...You've never won a case.......!!!"
"Well...that's not really how we see it.....?
"Well Beth...I do..!..... I want to talk to the archdiocese to get a more successful defender of the Bond...."
"Ok she said....but I am the most successful one...!".... (need I go over the math again...?)
Next day I phoned the Archdiocese........."Who do I speak with about my annulment...who's in charge here..?"
"I'll put you through to Monsignor Gallo....'
OMG....Monsignor Gallo is the priest who married us.........who was the ex's main family friend in the Church and was the ex's parish boss...(....did I say she is a Catholic school teacher..)....it was the nutty barely intelligible spanish speaking Mexican priest.....
" Jyess...Fadder Gallo heer..." (....just to digress for a moment....I remember when I was getting married he paused in the middle of the cermonyand said..."hee who beelefs this marrryage...marriaje...marrrage...should not be.".......it was commonly believe that he practiced his Berlitz lesson during the vows and mass.....)
" Father Gallo.........John Graham here..."
"Jyess...."
"Father...I am in the process of a marriage annulment and I feel that the defender of the bond that was appointed is not really capable ofrepresenting my interests and sucessfully defending the bond......."
"Jess.....Butd, Beth.. sheee iza de best defendu wee havve...."
"Yes I know...I've heard that......but surely you must have someone who has actually won a case that can be the defender.....? "
"Weel...wee dun't egzactlee look at it thees way....."
"So I have been told..........all of this makes no sense........".....
"Jyess...I know....ofteen God works in meesterious wayz..."
Mysterious ways.......what the hell does THAT mean.....? Father....I am being tried in a jurisdiction where you are the priest who married us and is also my ex's boss and a close family friend.....the ex's Mom is the head of the Catholic Women's League...her father is a failed priest......and I have a Defender who has never won a case......don't you see this as having the cards stacked against me just a bit...?"
"Zere is no need to swear...?...."
That's it....no need to swear.....well fuck that!
"Father.....I am disturbed by all of this...I wan't to change the jurisdiction of the annulment to another Archdiocese.....!"
"Jyess....weell....I weell send yu sum informayshun.....Guubye.."
I waited a week or so........
The mail came.......nice envelope...pricey stationary...cool...my change of venue form........bonus!
Well...apparently not so fast Kemosabe...... !
I opened the envelope......enclosed a photocopied passage from what looked like the Dead Sea Scrolls......it was a 15 page section of Canon Law addressing the issue about a change of jurisdiction.....
It read much like this......" A change of jurisdiction in an annulment case can be granted but only before the action has started..........Once an action has started no change of jurisdiction can be granted....???
Let me digest this.......so.......If I have no annulment going on....I can get a change of jurisdiction.....yup.......but if an action has started......(ie someone applies for an annulment..) .....I can't change the jurisdiction.....? But...if an action is started and it seems unfair I cannot change the jurisdiction to somewhere more fair....? Is that what I see....
The letter basically went on to say......."What you have just read is as you see it to be....it's just that we don't see it that way...." Sucka...!
Hmmmm...
This calls for another letter.........In my sweet and delightful way I wrote Monsignor Gallo back.......I argued the illogic of his and the Churches ways and how they should reconsider a couple of milenium of history and change to see things my way.....I closed off the leeter with a fond farewell....something like...." There are 2 things my mother taught me that I carry to this day.....never join a club that wants you as a member and to never...ever trust a man who wears a dress....annul away!"
There that says it all......off and into the post it goes........
The very next day...........
The very next day..... I went to my usual morning haunt for a strong black coffee and a muffin.....as I sat with my joe...I spied the Province Newsppaer......it was folded in half and laying on the table...the bottom half of the front page face up...
Wow ...I thought....the picture looks like the church I was married in....the one where Father Gallo resides.....what's it doing on the front page of the Province....must be vandals or something....Iunfolded the paer to view the whole front page.....
Big freaking bold letters......."THOU SHALL NOT STEAL"...below the giant caption a picture of Monsignor Gallo in front of the church and the words....."Thieving Priest Collared Shoplifting...story page 3"
I fell off my chair......I have never been so gobsmacked as I was then.......I sat in stunned silence....I started to giggle like an idiot.....
I turned the paper to page 3.......another candid pic of Gallo.......
"Prominent Catholic priest is arrested shoplifting razor blades from ParkGate Safeways.....Archdiocese silent on the matter......"
I have never........ever.....been so stunned........There was a God....and he had a huge sense of humour.......I read and reread it again......I grabbed the rival Vancouver Sun newspaper...there he was again on the front page........oh my........
For a few moments I sat and pondered the wonder of it all....."Did they actually cuff the 72 year old priest and take him back to the station house.....did they pat him down.....did he like it?......." Oh Jyess....yu are suuch a guud frisker....".....they don't arrest priests at the best of times and certainly don't plop them on the front page just because he inadvertently put a few razors in his cassock........No..it can't be....he's a Klepto...!
I lest the cafe and floated to my car.....I had no idea how to react.......do I write him and commiserate....saying...."I know how it feels..."...perhaps just a short note......"Hope you're feeling better" and include a Monopoly game "Get Out of Jail for Free " card.......
Nope....I would play this one silent........
And silent it became........for nearly 2 years....
The one day....I got another letter.......the ex has now filed her witness statements in the case to annul the marriage........
What did this mean....I phoned my very own Vatican Perry Mason......
"Beth...John Graham here....long time no talk....."
"Yes....How may I help...."
"I have this letter about witnesses and such and want to know what this is all about...?"
"well...if you feel the marriage was not made into a Bond or you want to defend the Bond you need to get witnesses who were at your wedding and get them to go on record to say that you did or did not make a bond....pretty simple really..."
"Huh...you want me to call up people from 12 years ago and get them to come down to the Archdiocese and go in front of a tribunal to go on record to say that I made a bond with God 12 years ago....? really......why....?"
" Because ...that's how we see it...!" click.....
hmmmm... I thought....do I really need this grief....hadn't I already made my point....albeit one that was seemingly ignored.......perhaps I should get on with my life.....
I phoned Beth back...." Beth...I just want this to go away...what do I need to do..."
"A little late for that isn't it...?....." apparently they were stille sore about all of the letters about priests wearing dresses, arrests, publicity and stuff..........
"Well...if you want this to go away.........you need to come to the Archdiocese and read the ex's witnesses testimony and sign off..."
"Ok....I'll be down tomorrow.... "
That next morning I showed up at the Archdiocese........went to the appropriate room and signed in........I was told I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement about the proceedings and in no way could I take any files with me or have copies.....
They sat me in a small windowless room and handed me the transcript.....
" In the case of Graham vs. Graham re : Annulment...."
I read the overview.....and then there was the list of witnesses for the ex......
Her mother, her father, her sister, my ex brother in law and.......my eldest sister Shannon....
What the fuck.........my sister....!...I was shaken.....
I read the testimonies as I had to sign off on each acknowledging that I had read it......each was a fairly decent attempt at character assasination......
And then I got to Shannon's testimony....why was she testifying for the ex.....? What purpose did this serve.......I read the testimony in disbelief..........my tears fell onto the pages.....
I signed off on the last testimony....and then left the building......my first thought was to phone my parents........Dad answered the phone.....
"Dad I just left the Archdiocese to sign off on the annulment....and I found that Shannon has testified against me...."
"I knew she shouldn't have done that..."...."huh".. I blurted......"You knew.....you fucking knew and didn't tell me....!"
"Well son... I am sure she just thought it would speed things along...you know....help make the annulment happen..."..."Dad" I said...."we're not Catholic....!"
All of this ground the annulment to yet another standstill.....apparently my sister upon catching wind that her testimony had been revealed to me ....now threatened to sue the Church for misrepresentation........(Now there's a stretch... )
About a year passed......I went Tuesdays and Fridays to pick up my girls at the school....this was the school where the ex taught and where Gallo led the parish.......I made a point of not shrinking away from the school.....I liked the idea I made them feel uncomfortable....
One Tuesday, Monsignor Gallo approached me to talk......"Jyess...John....haav yu gotten the inveetatshun for da privat lunch with the Arch Beeshop...?'...
I nearly choked..."The what?"
"Jyess...it ees unfurtunit that Katty has been so...well...meezguided in all of thees....it seems the Arch Bishop wants to talk weeth yu..."
This whole saga had taken yet another unforseen turn......
Sure as shit sticks to a shingle...the next day I found a letter in my mailbox......from the Archdiocese...
It read....You are invited to attend a private luncheon with Arch Bishop Adam Exner on Wednesday Nov 6th......please call my undersecretary to confirm........
There it was.......a freaking invite for a private luncheon with the head Honcho...God's very own spokesperson.....this was the same man who 2 years earlier met with Bill Clinton at the G-7........
On the appointed day I dressed in my Wednesday best and went to the lunch.......
The week before I had asked my ex why she thought I was going to a private lunch with the boss......her reply..."he probably wants to tell you what an asshole you are...."....hmmmmm........I thought he might have other things on his mind......
I was ushered into the inner room....and introduced to the Arch Bishop......we exchanged small talk for 5 minutes or so.....then he said..."So......it is a shame about all of this mess......do you think you could ever see your way to withdrawing your opposition to the annulment..."
"Well...I'd like to but I have already shown my opposition....."
"yes"...he pondered...."true...very true..."
More smalll talk ensued and still more tries to find a way to get me to withdraw my opposition.......I sensed that if I did say my opposition was withdrawn that I would get a doggy bag with some of the sandwiches and the bums rush out of the Archdiocese......
With 5 minutes left in the scheduled 1 hour lunch meeting....I looked at the Arch Bishop........"You already have my withdrawl"...I said.........time stood still...."What do you mean?"...he replied....
"I mean I have already withdrawn my opposition....if you look on the letter from 3 years ago entitled Men who Wear Dresses you will see in the last paragraph right after I say....I will never trust men who wear dresses.....that I go on to say...therefore I withdraw my opposition.....Annul away.."
"Well...look at the time"....he says...."I have a meeting with the steering committe on something or other....my undersecretary will show you out....."
A month later I received a letter from The Catholic Church in Ottawa...and within a month after that...a letter from The Vatican.........my marriage was now considered null......and oh.... by the way....it also stated.....you are not allowed to marry another Catholic in a Church ceremony unless you repent......
As I said before.......why would I want to join a club that would have me as a member........
Where does this story come from....
Once upon a time I married to a devout Catholic woman......(At he time she was not so devout.... drinking and partying......ok...maybe not partying....bit of a bore actually......but drinking a lot......come to think of that....she was just being a good Catholic...hmmmm) she is now a Catholic school teacher......we have 2 beautiful children.......redheads...girls.....
However...as life is sometime capable of doing..... a series of curve balls were thrown at the marriage......it broke up and we separated.....
Now..... most of you out there enjoying the bliss of a nasty divorce, generally only get to fight in a court of law.......arguing over important things such as.......who gets custody of the kids, who gets the timeshare in Podunk Idaho and the ownership of the Ron Popeil household appliance collection.......(as a side bar....notice the nifty legal jargon.......what the hell gets into people's heads when divorcing.......they spend about $5000 on lawyers to defend their ownership of a juicer....get over it...its a fucking juicer for Gods sake.....anyways...I digress...)
.......I know, I know, I know....you're probably saying your divorce was a tough row to hoe...... but let me tell you this about that...it is nothing compared to an annulment in the Catholic Church.........
An annulment of a Catholic marriage is a procedure set amid an arcane set of laws and rituals designed to determine if the marriage ever really existed.........the governing rules involved are called Canon Law.....lets be clear here.....this is not a divorce........a divorce is against the Catholic religion........an annulment is a process to deem that the marriage never existed......in fact as far as they are concerned....once you are annulled.........the marriage never took place..... ( I liken this to the Church's stance on pedophilia...but lets not get too far off of topic.......)
So you are asking yourself .........how is it a marriage of 9 years that produced 2 beautiful children ....all of which was performed in a full blown Catholic ceremony .......and in front of 100's of people could have never existed......? ...(As a side note........ I am reminded of Roswell, New Mexico 1947 and the aliens/weather balloon issue........the first thing was "Hurray...we found aliens"...and then ..."nope...sorry.......no aliens we were mistaken...it was a weather balloon....sorry"....how the fuck someone mistakes aliens for a weather balloon or vice versa is another matter altogether......)
back on topic
Some background......
If you are a Catholic you cannot divorce....if you do....you go to hell.......(the other choice of course is to stay in a hellish marriage and then go to Heaven when you die after living an unhappy life........as far as I see this is not much different than an Islamic Extremist suicide bomber....only the Islamic Extremist gets to go to Heaven a whole lot faster and in a less painful way.....not to mention the dozen or so nubile virgins awaiting you.......yummy....but I digress......again )........
If you don't go to hell at the very least you go to Purgatory which by my understanding is akin to waiting at a bus stop for an indeterminatetime......waiting as a number of "Heaven Express" buses go by....
In this analogy.......if you are a Catholic in Purgatory, you go up to the driver of each bus and say..." Hey can I get on board...I want to go to Heaven"....and the the bus driver basically waves you off...saying.."Hey this bus is full, ask the next one..."....all of of this reminds me of BillMurray's role in the movie Ground Hog Day.....it makes me dizzy just thinking about it.....
Anyways......as a Catholic if you are divorced and the marriage is not annulled not only do you wait at the bus stop to Heaven but you cannot go to confession....you do not get to eat the cookie...(aka the body of Christ) or the drink the wine (aka the blood of Christ) ........all of this behaviour sounds suspiciously like an episode of Twilight........
I am not a Catholic....which arguably is part of the problem with all of this.......however....
...this is my experience....
My ex was pissed when we split up.........pissed enough to make my life and hers miserable........for any of you who deal with a hard-boiled Catholic you will recognize this as what I call The "Karl Malden Syndrome"....similar to the Stockholm Syndrome but quite different.....The victim just gets all cranky and irritable........and it never goes away......much like Karl Malden...... (may he Rest in Peace)
Anyhow....early in 1999, 2 years after the separation and about $30,000 later in legal bills .....(see defending juicers etc) ....I came home one day to find an envelope in the mail....expensive envelope I thought....hmmm...and from The Archdiocese...and I'm not even a Catholic......Woohoo.....
I tore open the envelope....As I was in the midst of an already contentious divorce I was getting used to all sorts of official documents and letters from angry divorce lawyers......(they are not really angry...but a pretend-to-be kind of angry....divorce lawyers are akin to 2 combatants hiring proxy bullies to kick the shit out of the other persons bully.........all the while the 2 bullies are quite happy doing just that as they are paid handsomely for their efforts...............at the end of the joust... all the paid bullies go out for drinks and regale each other about their day jousting....... who ever thought this scam up is a fucking genius..!)
The document in may hands was request for an annulment ........I was perplexed......It stated... (pretty much verbatim but with a whole lot more words......)
You (aka Heathen) are being informed that your ex seeks to annul the marriage between yourself and her......as such, do you wish to not oppose the bond of marriage.....? huh...?.
Let me read that again.....The marriage is to be erased as if it had never existed......and do I wish not to oppose the bond of marriage...? What the fuck....what crazy-assed Catholic Lawyer from the 14th century wrote this............?
What the fuck..!....how can a marriage with 2 kids and lots of bills for hairstylists and manicures be made to have never existed......?.....why am I paying these lawyers all of this money and dealing with an angry fur ball of an ex about the freaking juicer when really...she is saying....hey....lets not get divorced.......no....lets just say it never happened...!
The first brief thought was...."Awfully White of her.".....my second thought...."whoa Nelly"...lets read more..........
" The complainant...is seeking to annul the marriage as it is claimed that it never existed....so therefore...do you not wish to oppose it.....
Of course I want to oppose it........why not.....sounds like fun.....
So....I got on my PC and tip tap typed my reply to the Archdiocese.......Nearly verbatim...pretty much........"Of course I wish to oppose this......and further more how can something that exists be made to never have existed.....
I got a rather snarly reply from the Church stating that it was up to them to say if it existed or not and that if I wished to oppose the annulment procedure I would have to engage a Defender of the Bond.......a D of the B is basically the church appointed public defender in all annulment cases...........
The defender is supposedly well versed in Canon Law...... Canon Law is an arcane set of laws based upon the Vatican's belief that their law shouldsupersede Civil Law.......
So..... I replied away...asking the Church to set me up with a Defender of the Bond.......a week or so passed and I got a voice mail from a very nice lady by the name of Beth....Beth was my Defender...she did this as an unpaid part time job for the Church.....she was lovely.... could I call her to discuss the Bond.....
Damn right I would....I got Beth on the phone to go over our strategy......we were going to defend this bond....yeah that was the plan.......we'll show them what exists and doesn't exist......
"So... Beth....on what grounds can a marriage be annulled....?" I asked...... "well" she said..."Its not easy to get an annulment......the process of the marriage needs review must meet some very rigorous requirements...."..."Such as...such as what?" I asked...
"Well...there are only 4 reasons for an annulment to be granted......"
1) You did not create a bond in the eyes of God.......(...Basically God would have to have been asleep on the wedding day and not seen any of the ceremony....but since God is EVERYWHERE and all seeing....that point was surely a no go... )
2) You did not intend to create a bond to God........( So......what does this mean...I went to the marriage counselling sessions with the Priest who married us and who would also annul the marriage...surely he would agree I intended to make a Bond?)
3) Your were incapable of creating a bond...(i.e. insane......curiously this seems like a perfectly good loophole...except....you only had to be sane on your wedding day.......any other day after or before the wedding day you could be a total loon and the bond would stand......as I was not raving or ranting on the wedding day I figured I was pretty sane......btw...who is ever really sane on their wedding day...?.....)
4) You were already in a bond to God.......(...I took this to mean I was already married to a Catholic or other.........or perhaps I was a Bride of Christ (aka Nun) or a Priest etc etc....
"Bonus!"...I said..... I got all 4 right!
I listed off my reply t o Beth about all of the 4 points.....
1) I went to Catholic marriage preparation and knew exactly what I was doing and the gravitas of the commitment......I spoke to God at the ceremony....not sure he replied at the time....but hey....when do you ever really get the answer to your question.....
2)On point 2.... I go to point 1...again......I was willing and did make the commitment....I got up there said my vows....all of which included a message to God....so I figured I was in the clear.... (as well.....there was no notice from God at the wedding or reception party...saying anything to the contrary ....sure signs such as a lightning bolt, burning bush etc so I figured he approved... )
3) Point 3 is always a little subjective....I mean ....there is legally insane ...(Which I was not...).... even Ted Bundy didn't get to be classified as legally insane........so I will go with the idea that I was not insane....
4) I was neither a nun or a Priest.....or married to another.....so on point 4.......I was in the clear...
"So Beth.....this should be a walk in the park....a cake walk.....a slam dunk...a no-brainer.....right?"
"Well...she said...it is not always so clear cut.......huh....? Well we will need to prove that the bond existed so we can defend it........ "
"Ok....but isn't this like being considered Guilty unless you prove yourself innocent....and then go ahead after that and get a statement saying that you are innocent...?"
Silence on the other end of the phone.....
"Hmmmm.......say Beth, How many of these have you done........?"....she answered....".Oh..at least 300...or so..."
Wow! I thought....I had a cracker jack defender of the Bond on my hands I asked..."So...How many bonds have you successfully defended...?"
."umm....Well that's hard to say" ...she says.........
"Ok Beth...how about this... how many have you won...?"
" Well...we don't look at it that way... "
"Ok....so you have done 300 of these....... how many of them were annulled.....found to have never existed...?"
"298" she proudly said............."What the fuck!...You've never won a case.......!!!"
"Well...that's not really how we see it.....?
"Well Beth...I do..!..... I want to talk to the archdiocese to get a more successful defender of the Bond...."
"Ok she said....but I am the most successful one...!".... (need I go over the math again...?)
Next day I phoned the Archdiocese........."Who do I speak with about my annulment...who's in charge here..?"
"I'll put you through to Monsignor Gallo....'
OMG....Monsignor Gallo is the priest who married us.........who was the ex's main family friend in the Church and was the ex's parish boss...(....did I say she is a Catholic school teacher..)....it was the nutty barely intelligible spanish speaking Mexican priest.....
" Jyess...Fadder Gallo heer..." (....just to digress for a moment....I remember when I was getting married he paused in the middle of the cermonyand said..."hee who beelefs this marrryage...marriaje...marrrage...should not be.".......it was commonly believe that he practiced his Berlitz lesson during the vows and mass.....)
" Father Gallo.........John Graham here..."
"Jyess...."
"Father...I am in the process of a marriage annulment and I feel that the defender of the bond that was appointed is not really capable ofrepresenting my interests and sucessfully defending the bond......."
"Jess.....Butd, Beth.. sheee iza de best defendu wee havve...."
"Yes I know...I've heard that......but surely you must have someone who has actually won a case that can be the defender.....? "
"Weel...wee dun't egzactlee look at it thees way....."
"So I have been told..........all of this makes no sense........".....
"Jyess...I know....ofteen God works in meesterious wayz..."
Mysterious ways.......what the hell does THAT mean.....? Father....I am being tried in a jurisdiction where you are the priest who married us and is also my ex's boss and a close family friend.....the ex's Mom is the head of the Catholic Women's League...her father is a failed priest......and I have a Defender who has never won a case......don't you see this as having the cards stacked against me just a bit...?"
"Zere is no need to swear...?...."
That's it....no need to swear.....well fuck that!
"Father.....I am disturbed by all of this...I wan't to change the jurisdiction of the annulment to another Archdiocese.....!"
"Jyess....weell....I weell send yu sum informayshun.....Guubye.."
I waited a week or so........
The mail came.......nice envelope...pricey stationary...cool...my change of venue form........bonus!
Well...apparently not so fast Kemosabe...... !
I opened the envelope......enclosed a photocopied passage from what looked like the Dead Sea Scrolls......it was a 15 page section of Canon Law addressing the issue about a change of jurisdiction.....
It read much like this......" A change of jurisdiction in an annulment case can be granted but only before the action has started..........Once an action has started no change of jurisdiction can be granted....???
Let me digest this.......so.......If I have no annulment going on....I can get a change of jurisdiction.....yup.......but if an action has started......(ie someone applies for an annulment..) .....I can't change the jurisdiction.....? But...if an action is started and it seems unfair I cannot change the jurisdiction to somewhere more fair....? Is that what I see....
The letter basically went on to say......."What you have just read is as you see it to be....it's just that we don't see it that way...." Sucka...!
Hmmmm...
This calls for another letter.........In my sweet and delightful way I wrote Monsignor Gallo back.......I argued the illogic of his and the Churches ways and how they should reconsider a couple of milenium of history and change to see things my way.....I closed off the leeter with a fond farewell....something like...." There are 2 things my mother taught me that I carry to this day.....never join a club that wants you as a member and to never...ever trust a man who wears a dress....annul away!"
There that says it all......off and into the post it goes........
The very next day...........
The very next day..... I went to my usual morning haunt for a strong black coffee and a muffin.....as I sat with my joe...I spied the Province Newsppaer......it was folded in half and laying on the table...the bottom half of the front page face up...
Wow ...I thought....the picture looks like the church I was married in....the one where Father Gallo resides.....what's it doing on the front page of the Province....must be vandals or something....Iunfolded the paer to view the whole front page.....
Big freaking bold letters......."THOU SHALL NOT STEAL"...below the giant caption a picture of Monsignor Gallo in front of the church and the words....."Thieving Priest Collared Shoplifting...story page 3"
I fell off my chair......I have never been so gobsmacked as I was then.......I sat in stunned silence....I started to giggle like an idiot.....
I turned the paper to page 3.......another candid pic of Gallo.......
"Prominent Catholic priest is arrested shoplifting razor blades from ParkGate Safeways.....Archdiocese silent on the matter......"
I have never........ever.....been so stunned........There was a God....and he had a huge sense of humour.......I read and reread it again......I grabbed the rival Vancouver Sun newspaper...there he was again on the front page........oh my........
For a few moments I sat and pondered the wonder of it all....."Did they actually cuff the 72 year old priest and take him back to the station house.....did they pat him down.....did he like it?......." Oh Jyess....yu are suuch a guud frisker....".....they don't arrest priests at the best of times and certainly don't plop them on the front page just because he inadvertently put a few razors in his cassock........No..it can't be....he's a Klepto...!
I lest the cafe and floated to my car.....I had no idea how to react.......do I write him and commiserate....saying...."I know how it feels..."...perhaps just a short note......"Hope you're feeling better" and include a Monopoly game "Get Out of Jail for Free " card.......
Nope....I would play this one silent........
And silent it became........for nearly 2 years....
The one day....I got another letter.......the ex has now filed her witness statements in the case to annul the marriage........
What did this mean....I phoned my very own Vatican Perry Mason......
"Beth...John Graham here....long time no talk....."
"Yes....How may I help...."
"I have this letter about witnesses and such and want to know what this is all about...?"
"well...if you feel the marriage was not made into a Bond or you want to defend the Bond you need to get witnesses who were at your wedding and get them to go on record to say that you did or did not make a bond....pretty simple really..."
"Huh...you want me to call up people from 12 years ago and get them to come down to the Archdiocese and go in front of a tribunal to go on record to say that I made a bond with God 12 years ago....? really......why....?"
" Because ...that's how we see it...!" click.....
hmmmm... I thought....do I really need this grief....hadn't I already made my point....albeit one that was seemingly ignored.......perhaps I should get on with my life.....
I phoned Beth back...." Beth...I just want this to go away...what do I need to do..."
"A little late for that isn't it...?....." apparently they were stille sore about all of the letters about priests wearing dresses, arrests, publicity and stuff..........
"Well...if you want this to go away.........you need to come to the Archdiocese and read the ex's witnesses testimony and sign off..."
"Ok....I'll be down tomorrow.... "
That next morning I showed up at the Archdiocese........went to the appropriate room and signed in........I was told I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement about the proceedings and in no way could I take any files with me or have copies.....
They sat me in a small windowless room and handed me the transcript.....
" In the case of Graham vs. Graham re : Annulment...."
I read the overview.....and then there was the list of witnesses for the ex......
Her mother, her father, her sister, my ex brother in law and.......my eldest sister Shannon....
What the fuck.........my sister....!...I was shaken.....
I read the testimonies as I had to sign off on each acknowledging that I had read it......each was a fairly decent attempt at character assasination......
And then I got to Shannon's testimony....why was she testifying for the ex.....? What purpose did this serve.......I read the testimony in disbelief..........my tears fell onto the pages.....
I signed off on the last testimony....and then left the building......my first thought was to phone my parents........Dad answered the phone.....
"Dad I just left the Archdiocese to sign off on the annulment....and I found that Shannon has testified against me...."
"I knew she shouldn't have done that..."...."huh".. I blurted......"You knew.....you fucking knew and didn't tell me....!"
"Well son... I am sure she just thought it would speed things along...you know....help make the annulment happen..."..."Dad" I said...."we're not Catholic....!"
All of this ground the annulment to yet another standstill.....apparently my sister upon catching wind that her testimony had been revealed to me ....now threatened to sue the Church for misrepresentation........(Now there's a stretch... )
About a year passed......I went Tuesdays and Fridays to pick up my girls at the school....this was the school where the ex taught and where Gallo led the parish.......I made a point of not shrinking away from the school.....I liked the idea I made them feel uncomfortable....
One Tuesday, Monsignor Gallo approached me to talk......"Jyess...John....haav yu gotten the inveetatshun for da privat lunch with the Arch Beeshop...?'...
I nearly choked..."The what?"
"Jyess...it ees unfurtunit that Katty has been so...well...meezguided in all of thees....it seems the Arch Bishop wants to talk weeth yu..."
This whole saga had taken yet another unforseen turn......
Sure as shit sticks to a shingle...the next day I found a letter in my mailbox......from the Archdiocese...
It read....You are invited to attend a private luncheon with Arch Bishop Adam Exner on Wednesday Nov 6th......please call my undersecretary to confirm........
There it was.......a freaking invite for a private luncheon with the head Honcho...God's very own spokesperson.....this was the same man who 2 years earlier met with Bill Clinton at the G-7........
On the appointed day I dressed in my Wednesday best and went to the lunch.......
The week before I had asked my ex why she thought I was going to a private lunch with the boss......her reply..."he probably wants to tell you what an asshole you are...."....hmmmmm........I thought he might have other things on his mind......
I was ushered into the inner room....and introduced to the Arch Bishop......we exchanged small talk for 5 minutes or so.....then he said..."So......it is a shame about all of this mess......do you think you could ever see your way to withdrawing your opposition to the annulment..."
"Well...I'd like to but I have already shown my opposition....."
"yes"...he pondered...."true...very true..."
More smalll talk ensued and still more tries to find a way to get me to withdraw my opposition.......I sensed that if I did say my opposition was withdrawn that I would get a doggy bag with some of the sandwiches and the bums rush out of the Archdiocese......
With 5 minutes left in the scheduled 1 hour lunch meeting....I looked at the Arch Bishop........"You already have my withdrawl"...I said.........time stood still...."What do you mean?"...he replied....
"I mean I have already withdrawn my opposition....if you look on the letter from 3 years ago entitled Men who Wear Dresses you will see in the last paragraph right after I say....I will never trust men who wear dresses.....that I go on to say...therefore I withdraw my opposition.....Annul away.."
"Well...look at the time"....he says...."I have a meeting with the steering committe on something or other....my undersecretary will show you out....."
A month later I received a letter from The Catholic Church in Ottawa...and within a month after that...a letter from The Vatican.........my marriage was now considered null......and oh.... by the way....it also stated.....you are not allowed to marry another Catholic in a Church ceremony unless you repent......
As I said before.......why would I want to join a club that would have me as a member........
The Canadian Customs & Border Patrol Hates me...
Ok....so I have no great love for authority.....and at times I have been known to flaunt that dislike a little too openly....
Around 1991 I worked as the manager for an extreme sports filmmaker Greg Stump. At the time we were doing a ski film, Dr. Strangeglove...(of course we were..) .....we had a number of corporate sponsors who gave us money or products or both....one of the sponsors was K2 skis which were then out of Bainbridge Island just off of Seattle Washington.....We were given 20 skis and snowboards by K2 as part of our deal....
I needed to get them back to Whistler for an event and filming so I asked my 20 year old Brother in law Danny if he wanted a free snowboard..."Sure Dude.." hey said..."the only catch...you need to drive down to K2 and pick up the stuff and bring it back"..."Sure Dude"...he said....
So off he went, picked up the skis and snowboards and came back to Canada...this took all day and about 7 o'clock in the evening I had still not heard from him.....I was getting concerned....
The phone rang...."Hey Dude...I am stuck at the border and can't get out...."The Man" is being a Dick...."
Ok...I thought...I can fix this......I am on the "MAN's" wavelength..."I'll be right down Danny..." "Ok Dude...but hurry, they are pissing me off..."...Not a good thing to piss off guys with guns I thought...
Down I went...arriving at the border I found Danny to be in the commercial impound compound..."hey Danny...I told you to go through the regular lanes and tell them you were a pro skier and these were yours"...."I did Dude...but them didn't believe me...then The MAN sent me here and I'm locked in an impound lot.......Dude..."
I'll fix this....off to the counter to speak with and straighten out this border guard.......(What was I Thinking....?)
"So...I see you have my Brother in law in the impound compound...what seems to be the problem...?"
An indecipherable grunt from the 6'3" creature with the Glock sidearm who stood on the other side of the counter......."He does not have the appropriate paperwork"...
"Well...these are for personal use.." I state...
"Don't care...he still needs the paperwork..." cites The MAN
Ok..I say to myself...how hard can this be to figure out....."Alright...what info do you need...?" I inquire of the Taser Toting cretin....
" He needs to fill out a T5-72-B and include the duty rate from table 14 section 7c.....it is all in the books over there..."
He might as well have been speaking Albanian......I had no idea what he said...but I do know the information he wanted was in the Manhattantelephone directory sized books sitting across the room from me....
I can do this I said to myself.......Simple.....Who the fuck was I kidding...I am the least linear human being to ever walk the face of the earth...I embrace (and often create) chaos.....I can figure out how to make a toaster from a roll of Saran Wrap and a solar panel but fill out a form.....what was I thinking.... ?
So I filled out the form once....back to the counter...."No" he said....."No!..." No to what...? I said..
"You forgot the tariff section... "
Ok...back to the book....tariffs, tariffs...must be in here...oh...ok...tarriffs...it says...."any product made in the USA that is not made in any other country but has more than 34% of materials made in the following countries, Burma, Ceylon, etc etc...is subject to a varying tariff rate of 3%- 78%..while the products with less than 4% Aargon matter and are 34% made in Burma, Ceylon etc...will not be subject to a trade tariff unless the product has been made by dwarfs..."
Who fucking makes this shit up.....?
Ok.....aim the pen at the tick box on the form and put in something...hope for the best....they won't really check...will they......back to the counter...."No"...he says again.....that's wrong....."What's wrong?" I say....the rate?...."What should it be?" I said...."Its in the book"...he said.....
So for another hour or so...this went on and on.....my brother in law was waiting...his car in the impound compound.....and I was getting ever more vocal and frustrated......
4th visit to the counter I am on the verge of histrionics.... "I am a taxpayer...I should not be treated like this...." That tactic, as I found out...is not a good one.........he has the Glock and the Taser...and the car...and the skis and the snowboards....and my nuts...all in the palm of his ham sized hand...
At the same time that I am about to pull out the last ditch effort of saying.." my birthday is the same as Pierre Trudeau...I should be exempt from this hassle..." out of desperation and exasperation I look to my left at the next counter for help of any kind....and who do I see....?
My childhood friend...Darrell Stephenson......! How weird is this.....?.what is he doing in the impound compound at the border.....hmmm...he has paperwork...and the border guard is actually nice to him......wow... How did he do that..?
"Hey Darrell..."...Big smile...we embrace, shake hands.....catch up....still married to Chris Horne..? Kids..? what where when and how...etc etc..."
"Yeah all is good " he says....."What are you doing here?"...."Oh...I am stuck at the border with this dickhead and he won't let me go as I have skis and don't meet the tariff rates or some such fucking nonsense...and the car is in a locked and gated compound. !"..."what are you doing here?" I ask .....
"I am a trucker......this is my regular route..."....."cool" I say..." Listen" Says Darrell....I have to get one more piece of paperwork filled out...I'll be right back"....and off he goes....
Nice to catch up...despite the unusual circumstances....
At this point I am really frustrated...it has been 2 hours....the car and skis are still stuck and my brother in law is no longer calling me Dude....all of these things are bad signs....
Just as I am about to go and talk to Danny the brother in law, I see Darrell walking across the Customs room.....He is coming towards me...but not looking me in the eye....this is weird... I think.....Just as we are about to pass I say to him..."Hey great to see you again...we should stay in touch...." He shakes my hand...not saying a word...palms something into my hand and walks away and out the door...
What the hell!..that is just weird.....I look into my hand....he has handed off to me a 50 cent parking token....." A parking token....!....a FUCKING PARKING token...that is just too weird..." I stare at it....hmmm.....he must be on Crack I think....I put the token into my pocket....not sure what to think...
I turn and cross back the room to where my brother in law is sitting...fuming.....stewing...
" Danny"...I say..."Can't you just drive out of the compound?"...."No....Dude....the compound is locked, there is great big fucking gate that won't open unless you have a parking token....!"....
B-I-N-G-O !!!!
"You mean like this one?" grabbing it hungrily out of my pants pocket...."Yup...Dude, you're a genius".....
I give him the token....and my blessing..."go for it..."......Off Danny goes to the compound...I go to wait in my car sitting outside the compound....moments later......the gate slides open...out drives Danny..... BONUS!...we are free....
Off we go.....home free....woohoo...I thought there might be some consequences...but really....what can they do....how will they find us....we are good people.....no harm no foul right...?
I get home 45 minutes later.....sat down and cracked a beer.....bringgg...phone rings...." John Graham?"....oh-oh...."Mr. Graham this is the RCMP and Customs control....were you here earlier this evening?"...."ah....maybe.."..." No maybes about it Mr Graham, were you or were you not here tonight?....."Ummmm...yes.....but I can explain...!"....
"Mr Graham...what you have done is a Federal offense.......you must be here at the border by 8:00 a.m. tomorrow or we will arrest you....is that understood?'....ummm...yup...
A sleepless night ensued....I wondered if they would waterboard me....pull out my fingernails with pliers....make me admit to crimes I hadn't committed... I was toast....
The next morning...8 a.m ...I am at the border......
" May I see Constable Schmidt please...my name is John Graham..."
"Oh...Mr Graham...we have been waiting for you.......I see you ran the border last night...this is an indictable offense.....you do know that..?".... I was not sure the correct answer to this....other than to shit my pants...
"Ok..."..."What can I do...?"
"Well...here's what we will be doing...you go sit down over there and we will figure out the duty and tariff rate along with any penalty...we will then triple the penalty and tariff amount sand that will be the fine....got it?"
Oh shit....I am hooped.....
So for half an hour I watched as Sgt Sedanko....(Cheech and Chong reference) went through tariff books, rate sheets and every other manual, binder in the place...the occasional "humpf" emanating from him....
" Mr Graham"...more of a command than a question...." Mr Graham, come here..."...
I approached the counter....what would be my punishment..... ?
" Mr Graham....I have some news for you....K2 is the ONLY ski manufactured domestically in the U.S......as such there is no duties or tariffs......so 3 times nothing...is still nothing...consider yourself lucky.....get out of here....and I never want to see you again....ok?"
I couldn't believe my luck.............
Around 1991 I worked as the manager for an extreme sports filmmaker Greg Stump. At the time we were doing a ski film, Dr. Strangeglove...(of course we were..) .....we had a number of corporate sponsors who gave us money or products or both....one of the sponsors was K2 skis which were then out of Bainbridge Island just off of Seattle Washington.....We were given 20 skis and snowboards by K2 as part of our deal....
I needed to get them back to Whistler for an event and filming so I asked my 20 year old Brother in law Danny if he wanted a free snowboard..."Sure Dude.." hey said..."the only catch...you need to drive down to K2 and pick up the stuff and bring it back"..."Sure Dude"...he said....
So off he went, picked up the skis and snowboards and came back to Canada...this took all day and about 7 o'clock in the evening I had still not heard from him.....I was getting concerned....
The phone rang...."Hey Dude...I am stuck at the border and can't get out...."The Man" is being a Dick...."
Ok...I thought...I can fix this......I am on the "MAN's" wavelength..."I'll be right down Danny..." "Ok Dude...but hurry, they are pissing me off..."...Not a good thing to piss off guys with guns I thought...
Down I went...arriving at the border I found Danny to be in the commercial impound compound..."hey Danny...I told you to go through the regular lanes and tell them you were a pro skier and these were yours"...."I did Dude...but them didn't believe me...then The MAN sent me here and I'm locked in an impound lot.......Dude..."
I'll fix this....off to the counter to speak with and straighten out this border guard.......(What was I Thinking....?)
"So...I see you have my Brother in law in the impound compound...what seems to be the problem...?"
An indecipherable grunt from the 6'3" creature with the Glock sidearm who stood on the other side of the counter......."He does not have the appropriate paperwork"...
"Well...these are for personal use.." I state...
"Don't care...he still needs the paperwork..." cites The MAN
Ok..I say to myself...how hard can this be to figure out....."Alright...what info do you need...?" I inquire of the Taser Toting cretin....
" He needs to fill out a T5-72-B and include the duty rate from table 14 section 7c.....it is all in the books over there..."
He might as well have been speaking Albanian......I had no idea what he said...but I do know the information he wanted was in the Manhattantelephone directory sized books sitting across the room from me....
I can do this I said to myself.......Simple.....Who the fuck was I kidding...I am the least linear human being to ever walk the face of the earth...I embrace (and often create) chaos.....I can figure out how to make a toaster from a roll of Saran Wrap and a solar panel but fill out a form.....what was I thinking.... ?
So I filled out the form once....back to the counter...."No" he said....."No!..." No to what...? I said..
"You forgot the tariff section... "
Ok...back to the book....tariffs, tariffs...must be in here...oh...ok...tarriffs...it says...."any product made in the USA that is not made in any other country but has more than 34% of materials made in the following countries, Burma, Ceylon, etc etc...is subject to a varying tariff rate of 3%- 78%..while the products with less than 4% Aargon matter and are 34% made in Burma, Ceylon etc...will not be subject to a trade tariff unless the product has been made by dwarfs..."
Who fucking makes this shit up.....?
Ok.....aim the pen at the tick box on the form and put in something...hope for the best....they won't really check...will they......back to the counter...."No"...he says again.....that's wrong....."What's wrong?" I say....the rate?...."What should it be?" I said...."Its in the book"...he said.....
So for another hour or so...this went on and on.....my brother in law was waiting...his car in the impound compound.....and I was getting ever more vocal and frustrated......
4th visit to the counter I am on the verge of histrionics.... "I am a taxpayer...I should not be treated like this...." That tactic, as I found out...is not a good one.........he has the Glock and the Taser...and the car...and the skis and the snowboards....and my nuts...all in the palm of his ham sized hand...
At the same time that I am about to pull out the last ditch effort of saying.." my birthday is the same as Pierre Trudeau...I should be exempt from this hassle..." out of desperation and exasperation I look to my left at the next counter for help of any kind....and who do I see....?
My childhood friend...Darrell Stephenson......! How weird is this.....?.what is he doing in the impound compound at the border.....hmmm...he has paperwork...and the border guard is actually nice to him......wow... How did he do that..?
"Hey Darrell..."...Big smile...we embrace, shake hands.....catch up....still married to Chris Horne..? Kids..? what where when and how...etc etc..."
"Yeah all is good " he says....."What are you doing here?"...."Oh...I am stuck at the border with this dickhead and he won't let me go as I have skis and don't meet the tariff rates or some such fucking nonsense...and the car is in a locked and gated compound. !"..."what are you doing here?" I ask .....
"I am a trucker......this is my regular route..."....."cool" I say..." Listen" Says Darrell....I have to get one more piece of paperwork filled out...I'll be right back"....and off he goes....
Nice to catch up...despite the unusual circumstances....
At this point I am really frustrated...it has been 2 hours....the car and skis are still stuck and my brother in law is no longer calling me Dude....all of these things are bad signs....
Just as I am about to go and talk to Danny the brother in law, I see Darrell walking across the Customs room.....He is coming towards me...but not looking me in the eye....this is weird... I think.....Just as we are about to pass I say to him..."Hey great to see you again...we should stay in touch...." He shakes my hand...not saying a word...palms something into my hand and walks away and out the door...
What the hell!..that is just weird.....I look into my hand....he has handed off to me a 50 cent parking token....." A parking token....!....a FUCKING PARKING token...that is just too weird..." I stare at it....hmmm.....he must be on Crack I think....I put the token into my pocket....not sure what to think...
I turn and cross back the room to where my brother in law is sitting...fuming.....stewing...
" Danny"...I say..."Can't you just drive out of the compound?"...."No....Dude....the compound is locked, there is great big fucking gate that won't open unless you have a parking token....!"....
B-I-N-G-O !!!!
"You mean like this one?" grabbing it hungrily out of my pants pocket...."Yup...Dude, you're a genius".....
I give him the token....and my blessing..."go for it..."......Off Danny goes to the compound...I go to wait in my car sitting outside the compound....moments later......the gate slides open...out drives Danny..... BONUS!...we are free....
Off we go.....home free....woohoo...I thought there might be some consequences...but really....what can they do....how will they find us....we are good people.....no harm no foul right...?
I get home 45 minutes later.....sat down and cracked a beer.....bringgg...phone rings...." John Graham?"....oh-oh...."Mr. Graham this is the RCMP and Customs control....were you here earlier this evening?"...."ah....maybe.."..." No maybes about it Mr Graham, were you or were you not here tonight?....."Ummmm...yes.....but I can explain...!"....
"Mr Graham...what you have done is a Federal offense.......you must be here at the border by 8:00 a.m. tomorrow or we will arrest you....is that understood?'....ummm...yup...
A sleepless night ensued....I wondered if they would waterboard me....pull out my fingernails with pliers....make me admit to crimes I hadn't committed... I was toast....
The next morning...8 a.m ...I am at the border......
" May I see Constable Schmidt please...my name is John Graham..."
"Oh...Mr Graham...we have been waiting for you.......I see you ran the border last night...this is an indictable offense.....you do know that..?".... I was not sure the correct answer to this....other than to shit my pants...
"Ok..."..."What can I do...?"
"Well...here's what we will be doing...you go sit down over there and we will figure out the duty and tariff rate along with any penalty...we will then triple the penalty and tariff amount sand that will be the fine....got it?"
Oh shit....I am hooped.....
So for half an hour I watched as Sgt Sedanko....(Cheech and Chong reference) went through tariff books, rate sheets and every other manual, binder in the place...the occasional "humpf" emanating from him....
" Mr Graham"...more of a command than a question...." Mr Graham, come here..."...
I approached the counter....what would be my punishment..... ?
" Mr Graham....I have some news for you....K2 is the ONLY ski manufactured domestically in the U.S......as such there is no duties or tariffs......so 3 times nothing...is still nothing...consider yourself lucky.....get out of here....and I never want to see you again....ok?"
I couldn't believe my luck.............
Drunk and Dangling......
I definitely grew up in a different time.......As a teenager no one ever sat me down and had a good heart to heart about the evils of drugs, drink and dangling.......
The closest it came to was the odd conversation from parent and older teachers who said something to the effect...."...just be careful..."...what did that mean....? Be careful not to get caught...not to overdo it...what?...
In fact much of my bad behavior was encouraged......Cocaine was NOT addictive and seen as a good social drug...pot was mellow and really didn't have any health effects......and drinking....well drinking was a rite of passage....I suppose it still is...but in those days my peers and I made drinking more of a sport than a pastime....
I remember one night when I was about 15 years old.....Me, Mike Graff, Derek Gale and Danny MacDonald were out on a tear...now in those days....very few of us had drivers licences...so when Mike got his...he became the Designated (albeit equally inebriated..) Driver.....in those days it was seen more as a guideline rather than a rule.....
On one rainy fall night we all piled into Mikes Biscayne....a large behemoth of a car only Detroit in its heyday of stupidity could haveenvisioned....bench seat for 12....a trunk that could hold a cord of firewood......anyways
After cruising around...drinking, smoking and just generally being daft we went back to Danny MacDonald's house...Mogs (Danny) as he was known......well Mogs was unusual to say the least......he would do anything you challenged him to...just to prove he would do it....well duh..."here....betcha won't eat a slug?"..."Oh yeah...give me that Slug...chomp, chomp, chomp...."
But...I digress...that night we ended up back at Mog's house ......Mog's parent....(unfortunate people...) had just added a brand new addition to their home....they addition had an extra tall ceiling.....maybe 9 or 10 feet...floor to ceiling...
Well...in our teenage state someone said to Danny....."hey...I betch you can't touch the ceiling...?"
Never one to turn down a challenge.....(see slug eating..) of course Danny would try to do this.....with one running heave he launched himself skyward....arm and fist outstretch....Boom....he punches the ceilings drywall.....and puts a dent in it....
"Oh man....my Raisins are going kill me..." lamented Danny.....we all agreed....nodding....trying to show empathy but knowing full well we would be long gone before they got home....leaving Mogs to his uncertain, certain fate.......
The teenage brain went into overdrive....."Got any Bondo?...someone asked..."No...plaster" said another.......alas...nothing of the sort.....
What to do.....?
Mogs...in all of his genius....came to his own solution..." I know...I will go up in the attic and walk across the ceiling trusses and where the dent is I will push it flat....no one will know..."
Now..... even to an untrained eye this should be seen as a dodgy idea...but hey...when you're 15 and drunk.....anything seems reasonable....
So...with great encouragement we helped Danny get into the attic.......up he goes through the attic access door.......
" Can you hear me?" Danny shouts......We were only 10 feet below him but I think Danny thought we were across the county........."uh huh..." we collectively agreed....."Ok...I am now walking across the rafters......as I get closer to the dented ceiling I will tap on the drywall with my foot.....when I am close ...tell me..K?"
"uh huh..."
1 rafter, tap, tap, tap....2 rafters, tap, tap, tap....rafter #3...tap, tap...ahhhhhhh.......a leg comes crashing through the ceiling spewing drywall and insulation across the new room.....nano seconds later...the other leg the same.......Mogs was dangling through the ceiling...his privates straddling the ceiling truss.....his legs jerking spasmodically in mid-air.......it looked like someone had stuck the back half of a halloween Horse costume to the ceiling......
" Fuck...I am a deadman....."
"Uh huh...." (That was an understatement.....)
Getting Mogs to put his legs through the ceiling was not nearly as hard as getting Mogs entire body back down to earth........
he was screaming....partly from the anticipation of pain to come but also cuz his balls were squished beneath him and against a sturdy 2 by 8......
We pull, cajoled, came up with proposed solutions but in the end...there was no way else to get him down but to pull him entirely through the roof.....CRUNCH.....as he crashed through the ceiling.....landing on his head with a bone jarring thud.........
Suddenly.....quiet.....
A certain fatal realization overtook us all.........Fuck...how do you explain this one....?
Like roaches do when the kitchen light turns on....each of us scurried towards the door......." Gotta Go......Hey...lets meet at the park tomorrow at 2...? K?"
We all nodded...including Mogs.......But...in our heart of hearts we knew that as sure as shit sticks to a shingle there would only be 3 of us meeting.....probably to honour a fallen comrade...
The next came like any other for most of us.........the first thought was about last night...about Mogs.....was he dead yet....or were his parent engaged in some insiduous form of torture that we could only imagine.....
2 O'clock....off to the park...I arrived to find Mike already there...Derek was quck to follow.....no Danny...he was dead......
Then without warning....a familiar voice came from around the corner......
"Hey....oh wow!"...the voice was unmistakable......"Mogs!!" we screamed..."you're alive!?"
" Oh wow....what a trip..."...." I had no idea what to tell my parents when they got home...but then I came up with a great idea...!"
What was it....we asked....
"Well....I told my parents that I heard a rat upstairs and went up to investigate....it was HUUGE and I was being chased and fell throught the roof...."
stunned.....silence.......
That was it.....that was how he got off....they bought that...?
'Don't believe ya..." was our general response...."No man....they bought it.......they really bought it........afterall.....would they really believe the true story.....?"
Hmmmmmmm he may have a point there.......
The closest it came to was the odd conversation from parent and older teachers who said something to the effect...."...just be careful..."...what did that mean....? Be careful not to get caught...not to overdo it...what?...
In fact much of my bad behavior was encouraged......Cocaine was NOT addictive and seen as a good social drug...pot was mellow and really didn't have any health effects......and drinking....well drinking was a rite of passage....I suppose it still is...but in those days my peers and I made drinking more of a sport than a pastime....
I remember one night when I was about 15 years old.....Me, Mike Graff, Derek Gale and Danny MacDonald were out on a tear...now in those days....very few of us had drivers licences...so when Mike got his...he became the Designated (albeit equally inebriated..) Driver.....in those days it was seen more as a guideline rather than a rule.....
On one rainy fall night we all piled into Mikes Biscayne....a large behemoth of a car only Detroit in its heyday of stupidity could haveenvisioned....bench seat for 12....a trunk that could hold a cord of firewood......anyways
After cruising around...drinking, smoking and just generally being daft we went back to Danny MacDonald's house...Mogs (Danny) as he was known......well Mogs was unusual to say the least......he would do anything you challenged him to...just to prove he would do it....well duh..."here....betcha won't eat a slug?"..."Oh yeah...give me that Slug...chomp, chomp, chomp...."
But...I digress...that night we ended up back at Mog's house ......Mog's parent....(unfortunate people...) had just added a brand new addition to their home....they addition had an extra tall ceiling.....maybe 9 or 10 feet...floor to ceiling...
Well...in our teenage state someone said to Danny....."hey...I betch you can't touch the ceiling...?"
Never one to turn down a challenge.....(see slug eating..) of course Danny would try to do this.....with one running heave he launched himself skyward....arm and fist outstretch....Boom....he punches the ceilings drywall.....and puts a dent in it....
"Oh man....my Raisins are going kill me..." lamented Danny.....we all agreed....nodding....trying to show empathy but knowing full well we would be long gone before they got home....leaving Mogs to his uncertain, certain fate.......
The teenage brain went into overdrive....."Got any Bondo?...someone asked..."No...plaster" said another.......alas...nothing of the sort.....
What to do.....?
Mogs...in all of his genius....came to his own solution..." I know...I will go up in the attic and walk across the ceiling trusses and where the dent is I will push it flat....no one will know..."
Now..... even to an untrained eye this should be seen as a dodgy idea...but hey...when you're 15 and drunk.....anything seems reasonable....
So...with great encouragement we helped Danny get into the attic.......up he goes through the attic access door.......
" Can you hear me?" Danny shouts......We were only 10 feet below him but I think Danny thought we were across the county........."uh huh..." we collectively agreed....."Ok...I am now walking across the rafters......as I get closer to the dented ceiling I will tap on the drywall with my foot.....when I am close ...tell me..K?"
"uh huh..."
1 rafter, tap, tap, tap....2 rafters, tap, tap, tap....rafter #3...tap, tap...ahhhhhhh.......a leg comes crashing through the ceiling spewing drywall and insulation across the new room.....nano seconds later...the other leg the same.......Mogs was dangling through the ceiling...his privates straddling the ceiling truss.....his legs jerking spasmodically in mid-air.......it looked like someone had stuck the back half of a halloween Horse costume to the ceiling......
" Fuck...I am a deadman....."
"Uh huh...." (That was an understatement.....)
Getting Mogs to put his legs through the ceiling was not nearly as hard as getting Mogs entire body back down to earth........
he was screaming....partly from the anticipation of pain to come but also cuz his balls were squished beneath him and against a sturdy 2 by 8......
We pull, cajoled, came up with proposed solutions but in the end...there was no way else to get him down but to pull him entirely through the roof.....CRUNCH.....as he crashed through the ceiling.....landing on his head with a bone jarring thud.........
Suddenly.....quiet.....
A certain fatal realization overtook us all.........Fuck...how do you explain this one....?
Like roaches do when the kitchen light turns on....each of us scurried towards the door......." Gotta Go......Hey...lets meet at the park tomorrow at 2...? K?"
We all nodded...including Mogs.......But...in our heart of hearts we knew that as sure as shit sticks to a shingle there would only be 3 of us meeting.....probably to honour a fallen comrade...
The next came like any other for most of us.........the first thought was about last night...about Mogs.....was he dead yet....or were his parent engaged in some insiduous form of torture that we could only imagine.....
2 O'clock....off to the park...I arrived to find Mike already there...Derek was quck to follow.....no Danny...he was dead......
Then without warning....a familiar voice came from around the corner......
"Hey....oh wow!"...the voice was unmistakable......"Mogs!!" we screamed..."you're alive!?"
" Oh wow....what a trip..."...." I had no idea what to tell my parents when they got home...but then I came up with a great idea...!"
What was it....we asked....
"Well....I told my parents that I heard a rat upstairs and went up to investigate....it was HUUGE and I was being chased and fell throught the roof...."
stunned.....silence.......
That was it.....that was how he got off....they bought that...?
'Don't believe ya..." was our general response...."No man....they bought it.......they really bought it........afterall.....would they really believe the true story.....?"
Hmmmmmmm he may have a point there.......
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)