A New Kind of Hatchback

 Please enjoy this short story I wrote a few years ago

Mondays

Some people get to where they're at because they worked hard.

It's nice when you know someone who can help you get ahead.

Sucks that it's not so easy for everybody. 

If you think you're the last person out there, waiting for a sign

Try and forget about all the times you felt left behind.

Mondays are as good a day as any to get started.

Easy like Sunday Morning vol.4

From making pancakes for breakfast to sleeping in; or washing the bed sheets, watching television, or finally crossing something off that To-Do list - Sundays in our home were the best thing since sliced bread.

I used to love laying in on Sundays - just the two of us. We've become used to the mattress we bought last year. It isn't soft and it isn't too firm... Imagine you really are a piece of sweet, delicious bread in between a series of thin filaments connected together but spaced widely enough apart to evenly toast you...

There isn't anything quite like Sunday mornings...

Watching

Reading

Writing

Cooking

Cleaning

Talking

Typing

or simply, scrolling.

For a while now, I can't remember the last time since the start of the 2020 global pandemic, we actually felt at ease on a Sunday morning. Instead of feeling serene I find myself wondering what to tackle first, on my second day off during the week. Like the rest of the retail world, my husband works on Saturdays. They're usually the day I keep to myself, whether that's relaxing and pampering or cleaning the house. Sometimes I'll have made a plan to meet a friend for coffee or lunch but this is all before the COVID-19 pandemic. Today I find myself lurching from drive home to alarm clock and back again.

And this Sunday is a lot different than any of the Sundays - even before. It's sombre and it's hard for me to say what I feel, but on Thursday night I found out awful and tragic news. My initial response was shock, as any normal person might find following a death. I haven't met this person but it's still distressing. What made it even more emotional was that I knew I'd have to be the one to pass on this sadness, and share what I had learned with someone else. A girlfriend of mine who did know this woman, and who had shared many meals, laughs and struggles in the past.

Death is the saddest part of life as we know it.

You don't know where you're gonna go.

I hope you go some place fucking amazing. Truly out of this world and alarming (in a good way).

People who die get to live forever in the memories of those who knew and loved them - the people they leave behind. Some leave behind generations and others their sound, visuals, or words.

Mary Ann Evans wrote, "Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them." as George Eliot.

Dry yet somehow pulpy. Losing a loved one, and when it's your parent it's a sadness like a blunt axe; failing to pierce a rotund block of wood. Instead it chips away, achingly, sliver by sliver, delivering in return a messy, ragged, broken up piece of nature. Wide open and raw. When you learn of a death unexpectedly it can feel as if fragments of your heart are shriveling up and flaking off one by one.

How can we learn about death and dying if we don't experience it?

The truth is: we can't. 

Happy Birthday Daddy

Something I don't talk enough about is my relationship with my Father.

We didn't always get along and maybe this is why. 

What I remember most was his ability to make others laugh. He was a funny guy - cracking jokes and being silly to pass the time. As kids we liked him best this way. Now that was a long time ago.

One of his favourite things to do was play music. Our Dad had awesome taste in music and eventually he started a DJ business with a friend. They played for parties, a wedding here and there. And videos - Dad loved taking pictures and video. He never graduated High School. In fact I think I was told he stopped going half way through grade 12; said he wanted to work. He started working as a waiter in an Italian restaurant. He was 20 when he met our Mom.

When I was born we lived outside the city. Our whole block shared one phone line in the beginning, that's how far out we were. Mom told us if we wanted to use the phone we had to check first to see if the line was free. She'd tell us about picking up the phone sometimes just to silently listen in on the neighbours' conversations to pass the time. Other times they would leave the phone off the hook deliberately so she could make a call whenever she needed. Today a telephone is an extension of our hands and only people born in the '80s or earlier actually use their phone to make calls.

I didn't get a really good opportunity to be close to my Dad. He died suddenly and unexpectedly during the exam break in grade 10. It was January; dark first thing in the morning and dark again when you arrived home at the end of the day. I can't remember how that day started but I know I was home most of the week because we only needed to go into the school to take our exams. No one knew what was going on in our house. Mom left because she was worried and wouldn't take me with her because she had this gut feeling that something wasn't right. One day we saw him, his new place near the Bow River. And then he was gone.

He would buy us kids the same gifts in different colours. One year it was golf clubs for Christmas - my set was yellow. Another year we got scooters, a red one and a blue. I can still picture him squinting one eye into the video camera lens, you know the kind that takes those compact cassettes? Like any Dad on Christmas morning, "What Did You Get?" and "What Do You Think?" were the usual follow up questions. It was always an interview with Dad. He loved asking questions, that must be where I get it from.

I can still remember the morning of 9/11 in our living room. Mom was standing in the kitchen making our lunches. I was eating breakfast at the table without a clue. The kitchen and living room were on opposite walls so from where she was standing she had a full view of the TV. Dad must have heard on the radio upstairs because he had his tie on already and seemed like he was leaving for work any second. Mom was yelling, "Tony, Oh My God, This is LIVE! This is RIGHT NOW." They were glued to CNN Breaking News. These are some of the oldest memories I have of him. 

Eventually, as I got a little older my Mom shared some things with me that didn't make my sympathy for Dad increase any. I didn't have sympathy for him at all. He left. He cheated. He lied. He wanted something else, not us. It's not his fault and it's not Mom's either. But I know he had a good heart. I know he needed to be loved a lot more than he was by his own parents. And when I found out my parents were going to get divorced I didn't feel anything. It's almost as if I understood how natural that was. Bearing in mind I heard some of their screaming matches. Watched my Dad throw a cordless phone across the room, seeing it smash to pieces. Hearing the words exasperatedly, "I don't want to be a Husband. I don't want to be a Father." while I sat at the table doing my homework. The weird thing is I don't remember why I let myself get so angry. That's just who he was. He was passionate and jealous and angry, too.

To be honest with you I still have questions about what my Mom did. I want to know why Dad said some things to me. It pains me to wish I knew him better. Life is so fucking precious we seem to forget that love is often enough. My Dad hated when I'd say, "Love You Too" after telling us, "I Love You." Somehow to him it didn't hold the same meaning. But now I think I get it. And because of this I repeat the words, "I Love You" to my husband after he says it to me. 

Even if love tends to make us do strange things it's like riding a bicycle. You can't forget how to tell someone you love them. This is the best thing my Dad ever taught me. Today he would have been 54.

Easy Like Sunday Morning vol.3

The US Presidential election will happen this week.

Looking from up here I can't figure out if Trump will stay another four years. He has done a lot of good in the eyes of his supporters but I'm not so sure the rest of us would say the same. I picture Donald Trump as the cartoon villain, Ursula, from The Little Mermaid.

Like any good story, a villain helps us to better understand the protagonist. The Little Mermaid's antagonist, voiced by Pat Carroll, is power-hungry, manipulative, flamboyant, and clearly comfortable in her own skin - a devilish disruptor with a poor reputation among the other underwater dwellers. Ursula is a Sea Witch, cold and ambitious. For the most part her character maintains these traits throughout the 1989 Walt Disney classic. 

However I wish to make something very clear here: I am in no uncertain terms comparing the lovely Pat Carroll to Donald J. Trump. 

Actress and Comedienne, Pat Carroll, has a heart of gold. She reads books to senior citizens living in nursing & rehabilitation centres! Born in 1927, she's probably older than some of the folks herself. Pat Carroll and Donald Trump really only have one thing in common. 

According to my knowledge, they both played a role fabulously.

But this post isn't about Pat Carroll, really. This time we're talking about the Poor, Unfortunate Souls who in 2016 voted for a celebrity to run their "Sweet Land of Liberty".  Thinking back to January 2017 when they swore in a man who had to host a television series to find someone willing to work with him. It was like, The Bachelorette, but for a sick, old millionaire with bad hair. What has he since done for the American people? Whatever happened to the whole idea behind, "United We Stand"?

When I look down at America from my deeply-flawed province in Canada, I can tell these people are hurting. Some had taken a giant leap of faith all those years ago, by trusting a man who claimed he could, Make America Great Again. I'd love to ask those same people, now more than seven months into a global pandemic, did Donald Trump succeed? Has he given you any more freedom than you already had? If you're lying to me, well I guess he did his job.

I see the USA in fucking shambles. You can't turn on the news anymore because it's frightening. Americans are scared, now? Well what the fuck were they thinking, four years ago, voting in a Sea Witch? I have zero sympathy for those who chose to support the words and actions of the 45th President of the United States. Like Ursula, he offered temporary opportunities the way a used car salesman tries to get you to part with your pennies. "Oh, you don't have a job? Just sign here. And here. And we'll take care of the rest..."

If you didn't catch the rest, allow me to help.

You've just paid $30,000.00 for a car worth $13,000.00.

Congratulations! 

Please Vote Accordingly.