"Nothing is as constant as change." Not my words, but ones so very very true. How about this one - "A change is as good as a rest." Again, not mine, but I sure believe in its message. Now when you combine the message in these expressions with one of my all time favourites, then we've really have something prophetically profound. "If you've got an itch.....scratch it."
Ten years ago, that exactly what I did. Lynda and I were living in Burlington, Ontario. Kendall and Avery were three and one years of age and went to a wonderful lady's house whenever we trotted off to our jobs. We all resided in our quaint little bungalow, in an established area of the city, with massive oak and maple trees lining our peaceful suburbia. After being there for 8 years, we had formed great relationships with many of our neighbours too, with a lot of them becoming more like family than merely just friends. We had a pool. The weather in Burlington is ranked as being near the top for the entire country. We loved the warm summers and short winters. Lynda also loved her job. As for me, I was no longer working the dreaded weekend and night shifts and had settled into a Monday to Friday day job as an investigator of white collar crimes for the RCMP. Not much of a requirement to wear my bullet proof vest in that gig, albeit the paper cuts were brutal. At least they were until my fingers toughened up. Perhaps I should have used the puncture resistant gloves that I had dawned so often whenever I was searching the person, vehicle, or anything to do with a suspected drug trafficker. Oh well, hindsight is 20-20. (No, again, not my expression! I need to work on being more original.) I certainly can't forget Doug and Dallas. Our dearest friends and soul mates. Transplanted Newfies too, they lived not too far away and we could usually be found together, doing some of the "funnest" stuff and making memories to last a lifetime.
By any measurement, my life was pretty good a decade ago. I could have easily convinced the RCMP to leave me in the Greater Toronto Area for the remainder of my career, so no one was likely to force us to leave the home that I had lived in longer than any other during my entire life. No one, that is, except me.
I still don't know what exactly it was that caused my itch. I just knew that I needed a change and that my family did too. Perhaps it was dad's death a few months earlier. That is the most likely candidate. I spent a few weeks back home during dad's final days and after he died. I left Newfoundland in 1989 and this was the longest time that I had spent back there since. When I returned to life in Ontario, I developed a yearning to go home. It seems that no matter how long they are away, transplanted Newfoundlanders always call the place home. Lynda needed some convincing, quite a bit actually. Eventually she came on board and I was able to call in a few favours and by the summer of 2004, we all had relocated back to the island.
Today, we have a wonderful house, with a view of the ocean to die for. We live in the woods. There is lots of privacy and we enjoy doing so many outdoor activities that come with being nestled in our quaint little town. The kids are 13 and 11 and this is the only home that they remember. They love it here. My mom lives with us. She has her little apartment downstairs and she is the glue that bonds us all. Her baking is pretty good too. We have great neighbours and have watched families grow and prosper during the last 10 years. Lynda has worked at the same company for the last eight years and enjoys the challenges but welcomes the flexibility the job provides so she can partake in the kids' activities. I'm no longer in the RCMP, having burned the candle at both ends for too many years, my mind and body told me it was time to leave. I have tinkered at several jobs but because I haven't jumped back into the workforce entirely. This has afforded me with the opportunity to spend so much more time with Kendall and Avery. I am blessed to have had this opportunity and it's my most treasured gift. As for the weather here.....it sucks.
So guess what? My itch has returned. Change is in the wind. I don't know what yet, nor do I know where. I just know that it is very likely that a year or two from now, things will be very different for me and my family. I'll take my time, think it through, and consult Lynda constantly, so that we make the best decision possible. It's just like when you go on the city bus and the driver says..."Correct change only."
As for my life so far, I wouldn't change a thing.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Thursday, January 09, 2014
Father Christmas Kicks Butt
I had a very quiet Christmas. It was by choice. Perhaps I was a little humbugged about it all. There was no reason for me to be like that, I just was. Sometimes that's just how it goes. So for my many friends out there, don't be offended by the absence of a card in the mail or in your in-box, by the non-call, or by the no show of me gracing the threshold of your doorway. I still think about you often. Okay, okay.....so maybe sometimes it's when I am wondering whether my gift from you may have been lost in the mail.
As out of season as I may have been, I certainly did my fair share of giving during this festive time. I know it is far better to give than receive, but I am beginning to wonder about the merits of that joyous expression. I had such a run of bad luck that maybe the spirit of Christmas was silently giving me a kick in the ass for not feeling the love of the season. Briefly, here are some of the things that have happened to me over the last few weeks:
- truck broken into, window smashed and backpack, with laptop and other items inside, taken
- stepped on my glasses and crushed them to bits
- furnace conked out during coldest day of the year
- hot water heater pipe busted but only minor flooding in garage
- leak in roof
I feel like I am forgetting a few, but it's giving me a headache to thing about it any more. You get the message. The giving part of all these calamities is in the cheques I have written. Merry Christmas to my plumber, mechanic, optometrist, handyman, and building contractor. To Father Christmas.....I get the message....LOUD and |CLEAR. What's your address? I'm putting your gift for 2014 in the mail immediately. Just one thing, will you take a cheque?
As out of season as I may have been, I certainly did my fair share of giving during this festive time. I know it is far better to give than receive, but I am beginning to wonder about the merits of that joyous expression. I had such a run of bad luck that maybe the spirit of Christmas was silently giving me a kick in the ass for not feeling the love of the season. Briefly, here are some of the things that have happened to me over the last few weeks:
- truck broken into, window smashed and backpack, with laptop and other items inside, taken
- stepped on my glasses and crushed them to bits
- furnace conked out during coldest day of the year
- hot water heater pipe busted but only minor flooding in garage
- leak in roof
I feel like I am forgetting a few, but it's giving me a headache to thing about it any more. You get the message. The giving part of all these calamities is in the cheques I have written. Merry Christmas to my plumber, mechanic, optometrist, handyman, and building contractor. To Father Christmas.....I get the message....LOUD and |CLEAR. What's your address? I'm putting your gift for 2014 in the mail immediately. Just one thing, will you take a cheque?
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
My AM is Radio Free
Does it get any better than this? It's a few minutes past 6 a.m. (I love early mornings); most of the idiots of this part of the world are asleep or passed out (cops love this time of the night shift) ; I have a Tall Blond beside me that was complimentary because Starbucks didn't have a pot of it ready when I ordered; (personal note - I'm more partial to brunettes.); the music playing in the background is mellow enough that it still allows the brain to process somewhat and what's playing won't be found on the radio station that my kids make me listen to.
Don't get me wrong, I love Katie Perry's music and especially her look, but the station favoured by my kids tends to play the same few artists over and over and over. So many of them sound alike alike alike.... I drive Kendall and Avery nuts by usually guessing incorrectly as to who is singing whatever song is blasting out of the radio. Kendall is a One Direction freak, so I just love to push her buttons by purposely guessing wrong for any of their songs. I actually do know most of their songs. How could I not? Thanks to osmosis from radio waves, video feedback, posters covering every bit of Kendall's bedroom, and the highest pitched shriek known to man that comes from my 13 year old to signal that the radio station is about to play a 1D song (again).
I've managed to instil some civility in the kids. There was a time that as soon as they got into my vehicle, which ever one sat in the front, her little pointer finger would automatically shoot to the radio buttons and on would come 99.1 The Hits. No please, no thank you, nothing! It didn't even matter if I was listening to the Moonman, a frequent and colourful caller to AM talk radio, or singing a duet with my favourite artist, Neil Diamond, as one of his classics was being played by a radio station that knows real music. My kids were radio bullies. I really put the fix to them when I would turn off the radio all together whenever their fingers did the walking all over my listening pleasure. When left with the option of silence and maybe having to actually speak with their dad, the kids quickly learned to ask politely if it would be okay to change the station. Some tough old man I am. Well, not really. I have never said no, but at least it makes me feel more appreciated.
Perhaps I do get the last laugh on my two little darlings. The new (to me) truck that I bought recently has one feature that originally bugged me but there's no way I'll be getting it fixed now. Only one speaker works and it's the one furthest away from the driver. I'm half deaf in my right ear too. Touché kids and ha ha Lady Gaga!
I have time for a refill before I'm off to pick Avery up at the pool. She or her sister have early morning swimming practice four days a week. Starbucks opens at 5:30 so it works out perfectly for me. I can drop them off, come here to read or write or even just veg. The couch is comfy, the fireplace comforting and One Direction is no where to be found. Life isn't just good, it's "Grande".
Don't get me wrong, I love Katie Perry's music and especially her look, but the station favoured by my kids tends to play the same few artists over and over and over. So many of them sound alike alike alike.... I drive Kendall and Avery nuts by usually guessing incorrectly as to who is singing whatever song is blasting out of the radio. Kendall is a One Direction freak, so I just love to push her buttons by purposely guessing wrong for any of their songs. I actually do know most of their songs. How could I not? Thanks to osmosis from radio waves, video feedback, posters covering every bit of Kendall's bedroom, and the highest pitched shriek known to man that comes from my 13 year old to signal that the radio station is about to play a 1D song (again).
I've managed to instil some civility in the kids. There was a time that as soon as they got into my vehicle, which ever one sat in the front, her little pointer finger would automatically shoot to the radio buttons and on would come 99.1 The Hits. No please, no thank you, nothing! It didn't even matter if I was listening to the Moonman, a frequent and colourful caller to AM talk radio, or singing a duet with my favourite artist, Neil Diamond, as one of his classics was being played by a radio station that knows real music. My kids were radio bullies. I really put the fix to them when I would turn off the radio all together whenever their fingers did the walking all over my listening pleasure. When left with the option of silence and maybe having to actually speak with their dad, the kids quickly learned to ask politely if it would be okay to change the station. Some tough old man I am. Well, not really. I have never said no, but at least it makes me feel more appreciated.
Perhaps I do get the last laugh on my two little darlings. The new (to me) truck that I bought recently has one feature that originally bugged me but there's no way I'll be getting it fixed now. Only one speaker works and it's the one furthest away from the driver. I'm half deaf in my right ear too. Touché kids and ha ha Lady Gaga!
I have time for a refill before I'm off to pick Avery up at the pool. She or her sister have early morning swimming practice four days a week. Starbucks opens at 5:30 so it works out perfectly for me. I can drop them off, come here to read or write or even just veg. The couch is comfy, the fireplace comforting and One Direction is no where to be found. Life isn't just good, it's "Grande".
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