My Princess
She came into my world on October 2nd, 1977 and changed my life forever.
Her birth was momentous for several reasons. Back when Chris was born fathers weren't allowed into the delivery room. I had to stand outside the entire nineteen hours of Janice's labour listening to her moan and call out for me. With Heather things had changed and I was allowed in, although Dr. Thicke cautioned that he had lost more men in the delivery room and told me if I felt queasy I was on my own.
Dr. Thicke was a riot. He had always been our family doctor. His son, Alan (yes, Robin's Dad) inherited his Dad's warped sense of humor. Heather was born with a cleft lip, but Dr. Thicke said not to worry and that a bit of make-up would cover it. He lied, but he didn't want to ruin our special moment. He then asked me if I wanted him to add a few extra stitches to Janice. Then, as he stitched her up he was singing Off We Go Into the Wild Blue Yonder because we were keeping him from flying his plane up north. The biggest mistake I made, one I would pay dearly for in the next few months, was that I cradled Heather and walked up and down the hallway trying to get her to stop crying.
The next rather emotional moment was when Janice's Dad first saw Heather. His reaction at her cleft lip was really scary. Of course he had been brought up in a time when a cleft lip was for life and he worried that this would be an emotional scar for Heather forever. We assured him that Dr. Thicke had not been worried about it at all and said it could easily be fixed so you would never notice it. He had lied.
On a first check-up Dr. Thicke told us the truth and asked if we wanted her to have the surgery right away. He said he had consulted with one of the top surgeons in Canada who was prepared to operate right away. I couldn't stand the thought of exposing this tiny little baby to surgery, so I asked him if it was really necessary to do it right away. He said it was much better to wait until she was older, but that most parents want it done right away to show off their new baby. To me that was the last reason to do it and we wanted to do what was right for Heather.
When she was just a few months old she got the dreaded colic. She just cried and cried, twenty-four hours a day for three months. Although Janice stayed home with her and I worked, the only thing that would soothe Heather was for me to walk up and down the hallway, cradling her in my arms, just like I had after she was born. Those were three very long and trying months until she finally got over it and started sleeping again.
The day finally came when we had to go down to Sick Kids to have the surgery. Heather was always such a happy baby and I still remember her big smile as they took her away in the elevator. It was a gut-wrenching moment, but when you are at Sick Kids and see all the tragic children in the cancer ward and the burn ward you realize just how lucky you are. I still remember little Jason who had been burned over ninety percent of his body in a gas explosion. He didn't even look human but he was the happiest, bubbly little boy despite his injuries.
After Heather's surgery the next momentous thing was the panic phone call I got from Janice's Dad telling me that Heather had fallen and I had to come right away. I rushed to their place, opened the door and there was Heather in Dad's arms. She saw me and broke out into her usual smile, except this time her face virtually parted as she had broken all the stitches. Dad felt so bad and thought he had done a terrible thing but I told him not to worry. Off we went to Sick Kids again and they stitched her up all over again.
Unlike our very strong-willed and always getting into trouble son, Heather was a dream child. Chris was very involved in hockey and we seemed to spend every waking moment in an arena somewhere. It was a much different time back then and Heather used to wander all over the arena, meeting people because she sure wasn't shy, proudly showing off her Cabbage Patch dolls to anyone who would listen. We never worried about her because she had every parent on our team looking after her.
My marriage had ended long ago, so as Heather grew older we started doing more things together. We always invited Janice along but she never came with us. Heather and I would go biking on the great trails around Brampton as often as we could. We had a great day at Professor's Lake sailing and we spent a wonderful New Year's Eve skating at Gage Park with a gazillion families, drinking hot apple cider out of a big kettle over an open fire and skating. It was like a picture postcard except Mom wasn't there.
Her first life lesson was when she asked if she could spend New Year's Eve at her friend Melanie's house. I was never too fond of Melanie because she seemed a little wild but I knew Heather had never given me cause not to trust her judgment so I let her go. Later that night we get the call to take Heather to the hospital because she's been drinking and she's really sick. When we get her to the hospital the doctor warns she was close to alcohol poisoning and it could have been fatal if we hadn't got her to the hospital in time. I still remember driving home in silence and she finally asked if I wasn't going to say something. I asked her if I needed to and she said no. I knew she had learned a valuable lesson at a young age and she was unlikely to ever drink that much again.
In all the years as a child she never needed any discipline. She was a really good kid with a good head on her shoulders and she didn't need it. The only time I struck her was a slap on her face when she said her mother was a bitch. She knew that regardless if it was true she had to always show respect for her mother. Lesson learned.
There were so many, many good times with Heather. One of my favorites was when I surprised her with tickets to see the Phantom of the Opera in Toronto. Even back then they were ninety-seven dollars so it was going to be a very special night. It was the experience of a lifetime and we loved every minute. When it was over I bought her the CD and it was always a hoot to hear her blasting it with a bunch of girlfriends in her room.
After I had driven out west to see my parents Heather and Chris came out for a three-week vacation. We had such a ball doing everything. Heather was just as fanatical about dirt-biking as Chris was and my Dad rigged up pegs on the back wheel for her so she could sit behind me. On the way home one time I took a wrong turn and we ended up going down the incredibly steep power line instead of the road. I would ask her to get off at the top of very steep inclines and I would slide the bike down and then she would get back on. I was so careful not to panic her by saying we might not make it, but she never doubted it for a minute. I wish she could have had her own bike because I know she would have loved it.
As happy as their vacation was, it ended on a really sad note. Both kids told me that they had never seen me happier and that I should stay out west. They said it was obvious that my marriage was over and that I had tried my best to make it work. I just couldn't believe that my beautiful daughter wanted me to be thousands of miles away from her. After I dropped them at the airport I found a secluded spot and cried for hours. It was one of the lowest points of my life. Despite her advice I just couldn't stand the thought of leaving her, so I returned to Ontario and wasted a few more years. She has been right all along.
There were too many sad moments. My ex insisted on starting screaming matches and every time I would calmly ask her to save it for later or for when Heather wasn't home. After the scream-fest I would go up to check on Heather and find her sobbing. It always broke my heart.
After I finally gave up and realized my marriage had been over for years I made the decision to go out west to spend what time my mother had left. She had been diagnosed with fifth-stage melanoma and wasn't expected to live six months at best. The day I left Heather, although I was certainly sad and cried my eyes out at leaving her, I really thought she would come out for vacations and I would see her. I had no clue that it would be the last time I ever saw her and I haven't seen her for more than twenty years now. I think about her every day and miss her so much. She was, and always will be, my Princess.
Dirt Bikes over the years
Thanks to my Dad mostly, I had many great bikes over the years. Way back when I was sixteen and still in school I bought a Honda 90 street bike to get back and forth quickly instead of the long bus tour home. Great as it was to be able to get around cheaply, I still felt like a bug on the highway. I don't remember what my top speed was, but it wasn't enough to keep up with the traffic coming out of what was Streetsville at the time. I was always thankful to turn off the busy highway onto Derry Road West and then the Fifth Line.
Funny that I have zero recollection what ever happened to that bike. I did end up getting a car and I must have sold the bike to buy the car, but I can't remember. All these years later, taking the bus everywhere, I sure would like to have that little Honda 90 today. Would also be nice to "get outta Dodge" on the week-ends to spend some time outside the city.
Dirt-Biking Heaven
With the exception of the birth of my daughter, nothing in life has given me more joy than dirt-biking. My Dad introduced me to dirt-biking way back in 1978 when I went out West for a visit. He was so anxious to have me go biking with him that he bought a Honda 125 before I arrived. He knew I had ridden a street Honda back after I left school, but riding the street is totally different than riding off-road.
We went up into the hills behind Westbank and he showed me the basics. He told me to take it easy until I got used to the bike, but that didn't last one turn around the field. No sooner did I start out than I was bouncing along among the gofer hills, hooting and hollering, loving every minute. I remember him saying that I was going to fall any minute now and that I would not enjoy.
As the saying goes, I took to biking like a fish to water, and soon Dad and I were riding everywhere around Westbank, from short rides through the reserve to going up into the hills to pristine mountain lakes. Mum would make us some lunch and we would strap on a six pack of beer and head off. By the time we stopped for lunch the beer would literally explode when we opened it from being bounced all around on Dad's bike. They were such good times and I hated to go home. Dad later told me he sold the bike for more than he bought it for, which was the first of many bikes over the years.
Although I went out again in 1986, the whole family came to visit Expo 86 and I don't remember Dad and I getting in any riding. We also didn't plan on it so he hadn't bought a bike for me either.
The next trip out was with my son in 1989. I picked him up after work on Thursday and we drove straight through to Revelstoke, arriving on Saturday night after some trouble at the US border. Dad had rented two Honda 185 dirt bikes and trailored them up to Revelstoke. We did a couple of great rides up into the mountains around Revy, with one being to an old gold mine where there was gold literally lying everywhere, but you weren't allowed to take any. The mine had been shutdown because they used cyanide to extract the gold.
To this day I have never forgotten one of the best moments of my life. We had stopped beside the river to have our lunch. Chris and I were sitting on our bikes enjoying a beer and looking around at the gorgeous scenery. He said, "Dad. It doesn't get any better than this." So very true and a great moment between us.
Ten years of good times
Like most people I played a bit of pool if there was time to kill and a table in a bar somewhere. I was never particularly great at it, but I enjoyed the game. Until I moved out West I never really had time to play on a regular basis in a league, plus for many years I worked all over the place and seldom would be able to make a regular playing time.
No question that the Okanagan is truly a four season playground and there's so much to do at every time of the year. Although the winters are mild, it gets dark by four o'clock so most activities like skiing are reserved for the week-ends. I started looking for things to do in the winter. I signed up to play racquetball in a Tuesday night league. Most Thursdays I went to the Corral to dance. The only thing that appealed to me on a Monday was the local pool bar league.
Life Lessons Learned Too Late - How one mistake can ruin your life.
When you are young and foolish you make mistakes in judgment that are just part of growing up. Sometimes you "get in with the wrong crowd" with peer pressure to do something you know is wrong. If you get away with whatever stupid thing you did, well, that's just exciting, right? If you get caught; however, that's a whole different story. Especially these days with so much video being shot of those dumb moments, like the riots in Vancouver. In Kelowna there was the case of the kids who stole an SUV and trashed it, recording every moment of their crime like idiots.
Career Assessment. This was amazingly accurate.
Discovered a site in my job search, and this was the free report they gave me. I was amazed at how well they captured who I am, job-wise anyway. It’s www.careerxactcom. Hey, if you are looking for anyone?
Memories of My Father
It's truly hard to believe that it's been eight years since my father died in my arms. It's said that moments of great trauma stay with you forever and every single moment from hearing the first screams from my friend, Ans, are seared into my memory like they happened yesterday.
James Taylor said it best
If you've been following my blog you know that life has not been kind to me lately. Just when I thought things were finally turning around for me with a job, albeit the worst job I've even had in my life with the worst company I've ever had the misfortune to work for, Stream Global Services, I was wrongfully dismissed last November.
Another Milestone?
Proves that you are never too old to get fired. I'm struggling with whether it is worse to work at the worst job in my life, or getting fired from the worst job in my life?
My Life at September 2012
It has been a long and bumpy road, no question. How I have ended up in this situation, penniless, working part-time at minimum wage, alone and in a city I loathe, is the result of mistakes and just plain bad luck. All of us have many "turning points" in our lives, moments or decisions that changed the direction of our lives completely. Location plays a huge part, obviously. Where we are born and where we chose to live during our lives, Marriage, Kids, Career changes, Death, Loves and the people who come into your life, as they say, for a "reason" or a "season".
Up until about 1992 I had had what you would call a "normal" life. Got married in 1969; had two wonderful children, both of whom were heavily involved in sports, which I loved. After twenty-three years of marriage I finally accepted that it was never going to be what either of us wanted, and now that the kids had busy lives of their own and hardly had time to see me, I made a life-changing decision. My parents, brother and sister had moved to the Okanagan in 1970 and we had seen each other on rare occasions for many years. In 1991 my mother was stricken with fifth stage melanoma and was given only a five percent chance of survival. For various reasons I had been working around the clock, trying to keep a roof over our heads, while my ex didn't even try to get a job, and my doctor told me I was a poster child for a heart attack if I didn't make some radical changes. My marriage was dead in the water and I wanted desperately to spend what remaining time my mum had with her, so, at the encouragement of my kids, I moved West and spent sixteen glorious years in paradise.
What I did not know when I left was that it would cost me my relationship with my kids. I believed that they would come out again to visit me and my family and we would again have the wonderful times we had enjoyed earlier when they had come out for three weeks. Both kids said they had never seen me happier and encouraged me to move. For whatever reason, and this will haunt me to my deathbed, my ex chose to cut-off any contact with my kids and no matter how hard I tried, would not let me see them. After making contact with my daughter, she asked me to come down to see her. I drove across the country, in the depths of winter, nearly buying the farm several times, only to arrive back in Brampton to discover my ex and her new hubby would not let me see her. I hung around for three weeks, staying with my son's family, to no avail. I never saw my daughter again after leaving her in 1993. It crushed me and has never made any sense to me. I reconnected with my son through Facebook in 2007 and I had high hopes that we would be together again, but he chose to again cut me off. I was most upset that my father had passed away and my mother was suffering from Alzheimer's, but they had made no attempt to contact them in all those years. It broke my heart.
After losing my parents I took over a foreclosure on a mobile home in Westbank and worked fourteen hour days, seven days a week, for a year and a half, completely gutting it and rebuilding it into a showpiece home, one I was told was the best in the Okanagan. The day before I was to list it, one of the local Indian chiefs came out in the press, stating anyone who bought on Indian land was "stupid", because there was no tenancy and all their parks would be shutdown and condos built instead. Overnight the market crashed. Not only could I not sell it, but I also lost the financing I had. My doctor told me that my stress level was "off the charts" and I had to get out from under this burden, no matter what. I managed to put the place in the care of a good friend, and my other friend agreed to look after the place until I could hopefully sell it in the spring. I left for Panama in 2007; however, instead my so-called "friend" let the place go to ruins, most critically not shoveling off the heavy snow from the roof, and it collapsed. The repair estimate was over twenty thousand dollars and I had no hope of paying for this. My buddy managed to salvage a distress sale, but I lost everything.
My time in Panama was no picnic either. I was renovating an apartment complex for a guy back in Kelowna, but he didn't pay me for my work. I had also given temporary shelter to a Panamanian family who were facing being on the streets. They were only to stay for two weeks, but after two months I had to get the police in to get them out. When they finally moved out, they stole everything that wasn't nailed down. They never even paid me for the two months I had fed them. I was left with $21 in my bank and no hope. I also had a gall bladder attack and ended up in the hospital, where they nearly killed me with their antiquated surgery techniques. I barely escaped with my life. My dear cousin back in Toronto offered me shelter, so I sold everything I could get my hands on and flew back to Toronto. She saved my life at the time.
As luck would have it, mostly bad luck, during my time in Toronto I met a woman from London on the internet. We talked for hours and she eventually came to visit me, and, well, it was love at first sight for me. I honestly believed she was my soul mate and we would be together forever, so I moved to London to be with her. Tragically, she got secretly involved with another guy on the internet, and went to meet him behind my back. It was obviously over between us and now I was just left stuck in a town I hated, alone, broke and very unhappy. I ended up on assistance and living in a men's shelter. Somehow, through all of this, I managed to get a part-time job at Home Depot, but I was not getting enough hours to survive. The Salvation Army Centre of Hope paid my last month's rent to avoid my eviction, but I couldn't pay December's rent either, and again faced eviction. A small glimmer of hope was that the London Housing Corporation finally contacted me about getting a "geared to income" place, but I couldn't even meet with them until the end of December, and there is no guarantee that I would be approved. I was at my wit's end. There are many days I had dark thoughts. I am also a diabetic, and was about to run out of my meds yet again. The last time I went through that and had no meds for six weeks, I ended up in the hospital with a sky-high sugar level of 24, which is the stage for a heart attack. Maybe, after all this, it would be merciful.