Visiting Alan

 I went to his spot today.  I had been missing  him for a long time.  Had wished he had lived longer so I could talk to him about our sons.  I missed his grunts of reassurance, which surprising worked to heal the unknown.

He was such an enigma as a person.  So black and white.  Much like myself.  We had a love, hate relationship.  We fought a lot, and we also had some great moments that I wouldn't trade for anything.  There are no perfect days, just perfect moments.  These are the moments that haunt me.  These moments haunt people who lose someone they truly loved.  That look, or that flash of smile, that laughter in the rain or even while in pain.

He was so distant emotionally sometimes and yet who do things for you to show you he loved you in his work and through his at home projects.  He was a good father in one way and a 'bad' one in others.  Again, this is something he would show the boys through things he would do for them and be the strength and take on their pain.  Is that really a bad father though?  If he was unable to sit down and talk to you man to man, or tell you words you needed to hear or look you straight in the eye and say comforting praises like I am proud of you.  Sometimes fathers are a result of their fathers before them.  There is a song by Mike and the Mechanics, In the Living Years  that illustrate the very same thing.

When Al left us, I realized how much he did for us.  I guess that's really what I wanted to say to him.  It was cold and the wind blew hard again my face while I tried to find the words looking at this wall with his name on a plague.  I couldn't feel a connection at all.  In fact I felt silly instead, so the words just wouldn't come so I took pictures instead when words failed me.
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GemKqzILV4w&index=2&list=FLdg-RS31tFFV_49dy9quEoQ

Did you catch a glimpse?

In all of those years, in almost half of our lives

did you ever catch a glimpse?

I think we did once.

It was across the kitchen table

with bills to the left and baby bottles to the right

We must have been tired, it happened late one night.

It was like we saw into each other's soul

without words, but with undeniable truth

it almost happened

but we turned away instead

I think there were tears, I don't remember

But it was after Christmas, maybe late December.

In all of the battles we fought against each other

instead of living in peace

Did you ever catch a glimpse?

Did you know who you were hurting and who would

hurt in the end?

Did you know we could have been friends?

What about the little boy who lives inside you

did you know you hurt him most of all?

the one who you neglected, who was abused

the one you hated most of all for being afraid

did you pick him up and say everything's okay?

I would have helped you know, I tried to, God knows

but it was me who was punished

for all the things you didn't say, for all that you

couldn't control,

You know, I would have stayed,

if you only caught a glimpse.

Bomb Laden Hills

Ever since I was a little girl,

I saw the world through wondrous eyes

Of crystal-lit waters under moonlit skies

Of Green fields under colored rainbows

And early morning cries-

Of red-breasted robins

And herring fishes that jumped out

Of water onto porcelain dishes.

Of pale sheers that fluttered

Through stained-glass windows

Between oak ladened shutters

Ever since I was a little girl

I saw the world with wondrous eyes

Undistorted with flaws or long

Sharp claws of greed and hunger and lies

Undisturbed by human pain

Of gunshot wounds, financial ruins

And the bite of acid rain.

Of filthy waters under bomb-laden hills

Of crack cocaine, needles, alcohol and pills.

Untouched by the harm brought

To a child

Unscathed by the extinction of the

Call of the wild.

Ever since I was a little girl

I looked at the world through wondrous eyes

So what ever happened to paradise?

The Ruined Business

A long time ago when I was about 12, I recall my parents had made a decision to start their own business. Looking back now, I realize of course just how young they actually were. My father was a skilled carpet layer who was taught the trade by his father before him, who had made a fortune on it in the 40's. But that's another tale.

The business started off well-enough I suppose. I hardly saw them anymore... especially my father who was constantly working. Eventually the business grew from a room in an apartment to a 'CostCo-sized' warehouse where bales and bales of carpeting arrived daily. Soon my dad hired men to help him, but these so called 'helpers' just took advantage of their hourly wages by sitting around wasting time instead of being paid by the job. This was their first mistake.

Others included hiring family to 'do the books' which proved catastrophic when they were audited. So while my poor father was working to the bone, coming in late and tired with crippled knees and calloused hands, there was trouble brewing in the front office. Then it happened, a call came late one night from the police, who had said the warehouse was broken into and most of the carpeting for the next week's jobs were gone. They never did figure out who it was.

Then there came a knock on the door and a large, burly man asked me for the keys for my mother's car. He didn't take no for an answer, and despite my best efforts within 5 minutes my mom's car was gone. Eventually they lost their business.

I never actually saw my father cry, but I heard him one night. It was the worst sound I ever heard...

----

Since then, I was haunted by the sadness of closing businesses...

It was almost nightfall, on a cold, rainy night.  Up ahead just off Taunton Rd was a sign which read, "Maple Lane Nurseries".  Normally I would have kept going, but I was compelled to stop and take a closer look.

The picture I took of the cable fence, which I call, 'lockout' is symbolic (this would come to be my favorite of all the shots taken here).  I slowly moved my way in setting up my tripod, and my bracketing settings on the camera.  This I knew would be crucial for the HDR settings I had already decided to use on this collection of shots.   One by one, I saw the gloom, and the ruins of broken dreams.  From the broken windows and empty cash registers to the doorways swung open letting out the ghosts of dreams gone by.

Such beautiful things here, even in the chaotic ruins, I could imagine seeing the sun shining down on kept lawns, adorned with potted plants and immaculate greenhouses filled with flora of every imaginable color.


As I made my way around the back of one of the sheds, I saw a broken shed-like dwelling.  The wild flowers over-powered the front lawn and the bike that lay on its side brought memories back of when I was a child.  You know when businesses fail, it isn't just about the money.  It affects everyone in the family.  It can leave an impact on the kids too.  Everyone loses.

It took me a while before I decided to do something with these pictures, but I've decided to devote a blog in honor of my dad who worked his whole life for us, and even though he may think that he never quite made it there, in my mind and heart he taught me so much more than money can buy.

Remember Remembrance Day

My grandmother was a great woman.  Born, Lillian Groombridge in Ramsgate, England in the winter of 1906.  The onset of the Great War in the not so distant future was not felt yet.  She was the youngest of 6 children to her mother Martha and father Thomas.  Her father Thomas Groombridge worked hard in the shipyard in the Ramsgate Harbour.  At that time, Ramsgate was a small but beautiful town with a good port, located downtown.  Above the marina, there was  a chandelery, a sail loft, several marine shops and the Royal Temple Yacht club.  

Lillian loved to swim in the harbour, she told me.  I knew she must have many stories to tell about World War I, and before she passed on, I was able to document everything into a story about her life.  I can't share it all with you now, but in honour of Remembrance Day, I will share with you some of her memories leading up to Armistice 1918.

Lillian was 8 years old when she recalls a family friend coming over to have breakfast with her father.  She never understood at the time what conversation had transpired but the year was 1914, and Oscar had with him a newspaper that brought some bad news to her otherwise jovial father.  It was the first time her father had asked her to leave the table before she was finished eating.  (The Daily Mail and the Times report the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand..)

My grandmother had told me that within weeks there were so many changes in all of their lives, and those changes would only get worse over the next several years.  

Within weeks of the assassination, Austrian authorities arrest and interrogate three members of the 'Black Hand' in Sarajevo.  It was discovered that three members of Serbia were behind the whole plot to have Franz Ferdinand killed.  Germany announces full support with Austro-Hungary if they wish to take reprisals against Serbia.  But Austro-Hungary decide that they will take it one step further, and made 15 demands on the Serbian Government to which Serbia refused saying it would be against their Constitution, and criminal in law.  So Serbia reaches out for Russia for help and Russia agreed.  Austro-Hungary declared war on Serbia.  Russia mobilizes its forces supporting Serbia, and Germany then declared war on Russia.  This is how it all began...

My grandmother recalls: (taken from the excerpts of my book,"Lillian")

(The sunshine reflected on the corner of the kitchen cabinet, bouncing light onto the small table from where Martha and Thomas were in a somber discussion.  The year is 1917 and the war escalates worldwide)

THOMAS

"This is serious, Martha.  Very very bad.  The children will be told – tonight when I come home from work.   And no swimming, period!  They aren’t allowed to cross the fence by the beach.  Lillian’s been asking me lately, to come down to the Harbour and I can't allow that, you know.  It isn’t even safe there any more.  We’ve been given instruction in case of an air raid.  Well, I’ve got to go."(raises from the chair and kisses her head)

MARTHA

"I don't see how the war between Germany and Russia will affect us here!  I can't understand all of this.  I am  sure that England won’t get involved.  Surely this won’t affect us here"

THOMAS (buttoning his work shirt)

The Germans declared war on France, and Sir Grey, Britain's foreign secretary, warned Germany that Britain would go to war if Belgium is invaded...

---

She told me she was only 6 years old, when one of her teachers had taught her how to swim.  From that day on, she remembers swimming each and every day, during windstorms and even rainfalls.  But the rusted out 'Danger' sign and the barbed fence had kept her away but sometimes she defied the rules and went into the waters anyways but not without punishment.  On this very warm day in July of 1917, when Lilly was 11 she had set out to the beach without telling anyone.  Her father's pleasant countenance had long been gone replacing it with a bitter and scowling man.  As she left the house, her father had yelled for her to once more to stay off the beach.  Then it happened:

Suddenly it came..that crushing, horrifying sound of the air raid siren blasted throughout the house

These are the times when a mother cannot dare speak to her children.  When she cannot show her real self.   When she needs to be stronger than she is.  For to give yourself truly to them would frighten them, perhaps even more than her own fear.  War is something that Martha was unprepared for.  Something all of us are never prepared for.  The uncertainty of what she felt, wanting to lock herself and her family in a world of protective love, never to let them out of her sight, until peace upon the earth once again.  

(Martha insipidly holding a tea towel looking out the window)  The children all huddle in the center of the parlor room, looking to her for answers)when suddenly she realized Lillian was missing..

She was in the water of the Ramsgate Harbor when the overhead planes had flown.  The air raid sirens could be heard in the distance and grew louder and louder as she came up from under the waters depth.  She saw streams of bullets land across the water making a sound like, "pa-choo-choo" that she recalls.  She saw men land to their knees and fall forward and others screaming in pain holding wounds.  Shocked and afraid, she lowered herself under the water and wished it all away, swimming quietly away..

For months to follow, Lillian and her family were sensitive to every crack, sound and siren and took cover and shelter at school, on the streets and at home. In the end, everyone in her family was spared, but she had already lost friends, neighbours and teachers at such a young age.  

Final piece taken from my book, "Lillian" 

-         ACT III – Scene I

Fall/Winter – 1918 - Armistice

   

Armistice was called on the German government for a cease-fire on 4th October, 1918. After talks had taken place, the Armistice was signed at Compiegne in  France, on 11th November, 1918. Once signed, it was agreed that there would be a Peace Conference that would be held in Paris to discuss the post-war world. From January 12, 1919 to January 20, 1920, leaders representing 75% of the worlds population attended meetings in various locations in and around Paris. Life was finally becoming whole again.  

It was up to all of them to pick up the pieces now.  The war was finally over.

  

As for my grandmother? She went on to live through two world wars.  She raised 5 children of her own and died at a young age of 94.  There are a great many stories about the Great War that we will hear that will be told.  Its up to us to listen and pass them on and on this day to say We remember.

Good night grandma, where ever you are, I remember.

 

More stories to share

 

A Ghost Among Us

Halloween isn’t just for the kids..right? So last night Drac and I went out to meet the crowd on Church Street in Toronto for a block party which lasted till 2 a.m.  Dracula loves this time of year, but personally I have dare we say.. grown out of it, so I just donned my eyes with some exaggerated makeup, kept my blond hair long, wore a long skin hugging black dress opened at the collar with bare shoulders and a high neckline and my favorite accessory of all...my Camera.

Over 3 blocks closed, with local pubs opened and club all participating and the streets were jammed in happy displays.  Some noisy radio host, was blaring his voice into the mike announcing the next one in line ...wish he would shut up, my ears are killing me...

As I walked around eagerly searching for a zombie or one of the walking dead I noticed most people were here just like me, minimalistic and without overdone costumes.  Just casual enjoying all the efforts of the Halloween- cladded dwellers among us.  Then I thought for a moment maybe we are the ghosts? Maybe we are just here lurking on this night?   

My left foot was throbbing as I climbed up onto the stool of the bar we went to.  I had broken it last week miss the last two steps down a very steep staircase.  It was my fault, I was texting on my phone (everyone knows not to text while going downstairs..) The hospital took xrays that afternoon and confirmed my fears that my foot was broken.  But stubborn as I can be, I still went out and left my air boot at home ..the shoes were good support though...remember 'hush puppies'? soft and sensible shoes..that's what my grandmother would say.  I miss her, she's not with us anymore, but I still talk to her.  Funny I saw her a couple of weeks ago that's strange?

I ordered a rum a coke (highball) with ice *my favorite drink* and drac ordered a 'bloody ceaser' of course ...tee hee.  He did though and as I looked around at all the faces in the crowd I was asking him if he was having a good time...I thought not as he looked sad and didn't respond.  I thought the bartender was very rude as he brought drac's drink, and still I was waiting for my highball..with ice.  After 10 minutes I stood up and yelled out over the crowd, 'excuse me sir I believe you have forgotten to bring me my drink!' what is the matter with these people?  'I say sir!, I continued I shall report the Churchmouse and Firgin to the Head office of the FIRKIN PUBS!!

As I clumsily knocked over a stool to which I sat upon, I noticed that now everyone glared in shock and horror..what? why is everyone staring at me?  As drac picked the stool off the floor next to him, I was still sitting on the floor...and ignored...by drac..no one else could see me..!

BOO, LOL HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 2013

R.I.P. Alan Laine (1958 - 2013)

With a heavy heart and a painful shock to hear of the passing of my ex husband Alan Laine on Friday January 11th in 2013.   The greatest part of you is still alive in our sons Al. He had the most amazing work ethic. The saddest thing of all is that he never lived to reach his retirement. 

 Although we had the best and worst of times, we were young, and each of us made mistakes he was always there to provide for me and my sons no matter what, and I always told him that if I was stuck in the middle of the ocean without any oars, I would never be afraid because I would know he would get us home, and in a sense he always did. He wasn't perfect, but neither am I and none of us are. 

I'll always remember that time you woke me up at 4 am because you had painted the front of that old house we moved into on Pape Avenue because I was so embarrassed by the peeling of the paint and the broken down porch. Although I couldn't quite make it out and he seemed so excited by his handiwork, I could see in plain view the next bright sunny morning, that I was now the proud owner of the only pitch, black shiny house on the street :) I told him I loved it...and never did have the heart to tell him otherwise... 

In the end we resolved to the fact that although we loved each other, our lives drifted apart but one thing that held us together and will eternally is the result of our love and that is our sons.  He was a great dad, and will be missed.

---------------------------------------------

When our lives are over, sometimes all we have left is that someone cares that we are gone.