Sunday, December 25, 2011
My Favorite Christmas
In the summer of 2000 Aidan was 4 and Brennan was about 1-and-a-half. With no idea of what we were really getting ourselves into, Jo and I stepped off a cliff and moved the whole family from Edmonton to Logan, Utah, a small city (75,000 or so people, including the surrounding county) about a half hour south of the Idaho border, largely populated by Mormons. I didn't have a visa for work; Jo's job was why we were down there, and we discovered that I might be able to do something about that but it would take a chunk of time and an even bigger chunk of change, all directed towards a lawyer. So I stayed home and was a house husband, something that every so often raised an eyebrow down there.
We did eventually make some friends, although it often took both time and some pig-headedness on our parts. Early on Jo and I had to make due with acquaintances, but at least Aidan (and to a lesser extent Brennan, because of how young he was) was able to make friends fairly quickly.
In early autumn there was a problem with something in the laundry room: I can't remember if it was the washer, or maybe the furnace, which shared the space, but whatever it was, I wasn't able to deal with it. I called the landlord, a good and decent man who lived up the block and whose grandson was already Aidan's best friend, and after looking he decided to call in a repairman.
We talked, that repairman and I. Like many others who lived down there, he was surprised to find that someone had moved there from Canada and yet wasn't a Mormon. But he was a nice enough fellow, and already it was good for me to every so often have a grown up conversation.
Fast forward to late December, just before Christmas. We were staying put that year; the drive back to Edmonton to be with my family was close to 12 hours in good weather, and if we wanted to see Jo's family in Peace River another 5 or more hours would be tacked on top of that. And Christmas is not the time of year that either her family or mine travel, due to other commitments. No real friends yet, remember, although we were invited (along with a number of seniors from a residence and a few other unattached families and singles) to our babysitter's home for a big meal on Christmas. And while that ended up being a fine meal, it was so large and unwieldy that it felt a little impersonal, or like attending a charity meal.
Anyhow, one night just before Christmas - perhaps the very night before, although my memory has let that slip away - the doorbell rang. I went and opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Santa Claus, accompanied by a young girl, about 10, dressed as an elf. He made the requisite Santa-like noises, and then, seeing the evident confusion on my face (was this a Mormon tradition I was unaware of?) he pulled down his beard ever so slightly and reminded me that he'd been my repairman a few months before. Turns out he'd recognized somehow that a) we weren't going anywhere, b) weren't having family visit us and c) we were feeling mightily removed from the surrounding community.
I invited him in and we went to find the boys. Somewhere, buried in a box, there are pictures of Aidan and Brennan accepting candy canes from Santa and from Emily the Elf. Neither boy was brave enough to confront him head on, though, and so both had to hide behind Jo and then, with some coaxing from Santa and their parents, reach out just far enough to get their fingertips on the candy canes. Santa talked to the boys, and they played shy, and then he wished us all a very Merry Christmas and left, politely not noticing how close to tears I was.
Both Aidan and Brennan were pretty keen about this visit. After the fact, of course. And to this day Aidan says he thinks he can remember it.
There was no proselytizing that night, so attempt to see us on the rightness of one way versus the wrongness of another. Instead, all we saw was a glimpse of humanity, a man and a child who knew that perhaps just a tiny gesture would be enough to intervene on the potential gloom that can overwhelm you when you're alone - because even together, sometimes we forget and get lost in that loneliness - and remind you that there are good people out there.
We're "alone" again this Christmas. We haven't gone to visit family, and, same as always, they can't come visit us. Our dearest friends live in other cities, although we do have friends here, and will be seeing some of them over the next few days. But we have each other, and we try to step up for other people when we can, and, you know, the peace and quiet of a small family Christmas isn't quite so smothering as it once was.
Merry Christmas, all, and Happy Holidays. And let me leave you with a link to our friend Maria Dunn singing "God Bless Us Everyone" from The Carol Project.
We did eventually make some friends, although it often took both time and some pig-headedness on our parts. Early on Jo and I had to make due with acquaintances, but at least Aidan (and to a lesser extent Brennan, because of how young he was) was able to make friends fairly quickly.
In early autumn there was a problem with something in the laundry room: I can't remember if it was the washer, or maybe the furnace, which shared the space, but whatever it was, I wasn't able to deal with it. I called the landlord, a good and decent man who lived up the block and whose grandson was already Aidan's best friend, and after looking he decided to call in a repairman.
We talked, that repairman and I. Like many others who lived down there, he was surprised to find that someone had moved there from Canada and yet wasn't a Mormon. But he was a nice enough fellow, and already it was good for me to every so often have a grown up conversation.
Fast forward to late December, just before Christmas. We were staying put that year; the drive back to Edmonton to be with my family was close to 12 hours in good weather, and if we wanted to see Jo's family in Peace River another 5 or more hours would be tacked on top of that. And Christmas is not the time of year that either her family or mine travel, due to other commitments. No real friends yet, remember, although we were invited (along with a number of seniors from a residence and a few other unattached families and singles) to our babysitter's home for a big meal on Christmas. And while that ended up being a fine meal, it was so large and unwieldy that it felt a little impersonal, or like attending a charity meal.
Anyhow, one night just before Christmas - perhaps the very night before, although my memory has let that slip away - the doorbell rang. I went and opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Santa Claus, accompanied by a young girl, about 10, dressed as an elf. He made the requisite Santa-like noises, and then, seeing the evident confusion on my face (was this a Mormon tradition I was unaware of?) he pulled down his beard ever so slightly and reminded me that he'd been my repairman a few months before. Turns out he'd recognized somehow that a) we weren't going anywhere, b) weren't having family visit us and c) we were feeling mightily removed from the surrounding community.
I invited him in and we went to find the boys. Somewhere, buried in a box, there are pictures of Aidan and Brennan accepting candy canes from Santa and from Emily the Elf. Neither boy was brave enough to confront him head on, though, and so both had to hide behind Jo and then, with some coaxing from Santa and their parents, reach out just far enough to get their fingertips on the candy canes. Santa talked to the boys, and they played shy, and then he wished us all a very Merry Christmas and left, politely not noticing how close to tears I was.
Both Aidan and Brennan were pretty keen about this visit. After the fact, of course. And to this day Aidan says he thinks he can remember it.
There was no proselytizing that night, so attempt to see us on the rightness of one way versus the wrongness of another. Instead, all we saw was a glimpse of humanity, a man and a child who knew that perhaps just a tiny gesture would be enough to intervene on the potential gloom that can overwhelm you when you're alone - because even together, sometimes we forget and get lost in that loneliness - and remind you that there are good people out there.
We're "alone" again this Christmas. We haven't gone to visit family, and, same as always, they can't come visit us. Our dearest friends live in other cities, although we do have friends here, and will be seeing some of them over the next few days. But we have each other, and we try to step up for other people when we can, and, you know, the peace and quiet of a small family Christmas isn't quite so smothering as it once was.
Merry Christmas, all, and Happy Holidays. And let me leave you with a link to our friend Maria Dunn singing "God Bless Us Everyone" from The Carol Project.
Labels: Christmas, family, music
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Some New Pictures Are Up
At my Picasa site, including shots of the boys with their long hair and on the eventful day of their haircuts. Check out the albims "2007 Shots" and "Family" for all the latest.
At my Picasa site, including shots of the boys with their long hair and on the eventful day of their haircuts. Check out the albims "2007 Shots" and "Family" for all the latest.
Labels: family, Moore's Meadow, nature, photography
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Me and My DadHe was still in the hospital where surgery had been performed, but the other day he was finally moved to a rehabilitation hospital where he can do more work on learning to live without that right foot, and where they can work up the best prosthetic for him.
When this picture was taken he was almost done his antibiotics (you can see the shunt on his left arm) and was certainly much perkier than I recall him being for some time. I loaned him some books that weekend and he read five chapters of one the first day, which is an excellent sign, since he wasn't able to read so much as a Post-It note just a few days before.
Before he can be fitted with the prosthetic, he also needs to have his stump shaped. They wrap it with special bandages and mould it so that it fits better. There are also a whole swack of staples holding the graft in place (when they amputated, they left the skin from the back of the calf and pulled it up. Interestingly, this may be where some so-called phantom pains come from, as he can feel nonexistent muscles pulling whenever he stretches out, likely from nerves that were left in the skin), as well as a wound that needs to recover.
The trick for all this will be for him to be able to deal with the loss of muscle mass from lying around in bed so much (and they've had him doing some physio already, to get him back in shape), and he'll also need to work around his ruined joints in his hands and fingers (if he needs crutches) and his other foot, which is also severely buggered up, to the point where he kind of has a reverse arch that does a U, which requires a special orthotic boot.
So, 6-8 weeks of rehab before he can come home, or at least that's the latest I've heard. Now that he's there they'll know better soon.
Time For a Family PhotoThis was taken last week in Peace River, from the top of the hill where 12 Foot Davis used to be buried. That's obviously the Peace in the background, and down to the right is where Jo's parents live, on a hill overlooking the river. On nice days it's a great place to sit and watch the world float by.
For those who may not know or don't remember (or haven't seen them since they were wee little things), that's Brennan in front, and Aidan to the right.
Labels: family, photography, travel
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
The Foot Stops Here
Yesterday afternoon, after more than a decade of seeing this coming, my father had his right foot amputated. It was a below-the-knee amputation, and the doctor figures that in the long run this will improve his quality of life. One can only hope, although he'll be stuck in hospital for the next 6-8 weeks (including rehab time), which will probably become a tad irritating after awhile.
His mood and health are apparently both excellent. I'll be talking to him tomorrow, and head out for a visit over the long weekend.
Yesterday afternoon, after more than a decade of seeing this coming, my father had his right foot amputated. It was a below-the-knee amputation, and the doctor figures that in the long run this will improve his quality of life. One can only hope, although he'll be stuck in hospital for the next 6-8 weeks (including rehab time), which will probably become a tad irritating after awhile.
His mood and health are apparently both excellent. I'll be talking to him tomorrow, and head out for a visit over the long weekend.
Monday, February 19, 2007
The Week From Hell
Brennan didn't have pneumonia, thankfully, but his fever was bad enough to keep him out of school all week. As noted previously, I went skiing with Aidan's class on Thursday. Had a fall, slammed my head, and the resulting whiplash was enough so that I couldn't lift my head for a couple of days if I was lying down. Getting out of bed meant rolling over to fall off. And chewing an apple was next to impossible, since I couldn't get any action from my jaw.
On the weekend we worked together on Aidan's science fair project, and then he went and got sick with what Brenn had, so Sunday was a panic day as Jo tried to put the finishing touches on the write-ups and the display. The fact that the computer chose Sunday morning to have difficulties (for a time I was afraid I'd be gouging out my eyes at the thought of all that lost data, but it turned out to be a loose power connection, which will have to be fixed) only added to the fun. Oh, and as I backed out of my driveway that morning to take a CD to Staples to be printed, I backed into a giant block of ice that the city had deposited while cleaning the roads. Crunched the bumper, and the insurance company tells me I can't chase after the city for it.
Aidan's home sick today, of course. Last night he did some very weird sleep walking and talking. He's already prone to that (as I was as a kid), but the fever has brought it on something fierce.
I'm taking the week off of work and will hopefully still get some writing in. As it was, even with all the fun I managed another 900 words on Ghost Country, which is now up to 10,600.
Brennan didn't have pneumonia, thankfully, but his fever was bad enough to keep him out of school all week. As noted previously, I went skiing with Aidan's class on Thursday. Had a fall, slammed my head, and the resulting whiplash was enough so that I couldn't lift my head for a couple of days if I was lying down. Getting out of bed meant rolling over to fall off. And chewing an apple was next to impossible, since I couldn't get any action from my jaw.
On the weekend we worked together on Aidan's science fair project, and then he went and got sick with what Brenn had, so Sunday was a panic day as Jo tried to put the finishing touches on the write-ups and the display. The fact that the computer chose Sunday morning to have difficulties (for a time I was afraid I'd be gouging out my eyes at the thought of all that lost data, but it turned out to be a loose power connection, which will have to be fixed) only added to the fun. Oh, and as I backed out of my driveway that morning to take a CD to Staples to be printed, I backed into a giant block of ice that the city had deposited while cleaning the roads. Crunched the bumper, and the insurance company tells me I can't chase after the city for it.
Aidan's home sick today, of course. Last night he did some very weird sleep walking and talking. He's already prone to that (as I was as a kid), but the fever has brought it on something fierce.
I'm taking the week off of work and will hopefully still get some writing in. As it was, even with all the fun I managed another 900 words on Ghost Country, which is now up to 10,600.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Back Again
It's been a... difficult few months here, and so I've been keeping quiet. I'll see if I can't come up with something interesting to say or point to in the next couple of days. In the meantime, though, Brennan's 8th birthday is coming up, and he has surprised and pleased us by announcing that instead of gifts from his friends at his party, he'd like them to bring the equivalent in cash so that he can donate the money to the African Wildlife Foundation in order to adopt one or more animals.
It's been a... difficult few months here, and so I've been keeping quiet. I'll see if I can't come up with something interesting to say or point to in the next couple of days. In the meantime, though, Brennan's 8th birthday is coming up, and he has surprised and pleased us by announcing that instead of gifts from his friends at his party, he'd like them to bring the equivalent in cash so that he can donate the money to the African Wildlife Foundation in order to adopt one or more animals.
Labels: family
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