3 Revealing Stories

You can't judge a book by it's cover. Ever. Because, my friends, what you see is actually not what you get..

These lessons sometimes require remedial help to learn.. and to bring their truth home, this week provided some 'special ed' for me by delivering 3 completely unexpected stories as proof.

Story #1

Eva is a lady in her 60s who works as a janitor and works hard. We chat in passing every so often, just about the job, what needs doing, if she needs supplies, she reports deficiencies, the usual caretaker stuff. Eva left in late September for a couple of weeks to visit her homeland in Russia, and seemed excited to go.
My Belief About Eva: Middle-aged, hard worker, probably has a husband who is an equally hard worker. That's nice for her that she is able to go home to her country, wonder if they are going together, if he has the time off work too.. Hope she has a good time. We'll miss the great job she does while she is gone.End of my thought on Eva.
The Reveal: I see Eva on her return and ask if she had fun, she smiles and says yes..then tells me that it was more business than pleasure. ..due to legalities she needed to settle.She tells me that in APRIL "my husband kill himself" by climbing up on a steep roof to do work and then accidentally slipped on the ladder on the way down, and ... They were married for 40 years, two children. She spoke of being lonely, and that she still works 3 jobs and rarely sees her sons who are busy with their lives. She says this all with a direct, unwavering gaze, a little smile on her mouth, not complaining, just matter of fact.
At no time in our meetings over the last 5 months did this ever come up, did she ever miss work. I look at Eva now with bigger eyes and a bigger heart.

Story # 2

Every year I attend a cultural event, see the same acquaintances there I've seen around for years, we just talk about the event, not much about anyone's life, maybe ask if they are a student , where do they work, have they attended this before..I look forward to seeing a few of the same familiar faces each year, it feels comforting, and kinda like a pseudo-family. Just the type of family that doesn't talk much.
One of these familiar faces is Ivy, another lady in her 60's. She was one of the very first people I met so many years ago when I started participating in this event..and is there like clockwork every year, the Energizer Bunny who just keeps industrious and seems to know everybody. She attracts all level of patron to her,from the first- time attendee to the VIPs, they call her by name.Her wide smile and the years have left their grooves on her weary yet serene face.
My Belief About Ivy: She is a small ,somewhat sickly looking woman, kind of Hobbit-like, warm and giving, most likely a spinster. I detect a strong, free spirit, interested in life, but with an undercurrent of quirky loneliness.
The Reveal: For some reason this year, Ivy told me some of her stories..When she was 53 she decided to run her first marathon.The next week.After never running ever.She did it in 4 1/2 hours and has run several ever since, and still does.
But that is the less interesting story.
Turns out she was happily married for many years to a man who one day just decided to live in a separate part of the house for a few more years, they ultimately divorced and remain dear friends. But prior to this, when Ivy was 18, THE story of her life began... She was travelling in Europe and met a man on the train in her club car. Speaking no English, Gianni only spoke Italian and Ivy had a working knowledge of it..At the end of their conversation he looked deeply into her face and said "you should really wear less makeup, it's more healthy for you and your skin". Instead of being offended , her response was 'this complete stranger cares about my health'. And thus started a 45 year affair with the love of her life.
Gianni lives in a chateau in Tuscany, and they see each other every few years for perfect, passionate, stolen moments together, with phone calls every couple of months he must leave the home to make. His wife is 25 years older and ill, the marriage loveless, he has become her caretaker. To this day, with them both in their 60's, Gianni and Ivy share an achingly close connection and truly believe they will be married one day and she will move to Italy. They can wait; they are soulmates. She will easily give up all she has and does in Canada to join him at last.
When Ivy speaks of Gianni,her face lights up and her hands flutter to her mouth, resting on her lips as she shares this secret. She can't sleep after their phone call last night. And this after 45 years.
It's a story that some may consider morally flawed, but I only see Ivy with bigger eyes and a bigger heart.

Story # 3

It's another dark, gloomy day downtown, I've got 20 minutes to get to HMV to buy a Barb Marley CD . My intention is to harness the nostalgia of a once well-played album (yup, album) of upbeat rasta music to lift the spirits of a friend of mine who is very ill. We vacationed in the Caribbean 30 years ago and I hope she can bathe in that music and feel like she is in the transparent blue waters of Grand Anse beach again , watching colourful fish zip around, sun beating down,the sea water keeping her afloat. The ocean breezes carry either a hint of of ganja or of nutmeg, depending on the spot on the beach.
My Belief About This Day: It's a day like so many others. Gotta get there and done in 20 min. My heart is heavy with worry about how my friend's long term picture may or may not look. I'm sick of downtown, I've walked this stretch SO MANY TIMES... Need to get to HMV to get in , get on with it, get it over with, get out -with the cd. Hope it's in stock..
The Reveal:As I approach the Art Gallery and Robson Square stairwell ,I feel a vibration in the pavement..and then the muffled sounds of some BIG Bass notes, solid, rhythmic..It's business as usual up top on the sidewalk with all the harried pedestrians..but is there a party or whah? out back down those Robson Centre stairs. I feel like I'm walking into a virtual mullet.
Without even deciding to, I swerve off course, take those stairs , the music gets louder and louder then OON DADA BOOMPA OON DADA BOOMPA, I step into a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT UNIVERSE. .The Robson Square ice rink is brimming with maybe 300 people salsa-ing, mamba-ing, lambada-ing, you name it , to eardrum- popping Latin music. People on the sidelines are clapping and laughing..Just about everyone has a huge smile on their face and their hair , foreheads and clothes are becoming drenched with sweat. It was electric.
Flashback to that '12 Dancing Princesses' fairytale (my favourite) where they open the trap door in their bedroom floor each night and travel down into a magical country of gold, silver and copper trees, and end up dancing their shoes to shreds before morning.
So I stayed there for the 20 minutes (wishing I had a partner to dance with, and wondering if my backpack counted as one but I kinda thought not so didnt pursue it), to absorb that spirit and fire and LIFE, like a human solar panel,to harness that positive energy now with plans to radiate it at some point in the future when the gloomies hit again..
The message received? That we have no idea what is about to happen, how a 5/10 day can turn into a 10/10 day in only an instant, that there is every chance my friend's story will have it's own reveal , and in a good way...

I'll snag that Bob Marley cd another day, so till then am just remembering to..

Lively up yourself and don't be no drag
Hey, lively up yourself, 'cause this is the other bag
Hey, you rock so, you rock so, like you never did before
You dip so, you dip so, and you can dip thru my door

New Fear Shift = New Gear Shift

Well, looky here. So who got afraid of their own blog?I'd like to have some fantastic explanation, like I won a Yummy Mummy contest and was flown all- expenses -paid to Not Fiji But A Remote Island Just Off Fiji Where There Is No Internet.

But that would be stretching the truth. The real reason is I wasn't feeling especially chipper,kinda blah, and felt I had nothing positive to say..and feared (ouch) this would not be an entertaining read.But it's been pointed out to me by one of my loyal fans that those are the times especially to be writing. All scope of emotion or experience are up for grabs here and it's not to entertain so much as to DO IT.

That said, yesterday I kicked the ass out of a long-standing fear and bought a brand new car, which I have told myself I could never afford, did not deserve etc etc. Had been driving my '95 Flintstones Accord for 11 years and trying to convince myself that it can last me for another 20 years, seriously! It was dying a new death every time I got into it in the morning, if it could have talked it would have told me to pull the plug and donate its parts.And organize a telethon for other ailing vehicles. So out of empathy alone -oh and the fact that my kids and dad live long drives away- I saw no other alternative than to go to Honda and buy a brand spankin' new manual gear shift Silver 2009 Civic.

I love dealing with the fella at the dealership who wants to sell you the extended warranty, undercoating, paint protector, fabric stain resister or whatever,PLUS throw in his puppy, just to sweeten the deal. He started off all friendly and cavalier, like it didnt matter, but then quickly swerved in for the kill with Extreme Guilting Measures..you'll be sorry later down the line...everyone else buys this...they don't make Hondas like they used to,everything's electronic and it costs later..But he didn't know whom he was dealing with with the guilting angle, I was raised Catholic and can see it coming a mile away. When I said no to everything he took a big sigh, paused, said a frank "Good Luck [Bitch]" and in a huff swiveled his chair away from me to face his computer screen to input my measly $17,500 bill. The guy was hilarious though, threw his papers on the side of the desk and , hand up, gave them the doggy command "STAY", said "Merry Christmas" as he handed me my paperwork, counted "1 and 2 and 3" as he waited for each paper to come out of the printer, threw garbage in the wastebasket with a "BeDAG!" ..There was a constant verbal play by play of every action he was doing, all with that Cliche Flourish.

And MAN does It FEEL GOOD to have this new car. I look into its shiny silver countenance and it reflects back a new me. So lame, so true. That old car was the last holdout from my old life before I started 'life on my own" (the cat being the other carryover, but she has since gone to Flea Heaven . I hope she got over her agoraphobia, but she is likely in a four -point clawing situation clinging to the underbelly of a cloud, Garfield-style, like she did the underbelly of my couch). There is true catharsis available here, a moving forward.

It's so exciting to shake up that drone that goes on in my head about financial limitations and worthiness, mostly misguided.. (there are options to, um, like RESTRAIN myself, show a little self control, man up with spending). So I just sent those ol' demons to their room for a nap. Hopefully, for a dirt nap.

As the Mop Tops (aka The Beatles) would sing:

Baby, you can drive my car
Yes, I'm gonna be a star
Baby you can drive my car *
And maybe I'll love you"
Beep beep mm beep beep, yeah
Beep beep mm beep beep, yeah
Beep beep mm beep beep, yeah

(* um but only if you have 10 years' driving , it's on my insurance ;-)