In my grandfather Franklin Smith's 1993 autobiography Acorn to Oak there is a Christmas story I think of every year and read every Christmas Eve. Perhaps you may enjoy the read too.
Santa's Christmas Hike pg. 261-263
When I was a kid, Christmas had all the magic that it has now. Santa Claus was just as real as he is now. Parents loved their children as much. The snow was just as white, and the Christmas trees just as green.
But, there was something different in those days, (I mean fifty years ago), an element which seemed to add to the magic and wonder of Christmas. That element was called poverty.
Grandpa as a boy.
My Dad was a painter and paperhanger in our little town, and he was too soft-hearted to ever charge the right price for a job. It was the only thing I ever heard Mom and Dad argue about. I was the second-oldest of seven children, and the last baby was about one-half years old when this little drama was enacted.
I could call it the White Willow Christmas, because that year our Christmas tree was a dead branch from the old willow tree decorated with stringed popcorn and colored paper.
The year is 1932. It is Christmas Eve, and so far no shopping has been done for the Big Day. Dad has been working round the clock lately, night shift at the sugar factory, paperhanging through the day, getting perhaps four hours sleep a night.
After supper on Christmas Eve Dad hitch-hikes into Lethbridge, the big city, twenty-two miles away. Before leaving Raymond he arranges with a friend to meet him in the lobby of the Marquis Hotel at 10:00 p.m. and bring him home.
Dad gets a ride into Lethbridge and arrives about 8:00 p.m. He has two hours shopping time - plenty of time, he tells himself, to spend the ten dollars which is his allotment for Christmas. Ten dollars for nine people! It will take some fancy juggling - one dollar per person and dollar left over for candy.
Santa heads straight for Woolworth's. He has a list, and you can be sure he is checking it twice. Three small items, not over thirty-five cents apiece, for each child, is the ration. The remainder will have to do for Mrs. Claus and the candy.
Santa's two hours fly by like one. It's 10:00 o'clock before he knows it, and he still has baby to buy for and Mrs. Claus. He puts on a burst of speed. Surely the friend at the hotel will wait. Santa bustles about. Twenty minutes later the job is done. It is 10:30 p.m. when Santa reaches the Marquis Hotel. The friend is nowhere in sight. Santa's step falters. He checks at the hotel desk. Sure enough, there is a note: "Tell Mr. Smith I've gone home."
Marquis Hotel
Santa, who is not as young as he once was, suddenly feels ten years older. He looks round for another ride. It is bitter winter outside, a foot of snow on the ground, and ten degrees below zero, Fahrenheit. He waits half an hour. No luck. He waits till midnight. The hotel is deserted.
Santa begins to walk, his light but precious pack on his back. He walks an hour. No one picks him up. He reaches the St. Mary's Bridge on the edge of town. There is no more traffic. Santa is alone on a bitter cold night with twenty miles to walk. It is a bright night with full moon. Santa's internal state reminds him that he hasn't eaten for seven hours, nor slept for thirty.
Fearful of not getting home in time for Christmas morning, Santa decides to cut corners. Leaving the road, he strikes out across the fields. He walks for hours. Finally, he sees a cluster of grain elevators in the distance. Thinking they are the landmarks of Raymond he quickens his pace in their direction. Hours later, it seems, he reaches them, only to find they belong to a neighboring town, and he is still five miles from home.
Mr. & Mrs. Claus
Santa takes no more chances. He follows the railroad track to Raymond and, at daybreak, arrives, spent but cheerful, at the little three-room shack that is the Smith household.
Somehow Mother had kept us kids out the front room till Santa's entry. We waited another half hour before being allowed in.
And then - another Christmas miracle! My three little presents consisted of a game of dominoes, a small wind-up toy car, and a second-hand book from the Salvation Army Thrift Shop, (price 5¢ still on the inside cover). These tiny gifts were wrapped in loads of love and they made me ecstatically happy.
One time my brother Ryan mentioned that he read a novel cover to cover while sitting on the toilet. I hope it was over several sittings. This always struck me as funny, magazines are common but a whole novel was ...well, a novel idea.
So last year when Ryan gave me a book for my birthday, Uncle John's Heavy Duty Bathroom Reader by The Bathroom Readers' Institute, I knew there was only one place for me to sit down and read it.
Bathroom time has never been the same. Ryan's gift was more than the book, it's been a movement from flushing down wasted time staring at the wall, to embracing this gift of uninterrupted time.
In one year I have read 1,993 pages from 6.5 books, an average of 5.5 pages a day ...on the can! To the uninitiated this is an amazing gift of time.
A 2007 Associated Press-Ipsos pollreported that in the prior year, 27% of Americans had not read a single book, while 73% had. Of the respondents who reported having read a book, the mean was 6.5 books per year.
Percentage breakdown summary:
1 to 5 books 41%
6 to 15 books 31%
More than 15 books 27%
Fortunately none of my books were a crappy read, a few were even quite moving (horrible puns, I know). Sometimes I was tempted to keep reading after the flush. (TMI?)
All the books were non-fiction, two were humourous, one was opinion based, but all I might never have read as most were gifts. The only book that wasn't a gift was Victor Frankl's Man's Search For Meaning, I bought it years ago but never tackled it.
In the past few days I was given more books, some may journey with me into the b̶o̶o̶k̶r̶o̶o̶m bathroom, others may be spared.
Thank you Ryan for not only the gift of a book, but for sharing the gift of stolen time!
Remember that feeling being a kid home alone at night, when every time the house creeks the only reasonable conclusion is that there's a monster just waiting for you around the corner?
Cancer is my monster.
Lately I was noticing/coping with new constant pain on my hip, it rang some loud alarm bells. After a few weeks hoping it would go away I decided to have it looked at. In addition to the pain I was getting very lethargic; waking up from not even knowing what I was doing before and sleeping 14-16 hours a day.
Because of the changes I decided to get things checked out. A couple of weeks ago I got x-rays on my hip to see if the tumor had any new friends hanging out.
Side note:
Not that hospital gowns need to be fashionable, but the last one was on the verge of humiliating. It was not one size fits all. If I was any taller I would've needed to make the ensemble a two piece. My waist is only 33", but I was still too wide, the x-ray technician was helping it close in the back when I needed to lie on my side.
The Paper Gown Patient
Anywho... If you are like me, I did not know the names of where the pain was/is. My pain was in my sacrum and ilium area on my left side.
Yesterday I received the results: nothing there, I had no new friends! What about the tumor pretending to be a kiwi beside my hip joint? The x-ray technician just commented that that area was noticeable, meaning s/he could tell some work was done there. I still have to wait until sometime in December for a thorough examination. The more radiation the longer one waits.
The pain is just my body healing from being burned by radiation.
For perspective a year ago an acquaintance of mine with prostate cancer got about 10 seconds of radiation a day for 6 weeks = approx 5 minutes in total. Recently he just had surgery due to complications from the radiation.
In contrast my radiation was for a little over 2 minutes of radiation for 5 weeks = about 1 hour in total. That means side effects should not surprise anyone.
The lethargy is just an expected and unwelcome side effect from the radiation treatment.
Last night when I came home I was in enough pain that I vented to Faith about it. While doing so remembered the x-ray results - no new friends! It was like looking under the bed and seeing no monster.
When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened.
Before I started typing this sentence I just stared at the beautiful screen, how I have missed a blank screen to blog on. My MacBook has been in the shop to have the keyboard fixed. Fortunately my warranty was still in full effect and all was fixed with no cost to me.
In the couple of weeks without a computer I have had a few things to blog about, but as time passes that moment is kinda lost, perhaps I'll catch up on them at a later date.
When Myrtle goes down for a nap she'll be heard chatting away to herself. But other times she will talk to us, using tactics to have us get her out of the crib. There's a nursery song that goes "Where, oh where, oh where is (insert name)? Where could (name) be?!" Months and months ago Myrtle would 'sing' this from her crib. Calling out, wondering where we were. Hearing a year old say as best she can "Where? Where?" is too hard, I would cave in and get her.
Crying is also a good tactic. Some cries are real, as in "I've had a bowel movement and I do not and will not sleep in it." As a parent you learn the cries and hope to respond to real cries and not to "cryin' wolf". Many times I have fallen for her fake cries, when I go in she is "crying" while smiling. That lil' rascal!
Her best tactic by far is "Dadda, up please! Up please!" Hearing my name coupled with good manners is an irresistible combo. It would be rude to not respond, no?
However, what I usually hear when she cries is "Dad, don't you love me? I just want to snuggle a little." Or "If you let me stay up just this once I won't ever do drugs and I'll go to university so I can cure your cancer!" Who can blame me for going in and getting her?
Tonight Myrtle got me again, from her cry I thought for sure she had made a deposit in her diaper, she made THAT cry. When I went in I right away got her a new diaper, wipes and cream. Guess what? No poop. She just wanted to hang out. When I said it was bed time, her face melted, she slowly walked over to her purple stuffy toy bunny rabbit, looked at me a cried a sad face, then picked her bunny and walked defeated to her room.
Anyways, I have often wondered what she does in her crib when she ought to be sleeping. I asked my friend Kim if I could use his GoPro Hero HD camera to do a lapse of Myrtle's nap. Monday he dropped off the camera, just in time for Myrtle's morning nap.
Tuesday night I went to Kim's and he and his son Brayden (of BroPros fame) began the editing of the video using Adobe Premiere Pro on their iMac. Today (Wednesday) we finished it. Literally the video would have not happened without their help (doing it all) - Thank you Kim and Brayden!
Due to teething and B.M.'s her nap times were cut short. Her afternoon nap was similar, though that time she actually slept. Since she did not move in her sleep, at all, about two minutes were cut out of the video.
I believe there were about 1000 photo's taken every 5 seconds and as mentioned the majority of her sleeping was edited out. Feel free to do the math if you want to know how long the video was. :)
Myrtle is a character, such a joy. Perhaps a few more videos could be made starring her.
Ever have so much to say that there seems like there are no words to say it? Though I'm feeling that way, I won't let it stop me from trying.
I heard someone mention this weekend about how Jesus taught mainly in parables. He'd tell a story to many, some would get it, some would ponder on it and later get it and others just thought "Huh, well that was nice story" and go on with their lives.
There's something to said about subtle communication, not casting "pearls before swine". Kind of in that same vain I hope to write about my weekend that is at least a good "story".
Years before I met Faith, I would dream of a weekend like we had. To be married to someone I loved, who loved me AND to have a child in tow. We really had an experience of a lifetime .
No, we didn't go to Las Vegas or Banff, we went to Langley. As in Langley, BC. We didn't stay at a resort, rather we shared a small suite in a Sandman Inn with Andrew and Ashley.
Andrew and Ashley weren't the only ones who were able to fly in from Alberta, so did another cousin, aunt, uncle and my 85 year old Grandma Hazel.
Another aunt and uncle flew from Salt Lake City to Seattle, driving the rest of the way to Langley.
My brother Ryan and his family came from Washington and my brother Jason's family from a whole 20 minutes away in Maple Ridge.
More family and friends from Victoria, Duncan, Port Alberni, Campbell River and Langley came as well. Of course, not all that wanted to be there was able to make it, hopefully this blog might fill in some details for them.
Though we dined at some of Langley's finest chain restaurants, such as Denny's, Boston Pizza, Swiss Chalet, Tim Horton's, Dairy Queen, Booster Juice, Ricky's and Wendy's, it wasn't quite why were there.
We all gathered for our belief of "whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven" and the context of the weekend was for our little family to bound together forever, not till just death. Family and friends came to celebrate this occasion, a simple yet profoundly beautiful ceremony.
Sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance.
~Ruth E. Renkel
Most of my life I wanted the feeling I now I have. There's now a feeling relief, but mainly just a feeling of peace though. This desire of being bound, fastened, welded, sealed to my family beyond death is something I appreciate infinitely more after my cancer diagnosis.
Since THAT CALL in March all I have thought about has been some variation of "Am I someone that after I pass away my family would want to be reunited with me?"
No other success can compensate for failure in the home.
~ David O. McKay
Everyday I try to win Myrtle over, win her over for today and perhaps more importantly when she's an adult.
It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.
~Anne Sexton
I'm just as willing to tickle her and throw her on my shoulders, as I am to encourage her to eat her veggies, say prayers, do her chores (throw diaper in trash and turn on the dishwasher) and say please and thank you.
The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.
~Rev. Theodore Hesburgh
Friday morning we awoke at 5am, ...well Faith did. Then she woke me up at 5:20 and then I woke up Myrtle at 5:40. Off we went to the ferries to catch the 7am sailing. The ticket lady said we'd be on the 9am, fortunately she was wrong.
While we waited for the ferry, we went and visited my parents and Aunt Robin who were also waiting. Though it was early, chilly and dark Myrtle was happy as usual and loved running up and down an empty lane. She was so very busy.
Driving onto the ferry.
On the ferry we had the breakfast buffet, eating like gluttonous royalty, which set the tone for the rest of the weekend. "Diet restrictions? Don't know what on earth you're talking about." Myrtle loved the spread of food. There she laughed, smiled and walked around saying hello to other people eating.
On the ferry - Myrtle being Myrtle...
After arriving in Langley we picked up some new clothes we needed for the weekend. Faith shopped first while Myrtle and I walked around parking lot and grounds. During which time I lost my hopes being Father of the Year as Myrtle fell and face planted on a curb. She bit her tongue so hard it bled. Poor thing. As per usual she stopped crying quickly and was back to running around and smelling then picking flowers.
"Hmm, I'll pick this one."
When I went in to go pay, I was holding Myrtle and for some reason I let her hold the the Interac pad and she dropped it and thus breaking it. The cashier was nice, having heard that we were going for lunch said "Don't worry, go for lunch, feed your girl and when you're out get some cash at an ATM and we'll hold on to your stuff here."
After all that, we settled in our hotel suite. Myrtle and Faith napped while I went to pick Andrew and Ashley at the airport. Once they settled in, we grabbed some Wendy's and met with some family to spend time at the temple for Faith's first time.
Afterwards, some of us went to Boston Pizza for some appies, a waiter there was Brandon Flowers doppelgänger. My sister-in-law Colleen got her photo with him.
Colleen and Brand Flowers double.
The waiter claimed he didn't know who Brandon Flowers was, in case you don't here's a video:
Saturday morning was the big day. We ate at Denny's with Faith's family, my Uncle Clyde and Andrew and Ashely. Then we got showered and in our Sunday best.
Everything was beautiful, peaceful and felt right. Maybe like other people, I too have wondered "What am I doing with my life?" Every doubt, regret or confusion was swept away with love and gratitude. Truly a new chapter had begun and I could feel it.
While writing this, I have typed and deleted lots. Somethings are best shared in person or in a journal and somethings feel too personal or too sacred to share.
Afterwards, some photo's were taken by my Uncle Clyde. I know more people wanted to take photos, but quite frankly, I still get fatigued from the radiation and I was too sore and tired to do any more. Myrtle was too busy running around anyways to stop and pose.
Most of us shared lunch afterwards and then everyone went there separate ways home.
I couldn't get to the hotel fast enough to sleep and I slept till hunger woke me up for supper. Waking up noticed Myrtle sleeping there too.
Proof she slows down
After supper my Uncle Clyde came by for a visit. We played Scrabble, got DQ Blizzards, then Andrew and Ashley came by with some old friends and we played Things in a Box.
Sunday morning we all packed up our bags, had some Tim Horton's for breakfast and went to church. Those that spoke did a great job. Myrtle fell asleep, so I took her out to the foyer were she napped and Andrew and I talked about life.
Keeping warn under daddy's jacket.
After church we headed to Whiterock for lunch and a stroll along the beach, boardwalk and pier. It was sunny and warm. Myrtle loved it all and was quite eager to go swimming in her dress. Even high from the pier she wanted to jump into the water, but her wet blanket of a dad stopper her.
Running wild.
It relaxing way to cap off the weekend. We drove Andrew and Ashley to the airport and us to the ferries. Waiting for the ferry in the Tsawwassen Quay Market Myrtle was in fine form, running up and down, just in her element as she said hi to passerby's and roared at people too.
After being on the ferry for about an hour we decided to leave the play area and walk around. While walking on the car deck with Myrtle on my shoulders we hear over the loud speakers "Would the parents of Baby Myrtle come to the Cheif Stewards office. Would the parents of Baby Myrtle come to the Chief Stewards office, there is an item you've lost to be picked up."
At first I thought I was in trouble for having Myrtle on my shoulders. It turned out I left my camera at the play area and whoever found it heard us use Myrtle's name.
A little later we bumped into some acquaintances who said "We thought they were talking about you."
We really had a weekend that we'll remember forever.
Remember in school where a teacher might encourage students to ask a question, saying that if you have a question, that chances are that others do too. I've found that to be usually true.
I'm writing in response from my last blog post, someone wrote me "Instead of others giving their "sympathies" what would recommend be done?" Honestly, it's a great question.
My life long friend Russel was the first friend I knew that was diagnosed with cancer and I'm sure I did nothing significant for him in word or deed. Looking back I'm embarrassed how lame of a friend I was. I have no idea if he needed any more support than he had. My guess is that I gave him some trite comment with no follow up.
Five years later when I was diagnosed I called Russ and he was very helpful only in the way someone who has "been there and done that" could be, as I could vent to someone who knew. His wife Jenn, also a friend, emailed Faith and I her experience, Jenn was expecting at the time of Russ' diagnosis and treatment. Her words were personal and touching. In fact Jenn's email was in part what motivated me to blog my experience.
Years have passed since we were inseparable friends; we live in different cities - we have different lives. Yet when in town, Russ and Jenn made the effort to see how old Rube was doing and dropped off some books for Myrtle. Whether they like it or not, I'm their friend for life.
Other examples of others giving their "sympathies" have been relatives from out of province made the effort to visit us. They watched Myrtle when I had doctor appointments to attend to. Some relatives and friends realized with Faith on maternity leave and me unable to work they sent some money over to help (and help it did).
An auntie and a sister-in-law each made me a quilt. Every and I mean EVERY day when I see the quilts I am reminded that I'm loved and someone thought enough of my little family to beautify our home with a gift of love and service.
Other family members and some friends are making an effort to visit again this month for a very special day our family is having. Some flying/driving from Alberta, Utah and Oregon. Perhaps without the cancer they might have still came. I would imagine that now more of an effort is being made, because that's what family who are friends and friends who are family do when one of their own could use some moral support.
It's not that I think people should do anything for me. In fact I was baffled and humbled anyone did anything at all, even felt undeserving. Soon I realized that people showed they cared because that's who they are, not who I am.
Another example is in an email I received from someone who I was great friends with for 20 years, but hadn't heard from in awhile.
Yes, that was the complete email. I replied of course and gave a link to my blog, only to never hear from him again. Well, not until we bumped into each other six months later. He asked how I was and other curious questions that were only being asked because I was in front of his face. Nothing I said I hadn't already blogged about. Nothing says I could care less about someone's literal life than getting the juicy details only because you happened to bump into them.
Other "friends" who live around the corner have driven past our home twice a day for 7+ months and not even once popped over to say hello or offered any help. Even when I was unable to walk or dress myself and Myrtle too was still crawling.
Every week Faith would say "I saw 'so and so' and they said they're going to come and visit." Never happened.
So to my friend who cared enough to email, there's absolutely nothing wrong with "others giving their sympathies". My suggestion is that if one says they're going to pray, well pray for them and later let the person know "Hey, I'm still praying for you."
If someone in society could use some relief, well one can never fail by being charitable. Perhaps instead of people saying "If you need anything let me know", saving them their dignity one could offer to help.
"Hey Faith, I know Ruban's not walking and either is Myrtle. I live just a few minutes away, I'm going to come by for 20 minutes to vacuum and dust. And I am NOT taking no for answer."
Or saying "Glad to see you out, you're looking healthy" is infinitely better than "Oh, you're out? How's your health? How bad is it? Does treatment hurt? Sorry I haven't called or anything, I find this type of thing hard. My friends dad died of cancer, so I know how tough it can be." Yes, those are real quotes.
Something done, anything done is better than NOTHING.
Truly I have no grudges, I'm not a victim in the slightest. The above only sounds as harsh as one thinks it is.
My theory is that God did not run out of real estate and had to put us 7 billion all on the same planet, rather I suspect He wants us to mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, give love to those in need and show that love by word and deed. Sometimes it's prayer, sometimes it's an email or a phone call - just being friendlier.
By the way, I'm sure I'll be eating my words in no time.
When I first saw a commercial for the movie 50/50, I knew I had to see it. Faith wasn't too keen on me mentioning I was going to watch it solo, I was just too eager to wait for her. Anyways, Friday night Faith and I went to go see it. We couldn't leave the house fast enough.
Well, who wouldn't want spend their date night watching a movie inspired by a true story about a young man getting a rare form of cancer?
50/50 was well cast, the story moved along at a good pace, but there was way, way, way, way, too many F* bombs (Seth Rogen, please learn some new words). However, more importantly the story rang true.
There's a part in the movie the where the main character is at a party and people start to give advice and empty "You can beat it" comments coupled with "If you need anything, let me know dude." That scene ought to have been four times so non cancer survivors would know how hard trite remarks can be to hear. That scene is also when I started crying.
Every ten minutes it seemed Faith or I cried. The movie hit home for two reasons for us. For Faith she said that she felt bad for not quite getting "it" for long time. For me, ...well it just did.
After the movie Faith said "I want to eat my emotions." And so we did.
I appreciate Kim's (fake) hatred for Seth Rogen, as I'm sure his (fake) screenplay wouldn't have been as vulgar (Kim is a he, yes guy's are named Kim too). Maybe Kim can rework his fake screenplay and do my movie in a few years.
In short I give 50/50 six radiation treatments out of ten.
I haven't blogged for a while, mainly because I felt like there was nothing to say - not that it has stopped me before.
Nothing to say might not be accurate, more of how to say it. I'm still the same ol' Rube, but I'm not. Some of my views and how I feel about things have changed. Thomas Kuhn would call it a paradigm shift, as I no longer see my world the same. Even a good change can be uncomfortable or challenging and so it has been with me.
Today is my year anniversary of being injured at work, which injury lead to the discovery the tumor, which lead to the cancer diagnosis. I can't help but to reflect on the number one question I'm asked.
Last night I received an email saying:
What's up?
I've been thinking about you all week and meaning to email. How are things?
Hope all is well.
One might think that with such a short question that I would give a short response, uh, not me. Here's some of my reply:
What a coincidence, I too have been thinking about me. (Does that joke ever get old?)
Well, there's just ups and downs. Normal feels fantastic, but tired and lethargic are my new normal. (...)
(...) I generally just answer how I am doing, opposed to how my body is doing. But for a friend I'll let you know both.
My body feels like it's healing. The weekends are the toughest (and most rewarding) with Myrtle all day and church. (...) Come Monday I am a zombie, just spent. Wednesday I'm more normalized.
Me, I'm doing good. It just feels like a mental marathon. Things like figuring out Myrtle's Christmas present, (...), visiting my cousin Andrew in Dec. and silly projects keep me going when it feels like there isn't a tomorrow.
My whole life has been, I should is being redefined. I find it exhausting and rewarding. On my (Facebook) profile I posted a video of Tom Green on Q.
I forgotten he had cancer, so I was taken off guard a little about his comments on it. He summed up very well how I feel. This duality of truly living in the moment and this constant throb in my hip that has a way of saying "I know Death."
The hardest part has been me. I feel like every flaw I have or had is magnified. Also, at times I have a hard time relating to trivial problems that people talk about. In that way I feel in a way isolated, only in a small way. On the flip side I seem to celebrate the little things in life maybe too much.
It's a good thing my mom just came by, or I'd keep writing.
Scrabble time!
Thanks for the note!
Life is different, well at least my view on it is. Though it has been quite a year, I wouldn't trade it with anyone else's life or any other year I've had.
Inspired by a comment my cousin-in-law Ashley made about rotating her son Broden's toys, I decided to do the same for Myrtle. Right now, all of Myrtle's hard plastic toys are in her toy box, while her stuffies are all out in her play area.
Last night, like other nights after Myrtle went to bed I rearranged her toys. The first time I moved them, she did her adorable surprised look and pointed at each toy and saying "OH!"
Her adorable surprised look.
Oh, how I wished I filmed it. Now her excitement has waned as she only smiles while grabbing whichever one she's deemed worthy of playing with. Soon she'll just not really notice. These precious stages come and go without any warning.
The best part about getting me getting injured then diagnosed with cancer has been staying at home and being with Myrtle. Of course I'm thrilled to be recovering. There was a time I couldn't drive or be home alone with Myrtle. I now REALLY appreciate combining the two. The last two evenings I've taken her to the store to run errands with me. Like her toys, I'm flattered that she deems me worthy to play with. Never has it been a burden to be with her; I'm lucky to be alive and that I get to be her father.
Early in my treatment on the way to one of our appointments for some reason I decided to literally stop and smell the roses (or some other flower). At first Myrtle was confused with her face being shoved into a flower and her arm would go spastic trying to get the flower out of her face. Now with no prompting she will stop, smell the flowers and pick them. Ones she really likes she'll sniff then go "AHHHH".
Treatment is over and a new chapter has begun with our little family. I can no longer see Myrtle from my recliner or hear her feet pitter patter in the kitchen under her mom's heels. Now our home is silent except for a fan and Myrtle's toys just sit and stare at me, lonely in the quiet.
Lonely Toys
Faith and Myrtle have moved on, maybe it's best I become a big boy and move on too. But like her toys I'll be eagerly waiting for her return; but unlike her toys I'll be more productive.
The first time my cousin Andrew and I did something outside family functions was on his 22nd birthday. We were both new-ish to Calgary. I had yet to forge any real friendships and clearly Andrew hadn't either; as he was spending his birthday with only me.
We hit it off like we known each other our whole lives (we had) and before we knew it we shacked up together on New Years Day 2006. I'll always remember that day.
My soon-to-be ex-roommate, we'll call him Jordan, had some unhealthy obsession with my neckties (side note: he also had an obsession with tanning beds, Dippity-Do hair gel and flexing in the mirror. Whenever I had a girl over he'd announce loudly that he was off to the gym or that he had such a great work out). Jordan would borrow steal my ties. One time while I was sleeping he tried to return his favorite tie of mine he borrowed stole. Jordan offered money for that tie over and over again. The day of the move he was offering $200.00 for it. I said "No." It drove him mental that I would not relent. He then offered to move my all stuff for me, -25°C, snowing on New Years Day. He had himself a deal, as I'm sure we both felt the other guy got suckered. I was glad to be rid of that dumb striped tie, to be moved for free and begin a new chapter with my cousin Andrew.
Proximity and being cousins made us default best friends. We rollerbladed everywhere, floated down Bow River after work, Andrew was my "Plus One" at office parties.
Christmas 2005
We double dated, double dated sisters, double dated cousins, had the same girl like us at different times and had the pleasure introducing each other to future ex-girlfriends. Whoever dated us when we had an inflatable raft instead of a couch must've, really, I mean really liked us ...or was just into rapids.
Like an old married couple we ate in front of the TV, shared ice cream, cried at the end of Cast Away, trimmed each others neck hair, we bickered then tolerated one another until fun creeped back into our apartment.
One day after work there was a knock on the door. Andrew answered the door and began answering odd semi-personal questions. Intrigued I went to the door to find a Korean woman with a thick accent carrying a Canada Census ID card. She now included me in the conversation, in fact I noticed that she was including "we" in the questions, as in Andrew and I together.
She then asked us "Are you planning on having children?"
I reached for and held Andrew's hand replying "We're trying" as I smiled warmly at Andrew. Andrew though was not smiling and there was no warmth as he stared at me. Like a '90's sitcom I was saved by the bell when the phone rang, I left Andrew to continue with our Korean census lady friend.
Andrew was not too thrilled about the stunt and he freely shared his thoughts on the matter.
The next day at work I told my my coworkers who all laughed, those who knew Andrew enjoyed the story even more. Andrew too relayed his experience to his coworkers. When we came home that evening he conceded that it was indeed funny.
I don't remember how it came about, but we realized something, we were more than roommates. In Canada it takes six month of living together to be common law spouses and of course same sex marriages are legal. Furthermore, in Alberta one can legally marry their first cousin. Andrew and I were the worlds first cousin husbands, cousbands. Not everyone gets to coin a new word and I couldn't have done it without my cousband Andrew.
But like the girls who lost interest in us, we too moved on. It was for the best, as he was too handsome for me to compete against and I was too balding for him to compete against. Thankfully we're still friends and married to women we're not related to.
