It's been an interesting set of weeks.
Due to some last minute shenanigans which I still haven't quite wrapped my mind around, my brother got married at the beginning of July. I was informed about the event about 6 days prior, when it was being planned. I was asked to take photos and play the uke for the bride walking down the isle, which I was happy to do. Then two days later (T minus 4 to Wed), I was informed by my brother that I was the best man. Cool! I was pretty proud to be asked. That meant I had to do a speech. Having to give it didn't bother me too much, but writing something I hadn't done before on such short notice was kinda hairy. Did I mention that on T minus 1 to Wed I was leaving the country with everything I owned and flying to the opposite coast? Yeah. It made for a very interesting week.
Things actually went rather well. The flight(s) went okay and I landed with all my belongings, and spend the rest of the afternoon helping set up for the wedding. I managed to memorize all the chords for the song I played, and although it wasn't overly fancy, I didn't stumble. I didn't get as many good shots in as I wanted, but I was still able to give my borther (and new sister-in-law) a decent set of wedding photos. The bride ended up using one of the pics as her Facebook profile pic, so I think they were pretty happy with them. The speech... Was alright. The skeleton of it was a bit wobbly in places and I didn't have enough time to rehearse, so I burned through it kinda fast and mixed up the order of some of my points. But I got a couple laughs, and one big solid "awwwww" from the audience, so I think it was a success. From a sheer presentation point of view, it was pretty weak. I know I could've done a lot better, but apparently it went well enough.
So to recap: things went well, but not quite as awesome as I would've liked. But given the circumstances (less than a week of warning + making an international move), it went better than I had expected.
Then I spent the rest of the week at my sister and brother-in-law's house, with their daughter/my niece. We hung out a bit, I slowly plugged away on my portfolio, even applied to 4-5 places in the Vancouver area. I spent lots of time with my niece, who's woefully adorable (loves books, talks up a storm, and likes Raffi). I also went kayaking a few times with my Dad, where we chatted while cruising the shores a silent lake, surrounded by clear water, sunshine, and wilderness. A pretty dramatic contrast to life in New York, I think.
Eventually my mother had a long overdue knee surgery, which went pretty well. Because my dad couldn't leave her on her own for a few days, I ended up staying in the area for another week before we could drive out to Calgary. More portfolio stuff, adorable niece, kayaking, procrastinating, staring in general awe at the scenery. We even went for some treats at my favourite bakery after a delightfully quiet kayak at Silver Lake. And eventually we hit the road for Alberta.
On the first day of the trip we did a straight shot to visit my Grandmother, who was a bit out of the way (but still in the general direction) of the final destination. That day of travel was pretty unremarkable, save for getting stuck behind and accident for an hour. Nevertheless, we made it to see my grandmother. There's something unsettling about the frailty of your elders. On the surface, yeah, it's about facing mortality or whatever. But there's something strange about seeing a person surrounded by photographs on the wall of their very full life. Here's someone that's seen a lot and done even more. And yet it's somehow life's cruel joke that after seeing and doing so much that a person slowly becomes less and less capable. It's sad. Here's someone that has raised a family, has great grandchildren, and relearned to live on her own after losing her husband. She shouldn't need someone else to remove bottles of 7UP from the plastic rings of a six-pack, damnit. That's just not fair.
But there were still some gems. As we sat in her tiny condo that evening after a modest meal of potatoes, broccoli, and microwave roast beef, she told me about my father's glory days. How he grew pot, and tricked his mother into growing pot, and got into trouble with the RCMP (or along with the RCMP, I should say. Apparently they got a bit rowdy late one night in a pub). It was funny listening to her tell those stories while my dad squirmed in his seat a bit.
On the way out of town the following morning, we went to a lake where my father once vacationed at as a kid. Apparently he once was out on a rowboat on that lake when a hefty wind blew in, and he was unable to row back to the family cabin. Eventually a cousin had to come and rescue him. My dad had told me this story, and had brought along the two kayaks for the trip so that we could explore the vacation spot from his childhood and "conquer" the lake. We did just that. When we were first putting the boats in, my dad went in first and informed me that the water was warm. I translated that to "the water is slightly less cold than you'd expect". Upon dipping my toes in, though, I realized that it was actually, surprisingly warm. It was a pleasant introduction to the lake. We spent an hour or so of the early in the morning always paddling around just one more corner. The lake was completely silent, save for the loons occasionally calling to each other. It was a beautiful sound. It was a very tranquil way to start a morning.
We then hit the highway, listening to a mix of Randy Bachman's Vinyl Tap (an awesome radio show for music lovers) and various podcasts while snacking on bagged popcorn, carrots, and dried fruit. Instead of taking the more direct route, we went the longer way so that we could see Head Smashed-In Buffalo Jump. This is a UN-recognized site where Natives would chase a herd of buffalo off a sudden cliff edge to kill them. Both of us heard of it but never been to it. That morning's early kayak probably gave us the adventurous mindset we needed to go off the beaten path to see something new. And we did. It was quiet and peaceful and somehow profound. The site had a beautiful and intimate museum. Outside there was a path that lead us to the cliff edge that was attracted hunters for thousands of years before it started attracting tourists. There was a wild deer up on the ridge, which was grazing and watching us. It seemed oddly appropriate. Looking out over the cliff edge, though, was a huge panorama of Alberta's grasslands. If it wasn't the for subtle bumps and curves in the plains, I could've sworn I could see the Earth's curvature. It was quite awe-inspiring. A few weeks prior I had stood at the top of the Empire State Building. A very different experience, to be sure. I think I liked this one a little bit better.
Then we hit the road again, and stopped in Claresholm for a late lunch. As we were cruising through town, we came across a truck selling BC fruit. I have a friend in Calgary who had been craving BC cherries, and all that day my father and I kept our eyes open for a fruit stand. Unfortunately because we hit the road so early in the day, the few we came across weren't quite open yet. And here in Claresholm, Alberta was a small truck selling the BC fruit that had eluded us all day. A serendipitous find if there ever was one.
After eating we completed our final stretch of driving. As we pulled into the city, I felt myself getting... Agitated. Anxious. Worried. I'm still not sure why. It could be one of several things... Feeling like a failure for not finding work in NY. Having to confront my relatives after informing them I didn't want to work at their business full time any more. The possibility of seeing someone I wanted to give space. The daunting sense that here, too, I won't be able to find work. Or who knows, maybe it's because I just miss the mountains of my home town.
That afternoon I presented my friend with our Alberta-bought BC cherries and promptly moved my belongings into her and her husband's guest room. I hope I'm not here long. Not because I don't like it here (that couldn't be further from the truth), but because I'm eager to find my own place and because I don't want to inconvenience my gracious friends. After dropping off my belongings, my father and I went to my sister's place to have dinner. My sister and her husband are currently borrowing me and my brother's N64, which we spent many afternoons of our youth delivering papers in order to pay for.
One of the few games they have is 1080 Snowboarding, which we fired up for a laugh. The thing is, though, that me, my brother, and our dad spent many hours playing together. Not multiplayer, mind you, but competing to get the best possible time for one particular track. One. Track. Deadly Falls, to be specific. We'd take turns in ruthless pursuit of find tenths of seconds to eliminate.
After trying out this particular level for old time's sake with my dad watching from the kitchen table for a time, he finally came and sat beside me on the couch so he could have a go. We swapped the controller back and forth 5-6 times, trying to see who could do the best. The game informed us that the best time ever on record was 1:08:41, and between us we could only get down to 1:16:xx. I have no idea where many years ago we managed to find eight seconds to shave off.
The thing is that after spending a full two days on the road with my dad, snacking, chatting, listening to music, kayaking, playing tourist, eating burgers... Those 15 minutes where we 'relived' our 1080 Snowboarding glory days put the biggest smile on my face. I remember one day when my brother and I came home from delivering papers to discover my dad in front of the TV, gloating about the hot new time he managed to set. He said that it couldn't be beaten. And if we could beat it, he'd buy us pizza (keep in mind that in addition to being teenage boys, my family was pretty broke. Pizza was a damn rare and alluring treat). I sat down and on our very first try, I slaughtered the ghost of my dad's record run. I slaughtered it until, that is, I got to the very final stretch and messed up on a small bump in the terrain. Me and my brother tried in vain for the next two hours to beat my dad's record. If it wasn't for the one hiccup on the last stretch of my first attempt, we would've had it no problem. But try as hard as we could, we never quite managed to get it just right. My dad bought us pizza anyway, and we kept playing through the evening, swapping the controller every few attempts. We continued playing 1080 Snowboarding for a few months after that, and I seem to recall we continued to beat and make new records.
When we booted it up the other day, the cartridge still has all the saved game info from all those years ago. All the maps and characters and boards are still unlocked, and all the maps have high scores. Including, of course, Deadly Falls. 1:08:41. The thing is, the game didn't have a feature to include a name or initials along with a high score. We have no idea who set that 1:08:41 all those years ago. My competitive side wishes there was a way to find out and see if it was me. But I think I like it better not being able to know. It just means that that score belongs to the three of us, equally. It doesn't matter who happened to be holding the controller at the time, just that we set that score together. And damn, we had fun doing it.
-Cril
Well we're gonna rock to the rhythm and the blues tonight
Rock, 'cause everything's gonna be alright
'Cause tonight we gonna rock to the rhythm and the blues
Yeah!
Buddy Holly - Rock Around With Ollie Vee
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