One For the Books #71

Morning Friend,

I’m not what you’d call a “History Buff”.

I never excelled in the subject at school....too many dates to remember and too many Royals with the same name but a different number after it; Charles the Second, Isabel the fourth, Otto the EIGHTH!? etc.

It’s not a memory issue because I can remember jokes I heard as a child, but as far as what year “...did Hercules sail the Magna Carta into Boston Harbor setting off the Seven Day War?”....I haven’t a darn clue?

Creativity was never a problem; if I had to, I could “make stuff up” that would make the real story as lame as a lost homework excuse, but alas, no History teacher I ever dealt with gave points for “style” or validated a “poetic license”.

From what I understand, History – particularly Canadian – is not a Big Ticket item in the curriculum of today’s schools which seems kind of a shame.

A good number of High School respondents in a recent survey on “Canadiana” identified Sir John A. MacDonald as “that guy on the twenty?”, while several even went as far afield as crediting him with the invention of haggis.

Even as poor a student of History as I, knows good old Sir Johnny founded our nation’s largest tobacco company! ( check the name on your pack of “Green Monsters”....duhh!?!! )

I would think it valuable to know where we came from and how we got to where we are, especially in terms of planning for where we want to go and the best way to get there?

If nothing else we can a least avail ourselves of the opportunity to aspire to some of the greatness and to avoid the mistakes of our adventurous ancestors.

While I am admittedly “a tad off” when it comes to the nuts and bolts of history – the names and dates and such – I am nevertheless enthralled by the grand tales of gallantry, sacrifice and victory against seemingly impossible odds which adorn the tapestry of our Pioneer Heritage.

Just the thought of a brave and wary Lenny Riel ( no doubt pining for the fjords of his Nordic homeland) and his trusty Inuit guides forging the mighty Niagara river through the rugged untamed peaks of southeastern Manitoba in the 1500’s with electricity only in its’ infancy, is pause for reflection and awe. ( and perhaps a fact check or two?)

I often marvel at how afar afield of their beloved birthplaces must many a bold explorer stray in the course of discovery, conquest and adventure!?

To leave ones’ town, ones’ country, ones’ continent behind – to uproot from the very soil from whence ones’ life germinated and sprouted – and soar like a feathered seed in search of unbroken ground and unwritten history is the hallmark of many who heed Adventure’s siren call.

“Go West Young Man!” was such a call that spurred the taming of West; luring many unwary but determined souls on a migration of dreams into a nightmarishly alien land.

“The New World” beckoned a wave of bold humanity leaving their birthplaces an ocean behind them.

“The Call of the Wild” can be ascribed to many whose place of birth serves merely as a “starting block” in their life’s race of discovery and fulfillment.

While the world may be known geographically, contemporary explorers must still re-locate to specialized global regions far from home in search of history-making adventure.

Ahh what a sweet and blessed moment it must be for those lucky enough after many years abroad to complete the circle of their endeavor and to go home again.

To immerse again in the familiar fragrance of the Fatherland....to say – not like a practiced daily litany but like an announcement to Heaven and all of Nature within earshot – from the bottom of a tread-worn heart and jet-lagged soul.... “I’m HOME!”, is surely a moment worth etching in time.

In the course of examining my own journey I discovered two important but not necessarily historically significant things.

Firstly, I have come a “long way”; some might say a WORLD away from the drunken life I left behind. ( while it might not be earth-shattering stuff to you my friend, with the Good Lord as my guide I am making “discoveries” on a daily basis that ROCK my world and those in it! )

Secondly, I presently live across the street from the hospital where I was born.

From that blessed day in January some five decades ago, I have come....about 45 feet.

Christopher Columbo I guess I’m not.

Alexander Marilyn Bell did a lot of his work “out of the house” didn’t he?

Hello?.........

love tImMy :/

Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live (leeward)

Brush With Life #70

Morning Friend,



Late this past Friday afternoon, two cars crashed in the intersection I was in the process of crossing; one of them actually came sliding to a smoking crumpled rest in the very spot I had been standing and watching from, seconds earlier.

Two cars coming towards each other on Westminister, one of them suddenly tries an ill-advised/badly timed/dumb? left turn at Maryland and BOOM....pretty much head-on into the other guy.

Now I can go all dramatic on you and say I seized my bike in one hand and a pregnant woman with the other and LEAPT headlong into a crusty snow bank and no uncertain fame.

But in all honesty there was no one else to “save” and because it happened in slow motion, there was no leaping required.

In fact, I’m happy to report that while both cars were certainly totaled, no one was seriously injured. ( at least until the lawyers get involved I imagine?)

“Slow motion” you ask?

That’s exactly how it all seemed really....a few seconds stre-e-etched out into a moment of pristine clarity.....

“Oh oh, those cars are going to......WHOA!.....here comes one toward me....it’s horn is blaring.....I think I should move OUT of the way......”

Despite being astride my bike holding a bag of groceries, I was able to somehow jump backwards enough that the old “Green Hornet” and I were buffeted by nothing more than smoke from the car’s exploded air bag.

Funny what goes through your mind at a time like that.

Funnier than what doesn’t anyway...

My life didn’t “flash before my eyes”, I didn’t cry out “I love you Mother!”, and I certainly did not suddenly feel an old familiar craving for a strong distilled beverage.

I was actually staring at the poor fellow dazedly shaking his head in the driver’s seat a few feet away and thinking, “Man did your Friday Night ever just Go South on you ya poor bastard!?”

I was then pondering that the guy’s horn was going to continue to blow probably until the tow truck driver or somebody cut the battery cable when a woman’s voice behind me said, “You almost got hit there”.

Had I not been in such a fog I might have cavalierly replied, “Just the facts Ma’am”....or “All in day’s work my dear”....or even “A miss is as good as a mile”, but all that came to mind was a much less classic, “Yes I did”.

At that point the acrid smoke from the exploded air bag ( I had NO idea that was how they worked? ), broke my reverie and I wondered if there wasn’t a fire starting.

Now I could “embellish” a might and tell you about smashing the side window with my fist and hauling three nuns out of an inferno to safety, but there were no passengers in either vehicle and no such heroics called for.

Laying my bike and groceries on the snow bank, I opened the driver’s door and helped the poor shaken fellow out of the car gasping and cursing and onto unsteady legs where he was soon joined by the profusely apologetic and less worse for wear driver of the other vehicle.

With help on the way, and seeing that there was hardly a need to get further involved as a “witness” to such a cut and dried mishap as this, or to further the ruination of these poor fellows’ weekend by berating them for “almost” putting a damper on mine, I grabbed my grub and the “Hornet” and moved on. ( into the sunset – cue closing theme)

Pondering... from then until now, why I didn’t at any point look heavenward and pronounce my thanks to God?

Was it because I was “dazed”?

Am I taking God’s gift of new life for granted?

Have I become ungrateful?

Did I think I was just “lucky”?

In actuality, I’ve come to learn that besides strokes of luck ( sometimes Big ones), near misses lurk at every intersection of life.

Does the Good Lord intercede at every mishap on every street corner?....I’ve heard he does if there’s a “drunk or a small child” involved!

What about an “ex-drunk” with enough wits and physical well-being about him to turn a near miss into a “field test” of his serenity and an invaluable learning experience?

Could I have been too caught up in the sudden misery of those two “poor bastards” to be offering up prayers of thanks?

Doesn’t empathy grow best in the rich soil of a grateful and humble heart?

When your first instinct becomes “others”, that seems like all the thanks God might need?

But just in case.....(whew!) Thank You Lord....again.

( cue credits)

love tImMy:/


Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( safe)

A Load of Bun(K) #69

Morning Friend,

With a blizzard tempestuously raging outside this morning and bracingly frigid temperatures in the forecast, I should have known it was too good to be true.

When one derives as much pure joy from cold, snow and ice as I do, they are often setting themselves up for a balmily bitter disappointment.

Mine came in the dratted and determined hands of my mailperson; so unstoppable is she in the face of any climatologically natured obstacle that someone should write a “creed” about her and those of her ilk? ....something about “...sleet and snow and hail...?” would do nicely I think.

Nevertheless, the source of my anguish –the letter- looked weather-beaten, well-traveled, and harmless.

The West Indies postmark verified over 3,000 miles of road-weariness, but the unmistakable logo on the envelope told a tale fraught with harm, and hardship.

It was from the Barbados University Natural Center where I have held an Associate Assistant Advocate Pseudo-Professorship for an number of years.

It seems some of my learned colleagues are also members of the Barbados Olympic Freestyle Ski Dancing Team ( a grueling sport not usually associated with Caribbean climes ), and are competing in the upcoming games.

I have been culled from my arctic reverie and “called to duty” at the Center.

OH the HUMANITY! I say, just as Winter here had started to have a nice sweet “bite” to it; the itch of the woolies beaconing like a molting mantra!

But my head is still cold from being outside for 10 seconds to get the mail so it’s “cool” enough to prevail in this instance.....the important research and invaluable humanitarian work being done at B.U.N.C. must not go unattended.

The study of Nature takes scientists into laboratories as unbelievably harsh as they are mysterious.

The sun-baked beaches, dizzying blue sea, blinding sunshine, incessant scented breezes and tropical torpor, make Barbados a “lab” suited to only the truly fanatical realm of the scientific community devoted to unlocking the secrets Mother Nature closely holds to her oft-mysterious and alluring bosom.

I am as you may already know, one such devotee.

And as such I must leave these blessed blizzard blown boundaries of my comfortable northern home and forsake them for the stench of sweat and sun block... and the malingering malaise of equatorial madness.

The ache of homesickness already tightens like a frozen knot in my sit-up-hardening stomach with the knowledge I now have but 42 sleeps....I mean DAYS of wondrous Winnipeg winter to endure....I mean LUXURIATE in!

The history of all great scientific discovery is filled with stories of selfless sacrifice and suffering....just THINK for instance of all the moldy bread that Fleming fellow must have eaten!?

While it’s not an antibiotic I’ll be seeking during my three week odyssey, I will in fact be looking for a similarly beneficial result...”ONENESS” with Nature.

And a pretty nice tan :)

love tImMy :/

Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live (going for Gold)

Miller Time #68

Morning Friend,

One of the fine old workplace traditions the world over is the “couple of drinks after work”.

After a rough day, a tough week – and especially a “payday”, the call to “go for a brew”, ( or “Miller Time” as the famous old American beer slogan used to trumpet), can be heard like a battle cry from the factory floor all the way to the executive offices of companies large and small.

The after work drinks can be an essential part of the culture of a workplace; an excellent morale building and bond forming exercise.

In the comfy environs of a neighborhood pub or a favorite lounge, with hair down and gloves off, the stress and strain of the “grind” drains further away with each successive glass or bottle.

It’s a chance for all to blow off steam, bitch and whine, tell nasty jokes, commiserate, flirt, laugh, and ultimately....jointly solve a pressing global issue or two; usually toward the end, of the evening.

For some it’s an excuse to get drunk and avoid going home after work, but those poor souls are likely in the bar avoiding home every evening so the novelty of the exercise is lost to them as is the opportunity for spontaneous co-worker interaction.

They’re there for the drinking, irregardless of the company, and often the last to leave...unless they get cut off first.

Thankfully in today’s society, the great majority of people are “social” drinkers - according to the Canadian Encyclopedia, approximately 4% of adult drinkers in Canada are alcoholic.

Even with my vivid imagination, I have trouble perceiving what sort of anarchic maelstrom would replace civil society were those figures reversed?

“Joining us for a drink after work Bob?”

“No thanks Tim, I’ve been hammered all day! I could go for a coffee though?”

“Keep that kind of talk to yourself Bob. Coffee? It’s only Wednesday!?....you don’t have some kind of a “problem” do you?”

The carnage – were it to be “Miller Time” all the time - would be substantial.

As it is, the ruination and heartbreak wrought by even such a small percentage of problem drinkers in today’s society is far-reaching enough to have affected the life of just about everybody.

Left my own mark on a fair bit of damage to be sure.

But despite the fact that I now don’t drink, and I managed to salvage my job because of it, I still get that familiar “itch” towards the end of the work week.

Not to drink mind you, but to drink in the fomenting fellowship and charismatic camaraderie of my brothers and sisters with whom I spend a third of my week with; toiling on a daily basis.

We work alongside thousands of others in a large hospital so there is ample stress and an ongoing battle against it.

In my own particular department however, I’d noticed that for various reasons we never “went for a few after work”.

There is a broad demographic of about 50 of us who work “evenings” so the logistics themselves are not what you’d call conducive to such activity.

But just because something is difficult doesn’t make it less necessary, and YES I do think there is value in cultivating friendships with co-workers outside of the workplace, especially in circumstances like mine where the mix of cultures, values and ages is so varied.

So since my charismatic leadership abilities are bruised but yet functional, and since I’m still a “social butterfly” ( albeit a sober one), and since I’d get nothing but funny looks by asking 50 people “out for coffee”, and since statistically only 4% of my department ( me and another guy?) should be alcoholic, I took it upon myself to organize a “Few After Work” for the gang last Friday.

The crudely but enthusiastically drawn poster proclaimed “Friday Fellowship!....Come for a Couple!....11:45 til ‘an hour’....Say Farewell to a Good Man!” ( it wasn’t a “payday” Friday but it was the last day for a fine young fellow who was leaving us )

Now in my mind it was a rousing success not because it was a good turnout with laughs aplenty and enough madcap and warm heart to fill 10 beer commercials, but because of who showed up...

- the “old” veteran of the bunch

- the “oddball” guy

- the “quiet” loner

- the “rookie”

- the “hothead”

- people who I’d never seen so relaxed and animated

...and of course the “alcoholic” in the background sipping on a cola; drinking in all the good natured griping, the irreverent humor, the problem solving, the fellowship....and the fun.

But the best part of it all had to be when someone asked me why I’d go to all the trouble to organize such an event when I don’t even drink?

And instead of a mini-diatribe about; discovering the essence and joy of life without booze, giving back to others in payment for years of selfishness, celebrating the freedom of being able to say “no” to a drink, doing the Lord’s work by fostering peace and brotherhood, or bettering our work environment by promoting extra-curricular interaction, I simply said,

...“Cause it’s Miller Time!”

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live ( happy hours)

Thank You #66b

Morning Friend,

With all the imagination I know you possess, please pretend these words are the hearty and warm embrace of a free and grateful man celebrating a *birthday today.

*it’s my “belly-button” , or “real” BIRTH-day as opposed to my

A.A. Birthday in June, in case you were wondering? As far as my “age” goes, the only information I’ll divulge on that front is that I’m more months sober than I am years old.

The reason for the “e-hug” is because if I have ever met you, spoken to you, or in some way ( cosmically or otherwise) interacted with you, than you have unwittingly become a driving force in my on-going quest to put my best foot forward and keep it there.

I am nothing else, if not a HUGELY gregarious alcoholic gentleman.

*from Merriam Webster

gre-gar-i-ous ( adjective) 1 a : tending to associate with others of one's kind : social b : marked by or indicating a liking for companionship

The “hugely gregarious DRUNKEN alcoholic gentleman act” was panned brutally.....by YOU: my acquaintances, friends and family.

An empty theater on The Grand Stage of Life echoes like an empty heart when you’re a “people person” drinking alone.

“WHY did I do it”??? the oft asked question.....

“Because as someone who is “wired” to interact with other humans; intelligently, humorously, soulfully, spiritually, playfully, creatively, intuitively, purposefully, repeatedly, compassionately, artfully, sensually, powerfully, respectfully, enthusiastically, honorably and with GREAT regularity, it HAD to be done. ....the answer.

The “act” as many will attest is as flawed as it ever was but certainly “cleaned up” at any rate, and every now and then I’ll pull off a show-stopper or garden variety crowd pleaser that’s just about worth the price of admission.

“Thank Yous” abound for this Birthday, this day, this life!

The Good Lord, my Mom and Dad, my whole family, Alcoholics Anonymous, my friends, St. Boniface Hospital......and on and on the list goes of people – and a Savior – who give me the INCENTIVE that fuels my every show!..... I mean day :)

Thank you and may God Bless you and your day friend.

Glad I could get my mitts on ya!

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe....

Love as long as you live (motivated)

The Magic Window #66

Morning Friend,

The bittersweet time of year that is Christmas, is nigh.

And with it comes a myriad of reasons and excuses not to be Merry – or in some cases to get drunkenly “un-Merry” until it’s all over with.

“Grinches”, come in all shapes, sizes, denominations and levels of inebriation, but share a common lament: “I can hardly wait till it’s over!”.

If you’re a staunch atheist, Jew, Muslim, or orthodox sociopath, you get a pass from me; have a Merry... couple of days off work!

If you’re a suffering alcoholic whose misery is all the more intensified by memories of Christmas before booze ruined your life, allow me to humbly suggest that the gift of sobriety could possibly be the best gift you could give to yourself, and everyone else in your life?

But that’s just me, “suggesting” out loud.

If you think it better to get loaded and rant and rail against the contradictory Joy, Peace and Happiness associated with Christmas, then by all means, “have at”.

Fortunately for you, it will soon be a done deal and you can get back to normal, everyday Hell on earth.

But if you’re like many “rushed” out people whose hustle has run out of bustle and your spirit and credit cards are neck and neck in a race to max out, I would humbly ask you to pause, and remember those who can hardly wait for Christmas to arrive; never mind “be over”!?

Children are Christmas, and Christmas is for them.

In this cold, cruel and oft-chaotic world, the window of years where “magic” still exists – where children can “believe” in Santa Claus – gets smaller all the time.

Some kids, by their burgeoning intellect and irrepressible curiosity, break the spell on their own, while others through familial dysfunction or other harsh twists of fate, aren’t “allowed” to believe in magic; Christmas or otherwise.

As one blessed with a TROVE of magical childhood memories, the very idea of a child not waking up on THE Morn without a gift from Santa is alien, abhorrent, and in this day and age, downright shameful.

Like the finest most fragile crystalline sculpture is the heart of a child; blinding is the light of joy reflected in their ecstatic faces and astonished eyes.

Exquisite is the love of a child touched by magic; precious is the innocence of fertile souls where sorrows magically disappear.

I remember my friend, when the “sleeps until Santa came” seemed like an eternity.

Now as an adult ( at least “chronologically” so), I’m like most folks who find the pre-Festive season fairly frantically fast-paced.

But I side with the kids when it comes to “wishing it was over”!?!?

Are you KIDDING me!?

I know of a young girl who is getting her Christmas present “several sleeps” early this year; a trip to Disney World! – sponsored by the Children’s Wish Foundation.

The trip had to be bumped up to last week when further treatment for brain cancer became futile and the window for her being strong enough to go had become desperately small.

Talk about your “Christmas Rush”!?

The window of this poor girl’s magical innocence and her window of life now share the same panes.

Now there are a few certainties about this knowledge and a lesson perhaps as well.

One, is that this is likely if not certainly the brave girl’s last Christmas.

And two, that neither her or anyone in her family is wishing the “wretched season” to end.

This is a family that no doubt wishes Christmas would never end; that the magic this year would include a miracle.

As have I fervently prayed since learning of this tragedy.

The lesson in “perspective” needn’t be mentioned really.

Anyone not enduring such devastating heartache as this, should be hopefully moved to keep and exalt the Children’s Season with renewed generosity and loving enthusiasm.

THROW some toys into that bin at work....drop off gifts to any media outlet in town....give to Children’s Wish or any other kids charity!

Open the magical window and keep it open as long as possible because it closes all too soon.

And keep your whining to yourself....especially that “bunk” about there being no Santa!?!

Merry Christmas!

love tImMy:)

Laugh as much as you breathe....

Love as long as you live (believing)

Yes? #65

Morning Friend,

It all started innocently enough, with a note, stealthily passed via a third party to my desk in grade four.

My ten-year-old imagination quickly shifted into hyper-speed as I stared at the oddly feminine flair in the writing of my name.

Was this a coded message from Mata Hari?....my secret orders from High Command? The beginnings of a Hardy Boy Mystery Adventure?....Could Frank and Joe be in peril at this very moment...their fate spelled out in this note written in what could well be the flowery scrawl of Nancy Drew?

With suddenly trembling sweaty hands, a roar in my head and a "junkie's paranoia" that the teacher was going to pounce on me at any moment, I carefully opened the note like a fragile ancient parchment that might turn to dust at any moment.

Little did I realize, that the little piece of paper unfolding in my hand might just as well have been written by Franklin W. Dixon himself, because it was the prologue to a "Hardy Boy Adventure" that has lasted a lifetime.

The note asked, "Do you like Mandy?" - and had three boxes to choose from; "YES, NO, or MAYBE?"

Now a ten-year-old boy "likes" about a gazillion things, and in naming them he'd likely run through a whole slew of nasty, slimy, grody, thunderous, flashy, explosive, cool and gnarly things before he got near mentioning a GIRL!? ( although you just might have found Ellie-Mae Clampett in the top 100?)

To be sure, Mandy was no "Ellie-Mae" nor were there ANY buxom, "critter loving" tomboys to be found amongst the female students in a grade 4 classroom. ( there was quite a tall German girl who's intellectual development was right in step with her rather early physical development, thus rendering her more obnoxious than likeable )

But Mandy was cute and funny and friendly, and even though I was new to the note-passing subterfuge of adolescent courtship and youthful infatuation, the obvious bottom line here was that she liked ME.

That note suddenly represented the end of my innocence.

The safe circle of "likes" in my life; my family, friends, hobbies and heroes, had been invaded by one of nature's most powerful entities...puppy love.

I had not invited it yet it landed on my desk like a Federal Audit Notice...."Welcome to the World of LOVE".

"Please fill out the following form carefully and truthfully."

"You will be required from this point on, to make any and all intentions with regard to matters of the heart i.e.: "Love"... clear, concise and legible."

"This is a binding contract in which your actions will be required to mirror your words."

"The love in this agreement is "conditional" upon regularly reviewed performance."

That note my friend, was the FIRST time I became aware of one of the great necessities in all "grown up" human interaction: making one's self, and one's intentions, clear.

Surely I had been "showing off" on the playground and was interested in attracting the attention of someone, but who it was, was not CLEARLY known?

Answering the note would clarify my position and alleviate the need for so many break-neck acrobatics or class-disrupting "Tim-foolery".

It would give young Mandy the courtesy and consideration of knowing "where she stands".

Whether you're a pre-teen or a Pensioner, it is essential to people who love you to know where they stand - to get a note back that says "Yes, No or Maybe".

The "note" itself can be non-specific; an unspoken wish for your well-being, an offer of help, the hand of peace, a guiding light awaiting nothing from you but a sense of your willingness.

You can say "Yes" in a hundred different ways without saying the word, just as there are hundreds of ways of showing No.

Body language, tone, demeanor, affect, color, quality, efficacy, are some of the myriad nuances of ACTION; your response to any and all notes that life slips onto your desk.

For many of my adult years the object of my affection received confirmation of my ardor on a daily basis.

From the devotion, commitment, resources, time, energy, passion, earnestness, fire, willingness and zeal that I spent on it, it was painfully obvious to all that I was in LOVE with booze. ( to the exclusion of all else)

I thought of my "sweetheart" first thing in morning, all day, and fondly before each night's passout.

We're "broken up" now ( thanks to A.A. , the Good Lord, and the fact both our parents were against a "mixed" relationship) which has left me with the delightful dilemma of where to channel all of that unused love blessedly yet in my heart.

There is so much to love about life now that one of the more difficult tasks has been where to start?

As singularly as I was in love with booze, my passions today are plentiful on the grownup playground, where "knowing where you stand" is just as monumentally important as it was in grade 4.

I won't throw a snowball at you or hang upside down on the monkey bars, but if I "like" you, you'll KNOW it.

Unlike Mandy who got a "Maybe".

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live (Hardy-Boying)

...many things... #64

Morning Friend,

Since snow, and with it the Christmas Season are finally UPON us, I thought it appropriate to share MY "Festive Focus", as the "countdown" - for many of us, begins......

Christmas Is.... by tImMy

C is for the CHILD of GOD whose birth did set us free
His Holy Birth proclaims the worth of Spirituality

H reminds of HOME and HEARTH where families bind anew
Slights forgotten, heartaches trodden...respite from the blues

R is for REFLECTING on one's blessing and one's sins
Strength and health give mercy stealth, forgiveness ere begins

I INSTILLS an INNER PEACE and sweet tranquility
A mighty spirit all can feel it, the glow of Christmas glee

S is for the SONGS that SING in every person's heart
Carols ring sweet voices sing, symphonic souls embark

T feels like the warming of a special loving TOUCH
Hugs, hands shaken, blessings taken...so little meaning so much

M is for the MEMORIES that the Yuletide seems to nourish
remembrance cast from Yuletides past, forge legacies which flourish

A is for the ATMOSPHERE emerging from the Season
Strangers greeting, minds are meeting, Love rhymes, Faith is Reason

S is for the SOULFUL STATE in which I deem to fall
Be at Peace and Share God's feast, MERRY CHRISTMAS one and all!

* the aforementioned "countdown" is at 25 ( critically important) SLEEPS. Especially critical to those with concerns about their standing on the old "naughty/nice" balance sheet!

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live ( being Good)

Lions' Den #63

Morning Friend,

Contrary perhaps to what is considered advisable, I spend a portion of my spare time in the company of people who drink alcohol regularly, and heavily.

The fact that many of them may be alcoholic is a fact not lost on one who most certainly is.

But the fact that we all share the same interest in shooting pool and shooting the bull is as inescapable as the loving clutches of a spry old Aunty.

In fact, the Sherbrooke Inn where we often congregate is one of this town's more nefarious old "Lush's Landmarks".

I've whiled and wasted many a dark day and endless night away there myself.

If I believed in such things, then the GHOSTS of my own lost spirit must yet be lurching through its' dank archways in search of 2 more draft.

Such romanticism and wonder is no longer on tap there for me, but the dour old dive still holds a familiar spell over a "regular" or two.

And since many of my old friends are mostly "regular", at least from a bar-going standpoint, I find myself once a week in "harm's way".

Now if you think my friend that this is about some kind of "whistle by the graveyard" affair where I'm flaunting mayhem and purposely risking disaster, you're being a little bit melodramatic, but the issue of advisability, does apply here.

I do get asked quite frequently, "what are you doing here?", "how do you stand being around drunks?", and my favorite, "are you SURE you're an alcoholic?", as if my healthy glow and clear countenance were incongruent with the considered model.

This is after all, a distribution point ( albeit a stinky one) for wine and spirits...it's a BAR!

It's a common room, a drinking establishment, a beverage room, a lounge, a club, a pub, THE bar.

One can easily see why it wouldn't be on the list of "advisable" places to be when one is alcoholic.

One look reveals why it's also not on the list of advisable places to impress a date?

The dilemma thus arises, and options with it.

The advisable "textbook" option is to simply stay away from anywhere that alcohol might be available, and get all new friends.

The textbook option is probably/actually responsible for keeping me drunk for a few extra years because it made sobriety sound about as appealing as low back pain.

But for many newly sober, or those still at a high risk for slips, it is the only option, and for some a life long one.

It's not hard to recommend to a burn victim, not to run into any burning buildings.

The "new friends" business is not so geographically solved, and requires not so much that they be new, so much as you are.

Many of my "new friends" are the same "old" ones.

I of course "weeded out" all of those who had been forcibly pouring booze down my throat and/or were a "bad influence".

But besides me if there's anything else new it's the friendship itself.

It's real.

Not like a textbook, but a just published tome with unfinished stories in it and chapters richly telling of love and fellowship and brotherhood and true friendship.

These are people with whom I've shared life, celebrated their young and buried their dead, and we all relish in the notion that they didn't have to bury me.

Witnesses to my darkest hours, they as I now bask in the joyous new brightness of an emerging light and daily reprieve from despair....so long as I don't "preach". ( or brag too much! )

The tradeoff is I try not to make sobriety sound so appealing and my friends in return, refrain from forcing me at gunpoint to drink.

I suppose if I was a "by the book" kind of a guy and wanted to see my friends somewhere where alcohol wasn't available, we could meet at the library.

But what the book doesn't mention is that I have friends who would smuggle a "mickey" into the library anyway, so I figure we may as well shoot some pool.

And while it may not be advisable to do so in the company of alcoholics, I do so with great vigililence and no small amount of gratitude.

Grateful, because the Good Lord has rewarded my resolve with the strength to walk fearlessly with whomever and wherever my journey takes me.

Because you're only in danger in the lion's den if you're feeding the lions.

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live ( under advisement)

Let It Roll #62

Morning Friend,

If I knew today was my last day to live I'd put on clean underwear and my most comfortable shoes.

I’d try and “tidy the place up”.

I'd get a "decent haircut" in case my Grandmother is on "Pearly Gate Duty" today.

I'd give up smoking because surely I could last a DAY?

I'd go up to that person who I'd been meaning to chew out and give them a hug, and apologize to the person chewing me out so they'd give me one.

I sure as heck wouldn't get distortedly drunk and miss out on anything.

No matter what the weather was like, I'd be compelled to extol the virtues of our vibrant environmental variables.

I’d “smell the roses”, or at least be mindful of how they lovely they smell in comparison to what I’m smelling.

I'd dust off the best joke I knew and make as many people smile as I could.

I'd pick ONE thing from my ever-lingering "to do" list and do it WELL.

I'd go through my usual daily exercises, not for any long-term benefits obviously but for the energetic "glow" they usually provide.

(Same thing for brushing and flossing I suppose.)

NO regrets, angst or self-pity today my friend....today would definitely be a day for unrestrained and gleeful GRATITUDE.

Because truthfully, when one who is fortunate enough to live in this "Eden-esque Land of Plenty", stops and does a true Life Assessment, the enormity of one's good fortune is self-evident.

I’d throw down such a gauntlet of glee that fearful thoughts would scatter like dead leaves in a gale.

I would tell people I liked, why, and people I loved, how much.

I would absorb; the fresh air, the engaging scenery, the melodic sound, the kaleidoscopic essence of the day like a dusty sponge cast into a teeming ocean.

I'd make the most of it, that's for sure.

But what if today "might" be my last day to live?

I "might" get "ironed out" in an unforeseen traffic mishap as people do every day?

I "might" have an unbeforeseen cerebral aneurism blow up like a tire and not wake up from my afternoon nap today?

I “might” fall ill and never recover or worse; left in a weakened or debilitated state for the rest of my days?

Or I "might" live to be a hundred years, defying all odds while miraculously thwarting every sinister pitfall known to man?

It's a fine line between knowing and wondering isn't it?

The trouble with not knowing is that it makes life something of a daily gamble.

Can I put off, delay, postpone, procrastinate, or WASTE, one more day or not?

If you're the type that enjoys the perilous pace, the anxiety-laced, stomach-souring EDGE of rolling the dice with your life, you’re taking the chance that "snake-eyes" doesn't come up too suddenly; too soon, before you're ready... like today.

I was fortunate enough to get up from the “craps table” while I still had a dollar left in my pocket.

Not even enough for bus fare to church or an A.A. meeting, but I'm a cyclist with an aversion to Transit Tom anyway.

And my bets are on the fact that this blessedly wonderful gift from God, just "might" be my last day to live.

Tomorrow is an uncertainty.

Today is really the only sure bet I have today, and today is the only day I have to live to its’ fullest.

If it’s the last one then it certainly will have been a shameful thing to waste.

And if it ISN'T, then I'm a winner either way.

‘Cause my barber is on holiday :)

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe....
Love as long as you live (prepared)

Try This At Home #61

Morning Friend,

Here's a little experiment I've been trying that you might find very enlightening.

I say "trying" because it involves changing one of my festering and long ingrained character defects.

And I say "one" because there are actually several which the self-discovering voice of sobriety has brought to my previously distorted attention.

"Ahh the days of wine and roses and rose-colored glasses!"

"Hmmm."

Yes my friend, it turns out that if you sober up a drunken horse thief, you're still left with a larcenous equestarian.....probably even a more effective one!?

So on this ever evolving list of reasons I'll never sing Mac Davis's "Oh Lord It's Hard To Be Humble" again, ( at least not with same drunken fervor anyway? ), was a fairly easy defect to identify because it involves communication, which in my case is pretty much akin to breathing.

Like my Dad, who'd be impossible to sway from trying to strike up a conversation at a deaf-mutes' convention, I enjoy talking with people.

Probably a great deal more than my bosses appreciate, but thankfully my gregariousness is not a hindrance to my productivity....if anything, it enhances it!

The question becomes, "if you're talking a lot, what are you finding to talk about?".

Of course with me it all starts with the "joke of the day"....( by the way, "what's the difference between the government and the mafia?....one of them is organized.” )...then it's on to sports, current events, the weather, and eventually....gossip.

As to the origin of the word....

Gossip - In merry old England, a godsib was a godparent of either sex, sib being the Anglo-Saxon word for "kinsman." When godsibs were together, particularly female ones, no doubt a fair share of idle talk occurred, and the word soon lost its d and its religious context and acquired the meaning of one with whom one chats intimately.

As to it's contemporary role as part of an organization’s or circle of friends' informational "grape vine", gossip is inevitable.

It is also as tantalizing as it is unreliable and it can be as mean-spirited as it is rampant.

My workplace being no exception, seemed the perfect place for my experiment.

I wanted to know how much NEGATIVITY I was contributing to its' rampant and tantalizingly unreliable network of gossip.

And I did so because of a promise I made to myself in the middle of a dear friend's funeral last year.

"Ginette", the tearful eulogist said, "never had a bad thing to say about ANYONE."

"THIS!", I said to myself was one of this fine lady's innumerable attributes that I could strive for.

If I had nothing "good" to say about someone, then I would change the subject, or shut up.

A "valiant promise" indeed but one which my experiment showed, I'd been breaking badly...."bad-mouthing", "insinuating", "trash-talking" "ridiculing", "nay-saying", and every other bent of "bleak blathering" you can name.

Now the beauty of a self-made promise, if you're sincere about it ( and in my case sober when making it); it's like one you broke with an angry girlfriend only this time she's on speed dial in your BRAIN.

And all the while I'm in the middle of a conversation, there's a familiar ringing in my head ( yes it DOES get quite noisy up there sometimes), that goes off whenever the old compulsion to throw my black hat into the ring arises.

And it reminds me once again that while I wasn't a horse thief in my old life, I sure did a Texas-sized heap of wallowing, reveling and relishing in my and others' misery.

It didn't take too much experimenting to discover how that defect could flourish quite nicely....how new AND improved only happens in advertising.

I got the "new" part....the "improved" comes from just trying to improve daily.....on a conversation to conversation basis.

It's actually turning out to be "fun" addressing this defect, and it's certainly something you can "try at home"!

There are some instances where finding something good to say about someone or something can be considered a great FEAT of imaginative prowess!

And sharing that "find" with positive energy, superfluous sincerity, and heartfelt flourish might well be a masterpiece of performance art!

And your experiment, a rousing success!

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...
Love as long as you live ( hypothesizing)

Standards #60

Morning Friend,

"Doing a good job is sometimes like wetting your pants while wearing a dark suit...it gives you a warm feeling, but nobody notices !"

I have seen this quote on posters of a "'sheepish-looking" Charlie Brown so I assumed they were the words of the late great Peanuts creator, Charles M. Schulz himself.

Further research however attributes the words to a lesser-celebrated but no less prolific talent by the name of "unknown".

Ironic isn't it that the profound work itself should be like another good job running warmly down Mr. Unknown's legs as it's mistakenly credited to someone else?

I'm not sure which is worse, having your good work go unnoticed or someone else receiving the accolades for it?

The truth of the matter, ( here comes one of my "Life's Harsh My Friend"...), the truth of the matter IS, my friend... that MOST of our good works during our all too brief time on earth go completely unnoticed, and a good many ARE attributed to others - sometimes by some far less scrupulous individuals than ourselves !

In an ultra-competetive workplace this can be troublesome.

In a work environment where job security, compensation and advancement relies on good workers being identified, one could easily spend as much time ensuring they get correctly recognized for their efforts, as they spend on the work itself?

Or worse, one could spend ALL their time "sidling", "spinning" and "brown-nosing" instead of DOING anything other than taking credit for the good work of others?

On the other hand is the NON-competetive workplace like the "Union" shop where "accolades" and "bonuses" are neither sought nor given.

A "good" job requires that you show up on time and complete the basic required tasks.

You can "knock yourself out" all you want striving for excellence, doing extra, being the best, and going above and beyond, but all the "thanks" that you might get, won't buy you a cup of coffee.

So what's a poor soul to do in this "starkly cool and unfair" world where exceptional performance can go unnoticed, be stolen or is deemed unnecessary?

I would suggest that a person of high moral fibre and a strong sense of self-worth should have no trouble setting their OWN standards of job, and LIFE performance.

At the end of the day, ( unless you're sociopathic or otherwise deranged), it's YOUR face in the mirror.

IF you can face it, can you answer its' questions?

- Did I do my BEST today?

- Did I live up to my STANDARDS?

- Did I make myself PROUD?

- Can I set my standards HIGHER?

For many like myself who've found true success through a DAILY life of small, but not insignificant triumphs, the nightly ritual of self-assessment and evaluation is ALL the BONUS I require.

My "standard" is to simply do the BEST with the tools the Good Lord has given me.

I don't always get noticed.

Other people sometimes take credit for my work.

I'm not REQUIRED to go the extra mile.

But I am the setter and keeper of my own standards and they are high indeed.

I wrote a little question to myself and it's posted on my "office" door at work and on my kitchen wall which reads:

"IF I OWNED THIS COMPANY, WOULD IT BE IN MY BEST INTERESTS TO HIRE ME?"

In answering the question I'm often left with a warm feeling that doesn't require I wear a dark suit.

...or mutter "Good Grief" either.

Love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live (acknowledged)