Home berth…
In 1577,
between June 2 and November 29,
Teresa wrote The Interior Castle,
known in Spanish as Las Moradas (The Mansions)…
Anyone seeking proof,
that she had by this time,
attained a perfect balance,
between the inner and outer,
can find it here,
for she wrote this,
the most profound of her works,
and one of the great classics of mystical life,
in a period of extreme activity and stress…
— in Teresa of Avila, An Extraordinary Life by Shirley du Boulay
I learned a lot about roofing this week…
But my biggest lesson was to make sure that I document everything,
when I’ve put myself forward,
to be responsible,
for supervising a job…
So for the last few days I was all over that scaffolding,
with my camera,
watching every single step as it unfolded,
and was put back together again…
My vocabulary expanded exponentially,
and I held people accountable for their actions…
A word for the wise…
If a guy named Rick shows up in front of your house,
in a truck with Dave’s name on the side of it,
and then proceeds to say that a roof needs to be replaced ASAP,
because the rains are coming,
and puts his hands together in prayer,
and tells you,
I hate to be the bearer of bad news,
and he’s thought it over and he’s going to give you a good deal,
if this gets done in the next 24 hours,
all just himself and his rope,
there’s a rat’s ass on your sidewalk…
When I select a roofer I want to know where he lives,
if he owns his own house,
how long he’s been married to the same woman,
the quality of relationship he has with his children,
how long he’s been in the business,
and how he gets his business…
If the answers line up,
we can proceed from there…
Sub-contracts are a red flag,
unless they’re under eagle eye supervision…
My roofer calls himself a forever kind of man…
He says,
My grandfather always told me,
I don’t care what you do,
just make sure you do it well,
and people will be banging on your door…
I started roofing in my twenties,
back in Saskatchewan,
and I’ve never stopped…
I’ve been a Canadian bowling champion five times,
and I’ll bowl until I die…
My thirty year old daughter has moved back home,
and I’m still looking after her…
I’ve been married to the same woman my whole life,
she’s a great gal…
And NOTHING is EVER going to get between me and my Kokanee’s…
I laughed,
and then wondered what happened to his eyebrows,
and eye lashes…
He told me that he lost all of his hair in his forties…
ALL of it,
spontaneously,
without medical explanation…
Of course being me I needed to inquire into the specifics…
I asked him,
as we leaned on the railing of my front porch,
Nose hair???
None…
Ears???
Nope…
Armpits???
Nothing…
Privates???
Clean as a whistle…
He told me,
I used to be 160 pounds and shave twice a day…
Now I’m 220 and my skin is baby soft…
Not even one whisker…
Feel it…
He offered up a cheek…
I thought to myself,
is this an Irish Spring commercial,
or real life,
and couldn’t resist raising up the back of my hand…
I told him that people pay big money for balls n’all…
I suggested that maybe being a roofer,
and all smooth as a baby’s bottom,
he might want to start up an 80’s cover band,
or change industries…
He chuckled from his big beer belly,
and said,
Well,
on my next birthday I’ll be 69,
which is my favorite number…
And I can’t hear a thing,
except for when my wife says yes,
every six months or so…
But I’m not interested in any other line of work…
I always tell my doctor,
Your job is to keep me alive,
and my job is to keep you dry…
When Foreverman and I shook hands to say goodbye,
it felt bittersweet…
Given the story of our meeting,
which is an watertight roof,
with no signs of rot,
the hope was that we’d never have to see each other again…
As his truck pulled away,
I walked into my house,
and heard the voice of an accordion,
stretching from a balcony across the neighbour’s back yard…
When that French music catches me,
I fall down,
with all filters off…
I need rain...
Stitch markers…
Most Friday afternoons on his way home from school,
in that time before the weekend when lonely people realize just how lonely they are,
George visited the dog shelter…
And he always seemed to end up by the last cage in the last aisle…
Even the concrete had given up down there…
Hidden in the shade of a huge tree,
where the sun never bothered to go,
the concrete and the cages sat beneath a coat of verdigris…
The last cage was where the dogs no one wanted went for a final week before their journey to heaven…
George felt at home there…
In the dark gloom,
he found a place where everything seemed lonelier than he was…
— in The BiG LittLe BooK of HaPPy SaDNess by Colin Thompson
This morning,
just before I had to wake Little Gem to get up for school,
I had a dream that I was working in a shop,
wearing panties with the Canucks’ logo across the front…
And for some reason I took them off,
from under my skirt,
put them on the counter,
and then put them back on again…
Actually now that I’m re-picturing them,
they weren’t panties,
they were ruffled athletic boxers,
the exact kind sporty spice wear…
I have no idea what it means,
but I was giggling in the dream,
which tells me some good old fashioned fun,
and a full debrief is on its way…
Yesterday I canned thirty pounds of organic peaches,
from Heart Achers Orchard in Keremeos,
because Starshine looks forward to eating them for breakfast in the winter…
Watching me in the kitchen,
working through the process,
she saw the effort it took to get the job done…
Something she hadn’t really paid attention to before…
A week or so ago she babysat her two year old cousin at our house,
from 9 am until 1 o’clock…
Once her cousin had been picked up,
she went directly to the couch,
wrapped herself up in one of my story blankets,
and said,
Oh MY GOd!!!
I am so exhausted…
I can’t even move…
She lay there in her cocoon for a bit,
as I tried to motivate my crew into a swim at the river,
and to take the hike up a very steep hill,
that I needed,
to increase my heart rate…
I recently heard a man say to his buddy in the woods,
as they mountain biked past me,
talking about their Warrior weekends,
If you work up a sweat every day,
you’re well on your way to fitness…
Starshine put her foot down,
saying there was no way she was going anywhere except to bed for a nap,
and then she released some thoughts into the atmosphere,
Mama, now I have some idea of how hard you had to work to look after us,
on top of teaching little kids to read and write,
driving out to Richmond and back everyday,
and EVERYTHING else…
No wonder you had to sleep so much,
and couldn’t get out of bed,
once you wound’er all down…
Thank you for all that you do for us…
As much as my children can drive me crazy at times,
and make me scream,
one of the things I find astonishing about them,
is their level of awareness,
and appreciation for what they have…
As well as their ability to reflect upon,
and articulate,
what needs to be said…
When you know that your efforts for your family are noticed,
and appreciated,
without a doubt,
it just makes you want to hold all your horses,
even more…
And a blanket of stars in our eyes...
Indian candy…
For a long time I searched for the black stone that cleanses the soul of death…
When I say a long time,
I think of a bottomless pit,
a tunnel dug with my fingers,
my teeth,
in the stubborn hope of glimpsing,
if only for a minute,
one infinitely lingering minute,
a ray of light,
a spark that would imprint itself deep within my eye,
that would stay protected in my entrails like a secret…
— in This Blinding Absence of Light by Tahar Ben Jelloun
Early this morning I woke from a string of dreams…
In one of the sequences I watched a chairlift,
and in each chair rode a young woman…
Each young woman wore a different habit…
I have no idea what the dream means,
but the feeling was of sweetness,
innocence,
and virginity,
all tied up together…
The night before I had a dream about a former student who has autism,
and she was talking…
Telling me things in a new voice that she had just found,
or more like decided it was time to use…
She said that her family was moving to the home of the little red fish…
This surprised me,
but I was so happy that she had come to visit me in my dreams,
and I couldn’t wait to find out more about what she had to say,
from the world she had,
until now,
kept to herself…
Four years ago I went to Camp Jubilee with the grade six and sevens,
at my old school…
I’d always wanted to go,
because it was a way for me to reconnect again with students who I had worked with when they were five and six years old,
before they left for the big house,
and things were finally falling into place for me to do so…
On that trip,
which was my second time to camp…
I got a turn to wear the captains cap,
as we drove the boat out of Deep Cove…
The next day at the archery range,
a girl sat beside me and said,
with a grand sigh,
They spend more time here telling us what we can’t do than we have to actually do anything,
like she was reading my mind…
I feel exhausted by the end of all these instructions,
she added,
resting her head on my shoulder,
I need a nap…
I asked,
How do you think they could do this differently???
Well they could start by changing the language,
telling us what we can do instead of what we can’t…
she said,
offering the most simple solution…
And they only need to say something once…
Adults always think they have to say the same thing over and over…
They don’t realize the more they say the less we hear…
Look,
she said,
pointing to my watch,
We’ve been sitting here for 30 minutes…
I’ll bet I only get to shoot that arrow three times…
If I’m lucky…
In the pause I remembered the first time I saw this girl,
as a baby,
sitting in a shopping cart at Costco…
The image of her family imprinting on my mind…
Some months,
or maybe even a few years later,
I saw her in our school playground with her mom and her older brother…
Some time after that she was in my class…
Then one day,
when she was in grade six,
I was problem solving with some intermediate students during lunch,
I heard her say something from down the hall,
something about what she sees in me,
that I had never had awareness of before…
Offering a new lens,
and language,
I’d forgotten…
I get tired from negativity too,
I told her,
And I’ve been waiting for a whole year to do this…
Last Spring I pulled an arrow here,
and I had this beautiful feeling…
Like something was being activated in me…
Did you get a big shiver???
she asked,
Like you were remembering something???
Yes, exactly like that,
I confirmed,
Do you get that feeling too???
All the time,
she said,
People write that off as déjà vu,
but I know it’s something more…
Sometime after that revelation at the archery range,
I was walking beside a boy,
on the way to the kayaks…
The boy was defined with something,
like Asberger’s…
He’d never been in my class,
but his younger brother had…
The younger brother was quiet,
but could cut to the quick with his deadpan wit,
when you least expected it…
The older brother took his time to say what he did,
but when he delivered it was right between the eyes…
On our walk across the rocks,
I heard him mumble,
I guess we’re going to hear a bunch of rules now,
with a tip of attitude.
I asked him what he thought about rules…
Some are okay,
he said,
but most rules are unnecessary…
I asked him if he’d ever kayaked before…
Only once,
with my mom,
on Burnaby Lake,
he said quietly,
looking out,
over the water…
After what seemed to be the standard thirty minutes of wading through a river of rules,
in lecture format,
this boy and I shared a kayak…
And once we were in the water,
it was like we’d already done this a thousand times,
together…
Our paddles swinging completely in sync,
as we dip, dipped,
into Indian Arm…
Three seals popped their heads up,
to watch us,
as we glided by…
A week or so after the kayaking,
I had was being interviewed,
south as the crow flies from Camp Jubilee…
One of the interviewers told me,
point blank,
If you want to get to all of the places you want to go in this district,
you need to put all of your cards on the table…
I didn’t know which cards she was talking about,
or the places she was referring to…
I was still in shock that I was sitting across the table from two people I didn’t know,
telling them things that I wasn’t yet certain of…
Then after the inter-view,
I paddled my red canoe,
up Coast Meridian Road…
And right at the very end of the road I got triggered,
Roofers are known to be a shifty bunch…
But three years ago I supervised the re-roofing of the six houses in my strata,
and everyday on the project I was faced with an honesty and integrity that was bar none…
Yesterday the roofers were called back to deal with a fiasco,
due to the failure of my direct neighbours to open a window,
and properly ventilate,
when they shower…
Pretty much a no-brainer explanation for why they have had a persistent problem with the skylight,
in their vaulted ceiling,
dripping black water onto their bed,
when the weather outside freezes and warms…
In the span of three years,
the roof deck,
in the circumference of the bathroom and skylight,
was black with rot and mould…
Work that was done well on the outside of the house,
was being blamed for negligence to the insides of the house…
A history that will keep on repeating itself,
in our public schools,
until we wake up and smell the coffee…
This coming week a fresh new army of children will be showing up all excited for their first day of Kindergarten…
If I were in all of the places that I want to go in a school district,
I would be keeping track of how many children come into my schools,
with no signs of constipation,
autism,
A.D.D.,
A.D.H.D.,
O.D.D.,
anxiety,
tummy aches,
eye twitches,
eczema,
and the myriad of other possible ways of sending up smoke signals,
and how many children are showing symptoms of P.S.T.D.’s,
by Thanksgiving…
Doctor, doctor, give me the news...
Canuck'd 