The Family Saga

This will be the hardest blog to write because what has happened with my kids is the biggest regret of my life. Those who knew me way back when, when the kids were young, know I was a "family man". Nothing was more important to me.  I struggled with the fact that my own birth family had packed up and moved out West without me, but my priority was my own family and I accepted that without question.

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Yes, I've moved around a bit...

My parents moved around a lot when I was just a youngun. We lived for a time at Donalda Farms, which was to eventually become Don Mills. We lived in Ajax. Not sure where else but we eventually moved in with my grandparents at 7 Hugo Avenue in Toronto. My grandfather passed away soon after we moved in. When I was just about to turn twelve we moved out to the country, to a farm house north of Streetsville, now part of Mississauga.

After living in the "big city" where I could go anywhere I wanted to, to living in the middle of nowhere, miles from anything, I was pissed at my parents. Eventually I learned to play with my brother and sister and we had lots of fun. The saving grace was that all my parent's friends came out on the weekends and brought their kids, so there was always lots of kids around to play with. I was always the oldest though, so I did more babysitting than playing.

My first digs on my own were a bachelor apartment in an old building my Dad had bought at 226 Main Street in Brampton.  I paid him $90 a month. It had a shared bathroom, a door to the horrible crawl space type basement, about a four foot kitchen, a closet of a living room and a tiny bedroom. I had a TV and two lawn chairs and that pretty well filled it up. For a time I shared it with Russ Bird, who ended up being my best man at my wedding. Can't imagine how we ever shared such a small place. For a while Janice and I pretty well lived together although that was never actually official until we got married.

In a casual conversation with my Dad about Chris coming along and us needing more space, he asked why I just didn't buy the building from him? Here I was barely twenty, with no money, no credit and a new baby, but I thought what the hell and started trying to find financing. I worked for the bank and figured it would be a snap. Wrong! Not only would my own bank not touch me, but no bank or credit union would. I ended up getting two private mortgages which cost me a fortune in penalties and bonuses and I bought the place with a hundred dollars, for a grand total of nineteen thousand dollars.

There were four apartments in the house. Ours was most of the main floor; an old guy who worked at the garage down the street had two rooms, but no bathroom (we never figured that one out); then there was the bachelor we originally lived in, which we rented to a single guy. The upstairs had a number of interesting tenants over the time we owned it, the best being the lady who came to the door in her nightie asking me if we could work something out on the rent. I told her I couldn't pay the mortgage with that! lol

Not too sure how we ended up looking at the place on Fairglen. I think we had some interest in selling the Main Street place so we had talked to a Realtor, Andy Anderson. He called telling me the place we were going to look at was a disaster, but the price was right and we could make good money on it. As soon as he opened the front door the smell of dog piss hit us and Janice wouldn't even go in. They had black velvet paper on the living room walls; it was cooking hot in the house; the bathroom sink was propped up on two by fours. Yes, the place was rough, but I knew it was structurally sound and everything was cosmetic. It had been listed for $59,900, for months, but had been reduced to $45,900 now. We offered $42,500, final offer, which was accepted. We then had to panic to get Main Street sold to close on Fairglen. It was a very long story, at one point involving a crooked Real Estate agent, Max Harris, who tried to steal the listing from his own company, but we ended up getting bridge financing for six months and eventually sold it to our next door neighbor!

I did a huge amount of work on Fairglen. It was a basic bungalow with things like a purple fascia and lime green foundation. We did a full aluminum siding job and covered it all up. I spent a fortune on landscaping, putting a new lawn front and back and numerous trees and bushes. The neighbors all came by to thank me for getting rid of what was the eyesore of the neighborhood. We sold it some five years later for $59.900 and bought a new house at 122 Elderwood Place, our first and only new home.

There is nothing to compare to your first new home. Getting to pick out all the colours and cabinets and broadloom is great. I also got to install a complete sound system throughout the house before we even took possession. Loved having ceiling speakers and a volume control in our main bathroom because we could crank up the tunes while we showered. I worked hard landscaping the entire yard. We backed onto the ravine so it was beautiful.  Our neighbors were Keith and Rhonda Graham. She was a stewardess for the old Wardair and a gorgeous blonde to boot. Janice was never too keen on me going over there.

This was the time I was in Real Estate and the market basically fell apart. Interest rates went off the charts and it was not the time to be in the business. I had no choice but to sell. I sold it myself though, for $96,000 when we only paid $63,500 for it new. We had built up a lot of credit card debt and owed money so we didn't come out with any windfall. We rented a townhouse on Ashurst Crescent. Our next door neighbour mentioned she was going to sell so we borrowed a down payment from Janice's mum and bought the place. Moving next door was the worst move of our lives because we didn't pack anything, so it was a gazillion trips to move. I did a huge amount of work on this one, like removing the wall between the kitchen and dining room and pulling down the bulkheads in the kitchen and adding custom cabinets. We ended up with multiple offers, selling it for more than anyone had ever before. We bought the model home at 26 Mara Crescent, our last home.

Although small this was quite the place because it had been the site superintendent's home while the subdivision was being built, so it had every bell and whistle you could imagine. We had ceramic tile where other homes had vinyl. We had a jetted tub in our main bath. We also had a large pie shaped lot and although it did back onto a plaza we had a nice architectural wall and I did a major tree and bush planting to soften it. We had a large deck and lot of flowerbeds.

Unfortunately we sold it right in the middle of one of the worst market crashes ever. Had we been able to sell in good times we would have got at least $240,000 because of all the upgrades and the landscaping. Our next door neighbours whose place had no upgrades bought their place for $221,000, so I know the $240,000 would be realistic. But with the crash we were very lucky to get $189,900, still more than we paid for it, but not great. The worst thing for me was that Janice got it all. I refused to see it all go to a lawyer, even though Janice had always said if we ever split it would be 50/50. Things sure changed as soon as I left.  She ended up with the cash to buy a new place.  I ended up going bankrupt.

When I moved out West I stayed with my parents on the lake. They had been going south to Yuma, Arizona for years, so I rented the place from them for the first winter I was there. It was the very first time I lived alone in my life and it was wonderful! I still remember the day they left. I was in my pjs and I put my feet up and had my coffee, knowing I didn't have to do a thing for anybody, for the first time ever. It was heaven!

I'm not sure of the sequence of exactly when I lived where. I had an apartment at the corner of Springfield and Ethel. It was a loft type unit above the stores and I loved it. It was pricey at $800 a month, but I had a room-mate who paid me $300 and was never there. He worked in the field for Telus and was only home a couple of days a month. The perfect roomie! I lived in a townhouse in South Kelowna for a while. It was a nice two bedroom end unit and I had lots of room. I moved there after leaving Karen, with whom I lived for about a year and a half up on McKenzie Road overlooking Kelowna. Nice spot. I lived with Tracy and the kids on Molnar. I moved to live with Doug Cummings, the Realtor, on Menu Road after Tracy asked me to move out. I lived with Ans up on McGinnis Road in Westbank (now West Kelowna). I was living with Ans when my Dad died and I moved in to care for my Mum until I got her into a home. I then sold her place and moved to Horizon Blvd, briefly because the by-law officer came by and told me I could not live there. I was on my way to put a deposit on a basement apartment in Kelowna when I checked my email and there was an email from my Realtor telling me to go and look at a mobile that was about to go into foreclosure and I could just take over the mortgage. The rest was history and the worst mistake of my entire life. I lost everything.

From there it was to a house I rented in Boquete, Panama, then to the place I renovated in Volcancito up in the mountains above Boquete, which turned into major mistake number two. I returned to stay with my cousin in Etobicoke, then moved to London. I lived with three other tenants in a small house on Elliott Street until I had "issues" with the landlady. For a time I slept on the floor of a friend's office, then I went through all three shelters in London, finally landing in a window-less apartment downtown on King Street, a place I could ill afford even with a job. Back last summer when I was in the shelters I applied for public housing. They finally called and I am now in a public housing building on Hale Street in a one bedroom unit. It's pretty basic but a whole lot better than staying in a shelter.

I long to return to the Okanagan some day, but, short of winning the lottery, that looks bleak. I miss all my friends out there and the gorgeous valley. I am stuck in a city I loathe and can't get out of here fast enough.  My health is very bad right now and the first priority is to get better, but not a day goes by I don't want to just head out West, dumb as that may be. I don't want to die here, all alone with no friends. I hope I deserve better.


Springtime in London

The forecast said no rain and a temp in the mid teens, so I decided to finally shed my winter coat (it's been a long, cold winter with record snowfall) and wear my vintage leather jacket for the first time. Not too bad on my way catching buses to the clinic, but when I came out just after two o'clock the wind was picking up and it sure didn't feel like the temp had made it into the teens as forecast.

I arrived a couple of minutes early to the bus stop. There's no shelter there and it's pretty open, so the wind has a chance to really pick-up, which it did. As it got worse and worse I realized the bus was very late; in fact, I waited over forty minutes before a bus came along. I discovered after contacting London Transit that the bus I should have caught had broken down. By the time I caught the bus I couldn't feel my ears or toes. It was a good thing I had just got over a cold or I would have come down with pneumonia, I'm sure.

Two days later as I came out of the clinic, I noticed the sky growing very black. There was a light drizzle and a little wind, but nothing too bad. I hoped the bus would be on time before it got too bad. Suddenly the rain  became torrential and, even though I had my umbrella up, the rain was coming sideways and in seconds I was soaked right through. Then a gale force wind came up, pushing me down the sidewalk and, as I heard the huge garbage container at the Tim Hortons go crashing over, my umbrella suddenly turned inside out and broke several splines, rendering it useless. By the time the bus finally came, late as usual, I was soaked right through to my skin. Even things in my backpack were wet. I looked like a drowned rat. When I finally got home and peeled every article of soaking wet clothing off, my skin looked like I had been in a bath too long, it was that wet.

Getting anywhere was becoming quite the adventure with the weather and now I didn't have an umbrella until my cheque came in for next month. The sweet girl I had sold my bike to last fall to get money to eat was heading back to Italy for a couple of months and we had been talking about her lending me the bike while she was gone. We had made arrangements to meet at Starbucks at Oxford and Wharncliffe last Thursday morning. Although that is a very long way from where I live I figured I would ride as far as I could, then put the bike in the bike rack on the buses the rest of the way. When I got up the forecast was brutal. It was raining and the temperature was falling and it was going to get much windier. I asked her if we could postpone meeting, but she was leaving later in the day to Toronto, so we went ahead with the planned meet. I wasn't too concerned because I would just need to take the bus the whole way and not ride. Good plan, except that not a SINGLE bus in all of London had a bike rack on it! I rode as far as downtown hoping to catch one of several coming my way, but no luck. I ended up riding the entire way home in the wind, cold and rain. Not pleasant. I learned when I phoned LTC that only FOUR routes in the entire city actually have bike racks. This they don't tell you on their website. They promote the racks as though they are on every single bus in town. Not so!

Ah, springtime in London. I need to get outta here!!!


Why we refer to our vehicles as "her"

Might be a strange thing to write about, but a vehicle is an integral part of your life, right? My very first car was a Vauxall Viva, a boxy little thing. I paid a whopping $100 for it and worked so lovingly on cleaning it from stem to stern. I barely had it a week when a drunk hit me on Queen Street in Brampton and totaled it.

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The People in My Life

One of the biggest regrets of my life is that I lost touch with all of the people who made such a difference in my life. I think this is part of the reason that Facebook is so popular because it allows us to "friend" people and to stay in touch no matter where we go.

If I had it to do all over again I would get the names and addresses and email addresses for everyone I came into contact with. I regret that in a fit of cleaning up and reducing my luggage as much as I could when I returned from Panama I threw out a large file folder I had had for decades, called my "Idea File" in which I had not only umpteen business ideas but also a list of many friends from my married days. No idea why I threw it away.

My parents moved around a lot when I was a youngun and I don't have any memories until we lived on Hugo Street. I would have been about eight or nine and I went to Perth Avenue public school. I have no memory of anyone I went to school with, which only proves that we do, in fact, only use about three percent of our brains. I do remember my first childhood friend and that was Ralph Schomberg. He lived around the corner and we hung out all the time. His parents didn't speak a word of English which meant Ralph had to translate every word I said. I also had a crush on a girl who lived a few doors away, I think her name was Sharon. I vaguely remember she was a victim of polio and had a limp. The other person I remember from Hugo was the lovely Miss Penny, an elderly lady who babysat us. I guess she's long gone now, or she's a hundred and fifty.

When I was twelve we moved out to the country, to the middle of nowhere and I never forgave my parents. I went everywhere in Toronto, either on my bike or on transit. I would head off in the morning and not come back until dinner time. Those were the days when parents never worried about anything bad happening to their kids. Now I was in the middle of nowhere with no way to get anywhere. It was a tomb. All I had was my brother and sister to play with. I hated leaving the city.

I went to the proverbial three-room schoolhouse, with grades six, seven and eight in one room. Sad but I hardly remember anyone from that school. Roxanne, my first love; Wayne Wilson, the guy she ended up marrying; and a whole lot of kids I've long forgotten. Wonder where they all are now? I went to Streetsville Secondary for four years and met probably hundreds of friends, most of whom I don't remember. I wish I still had my yearbooks to jog my memory. I do remember the guys in my first band, the Tempests. David Kirk, Don Thurston, whose sister Pat I loved to death, and Chris Hayes. We're all in a picture I still have.

My first job was very transient, in that I moved through nine branches during my career with the TD Bank. Obviously I met and supervised lots of people during that period, but they are just distant memories. I do remember a couple of faces from the branch I worked at that was robbed. Funny how some things burn into your memory. I remember Mr. Murphy, my elderly manager, who was found hiding under his desk after the robbers left. There was also an Italian girl who was pregnant and who the guys from Head Office panicked over after the robbery I guess because they were worried she would lose the baby and the bank would be sued. Spent some time with Steve and Rosemary Vass.

There were many friends during my years in the band. Some were groupies, particularly when we were the house band at the Maple Leaf Ballroom in Toronto. All of us were married but the wives seldom came because they were so sick of the music, so we had four regular girls at the Maple Leaf ballroom who hung out with us between sets. We also met tons of people when we were the house band at the old Club Bluenote. Shawn Jackson. Eric Mercury. Grant Smith. George Oliver. David Clayton Thomas (never liked him) and many more. It's also where I met Pat, eventually the mother of my other son, Andrew.

About the only famous person I ever met was on the plane coming back from Montreal to Toronto. I sat beside David Lewis and had a most enjoyable conversation with him. There was just something about him. He was incredibly intelligent.

So sad that I have lost contact with every single member of my family. My Dad's family were all out West so I hardly had anything to do with them. About the only one I even knew at all was Dwight, my uncle Roy's son, but he was a piece of work and a little crazy. On my mother's side there was a lot more contact because we got together every Christmas Eve at my Uncle Frank and Aunt Daises place. Their kids were Bobby, Frank Jr and Donna. There was my Uncle Cliff and his daughter Joan (the one who took me in after Panama) and her daughter Cindy. I had cousins in Welland whose names I can't remember. There must have been a hundred family there over the years and I can hardly remember any of them.

My parents were always very social and we were always surrounded by family and friends, particularly after we moved out to the "farm". Every one of their friends came out from the city to party. My Dad had corn roasts and winter parties and pool parties. There was always tons of kids around every weekend and we played in the barns and around the house. Their best friends were Stan and Jean Rogers, whose kids were Steven, Daryl, Craig and I forgot. There was Chuck and Chicky Wimbs(?), who had three gorgeous daughters between them - Donna, Margaret and another one I was totally in love with, even though I can't remember her name. There was Gord and Betty Atwood and I don't think they had any kids. I think at one point, when my band was going to play for the group, I listed forty adults who were coming, plus a gaggle of kids.

Before I got married to Janice I had friends mainly because of the band. People like Tommy Connors loved to hang with the band. Janice had friends from school, of course and most of them became our married friends. Gary (the guy she eventually married after I left) and Brenda. Dale and Glen Ellis. Lynn and Brian Jamieson. Greg (our Realtor) and Laura Smith. Dave and Bobbi Rogers. Most of our marriage involved hockey with Chris and then soccer with both Chris and Heather. A lot of the kids on the hockey team were the same year after year, so we got to know the parents pretty well. Gerry and Billy, Kevin's parents. Rolly and Gina. Larry and Anne, his wife, Jay's parents. Matt. Again, so many I have forgotten. I also belonged to the racquetball club in Brampton and met many many friends there, mostly people I played with.

No question I have had many, many jobs over my lifetime and met hundreds of people, both coworkers and clients. Some stand out more than others. Doug Jamieson, who was my broker and my mentor at Kyle-Jamieson Real Estate. Gerry Waterhouse, my manager and eventual partner in Canada Lift. John Farncomb, the Sales Manager at Emco. Bryan Snider, my manager at Hilti. Earl Lince, Doug Bryant, Morris and Frank Cook, all from Emco. Marie Dearlove, Jon Leheup, Heather Castonguay, Doug, Dave and Frank from Indal Products. Ciro, my manager at Clearview Industries. Grant Diamond, my manager at FBC. Ross Dickie and Jim Condon, the owners of Northern Computer. Brent, my tech at Shaw Fiberlink. During my years consulting I had over fifty clients and wish I remembered every single one of them. For some unknown reason I can remember the names of the companies, but not the people.

The largest group of friends I've had in my life I made in the Okanagan. Just after I arrived I joined the Courtplex to play racquetball and squash. My first real friend was the bartender at the club, Laura McKinnon, who I remained friends with for most of my years in the Okanagan. Then I met Linda Lichtaneggar, who also remained a close friend over the years. She even phoned me on my birthday from Turkey. In a very short time I had a group of about forty friends who hung out together. Some of them got together over the years, like Larry and Darleen, Don and Kathy, Mike and Charmaine and others. Wade Silver was my best buddy. There was John Grant, Tom and Debbie (my dance instructors), Brian and Linda, Brian Wall and Doris, Sue and Susan, Norma (my dream girl), Karla (my pretend wife), Stephanie, Tracy, Jackie, Heather, Doris, Bianca, Ron and Suzanne, Val, Crystal, Ans, Trish and SO many dance partners at the Corral (I was a very lucky guy). I know I am forgetting tons of people I met over the years.

I don't have a lot of people I would consider friends from my time in Panama. The only one who has made any attempt to stay in touch is Jim, the guy I worked for on his sister's house. The girl who I thought was my best friend, Verushka, ended up ripping me off for everything I owned. There was Terry and Judith. Amilkar, who worked for me but also ripped me off for a drill that he never paid me for. There was Mitzy at Panama travel and her lovely sister. There were acquaintances I met at Amigos all the time and the owners, Mark and Jennifer (great people) and, of course, my darling girlfriend, Magaly, who I miss very much.

London has not been so kind. I knew Sieg Pedde from Panama. I met Denise on the internet, then her daughter, Emily. I've met a few people through staying in shelters and working at both a call centre and Home Depot, but no one has become what I would call a friend. London is a very cold town and I can't get out of here fast enough. It's a very lonely existence here. How I ended up here is a tragedy in itself and I have no good reason to still be here, but my current circumstances mean I have little choice. I have no money to go anywhere. If that lottery ticket comes in I'll be on my way out West in a heartbeat!


Career/Jobs

Not sure exactly why, but I'm one of those people who've had a lot of different jobs in my life, from working in a factory to being in Real Estate. Some were great. Some were horrible. I've enjoyed being self-employed the most, no question. It's said that those who are self-employed have an idiot for a boss, and this may well be true, but, for me anyway, I prefer to control my own destiny and I've had far too many experiences working a "normal" job that have frustrated the hell out of me. So many companies seem to succeed in spite of themselves and I've just never understood why they don't want to do things better.

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The Women in My Life

This is a tough one for me, only because I revere women and my memory isn't what it used to be, so I am terrified of leaving someone out. I doubt many of them will even remember me, so hopefully that means they won't be offended. The ones who were special to me know who they are.

My first love was Roxanne Rollings. We both attended Churchville Public School, now long gone. She lived right in Churchville and I lived several roads away, in the fifth line. Each line is normally about a mile apart, so I think where she lived was the third line, making it two miles between us, but that's as the crow flies and I had to ride my bike and that added about another mile or so, some of it down the dirt road to her house. She was a real sweetheart, but I don't think she ever really knew how I felt about her. She eventually married Wayne Wilson. I found her on Classmates recently, but she didn't respond.

Me - 1965Through High School I was in the band, originally The Tempests and this seemed to attract a lot of women. I don't remember anyone too special - just a lot of groupies. I was in the band for over ten years and these women were always around. No idea what the attraction was because we certainly were never "rock stars". I don't remember ever having a special relationship with anyone in high school. I remember Francis Carkner, who I also saw recently on Classmates. My first sexual experience was when I was thirteen, with Renatta, and I was pathetic. I had no clue what to do, but thankfully she did. Best two minutes ever!

During a period when the band, at this time called the Bow Street Runners, was the house band at the old Club Bluenote at Yonge and Gerrard I started going out with Pat, a gorgeous little blonde, who worked for Al, greeting people at the door and other things. I was barely sixteen at the time and she was twenty-one, which got a lot of ribbing from my band-mates and my parents weren't too thrilled either. I think, as uncomfortable as it was for them, they knew that if they forbid me to see her that would only make me more determined to continue just to spite them. We all rebel against our parents about something.

We did some fun stuff, although I have no idea how I ever find time to be with her. I was working at the TD bank full-time during the day and playing at the Bluenote Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights until four or five in the morning. We backed up acts that were appearing in Toronto and would come over after their shows to play our floor show. There were too many days when I drove home and couldn't remember getting there.

pat_and_andrewPat was a very beautiful girl and, well, one thing led to another and we made love and it was amazing. Naturally, and stupidly, I assumed she was on the pill, but she wasn't. I don't remember every circumstance at the time, but I think we weren't still playing at the club. My Dad's advice at the time was pretty simple. First he asked me if I loved her and I said I didn't really think it was love. I was too young to know. He asked me if it was mine and I said I couldn't be absolutely sure. His advice at the time, right or wrong, was to cut-off all communication with her, which I did, albeit not comfortable with this decision. Months later my father told me a story that she had shown up at our house, threatening to kill herself and painted a picture of a crazy woman. He said he had "handled it" and to put it out of my mind. Not until recently did I learn the truth about what happened, and it saddened me, not only because what he said had happened was all lies, but because these lies were what my decisions were based on.

(Years later I had my family and my aunt at Ontario Place and we were leaving. I had gone on ahead to get the car, when I young boy came up to me and called me "Daddy". When I said he was mistaken he pointed back to his Mum and told me she said I was his Dad. With my family coming up behind me, admittedly I panicked, more because of my aunt than my wife, because she didn't know anything about this. My wife did. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. It was a very traumatic experience.)

Moving on, there were a couple of girlfriends, like Marilyn Adams, before I met my soon to be wife, Janice. Heather lived in Mimico and we got along really well. I'm not sure why we never went anywhere. I do know it was fun convincing my wife that when it came time to name my daughter, Heather, it had nothing to do with my former girlfriend. Honestly. The night I met my soon to be wife I was at a party with my then girlfriend, Bev Jackson. When Janice walked down the stairs I literally left Bev, walked over to Janice and the first thing I said to her was to askJanice her to marry me. She told me later that her friend, Lynn, had warned her that I was a sucker for blondes. She told me to beat it, but I told her she was going to marry me, now or later, and she might as well get used to it now. I later discovered she had a boyfriend, Doug, who treated her like you know what. We had a confrontation and he spit in her face in front of her mother, which ended it for him. Janice got pregnant with my son, Chris, and we got married August 16th, 1969 in Streetsville. The reception at her parents' home was a riot, mixing her Scottish relatives with my English ones. They all got on great and hardly noticed we were there. I still remember Uncle Billy falling down the stairs carrying a case of beer, and all he worried about was if he broke any of the beers (he didn't).

Janice and I spent twenty-three long years together and I could write a book on just that one relationship, but save to say we drifted apart and never came back together as the people who married. She never really forgave me for getting her pregnant and we went years with no physical relationship at all and that killed me. I stuck around hoping it would someday get better, but it never did. In 1992, when I had moved out and was basically making appointments to see my kids, I realized just how much I wanted to be out West with my own family. I figured the kids would come out to vacation with me, plus they had encouraged me to go. So, in July 1993 I packed everything into the van and moved out West. No question. It became the best fifteen years of my life, excluding that the kids abandoned me for some unknown reason and I haven't spoken to them since. Janice remarried my best friend, Gary, who unfortunately passed away last year. I sent her a card but never heard from her either. Didn't expect to given how she has poisoned my kids against me. Still don't know why.

No one can really understand how hard it is for someone as romantic as me to have no love at home. Believe me, I tried, for years. We never slept together the night we got married or anytime on our honeymoon. It was not a good start. My first temptation was with her friend, Bobbi Rogers. She was babysitting for a friend and asked me to come over to talk about something. She was another gorgeous blonde, just like my wife, but she was VERY friendly. It was all I could do to resist the temptation and nothing happened. I wasn't as lucky the next time. During most of my career at various jobs I had the opportunity, especially traveling as much as I did, to get involved with other women. Sometimes it was as innocent as just dancing, but sometimes it was more. I don't want to count notches in my gun, but there were a couple of special ones. Brenda, who I met on a flight from Dartmouth to Montreal, and who I spent an amazing night with; Cheryl, who was my customs broker and we fell deeply in love and she was the only woman I ever really thought about leaving my wife for; Carolyn, who worked as a receptionist for a company I was with and with whom I had some very long lunches. I actually slept with her at her house when her husband could have come home any minute. Not one of the smarter things I've done in my life. There was also Marie, my very best friend girl ever and someone I would have left my wife for if she did not have a boyfriend. We worked together at Indal Products. Her and I and Heather were the three musketeers. We had such fun. We actually ended up in a motel room one night after a lot of wine and tried to make love, but they were my best friends and it just didn't work. Later Marie gale-annasked me over for dinner and seduced me, but the sex wasn't good because we were such great friends. I loved her in so many ways. After I had moved out and was working at Fellowes in Markham I started seeing Gale-Ann, the President's secretary. Although we had to sneak around at work, obviously, we ended up moving in with each other. She was the only real 10 I've had the good fortune to go out with. It all ended when I flew her out West to see Kelowna and she had no intention of moving. I put her on a plane back after only a week out of the planned three week vacation. It was a bitter break-up but I did see her years later when I drove down to Toronto.

Sad as this is, I really don't remember who my first "girlfriend" was out West. I had so many really great women

Ann and Suzanne

friends - Laura, Linda, Darleen, Norma, Sue, Karla, Bianca, and many others. I love spending time with them and just never got serious with any of them because it would spoil a great friendship. I met tons of women at my favorite bar, The OK Corral, but this usually didn't lead to a relationship outside of the Corral. Exceptions were Jackie, who I was with for three years until she screwed around on me, and Heather, who I had a brief relationship with. I spent a couple of years living with Karen Falloon, but that ended when she planned the rest

of my life for me.

Darleen and Sue

 

 

 

 

 

 

I met the first true love I ever had, Tracy, when she was actually going out with a buddy. That ended and Tracy and I ended up moving inTracy together and spent the most wonderful time of my life. We were so very much in love. We joked that we could not go fifteen minutes without kissing when we were together. We had

The Kiss

"special moments" every day. We talked for hours. We told each other we loved each other all the time. I loved her so deeply and figured we would spend the rest of our lives together.

She was twenty-two years younger than me, but it was never an issue for us or for our friends. We were very good together. We always joked that I was young for my age and she was old for her age. Whatever we were doing, and we did a lot,  she always had a hard time keeping up.

One thing we enjoyed was me pushing Mads and Bray in one of those wheeled carts with me roller-blading. They would squeal with delight when I said we were all going to crash. I would look back and there was Tracy huffing and puffing trying to keep up.

When we did the stairs at Lynn Canyon in North Van (I think there were four hundred or so) we joked about who would be helping who in twenty years. She started to question how things would be in twenty years though and this broke us apart. She asked me to move out and leaving her and the kids was the hardest thing I MeandTracy02had ever done in my life. I left my own wife of twenty-three years without a single tear, but leaving Tracy destroyed me. I cried like a baby for weeks and really fell apart. I thought I would never love again.

Some years later I met Crystal at the Corral. She and I were pure magic on the dance floor and I tried as hard as I could to be more than a friend to her, but she was just never there. We slept together but nothing happened. We spent a lot of time together but it ended abruptly after a very bad "vacation" in Puerto Vallarta and she went out with someone else. The very biggest regret of my entire life is that her

 

 

Crystal

parents helped me out financially and I could not pay them back. I keep hoping that I will somehow have the money before it is too late. I don't want to leave this earth until I have paid these great people back. I think of them every day and know how badly they think of me. I would love to win the lottery and give them a hundred thousand dollars for their kindness. They did not deserve to be hurt.

Crystal

In Panama I had the most unusual relationship of my life. My girlfriend, Magaly, was twenty-five years younger than me, which was fine, but she didn't speak a word of English and my Spanish was poor. Somehow we had a great relationship, I think partly because we couldn't argue because neither of us would understand each other. If she got upset I just kept saying I'm sorry in Spanish until she was over it. We made love every night and went on a wonderful vacation in Costa Rica that I will never forget. I felt so incredibly bad for her when I had to return to Canada. She has done nothing wrong and I hurt her by leaving, but I had no choice.

 

Back in Toronto women were the last thing on my mind, but "life is what happens when you are making other plans". I met a girl on the internet and she eventually came to Toronto. For me it was love at first sight. I thought I would spend the rest of my life with her and I moved to London to be with her. We had a great love, but something was obviously missing for her. She went away one weekend to spend time with another guy and lied to me about it. My only two requirements in any relationship are trust and respect. I had lost both with her. They ended up breaking up but the damage was done. As much as I love her daughter like she was my own, her mom is simply too destructive for me to stay with as a friend. Even my doctor warned me that she was just using me and told me to end it with her long ago, but I cared and was stupid enough to think something might be there, but now I've learned that it's just never going to happen. I still care for her despite everything she's done to me, and I miss her terribly. I am in a strange town and know no one and have no friends. It is tough to live without the one friend I thought I had, but with her is worse than without her, horrible as that sounds.

 

My "Wifey" Karla
Sylvie

Well, there you have it, at least as much as I can remember. I'm sure I've forgotten someone along the way. Before I dated Bev I remember going out with the most gorgeous, but shy, girl whose name I just can't remember. Oh, and at one point I went out a couple of times with Miss Brampton, whose name I also can't remember. There's a couple of one night stands, like Sally in Chicago, and a couple of late night flings with girls from the Corral, but no one else of any consequence, at least not that I can remember. Sorry if I missed you.

I hope there will be more to the story. It's been a very long dry spell and I'm very lonely. I can only hope that I find I way to get back out West and find someone to love again before I die.


THERE WILL NEVER EVER BE ANOTHER YOU

THERE WILL NEVER EVER BE ANOTHER YOU

The world has never seen anyone quite like you before, and it will never see another YOU again. And there is something you have to contribute to the world that the world needs from YOU, no matter how small or unimportant you may think you are, in the great scheme of things. You were born, you are breathing, you are here, because there is something you have to contribute to the world that the world really, really needs. At least in that place, at least at this time, at least with your style, at least with your character and stamp upon it. Someone needs you. Someone’s life has been, or will be, better because of you. Be you a health care professional, a scientist, an engineer, or techie, or digger of ditches, it doesn’t matter. The world needs all these things, but animated specifically by your spirit, your brains, your personality, beneath and in it all.

Your purpose in life isn’t just a matter of what kind of work you do. It’s a matter of who you are, what kind of person you are, and whether you choose to be the best YOU that you can possibly be.

- Richard N. Bolles (What Color Is Your Parachute?)