It's been kind of a tricky year.
I like Geneva... I like it a lot. Sure there are things that bother me: the language, mostly. The fact that I live, more or less, in a parking lot, frequently populated by people who take the "outdoor voice" concept to a bit of an extreme. Oh, and prices; but then, with store hours being what they are, that's not much of an issue.
But at the end of the year, I'm moving back to Calgary, and so it's added a distinct sense of season to my life that wouldn't otherwise be there.
It hit me, again, as I was wandering through Montreux a few weeks ago, from the train station to the concert hall to see Alicia Keys: this could be the last time I do this. The last time ever.
My last spring, last YAGS retreat, last birthday, last concert season... and the list goes on. Now, I know, it's not like I've been diagnosed with a terminal illness, but still - it's tough.
I've always had trouble saying goodbye. I have tended to kind of shut myself off, to protect my heart, and to withdraw well in advance of the actual event. And I'm trying like crazy to change that now, to live here, and now, and to be open and available and vulnerable, but it's getting tougher.
My heart and my mind are starting to turn to Calgary. There are some wonderful, wonderful things that await me there... some I know, some I anticipate, and I'm sure there are many others of which I have no idea, yet. But I don't want it to keep me from still being able to experience my last fall, last winter, last vin chaud, last roast chestnuts, last fondue on Swiss soil. First or last, I don't want anything to get in the way of what I am living today - the people I love, the things I put my heart into, the things that I will see and do and know that will never be the same.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Friday, February 8, 2008
Flashback
I was remembering my high-school English classes today. They were insane, and rather than explain why, I'm going to illustrate with a snippet of dialog:
Mr L: "Who can tell me what a noun is?"
Me (always a keener and, moving from another school, not yet acclimatized to the new environment): "The name of a person, place, or thing"
Mr L: "No, who can tell me what it is?"
Jim: "Something you call something?"
Mr L: "No..."
Sheri: "An action?"
Mr L: "No. Who knows?"
Blair: "A word that..."
Mr L: "STOP!"
Everyone [exchanging blank looks]
Mr L: "What did you say? Say it again"
Blair: "A word that tells you..."
Mr L: "NO! Before that"
Blair [confused]: "A word that..."
Mr L: "That's it!"
Everyone [still blank]. In the back row, Caroline starts to cry.
Mr L [triumphantly]: "It's a WORD!"
Yeah, this was grade 10. It's a wonder I still know how to read.
Mr L: "Who can tell me what a noun is?"
Me (always a keener and, moving from another school, not yet acclimatized to the new environment): "The name of a person, place, or thing"
Mr L: "No, who can tell me what it is?"
Jim: "Something you call something?"
Mr L: "No..."
Sheri: "An action?"
Mr L: "No. Who knows?"
Blair: "A word that..."
Mr L: "STOP!"
Everyone [exchanging blank looks]
Mr L: "What did you say? Say it again"
Blair: "A word that tells you..."
Mr L: "NO! Before that"
Blair [confused]: "A word that..."
Mr L: "That's it!"
Everyone [still blank]. In the back row, Caroline starts to cry.
Mr L [triumphantly]: "It's a WORD!"
Yeah, this was grade 10. It's a wonder I still know how to read.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Flashback
I used to clean blinds.
We would go into a home or business in the morning, take down all the blinds (venetians, verticals, pleated shades...), take them back to our shop, clean and dry them, and then deliver them at the end of the day.
It was a mixed bag... it helped pay for a lot of books, classes, and food. It was a fascinating study in business process change, training, and management, because I was leading teams with extremely high turnover and had pretty free reign with how they were trained and managed on-site. It really screwed up my back. It made me appreciate, in a way that's almost scary, how good it is to have a job that doesn't require me to shower when I get home.
Anyway, today there are some guys working on the heating in our office. They're moving the desks that are close to the walls. They're moving shelves full of books. I guess in a little while they're going to start tearing stuff apart. And it's hard to do that discretely.
And it makes me remember that feeling of going into an office, having to take off my shoes and climb on desks to get to windows... struggling with blinds that were big, and heavy, and in awkward spots to reach, trying to do the best job I could... sweating, straining, sometimes really pushing myself to physical extremes that I never would have expected would be required for that job. But I could always tell what the people were thinking.... "I work in an office; he's cleaning the things that no one here wants to clean". I wanted to tell them... I'm smart, I'm capable... I could do so much more than this, if someone would just give me a chance.
Well, someone's given me a chance now, and I'm doing just fine. I'm glad that I had that experience, though, just like I'm glad I've been able to live in a place where I don't understand the language that well... where I sound like a 5 year-old when I try to speak, and make stupid cultural mistakes. Because now I know how to look at the men moving the desks like they're real people. And when I hear people speaking another language on the bus in Calgary, I'm not going to feel pissed-off or threatened. I'm going to remember being in their shoes.
I wish I was more sensitive, more sympathetic. But I'm glad that I've been able to have some experiences that, even though they've been tough, have helped me to learn a little bit of empathy. It's slow, you know? It's a lot slower than I want it to be. But I'm getting there.
We would go into a home or business in the morning, take down all the blinds (venetians, verticals, pleated shades...), take them back to our shop, clean and dry them, and then deliver them at the end of the day.
It was a mixed bag... it helped pay for a lot of books, classes, and food. It was a fascinating study in business process change, training, and management, because I was leading teams with extremely high turnover and had pretty free reign with how they were trained and managed on-site. It really screwed up my back. It made me appreciate, in a way that's almost scary, how good it is to have a job that doesn't require me to shower when I get home.
Anyway, today there are some guys working on the heating in our office. They're moving the desks that are close to the walls. They're moving shelves full of books. I guess in a little while they're going to start tearing stuff apart. And it's hard to do that discretely.
And it makes me remember that feeling of going into an office, having to take off my shoes and climb on desks to get to windows... struggling with blinds that were big, and heavy, and in awkward spots to reach, trying to do the best job I could... sweating, straining, sometimes really pushing myself to physical extremes that I never would have expected would be required for that job. But I could always tell what the people were thinking.... "I work in an office; he's cleaning the things that no one here wants to clean". I wanted to tell them... I'm smart, I'm capable... I could do so much more than this, if someone would just give me a chance.
Well, someone's given me a chance now, and I'm doing just fine. I'm glad that I had that experience, though, just like I'm glad I've been able to live in a place where I don't understand the language that well... where I sound like a 5 year-old when I try to speak, and make stupid cultural mistakes. Because now I know how to look at the men moving the desks like they're real people. And when I hear people speaking another language on the bus in Calgary, I'm not going to feel pissed-off or threatened. I'm going to remember being in their shoes.
I wish I was more sensitive, more sympathetic. But I'm glad that I've been able to have some experiences that, even though they've been tough, have helped me to learn a little bit of empathy. It's slow, you know? It's a lot slower than I want it to be. But I'm getting there.
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