Watching the wheels of life pass by, I realised that in less
than 5 months, I will have reached my sixty-fifth birthday. Now, for those who
don’t know me, I have always complained in between telling stories of my
children growing up, the unfair balance of time that has gone by, and how it
happened so fast.
Sadly, my childhood
was a time I would have instead let pass by. My starting point most thought was
my time in the Navy, or my time working at the NDP caucus office in Regina,
neither of which is true. My early twenties were but a host of indecision and
painful anxiety. I didn’t know in the slightest what I wanted to do, or which direction
was up or down. It would probably be fair to say I was lost in a sea of racing
thoughts, and the desperate need to take charge of a life out of control and
out of my hands.
A critical decision had to be made: either relocate to an
environment conducive to effective evaluation and management of my situation or
accept the ongoing risk of remaining in an ambiguous and unsatisfactory state.
My journey began in earnest at the intersection of Elizabeth and Bay Street in
Toronto, where I arrived with a typewriter secured to my backpack and a
cigarette in hand. As I observed the bus departing for the prairies, which I had left behind, I recognised the significance of this pivotal moment.
My Editor was the next person to approach me, having spent
approximately fifteen minutes searching for me throughout the bus terminal
before discovering me observing my new environment. This marked a significant
transition: I was now responsible for myself as I embarked on this new chapter
of my life. While this change brought about understandable anxieties, I recognised
that it was now up to me alone to address them.
Adapting to a new situation presented significant
challenges; however, Father Joe and Our Place provided valuable support during
difficult times. Subsequently, Karen invited me to share my life with hers,
marking a transformative period. As our family grew, ongoing adjustments were
necessary, and my priorities shifted from personal interests to the well-being
of my loved ones. For thirty-seven years, I dedicated myself to what many
consider to be a profoundly meaningful undertaking, placing other pursuits on
hold.
This morning, as my daughter Sarah left the house to return
to her job as a reporter, and Karen left to go to work at the hospital, I was
left alone to work on my blog, edit video content, and make changes to the
radio station. Upon looking in the mirror, those same feelings I felt in 1985 of
being in a life out of control and totally out of my hands began to resurface
with all the same anxieties that went with it.
While relaxation and leisure are often recommended at this stage, such approaches do not resonate with my disposition. During these times, I am inclined to reflect on advice, especially that which Father Joe might have provided. Remaining idle is an option; however, I am continuously reminded of experiences from years past.
My backpack, laptop, and digital equipment stand
by as I determine the appropriate moment to proceed. This juncture marks a new
chapter in my life, and I am prepared to move forward with purpose.
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