eleven: the war veteran

This one goes back to nearly a year ago, when I had the chance meeting with a war veteran on Remembrance Day. Eleven seems like a fitting number.

Of all the holidays that are out there, many of them are losing their meanings and to most people they are just another day off from work or school. Watered down from attempts to be politically correct, or non-offensive holidays like Christmas and Easter have become over-commercialized. Somehow a holiday that has always been associated with the selling of poppies does not seem to be commercialized or even recognized by most.

In elementary school we would always have assemblies with poppy wreaths, visiting servicemen and women, and some song about love and peace. Perhaps those even existed in Jr. high, but by then no one cared enough to go to assemblies because those were freebie skip the afternoon tickets. Before I knew about it, the day had merely become a welcoming break to finish last minute assignments, the last one, before final exams.

Most years by the time November 11th rolls around my poppy has already pricked me a few times and has lost the battle to stay on my jacket, and the only sign of respect I show towards that day is littered on the ground somewhere. Last year, I had the opportunity to sit at a table beside a veteran at a Starbucks. At first I didn’t know he was one, but I spotted a car outside the window with the poppy decal, and as I pointed that out to my friend he said the car belonged to the old guy standing in line.

Inside I got this urge to at least thank the man, as it seemed appropriate given the day. I suppose since my coffee date was mostly just two friends (or more accurately disconnected people) sitting there no longer exchanging words that could be heard, talking to a stranger couldn’t be any harder than the forced conversation. So I reached out and tapped him on the shoulder, and thanked him for serving his country. He reciprocated by telling me about his time during WW2 in Normandy, and how he was presently waiting for his wife and her friends.

I wonder what his WW2 experiences were really like, he would probably have been in his 20s when that transpired, could have even been the same age as me. How would he describe the fear and pain he’s felt? Is he ever haunted of his past? Has he ever taken another human life, or saved one? How is he able to reconcile life during the war to life after the war? Is every day like Remembrance Day for him? He seemed to be pretty well adjusted old man, and it gave me so much hope that he could overcome hell on earth scathed but not completely broken. We met on a day that I really needed to be reminded that time can heal all wounds, and there is always hope for the future if you can overcome the past.

ten: it's never that simple

I never even knew you, but your death was the end of innocence for me. I suppose indirectly I knew you, because I’ve known your would-have-been mother since we were kids. We used to be quite similar, but I suppose in our case nurture beat out nature and we turned out complete opposites. Our common ancestors were our main bond, and somehow we made that work. It’s sad that she could not make it work with you though, despite my feeble attempts to intervene on the situation.

It’s never quite like how the movies portray it —rowdy protestors surrounding the clinic shouting pro-life slogans and shoving model fetuses in your face. Or expectant mothers having a change of heart once they see the first ultrasound blob vaguely shaped like a human. The entire experience is more so a business transaction that doesn't consider the emotional and other additional costs beyond the financial.

I couldn’t go to see you off that day, I don’t think I have the stomach for it, but I still grieved for you. You would’ve been niece or nephew (lucky) number 8 on that side of the family, and you would’ve probably needed all the luck the world could hand you because of where you were coming from. Still I thought that there was a fighting chance for you, but maybe life would have just been too hard for you to be brought up in that environment and that’s why you’re not here today?

nine: the toothless teacher

You were definitely an eclectic teacher, not many PhD's choose to teach sixth grade. But there you were teaching that class for a good number of years, including my year in sixth grade. At the time I thought you were unreasonably hard, and I remember a comment on my report card about my less than ideal penmanship that seemed almost harsh. In reality you were challenging our narrow view on the world, by introducing us to things outside of the box.

Of all the actual material I learned, I gained the most out of our morning listening exercises tuned to CBC Radio One. No other teacher before then had encouraged us to seek information on what was going on the world outside, and there we were listening to the latest reports on advances made in space and the outbreak of Avian Influenza in Hong Kong. Just knowing what was going on in the world, we were transitioning from children to global citizens that have the potential to make a difference in the world.

The one book I remember reading that year was 'Free the Children' and to hear about children in Asia working themselves to death was such a contrast from suburbia. I went home and told my mom about the book, and she began to recount her experiences of working as a child because she had come from a hard life. I can't tell you how much that story scared me, because work for me was having to practice piano and dry the dishes. The story was also inspiring because the author was only a few years older than our class, and before he got really big he actually corresponded with us via e-mail.

Even though we were all at a point of time in our life that was supposed to be simple, you challenged us in a way that wouldn't overwhelm us with the darkness of the world. I don't think I fully learned what you taught me in sixth grade until much later on, when the news would get closer and closer to home. As serious as you often made class and learning, there were always moments of laughter. Including when you took out the projector by tripping on an extension cord and showing us that you were indeed human and not some evil short statured dictator out to get us. There was also that time you showed up to class without your two front teeth because your denture was taken out by some sort of accident and you had long lost your teeth to a hocky accidnet.

Overall of all the teachers I've had you had the right balance down to the tee, putting fun and learning hand in hand and making it challenging. There was even learning disguised as fun, when we had our valentine's party, which was an afternoon outside in the field building a quincey. I hear you're now working at the University, putting your PhD to good use. I wonder if your students there are learning as much as we did in sixth grade? I sure hope you're teaching them more life skills because after all those years not much else has stuck.

eight: the best grad date

It feels like a lifetime ago when the single most important event in my life was high school graduation. I suppose at the time it was quite a milestone, and the years following that really have been my coming of age. This is the story of the gentlemen that escorted me that night.

We were always friends, and in fact you were the guy that every girl in the class would refer to as the ‘nice guy.’ On Valentine’s Day you would take the time to send a candy-gram to every girl in the class, not just the one that caught your eye. You would always offer to drive people around, as you were one of the first to get their own car. Most importantly you would do just about anything for your friends. I don’t remember there ever being a time where I felt I couldn’t ask something of you. I know some of the other guys looked down on you, because they saw your behaviour as desperate, but I think they were secretly jealous.

I’m not too sure how we ended up going to grad together, especially since I was so set out on going with my friends. That was until my friends all got dates and I was starting to feel a bit like the black sheep of the group. I wish I had the kind of security I have now to attend events by myself, but back then going to high school grad by yourself had the social stigma of being leper outside the city walls. I think that’s what prompted you to ask me, a gesture of kindness towards a friend.

I had always imaged grad to be such a formality, especially the date part. Thankfully, we were friends so we did not have to partake in the awkward social rituals of grad. It was nice and simple, no fancy rented car, massive corsage (that would probably make me sneeze anyways) or expensive grad gift exchange. You were distinctly yourself with your cowboy hat and spurs, not a care in the world what others thought of you. Looking back I have many memories I am not too fond of in high school, but grad was definitely a nice way to end things off. Every time I think of the Niverville fair I remember our rain dodging shenanigans, and a time in our lives that was just simple and fun.

If you taught me anything, it is that nice guys do exist out there without any ulterior motives.

seven: creeper...

WARNING: This is a rant. I know over-rated and emo, but I was freaked out at the time when I wrote this and writing helps me feel better. This isn't so much influential, more so a reminder never to be so dumb.
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There are several lessons everyone should learn when they want to learn more about someone, and the first lesson is BE DISCRETE. If you want to spy on your boyfriend's ex, do not have the audacity to ask your BFF add her on facebook so you can peek at her profile. Or maybe you think she's dumb enough to just add you just because she has a high number of 'friends' on facebook. Here's a tip, smart girl's tend to keep a lock down on their personal information, and EVERYONE knows that you're really just a branded version of yourself on facebook. It's about as real as fake boobs. Why else would people untag unflattering photos, and chose to only upload ones that spin them in a good light? Plus haven't you ever heard of Google? Even a simple search using the university search would have yielded you better results. Obviously you aren't that tech savvy.

But hey why should you be? Come on, you don't think I would be able to resist the urge to peek back. OK I'll admit at first I thought maybe you could be someone I may have met in passing, but upon further examination you're about the furthest thing from my crowd. Seriously give me a break, instead of wasting your energy on me spend some time with your bastard child. (No I'm not saying that to be mean, but you're obviously proud to be a single mom posing in your disgusting and stained pyjamas preggers belly hanging out). Or maybe go back to school so you won't become another sad statistic of young single mothers being socially disadvantaged. Sorry, but I'm pretty sure working as a cashier at a grocery store doesn't pay that well and the chances for advancement are slim. Hello, no one dreams of spending a life living in poverty or off the good graces of their parents... so do something about it! Think about your kid and how unfortunate that he has to enter life in such an undesirable state.

PS. Take a lesson from a smart girl, put some parameters on your profile. Don't post incriminating photos of yourself and allow people to see you piss drunk and making out with other girls. Or ones where you look like a complete hooch, leg up beside a limo. People will judge you on that, and anything that has ever been online can be found if there is a will to find it. (Should I mention there's one degree of separation between myself and the creator of facebook?) Don't settle on being a bottom of the barrel kind of girl, because every girl does have dreams of being a princess or at least something worthwhile. Maybe you've been broken, over and over again, but there's no reason to continue to degrade yourself in such a way. Maybe you find it empowering... but truth be told there's a reason you're not married and why I have to fight the urge to look at you with contempt.

And please don't try to look me up, you'll be severely disappointed. Tell your BFF we're probably as different as night and day, so really no comparisons have to be made. If I really wanted to I could reveal information that would crush her world, but that's unnecessarily cruel. But don't think you got away with messing with the wrong girl. Nobody, especially those I do not know, is allowed to take advantage of me. Bother me again, and I will consider that an invitation to the game... your attempts to find dirt or whatever will be matched and beaten.

six: China boy

China really is a world removed from where I am right now. Many of you may have watched the 2008 Beijing Olympics and marvelled at the displays of technology, strength, and uniformity. Of course below the glossy surface came the rumours of under-aged gymnasts, lip-syncing beauties, and scandal. I suppose that is the Chinese way, to put on the perfect face is how you show respect to those around you. I've seen my fair share of interesting people in China, but this one boy is the epitome of just how backwards things sometimes are.

It was late one night and I was hungry so I walked to a nearby grocery store to pick up some snacks. Outside the store was a boy no older than 8 sitting on a skateboard. While this sounds normal, it is anything but that once you get a bit closer. The boy had two stumps for legs and the skateboard was his means of transportation. To get from point A to point B he would use his hands to propel him forward, a crude but functional way to navigate the world. I didn't understand how the boy got to be in his condition, but my aunt explained to me how things work there... and this is what I imagine his story to be like.

Unwanted son of poor or drug addicted family, sold or captured into a gang. The organized crime lords removed his legs so he could bring in more sympathy (and money) while begging. He was pretty much their property and was at their mercy for everything because there was not much he could do on his own. One day when he becomes too old to elicit 'profits' to cover his 'costs' what will become of him? I'd like to imagine someone will take him in, but that seems too optimistic to be realistic. If I could write his story, a nice elderly couple without any children will see him one day and rescue him from his misery. How does one get into that kind of situation? How can the cards that life dealt him be so cruel?

The contrast between the five star hotel I was staying at, complete with two living white tigers in the atrium, and the environment surrounding the boy was black and white. Should I feel guilty for having it so easy, or does he feel jealous he was not born at another time or place? What happens to the few RMB I slipped him? I almost wish we could trade places, because there is no reason I deserve to have an easier life than him. I guess this is just another reminder of what a broken world we live in, and that our hope should not be placed in it.

five: was how old we were when we first met

Yay, it's Thanksgiving! To everyone who reads this: Have a great long weekend and try to think of at least one thing you're thankful for. It might just bring some additional cheer to your day.
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I moved to a new street the year my sister was born, and for the first time I realized that kids like to play outside together on the street. I think you actually came up to my house and rang the doorbell to see if I could play with you. I don't think I was allowed to leave my lawn so we sat around and caught bugs. We ended up going to kindergarten together, and taking the school bus to school together. You always wanted to sit together and talk, which probably helped me over come some of my shyness. You were definitely my first friend in school, by virtue of us always walking home together and playing outside after school.

But kids grow up and they grow mean. By the time 1st or 2nd grade rolled around you were, sorry to break it to you, uncool in the books of many. I suppose your bursts of anger would sometimes scare the other kids, but strangely it never really bothered me. Though I do remember you throwing a chair at another kid... and found it just plain weird. I suppose back then social pressures still weren't that great so we were able to remain friends. I can still remember our first 'deep' conversation about God and life after death. I always wanted to invite you to church, but never had to courage in case you turned me down.

I remember the day we stopped being friends even more clearly. It was a cold winter day and as the oldest (gr. 2) kids at the school we had claimed our spot on the playground. The coveted corner spot that was ideal for fort building. The fort was our twisted version of an in group back then and I remember access to it was restricted to only the popular. I was lucky enough to be best friends with the girl, that the grade 2 alpha male had a crush on, so I was always allowed to hang around though never really belonging. You on the other hand would hang around on the fringes, and one day you just freaked out. I think the pressures of not belonging hit you hard, and you took off your snowjacket and declared in your tear-streaked face that if they weren't going to let you in you would sit there and freeze to death.

The kids teased and taunted you and made the situation so much worse. I watched the whole thing reach to the climax of having a teacher having to come over and resolve the issue. Fortunately recess is only so long and we were soon back in our desks and on our way to preparing for a higher education. You probably didn't talk to me that day after school... and I remember going home and crying. Crying for the injustice of how kids could treat you like that and for how I couldn't stand up for you. I wasn't a very good friend, and I wish I could say we had a happy ending. But ultimately I chose the popular kids, and you moved away after that school year to a different school.

I hope elementary school didn't scar you too much... and looking back I can't believe I wasted so much energy trying to be friends with people who probably didn't want to be my friend anyways and tossed away someone who did. This is a lesson that I still need to be reminded of sometimes.