It seems that every generation has their own “where were you when _____ happened” event.  For my dad it was John F. Kennedy being shot.  Prior to that it may have been the sneak attack on Pearl Harbor.  For my generation it is definitely the attacks on the World Trade Center in New York.  (OJ in the white Bronco and Princess Diana both register but neither had nearly the impact on my life.)

I find it so interesting to hear other peoples’ stories of where they were and what they did so here’s mine.

On September 11, 2001 I was working at Atomic Energy of Canada Limited in Mississauga.  I was listening to Howard Stern on my commute to Toronto from Belleville when he started talking about a plane crashing into the WTC tower.  In my mind it was a little two or four seater and an interesting news story but when Howard, all of a sudden, started going crazy about a second plane crashing into the other tower I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  I was an avid Stern fan at the time so it took me a while to realize that he was serious, especially since no one on any other radio station was saying anything about the crashes.  When I realized it was serious and that these weren’t accidents it actually made me angry that the other stations were continuing to gleefully play music, either ignorant or in denial of what was going on.  Of course, had they come on and said that terrorist attacks were taking place all over American skies, the chaos may have been worse.

Instead of going to work I drove straight past the office and went to East Side Mario’s (a restaurant/bar) because I knew they’d have televisions (and I was sufficiently late for work that the place would be open).  I was still struck by how little people seemed to be reacting to the attacks.  It wasn’t until the first tower collapsed that people really stopped what they were doing and took notice.

I didn’t ever end up at work that day.  My boss was annoyed but understood.  I spent the day in the company of strangers, worried about my friends in the States, and very confused about the future.  I can’t say the future is any more clear now but I do hold my friends closer.

My heart goes out to all of the families of the victims of the attacks, as well as to anyone else who has lost a loved one too soon.

By the way, I know they’re rebuilding but I think the two lights beaming to the heavens are a moving and striking sight to behold.  You really can’t see them and not stop to take it all in.

As if you needed an excuse.

My boss is really into post-apocalyptic movies and books.  If it’s dark and dreary (or has vampires in it) he loves it.  He recommended that I read Cormac McCarthy’s The Road a long time ago but it wasn’t until I saw the movie No Country For Old Men (based on a McCarthy novel) that I decided to pick it up.  I hate seeing a great movie knowing I could have read the book first.

You see, the movie The Road comes out this fall.  I know it will be good because it stars Viggo Mortensen, and he doesn’t make crap.  I’ve tried to steer clear of any spoilers because I’m now reading the book but what I do know is the general story.  It is, of course, a post-apocalyptic story about a man and his son heading south to avoid the freezing cold of the coming winter.  From what I’ve read in the first 25 pages, the event occurred several years ago and the man has survived much longer than most.

The book very quickly goes from dismal to scary.  On page 5 is a phrase that so closely aligns with how I feel about my kids that I wish I’d written it.  The man is watching over his son while he sleeps and he says, “If he is not the not the word of God God never spoke.”  At this point I was very in touch with the man and thought how much we are alike.  I put the book down for a break when the man asks himself on page 29, “Can you do it?  When the time comes?  Can you?”  Clearly this is not the world I live in.  The thought of saving your child from unspeakable horrors by ending his life – that deserves a break.

It’s another one of those, “what would you do in the same situation” type of books that I love and love to talk about.  Feel free to leave me your impressions of The Road.  I promise not to read them until I’ve finished the book (which will likely be very, very soon at the rate I’m reading it).

Update:
Finished the book in one  day – a new record for me!  I do recommend it but it is not for the faint of heart.  Very emotional for fathers of young kids anywhere.  The large print and style of writing makes for a nice quick read – you could probably get through the whole thing in one transatlantic flight…

I write this blog post for and about my dad.  He may not read it right away (or ever) but there are some things I think he should know.

I was gassing up my truck this morning to the tune of a small country’s GDP when I caught a whiff of the fumes.  I was instantly transported back to every summer Sunday morning of my youth, filling up the boat.  There was an hour every Sunday morning when my dad and I would head down to the boat before everyone else to get ‘er ready.  We’d take the top down, stow the life jackets and the cooler, and then we’d take it around to gas up.

As a bit of an aside, there really isn’t anything else like Georgian Bay at 8 or 9 in the morning in the summer.  It’s glass calm, the sun is just coming up and you can feel the heat of it on your skin but it’s not hot yet, it’s quiet, so quiet, and then there’s that smell.  The sickly sweet fumes of gas and the Bay mixed together.  It’s not unlike an elixir of youth – or joy.  I think it is actually impossible to be upset or worried about something when you’re down at the dock, before the crowd, on the Bay.  Lesley, when I go, just spread my ashes somewhere down the South Channel.

With gas prices heading through the stratosphere I imagine that pleasure boating will leave the realm of the middle-class to be enjoyed only by the uber-rich.  That’s a real shame.  I know I’m not the only guy out there who spent his formative years bonding with his dad over the fumes of an old Starcraft.  Like most guys, my dad didn’t try to teach me anything about life when we were alone, that kind of information you had to glean from his actions and from eavesdropping at parties when I was supposed to be asleep hours ago.  No, the stuff I learned from him in the early mornings was more about him and the kind of father that I wanted to be.  He’d sit in the back of the boat, being my first mate.  He’d wince when I came in too fast in the early years.  He’d comment about my wake (it was always too big but I just couldn’t drive that slow).  But in the end, he always let me take the lead, make my own mistakes, and learn on my own.

In the later years he’d just open a book and read until we got to the dock.  He’d follow my instructions and then let me run the show for the whole day’s boating.  Everyone knew that I was running the boat.  I know he was paying attention though because he’d never fail to thank me at the end of the day for such a good boat ride.  Imagine that, thanking me when it should have been me thanking him.  As much as I liked driving the boat I think the thank you at the end of the day was even better.

I often think about the years ahead and how I’d love to move my parents closer to me and my family.  I don’t get very far before I think about Georgian Bay and what it has meant to me, my dad, and my family in general.  I was raised on the Bay.  I proposed to Lesley on the Bay.  I think I’m about as close to it as a man can be to a body of water.  The thing is that my dad was there for all of it.  So is it really the Bay that I love?

Happy Father’s Day, Big Isi (the BBP).

Ok, so it’s not a compound.  But there is a new face.  My second daughter, Leila (“Laylah”) Belle, was born early Saturday morning and my wife and I couldn’t be happier.  Big sister Ella seems very excited and has attempted to be very helpful around the house.  At a little over 4 years old, that help often ends in more work for the ‘rents but I love the effort.

Leila was a week late but it was clear that she was just staying where she liked the food.  She was born at 4230 grams, or 9lbs 5oz.  She’s as cute as a button and very curious.

Now my wife and I are fully engulfed in the mystical art of deciphering what the hell this baby needs.  My mother bought us a DVD called The Dunstan Baby Language.  If you haven’t heard of this before and have an infant at home, it is definitely worth checking out.  The Reader’s Digest version is that this lady in Australia was born with a gift for being able to identify sounds and recreate them after one hearing (“a photographic memory for sounds” they call it).  When she had her first child she discovered that he was repeating the same basic sounds and, after some research, discovered that it was virtually universal among human infants.  She was on Oprah.  Yes, I’m the last to hear about her.  I don’t watch Oprah – sue me.

Let me tell you this, when you watch the DVD it looks foolproof.  If you manage to hear the sound in your own child you feel like a genius.  If, like me, your child seems to make every sound other than the basic sounds on the DVD you feel very frustrated.  Right now I’m about 3 for 12.  It’s better than 0 for 12 but I do hope it gets easier…