A simple thank you, my little knee and surprise surprise, stories from the last couple of weeks from in and around the Carr family.
I have spoken in the past how November 11th is a day to remember and pay tribute to those we have lost in wars in the past, but for me, how the 11th is about remembering my Grandmother who passed away on this day in 1986. I remember that day like it was yesterday and one of the images I see often in my flashbacks, is of a group of men in kilts; pipers who had most likely been performing as part of services at the park across the street from the hospital they took my Baba to that morning.
Today, I did not flash on the little room they put us in to make the announcement, or the somber task of identifying her body, but instead of the bright colours woven into the traditional uniforms and the pride on the faces of those men caring their bag pipes, and the others in their full military dress, with medals adorning their chests; all the flowers and pageantry and sights and sounds just feet away from my Baba.
Growing up, to me the ceremony to mark Armistice Day, or Remembrance Day was just something you do, or something you take part in. I have always worn a Poppy, but the truth is, I have not had a family member or for that matter even known someone who had served or fought for Canada. Over the last year, that has changed with becoming close to a military guy that I do some computer work for, and so first thing this morning I sent a simple text to say, “Thank you for your service to our country!” His response, kind of struck me by surprise, he said, “Thanks, no one has ever said that before”. That made me sad.
So please do me a favour, go thank anyone you see wearing a uniform today or any day for that matter. The truth is, I know they do not do what they do for accolades, or acknowledgment, but we should thank them any time we can for what they have done, are doing and what they will continue to do, so we can do what we do. Thank you.
Have you seen them? Those little white, stick figure decals on the back of cars announcing to passing vehicles and the world at large, how many people you have in your family. When I first started seeing them a while ago, they where very basic, a Papa, a Mamma and a couple of kids and sometimes a dog, but they are getting a little more complicated. Nathalie and I had a laugh the other day, with a modern take on the traditional window announcement, because the father was in a chair with a remote control in his hand! I love it. The best for me so far though was the one I saw last week, when I passed what looked like a hybrid mini-van with two mother stick figures and one child. We have purchased ours, and just have to put them on, but we have been holding off, because we have yet to find the two little frog sticks.
I swear, when I was in my teens, I would get dressed in the morning and actually look at my boxers, and think to myself, if I jump I could get both legs in at the same time. The image of me, sprawled out on the floor, face first with nothing to show but a bruised ego, always pops into my head when I hear someone use that old expression, “They put on their pants one leg at a time like the rest of us!”
I haven’t heard that expression over the last couple of weeks, but what made me think of it was brought on by a major pain in my 42-year-old knee when it actually made a noise when trying to get dressed this week. Instead of jumping, now I am just wondering if I could actually hire someone to do the work for me, perhaps from a laying position. My buddy Tim at work calls it a design flaw, in that the knee is just not meant to support either the weight or the constant movement of an average person. Where did I put that warranty card anyway?
While DJ’ing a couple of weeks ago, I watched a server pass me, and in one fell swoop, she bent down pick up something off the ground and like in some ninja movie, she returned to her feet with a twist and never broke so much as a sweat. I said to her, first that I wish I could do that, and that second she should remember that move, because one day it will be only a distant memory. Like the one of me jumping into my pants with both feet at the same time.
Although, my wife does not like to be scared, as in insects, slimy animals or horror movies, growing up she did spend a fair amount of time scaring others. She comes by it naturally apparently, because everyone in her house growing up did the same. Her dad would wait in the shower for an unsuspecting child to walk in, just for a laugh. When we started living together, Nathalie would lay in wait for me to walk around the corner in the kitchen or the bedroom, so she could grab my arm, and make me pee my pants. I guess it is not the fear she likes, but the laughing after that moment she enjoys the most. The other week, Nathalie came across this website of pictures of people being scared at a haunted house attraction in Niagara Falls, and the mere mention of the funny shots will send Nathalie into a laughing tizzy.
The girls like it too, and Julia has turned into the true “Mini-Me” of her Mom, and thrives on the chase. One weekend morning a couple of weeks ago, Julia was the first up, and thought the best place for her to hang was in the bathroom, tucked neatly behind the door to our bedroom. She was comfortable sitting there with her iPod, knowing that the payoff would be the surprise of one of her parents. Now when Nathalie tells the story, she points out that the extra weight behind the door, combined with her early, a wee bit groggy morning mind already had her thoughts racing to some guy behind the door, when she had troubles opening the door. Imagine her surprise when she turned around to see Julia sitting there, only to hear her say, “Boo!”
Now it’s off to find my very own hiding place!
Thanks for reading and have a great and safe week.