The Tragically Hip - Their Music, My Memories

The Hip, circa 1988

Last night was a singular moment in time that was shared simultaneously by millions of Canadians. The Tragically Hip's concert in Kingston was perhaps the final time we will see them perform and it has been an event I dreaded and anticipated at the same time. Gord Downie's cancer diagnosis left us all in shock that this vital and vibrant Canadian icon has had his time on this planet cut far shorter than anyone could have ever imagined. He is not just a musician, poet and writer of dreams; He is a father, husband, brother, son and friend to the people who know him best. We will mourn the loss of a legend but they will lose something far greater.

All of this leads to what I have felt bubbling around my head since the announcement that shook all fans of the Hip. I have read so many amazing tributes that talk of what Gord and the Hip mean to Canadians and how their unique way of telling our stories for us makes them so valuable and necessary to the national identity. I cried at many of the brilliant words that friends and strangers put on their Facebook pages or shared on mine. All the things at the macro level about the Hip are true and I was at a loss as to how I could contribute to the voices of others in saying Thank you to the boys in the band for all they mean to me. Then it struck me, my relationship with the band is not really about them at all, it is about what the music they make connects me to when I hear a song in the car or sitting alone here in the Grotto. The very personal connection of so many Tragically Hip songs to the last 30 years of my life is real, raw and continuing.

At 16, driving around in my Dad's car with Up to Here in the tape deck, dreaming of a future where I would meet the girl of my dreams and have a job that meant something. Wearing sports jackets over t-shirts because Gord did and singing Blow at High Dough at the top of my lungs as I drove around the Hammer with my pals. The young me loved the Hip because they were vibrant, loud and boldly Canadian.

At 18, wandering through the haze of bad decisions, drugs and alcohol, I found Road Apples and more than anything it was my anchor in a sea of anger and denial. Never will I here Fiddler's Green and Long Time Running and not feel the hopelessness at my running away from the path I thought I was supposed to be on. They consoled me when I was alone and carried me while I struggled to put my life back together.

At 23, saying good bye to the first woman I ever loved. Watching the Hip late on Saturday night Live perform two songs from Day for Night while we lay on the couch was contrasted by the video to Ahead by a Century from Trouble at the Henhouse playing on a TV in the background a year later as I saw her for the last time and knew it was truly over. We married far too young, too fast and not for the right reasons. Fast forward 20 years and I am proud and happy to call her my friend and read her brilliant words. Always in my heart with the songs of the Hip and the memories now are only of the fun we had.

At 25, meeting the last woman I will ever love in Kathryn and driving around in that broken down car I owned learning about each other as Bobcaygeon played over the tinny speakers. I will always recall her smile as we learned to love and she helped me right the ship of my life. Phantom Power's Fireworks and Something on take me back to those Tim Horton fuelled days and nights when I found her as the completion of my soul and the only person who can truly understand me.
At 31, getting married to Kathryn and seeing the future as brighter than I could have imagined in my darkest years. Putting our lives together with In Violet Light and taking her to her first of many Hip Concerts, I often joke about being The Darkest One, but when I hear It's a Good Life if You Don't Weaken, I think of holding her hand that day we said I do and cherish the memories of every day since.
At 40, losing my business and almost everything I had worked so hard for. Now For Plan A came into my life and I leaned hard on Gord every night. At Transformation played many times as I struggled in my battle with alcohol and felt at a loss as to what to do next. Kathryn was by my side the whole time and it was more often than not I dragged out the Hip and put my head down while I searched for my salvation.
At 43, today I am mostly whole. No longer hiding behind alcohol and leading a life I am finally proud of. A new job and the letting go of the dreams of being a parent. Heart wrenching at the least, but a realisation that I have so much life to live and all I have to do is go out there and get it. Man Machine Poem comes out, Gord's cancer is announced and the last Hip concert is broadcast worldwide by the CBC. We gathered in the Grotto, sang along, cried and Kat held my hand as the tears rolled down my face.

That night in Kingston. One more time, for Gord.

My life has so many more moments, big and small, that I can connect to the music of the Tragically Hip. They have been, quite literally, the soundtrack to my life and I think that is what I get out of the band. The real personal connection to my life that each album brought. From the first chord on Small Town Bringdown off of 1987's The Tragically Hip EP, to the final bow last night in Kingston I have always kept them close to my heart and I imagine I always will. The songs mean that I can have my memories close at hand and while many call them Canada's band, I will always think of them as my own. I may have to say goodbye to Gord someday and I will weep when that day arrives, but I will  have the music and that is what keeps my heart from breaking entirely.

Today is a good day and my yard is filled with my favourite songs from The Hip. My mind is flooded with so many memories and I will sing along and smile, knowing the music will never end.

Growing Up Happy - Part 1

My Childhood

That hair!

My childhood was wholly unremearkable. Please don't try to misconstrue that in any way other than positive. I was lucky and privileged enough to be born in a time when one parent could stay home and manage the household on a single salary. My father worked at Stelco, the local steel mill, and my mother was the one who stayed with us, being on call for 4 kids whenever we needed her. Not wealthy, but decidedly middle class, we grew up never wanting for the basics and occasionally splurging on luxuries. Growing up in a large family and being the oldest meant I knew responsibility early and was always on the lookout for my brothers and sister.



So young and over 40 years later, still beautiful.

My earliest memories play around the edges of real or nostalgia. All day bike rides with our only connection to home being that it was our neighbourhood and the people who lived there looked out for one another. We had to be home for dinner, but lunch would often be some sandwiches and a precious can of pop tucked into your backpack. Out again as soon as the dishes were done, we would pause only when the streetlights came on and begrudgingly head home, with promises to meet up with our friends the next day.

Pictures were a luxury, as you had no idea if they turned out and getting the film produced cost money that would be better spent on groceries or the ever growing kids in our family. Yet we have album after album of smiling faces, family events and road trips that brought so much joy to our lives. We may have thousands of pictures on our computers now, but none of them compare to those dusty photos of 4 kids and their parents having fun. Smiling faces and happy eyes make me see just how much my parents gave us.

That time we met Gordie Howe!

Summer meant vacation and for my mom, that meant no rest from the demands of 4 busy kids. She always kept us moving, taking us on day trips, making sure we ate and engaging our obsessions, which would change from day to day as we found new and exciting things happening in the world. Our house was often the focal point for all of our friends as its joyful demeanour was a respite from their own chaotic lives. The pool was always full and one of the first outdoor responsibilities that we learned after gardening was if you wanted to have your friends over, you had to vacuum the pool. It prepared me for the many parties I would host over the decades. Always make the house ready and you can enjoy your time with friends. No one was ever turned away from that house on Glassco, the door swung open at all hours and even though I was a kid, I knew my parents were constantly helping those who needed it.

Still cute together and always up for an adventure

Occasionally and with great anticipation, we would go away for a vacation. I can't even begin to imagine the logistics of packing 4 kids, sometimes a dog and all their perceived needs into a car and either going camping or in later years to my Aunt Jennette's cottage in Wasaga Beach. These trips were extra special because it meant that Dad didn't have to work and we could spend some time with him away from the stress of his job. Like most kids whose mother stayed home and father worked, I didn't understand how hard they both worked and it is only with the wisdom of age that I see what they did. A vacation for us kids meant beaches, swimming and other sunny adventures. For my mom, it meant taking care of the 5 of us in another place with more dirt and less amenities. But we never knew or felt that. She always smiled and made sure we were taken care of first. I don't think she ate a hot meal for most of our trips and always put our enjoyment first. It was selfless then and I can't help but marvel at how we never knew she was working so hard to make our lives so much fun. 

Dad always manned the BBQ and of course the Pie - Irons (essentially a cast iron sandwich maker that you use in the hot coals of the fire). Perhaps a beer in hand, he loved to grill up whatever mom had brought and if you were lucky, he'd let you have a little taste of what was cooking. I know now how hard he worked to provide us with everything we needed and the skills he taught me have made me the man I am today. While I inherited his quick temper, I also heeded his wisdom on how to contain it. We were always the focus of his attention, the jokes, stories and he was an involved presence at everything we did. Being a father in the late 70's and early 80's was far different than it is now and his very attentive and sympathetic way of listening and offering advice was years ahead of its time.Our later conflicts brought on more by our similarities than our differences, but the bond forged in my childhood never let me doubt his love.

The boys are forever best friends.
We may not see each other often, but the love is always there.

 All of these memories come from that warm place inside my heart. I can feel the love I was given and the safe embrace of home still resonates today. The things we did as a family and the happiness it created are what saved me when I was at my lowest years later. I always joke that any mistakes I made in life are no ones fault but my own because I had such an easy going childhood and a set of parents who supported me even when I didn't deserve it. All of this happened in a simple house, on a suburban street with two people who gave everything they had to make sure their kids grew up with a sense of family and joy at being part of something bigger than yourself.

Thank you Mom and Dad for always making us your priority, then and now.

 Your dedication to your family is a big part of why I smile when I think back to those days on Glassco and the glory of my youth.

 

The family has grown and the love has multiplied.

 

I'm Okay with Who I am.

***I am going to preface the following post with this little aside. I do not want advice on how to diet, exercise or otherwise lose weight. Your experience with those three things is singular and doesn't apply to anyone else. I write this because I love who I am and you should do the same for yourself. If you want to help someone, look in the mirror because when it comes to who we are at our core, the only opinion that matters is your own.***

I am a fat guy.

Not a shock if you know me, follow along with my beer adventures at The Drunk Polkaroo or have encountered me in real life at all. I weigh in the neighbourhood of 270 pounds and being only 5'6", it's a big gut on a small guy.

I'm neither proud or ashamed of what I look like. It is who I am and despite years of thinking about doing something about it, I never really have.

Perhaps I am lazy;

 Maybe I don't really care about myself and eat poorly;

Drink too much and have poor nutritional skills.

No...None of that is true.

Yet those are some of the things I've heard over the years, along with what exactly I should be doing to be more like everyone else. Eat less, exercise more, try this fad diet, see a sepcialist or engage in someone else's newest passion. While I may be a beer guy and shout my love from the rooftop, I always say that you should drink what makes you happy and to hell with everyone else. Maybe the people who want to change how I live should do the same.

So why bother writing about this at all? Why not just keep on living life and let it slide? The truth is since I've started to explore the wider world inside my head and outside my comfort zone, I don't know how not to write about what comes forward. My being fat isn't a disease and it doesn't mean I have to listen to your advice or even want it. Why is someone's weight still the one thing that people feel they have the right to weigh in on? (Pun intended)
I walked over 10 kilometers last week in Quebec one day and felt wonderful. I wasn't out of breath, tired or sore, even the next day. I walk to work quite a bit lately because the Jeep is broken, 2.5 km each way and it's not an issue. But still I get the looks, comments and unwanted intrusion into my appearance. Even at 43, I can't get away from people who think they have the right to impugn upon my person because of how I look.

 I refuse to hide behind the walls of my home, though. I make videos and take pictures with my shirt off because I love who I am. I expose myself to the potential ridicule, but I don't care because I want everyone to know it is okay to love yourself for who you are. If you want to lose weight, get more fit or engage in any other form of self improvement, I say go for it. Attack your life with a ferocity that will help you achieve anything you want. But don't expect me to come along with you. I applaud your efforts and wish you well, but I am pretty happy with myself and the life I have (re)built.

Many times I have lost some weight and then put it back on. The master of the Yo-Yo diet, until one day I just couldn't take it anymore. I decided to just be myself and see where life takes me.  I eat pretty well, mostly home cooked meals with a good balance between greens, grains and meats. I try not to eat a lot of junk and almost never patronize fast food joints. My beer consumption is surprisingly small despite what people perceive. While I do have one beer every day, it is often just that single beer that enters my system. I am on my feet 9 hours or more at work 5 days a week and spend a large chunk of my days off working around the house. So I am far from the lazy, beer swilling, nacho eating character that usually embodies a man of my girth. I am active and probably have more energy than most people I know. I greet each day with enthusiasm and find other's lack of positivity to be a larger problem than the few extra pounds I carry around my middle.

I know this sounds like a rant and in my head it didn't start out that way. But body and image shaming have no place in a civilized, modern world. We must strive to be more inclusive in our approach to creating an open and better society with our words and actions. I make bad jokes at my own expense all the time and I know that it is because I learned early on that humour can mask the pain that other people cause. I recognize my own need to be more accepting of who I am and work harder to create a better narrative for my own story. Your journey, like mine, is inherently personal. You can choose to be joyful and to make other peoples lives the same or you can be negative and hateful. If you're a downer, take your bullshit somewhere else, I've heard it all before.

I might go for a walk tonight. Or a swim. Or maybe I'll prop my feet up on the deck and have a few pints. Whatever I decide is because it makes me happy and at the end of the day, that's all I can do.

Be kind to each other and yourself. Unless someone asks for your advice, keep it where it belongs...in your head. Be fierce in your passions and gentle with your faults. Nothing has to stay the way it is, but don't let anyone else take over the wheel of where you're headed. The only person driving your life should be you.