A Change of Heart

I had high hopes for a romantic reunion with Kathy last night. But it didn’t quite turn out that way. She was a different woman this time. Three years ago, we were lovers. She was married and cheating on her husband. They’re separated now, but Life's trials have changed her. She sat alone on the couch here, with her legs curled under her and her arms folded tightly across her chest. She’s had some health problems. A cancer scare. Her mother is dying. Her brother is a drug addict. A lot has changed since we were together last.

Maybe the best I can hope for now is a friendship with this woman. She needs a friend right now more than a lover. I loved her back then, Ms J. I knew she was using me to fill the void in her marriage, but I didn’t care. It felt good to be with her.

Kathy stayed for a couple of hours. We chatted and she left at 9:00. I blew out the candles I’d lit, and went to bed.

When I wondered a few days ago where this might lead, "nowhere" is a possibility I hadn't considered.

***

Reflections on the Season That Was

December 26th. The day after Christmas. We call it Boxing Day and it's a holiday here in Canada. Britain too I think. I wonder why they call it Boxing Day, Ms J? I always thought it was because it's the day we put things back in their boxes and return them to the store. But maybe not. Most shops are closed today. Banks. Offices. Beer and liquor stores. There's not much going on here at the moment. Would you like to hear some more about our trip to Flesherton on Saturday? OK, then.

Well, as I've said, it was a planned meeting of the family to celebrate Christmas together. Traditionally, we've gathered at Mum's in Mt. Forest, but there are so many of us that it always seems crowded. The noise at times is nearly deafening. And poor mum gets stressed and barks orders and ... well, it gets a bit crazy sometimes.

This year though, there's Bob. He's my sister's new beau and he made his spacious home near the village of Flesherton available to us and so we went.

I enjoyed the two-hour drive from Mimico. Meagan and I listened to her music and chatted in the car. She held the steering wheel and steered all the way from Shelburne to Flesherton. As we turned off Highway 10, I asked her if she’d like to drive the last two or three kilometres.

“Whadda ya mean, Dad? Ya mean like actually driving? Like sitting behind the wheel and doing the gas and brake and everything?”

“Yeah, Meagan. That’s exactly what I mean. Would you like to try?”




And so she did.




It was only a couple of miles, Ms J. And it was on a deserted country road. It was safe.

She did a wonderful job! She listened to my instructions and heeded my advice. She did as she was told and I didn’t feel nervous at all.

Meagan is not only anxious to grow up, but she shows a willingness – almost an eagerness to accept greater responsibility. Her brother has never demonstrated that to me.

Ever.

I believe Meagan will earn a drivers’ licence before Dan does. And she’s six years younger.

Bob is Helen’s beau. My sister seems finally to have found a winner! He’s calm, self-assured, generous and kind. He treats my sister respectfully. And he's been like an angel to her as she's endured this nightmarish year of cancer treatment.

Bob’s home is gorgeous! He owns a bed and breakfast establishment on fifty acres, less than an hour south of the resort area of Owen Sound and not far from the ski hills of Collingwood. It’s a Victorian style home with modern amenities, and quite large enough to accommodate two dozen Pringles without feeling crowded.

We enjoyed a sumptuous turkey dinner and afterwards, we sang Christmas carols accompanied by Bob’s son, Robert who played the guitar. It was very satisfying.




I’ve written a lot here lately about my lack of Christmas spirit. I’ve been feeling decidedly anti-Christmas and looking forward to Boxing Day. Well something wonderful happened that night, Ms J.

Right in the middle of “Away In The Manger” I suddenly felt myself fill with the Love of Jesus and the true spirit of Christmas. I looked around at the happy faces surrounding me and felt the Love of family and community and my heart filled with joy, my eyes with tears. It was clear to me at last why we celebrate the season of Christmas. I wiped my tears and began to sing along with the others and from that point on, felt the spirit of Christmas not only in my mind, but in my heart as well.

Happy Birthday, Jesus, I thought. Merry Christmas! God has blessed us, every one!

---

And what about Christmas Day, Ms Journal? Are you wondering how things went with Dan? OK. Let me refill my coffee mug and then I'll come back and tell you about it. I have a few photos to share as well. Hang on a sec.

...

Alright. I'm back. The coffee's good, Ms J, but damn it's hot!

Unlike last year, I wasn’t alone when I awoke on Christmas morning. I was alone in my bed of course, but I was not alone in the house. Meagan was sound asleep on the couch downstairs. It made me smile to think that my girl was just a few steps away on this very special morning. I wondered if it had snowed in the night. I rose and gazed hopefully out the bedroom window, but saw not a trace of white in the back garden.

“I guess we’ll have no white Christmas after all,” I muttered as I moved to get dressed.

Meagan was curled up on the couch, a blue fleecy blanket pulled up around her chin. One leg stuck out and I noticed she was still wearing her socks. She moaned softly and I bent and kissed her awake.

“Time to get up, little one,” I whispered. “Time to go and get our boy and have our happy Christmas. Merry Christmas, Meagan. Happy Birthday, Jesus.”

We drove to Georgetown and collected Dan then returned to Mimico to open our gifts. Dan and Meagan got a few gifts from me. And Meagan gave us each a pair of socks. These were no ordinary socks though, Ms J. They were “toe” socks. Socks that resemble gloves, with a hole for each toe.

I love mine and put them on right away.




Aren't they adorable?!

They’re actually quite comfortable, believe it or not. Dan got a pair, too. His don’t have happy faces on them, though. Dan offered no gifts to his sister or me. I was not surprised. Meagan’s socks were the only present I got this year, although I received a lot of Christmas cards.




Having both of them here on Christmas was good enough for me, though. That was great! The best gift a dad could ever ask for.

After lunch, we sat and chatted for an hour or so. Dan seems fairly content with his situation. He’s living with a friend and his mother and pays just $300 per month in board. The mother isn’t home much and so the boys tend to do as they please for the most part. I assume there’s a lot of drinking and marijuana use, but I can’t confirm it. He looks good and he’s lost some weight. His hair and beard are long, though. And his fingernails are chewed down to the quick. He told me he misses his son. Kelly and Baby David met Dan at McDonald’s in Georgetown a few days ago. Dan’s not allowed to see his son except in a public place. He’s forbidden from going to his mother’s house in Norval, even on Christmas. He and Meagan joked about his situation and although his lips smiled, there was no joy in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he told me wistfully, “I do miss my boy. I miss living at home, too.”

He misses these things, but not enough, I guess, to do anything to improve his circumstances. I thought this, Ms J, but I did not say it. I honoured my promise to Meagan and kept the conversation light and airy. Shallow. Meaningless. But non-threatening and non-judgmental.

Around 3:00 we got in the car and returned to Georgetown.

I took Dan to his place first. We said our good-byes in the driveway. It felt awful leaving him there to spend the rest of Christmas Day without family around. But I reminded myself this was his choice. Meagan and I went back to Norval where I gave David the gifts I’d bought for him.




He’s getting to be a cute little guy. He’s got four teeth and a ready smile. He seemed thrilled with the books and toys I bought him.

Meagan was excited to get home to open the gifts her mum and Tim had gotten her. But after she’d opened them, her excitement turned to disappointment. She got a cheap alarm clock, a little radio, and a child’s sweater which was way too small.

“I’ll give the sweater away, Mum,” she said. “Dan could use the clock and you can have the radio.”

Kelly was a bit defensive.

“Don’t be ungrateful, Meagan. Tim and I went to the Sally Ann and they gave us this stuff for free. Mummy just told them we couldn’t afford Christmas for our kids this year and they gave us all this.”

“I’m not ungrateful,” said Meagan, folding the sweater to return it to its box. “It’s been a crappy Christmas for everybody this year.”

But she rolls with the punches, my daughter does. I think she was feeling sorry for her brother more than herself. He didn’t even get to see his mum or his son on Christmas. This was different than any other Christmas she’d ever known.

“Do you think I could go over to a friend’s house tomorrow, Mum? And hang out there for the day? Instead of going to Tim’s mother’s house?”

“No,” Kelly said. “I’m sorry, Meagan, but you have to go. Nanna’s expecting you.”

I could see she wasn’t pleased but she nodded her head resignedly. Before long, she was playing happily on the floor with her nephew.




Meagan was right, Ms J. It hasn’t been a particularly stellar Christmas this year. But I did get to see both of my kids as well as my grandson. I was able to buy a few gifts and spend some quality time with the people I love.

Now that I think about it, it’s been alright after all. Different, but not horrid. I know it was a sad Christmas for my son, though. Maybe things will improve for him.

Merry Christmas, Dan. I love you, you know. And I always will.

***

Christmas Blessings

May the Light of all that's good and pure shine in you and through you this season, today, and always.

Merry Christmas, everyone!


Let Peace begin at home

***

I Sound Like My Mother!!

We were on our way home from Flesherton last night when Meagan interrupted herself in mid sentence.

"This is a really cool song, Dad. Listen to the lyrics. It's about doin' it, eh? You know. It's about having sex."

And she turned up the volume on the car stereo.

She had loaded the CD changer with her own music for the two-hour drive. She likes to introduce me to her favourite artists and to be honest, some of it is quite good.

Some of it.

Some of it is ... well, not.

The group we listened to call themselves "Sublime." Meagan says they're a "Ska" band. "Ska". The song is called "Caress Me Down". I wasn't able to discern all the words but I did manage to catch a few.

"Mucho gusto. Me llamo Bradley. I'm hornier than Ron Jeremy."

"...she pulled out my mushroom tip and when it came out it went drip, drip, drip."

Some of the lyrics were in Spanish. I was grateful neither of us understands much Spanish, Ms J, although I remember thinking "no es bueno."

What in the name of all that's good and holy are kids listening to these days?! And will you listen to me now? I sound like my mother!

Yes, it was a catchy tune. The rhythm was hypnotic. Perfect beat to ... er, dance to. Yes. Just right for dancing. Just right for doing The Horizontal Bop!!

Holy hell, Ms J! I was shocked, but I didn't react. I just listened and agreed with Meagan's assessment.

"Yup, that's about doin' it alright, Scout. I like the tune, but I must admit I'm not too fussy on the words, if you get my drift."

"It's just a song, Dad. Just because I like it doesn't mean I'm having sex."

And so we talked about sex and about her periods and about her latest boyfriend and it was all good. It was not always comfortable, but it was all good.

I've really been working on keeping an open mind and trying to listen without judgment. Tomorrow's Christmas. Dan will be here. No doubt that boy will provide my ultimate challenge.

So help me God.

***

Let the Weekend Begin

I’m one week closer to retirement.

Well, this week slipped by pretty fast. It seemed all I did all week was scramble to try to catch up on my sleep. I’m losing the race, I think.

A bunch of the lads from work went to a pub Thursday night. I went too. I was the first to arrive and I stood around for twenty minutes. When there was still no one else there, I left and came home. That’s OK, really. I was told Nick would be there as well. Nick, Ms J. The guy who got us all fired last month. The guy who is too tough to ask for the help he so desperately needs. I still haven’t spoken to him. Tough guy. Idiot. I really must get over that, you know. I'll have to work harder at forgiveness. And I will. Forgive him, I mean. One day.

I’m looking forward to spendng time with my daughter this weekend. I am so proud of her!

I’ve decided to buy a new car. Well, not a new one, I shouldn’t think. A used one. Not too old, though. Dad says four years old is about right. He says they’ve lost some of their value by then, but they haven’t amassed too many miles yet. Sounds logical to me.

I’m going to buy a small car. A “puddle-jumper” Dad would call it. I don’t know which brand yet. Honda, maybe, although they’re pricey. Toyota makes a pretty good car. So does Ford and Chevrolet and ... well they’re all pretty reliable nowadays, aren’t they? I don't really fancy small cars, Ms J, but that's all they have in Europe and the UK. If they can drive 'em, so can I.

I’ve been out, looking at cars this week. The salesmen are hungry, Ms J. But I’m hoping they’ll be hungrier after Christmas.

Scout and I are off to Flesherton today to enjoy some time with our kin.

Kin. That’s a word you don’t hear much anymore. I wonder if it’s derived from the word “kind.” And kindness. We show kindness to our kin, Ms J, don’t we? Usually, anyway. In German the word “kind” means “child.”

Maybe it’s all tied together somehow.

Merry Christmas.

***

Feeling Happier Now. Lots, Actually.

Thursday. It was a pretty good day, Ms J, for a change.

I ran into an old friend at Union Station last night. It was Kathy. Remember her, Ms J? I don’t guess I’ll ever forget her. Kathy was a woman I was crazy about in 2002. She was married, though, and lacked the courage to leave her husband.

We didn’t have long to talk. I had a train to catch and she was meeting a friend to see a show downtown. Kathy told me she and her husband had separated and asked if I still had her email address. I had forgotten it long ago so she reminded me and invited me to send her a note.

I will, tomorrow.

I wonder where this will lead?

---

And I got two pieces of good news today.

I spoke with Joe this morning at work. Joe’s our union representative. He told me CN has agreed to stop testing and planning for one-man GO train operations. December 30th was the date they had chosen to begin operating GO trains with only one engineer. It was to spell the end of about thirty jobs, mine included. But Joe said CN has agreed to bring the entire matter before an independent arbitrator. Both sides will be bound by his/her decision.

This is really encouraging. Although I still believe CN will be successful in their bid to cut more jobs, at least this buys us a little more time. It offers us a respite from the worry and fear so pervasive at work now, and invites the possibility that we might get a better deal than the ‘like it or lump it’ the company originally proposed.

The second bit of news came just a minute ago. Meagan phoned.

“Dad,” she said, “I have the most amazingly good news. I can’t wait to tell you. I spoke to Dan today. He says he’ll come and spend Christmas Day in Mimico with us. So it’ll be just the three of us, Dad. Just like old times. Isn’t that amazing?”

I grinned like the Cheshire cat, Ms J.

“Yes, Meagan! Yes! That IS good news! Oh Scout, that really makes me happy. I’ll make a ham and mashed potatoes. And peas, honey, ‘cause I know you like peas. And I’ll bake a pie for Dan. He likes apple, doesn’t he? Oh poo! I might not have time to bake a pie. I was supposed to help out at ----“

But Meagan stopped me.

“Dad. Dad. You don’t have to do all that. All you have to do is give him a hug and tell him you love him.”

I nodded my head slowly and took a breath. She was right.

“He’s nervous about seeing you, though. He looks all strung out and stuff and his hair’s really long and he has this beard and stuff. But whatever you do, Dad, don’t start giving him grief about where he’s been or what he’s done. OK? Promise me, Dad. You have to keep it light and not get into any heavy heaviness with him. I told him you wouldn’t judge him or try to fix him. I promised him you’d be good. So you hafta be good, OK Dad? Please?”

Poor Dan’s not even allowed to see his son at Christmas. He must be disappointed. I know how he must feel.

I’ll be good, Ms J. I don’t know what on earth we’ll talk about, but Meagan will be there. She’ll help me if I get into trouble.

She’s planning to spend Friday night here with me. I’ll collect her after work and on Saturday, the 23rd, we’ll journey together to Flesherton, Ontario. My sister, Helen, has a boyfriend who owns a Bed and Breakfast style inn near there. Bob has offered it to us for our annual Pringle Christmas gathering. He’s even promised to cook the turkey! I hope my old car survives the trip.

“You and me will have lots of time together,” said Meagan. “You’re still coming to get me on Friday night, right?”

I told her that was my plan, yes.

“I’ll stay at your place on Friday, then we’ll do the Pringle family Christmas thing on Saturday. We’ll come home on Saturday night so you can go to church on Sunday. Then, there’s no point in driving me home on Sunday just to come fetch me again on Monday, so I might as well just stay with you on Sunday night. We can go and get Dan on Monday, come back to your place and open our presents! Light a fire in the fireplace and just hang out together. Sound like a plan?”

Yes, my sweet Love. Yes, that sounds like a plan. A wonderful, joyous, I-feel-like-laughing-out-loud plan.

My plan. Our plan. God’s plan.

It’s awesome!

***

Nothing New Here

Wayward son.

Career threatened.

Money trouble.

Car trouble.

Christmas anxiety.

What's the use of itemizing it all, Ms J? What's the point in harping on it? It only invites feelings of depression and fear.

Sadly, I can't think of anything else to write about today. Thoughts of depression and fear have not only come to visit, but have become unwelcome guests from Hell who demand I entertain them. I try to ignore them, Ms J, but they are persistent.

Are you tired of hearing about them? I don't blame you. I'm tired of listening to them, and tired of writing about them.

Today I feel I have nothing to look forward to but more of the same.

Fuck this.

I'm outta here.

I'll be back when I'm feeling more cheerful.


Looks like it's just you and me against the world, Scout.

***

A Classic Sunday

I went to church early this morning, Ms J. I was awake early anyway, thinking about Daniel and about Meagan and about my job and where I might be working in the new year. It was just after 5:00 when I woke up, and I wasted no time at all before I began worrying. I rolled over and over but could find no comfort in my bed. At 7:00, I got up and showered. Downstairs, I sipped my coffee and watched the sparrows squabble over the last few grains of millet in the feeder.

I was the designated opener this morning. I arrived at church around 9:00 to prepare the sanctuary for worship. I opened the doors and lit candles and turned on the lights. I enjoy being alone in the church.

There was a Christmas play performed by the congregation this morning. I did not participate at all. I wasn’t asked. At first, I felt hurt and neglected. They all know how I love to perform for an audience. But the more I think about it, the less I bother myself. I’ve been dealing with a lot of troubles lately. I really didn’t need the additional responsibility of learning a script, even a small one. Besides, it was fun to sit and watch.

---

There was a music concert at church this afternoon. It was the inaugural performance of the Mimico Chamber Orchestra. Our choir director brought the musicians together and after some weeks of rehearsal, they presented a two hour concert for us. It was brilliant, Ms J! I’ve never been to this type of concert before. There were strings and flutes and two French horns and an oboe, a clarinet, and a bassoon. They played a Schubert symphony and a concerto by Mozart. I thought the Schubert part was better.


Classical Music. Awesome!

It was more fun because I knew some of the performers. Erin was a violinist. Her mum and dad go to my church. Carolyn played a violin as well. And Patrick, another man from Wesley, played the double bass.

It was a very enjoyable way to spend a Sunday afternoon, Ms J. And only a few blocks from home. I really must try to learn more about this type of music. It could be I’ve been missing out on something wonderful.

***

Saturday's Thoughts

I bought a few more little trinkets for Dan yesterday after work. A toque and some mittens. I wrapped them this morning and put them under my little tree with Meagan’s stuff. It doesn’t look like much, really. But it’s all I can afford.

Last Thursday was pay day. But there was no pay for me, Ms J. None at all. I dipped heavily into my savings to cover my expenses. Clearly, this is not sustainable. I believe I'll get paid again in a fortnight, but it'll be a small pay.

---

My car is not long for this world. It suffers a host of problems. There’s a strange humming noise from the engine – either water pump or alternator. One of them is failing. The transmission behaves strangely at times, clunking into gear after a delay of a few seconds. It shifts quite roughly into second gear sometimes. And the over-drive function fails after a few miles at highway speeds. The brakes will soon need service. The rear tires need replacing. And the engine leaks oil, badly, due to a blown head gasket. That one repair alone could cost a thousand dollars! And it seems every few days, I put thirty dollars worth of gasoline in the tank.

I need a new car. Soon. Before this one dies. I’m confident that it will eventually break down at the most inopportune moment, or as far from home as possible.

I’ve been shopping for a new one and I’m astonished at the prices! Even the most basic vehicle costs nearly $20,000 for a current model. It’s very easy to spend $30,000 or more on a new car. That’s outrageous, wha'?!!

I hope to buy something quite basic, something small and gentle on the environment. Maybe a little Japanese car, or possibly something small and domestic, a few years old. That big old car of mine has served me well for ten years, Ms J. It’s a 1995 Chevrolet Monte Carlo with leather seats and a 3.4 litre V6 engine. It’s traveled over 260,000 kilometres in rain and snow and summer heat. That’s roughly the equivalent of six times around the Earth at the equator!

Back in my Donna daze, we often took long trips by car. We visited both Florida and New Orleans. We made a number of trips to Canada’s east coast to visit Donna’s family in Nova Scotia. And we traveled to London, Ontario twice a month to buy drugs from an acquaintance who manufactured the crystal meth we used and sold. We did a lot of driving.

But today, I don’t often journey much further than Georgetown to visit Meagan and baby David. My brother lives there too. I don’t need a big, fancy car anymore, Ms Journal. And with gasoline selling at .85 cents per litre, I can’t afford it.

Trouble is, I can't afford a new car either.

***

Not Too Thrilling

I had a fairly ordinary day, Ms J, for a change. I've settled in well at my job. It was a bit stressful at first because I feared some new misfortune might send me back to the unemployment line. But after four days on the same route I worked before, and with another engineer, one who is diligent and emotionally healthy, I've begun to relax. Not too much, mind you. But I can actually enjoy operating a train again. And this is good.

Girl Alex was here today. I picked her up at the subway station at 10:30 this morning. She brought her laundry with her and while her clothes were getting clean, she set out some decorations and wrapped the few gifts I'd bought for the kids. She filled the stockings, too.

"Holy CRAP!" she laughed. "You must have spent a fortune on all this stocking stuff."

I told her I had and showed her the receipt. She was incredulous.

"Are you mental, or what?" she asked and laughed some more. "Who are you buying this stuff for? Your kids or yourself?"

We talked then, G.A. and I, about over-buying and about using gifts and money to try to buy affection.

"A lot of people do that, Dale. And it's just so pointless. Dan and Meagan love you already. Nothing you buy or don't buy will change that."

She's right, dammit. The girl is 20 years old and she's already wiser than I am.

"Why don't we take all this stuff out and look at it, piece by piece? I'll bet you can take half of it back to the store."

And so we did, Ms J. Some of the stuff for Meagan went back, and a lot of the stuff for Dan. Nearly all of the shiny baubles and gewgaws I'd bought for Maxine went back too. It was more than a hundred dollars worth in total.

I feel much better this evening, Ms J. I finally mailed my Christmas cards last night, and I feel a sense of peace now that the shopping is done and the gifts are wrapped. Meagan got a few more gifts than her brother. Maxine got the fewest. I feel that's fair, given the current situation.

Now, if I could only speak with The Boy, I'd arrange a time when I could give him his gifts, remind him I still love him, and wish him a Merry Christmas.

I know there's still time left until Christmas, Ms Journal, but I wish he'd phone.

***

Blue Christmas

I couldn't believe my ears.

"How much?!" I asked.

"$260.19," said the young girl behind the counter at the drug store.

I stared at her for a moment while my jaw hung slack.

"But it's only stocking stuffers," I said. "STOCKING STUFFERS!"

The lady behind me sighed too loudly and cleared her throat. I considered saying something sarcastic to her, but decided against it.

"Yes. But you have a lot of cosmetic items there, sir. They can be expensive, eh? How would you like to pay for it? Cash or debit? Our credit card thingy's not working at the moment."

I gave her my debit card and waited silently as she bagged the items. Stocking stuffers: Gum. Razors. Magazines. Eye liner. Lip gloss. Candy canes. Junk.

Two hundred and sixty dollars.

To fill three stockings: Daniel's, Meagan's and Maxine's. And what on earth does one buy for an eight-month-old? Nothing, I hope, 'cause that's what he's getting.

I hate Christmas shopping. Hate it. I hate crowds and shops and mostly, I hate wandering up and down the aisles without the slightest clue about what I should purchase. What should I buy for Meagan? She's asked for one thing only. An MP3 player - "a pretty good one." And what about Maxine? She and Dan aren't together anymore. Do I still have to get her something? And how about Dan? What gift is just right for a young man with no home, no job, no Life? Will I even see him at Christmas?

You know, Ms Journal, I wasn't always such a Scrooge at Christmas. There was a time I really enjoyed it. I had a wife to do most of the shopping and wrapping, and only two kids. Two young kids who were thrilled to find gifts under the tree and stockings full of little toy treasures. I enjoyed the music and the decorating and all the wonder and simple joy of the season. But not anymore.

It's not simple anymore. Meagan is fourteen. Dan is God-knows-where. Maxine is ... still living with Kelly and baby David. Maxine loves Dan. Dan resents Maxine and hates himself. It's all a big mess. And I don't know what to do. I don't want to disappoint the kids, but I can't afford much Christmas this year. I've gone out today, and spent a fortune on rubbish they don't need and probably don't even want.

If I buy two gifts for Meagan, do I then have to buy two for Maxine? And Dan? And will Dan be angry if I don't fill a stocking (with WHAT???) for David? Will he be disappointed in me? As disappointed as I am in him?

I have decorations in the cellar and I just can't bring myself to haul them upstairs and display them. I have Christmas CD's I don't want to listen to, and wrapping paper I don't want to look at. Two dozen Christmas cards sit on the table waiting to be addressed and mailed out. They've been there more than a week.

I have no Christmas spirit and I don't give a shit. I feel guilty and ashamed of that. And I feel incredibly stressed. Everyone else is happy. Everyone else goes out and buys gifts and wraps them. Other homes are decorated. But not mine.

I don't like Christmas. And I can't wait til it's over.

***

Sunday Night

It's Sunday evening. I've had a fun weekend. I had guests here for dinner on Saturday - friends, really. Christine joined Allan and me for a dinner of mashed potatoes and breaded pork chops. After dinner, we went to see a play. Christine won four tickets in a raffle and opted to take Allan and me and another friend, Bob, out to the theatre. We saw a pantomime performance of Hansel and Gretel. It was VERY adult and quite enjoyable.

After the play, I rushed off alone to a neighbourhood party. It was really fun. The hosts are friends of mine from church - The MacPhersons. Good people. Great party.

Karen is a gracious hostess and her husband, Cyril is a talented guitarist. He played for an hour or so while we all stood round and sang. There were about eight or ten of us all crowded round Cy's music stand and as we sang, I was suddenly filled with joy. I felt a powerful sense of community among us, Ms J, a feeling of togetherness. And in that moment, all was right with the world. I actually left the group at one point, and walked around to face them and my chest filled with the Spirit and I smiled and smiled. We were from different backgrounds and of various opinions, religions, and skin colours, but our voices were one in song.

Man, it felt good! It was awesome!

Many of the party guests were aware of my troubles at work and they all offered congratulatory hugs and handshakes when they learned of my reinstatement.

"You're lucky," they said. "It had a happy ending. It could have ended much worse for you."

They're right, of course. I shall go to work tomorrow with that thought in mind. I have decided not to be bitter and angry about what happened. I am the only one who'll suffer from it. I'm not yet ready to talk with Nick, though. He has not been reinstated. I do wish him good luck and hope he'll find peace within himself.

---

Yes, the alarm is set for 4:00 am, Ms J. I really should go to bed, but I'm thinking of my girl tonight. Meagan has come with three friends by bus to the big city where they're attending a music concert at a downtown club. The venue is called Kool Haus. The band is called Rancid. Yup, that's the name. Sounds delightful, doesn't it?

She was a bit nervous about the excursion.

"I've never been to an indoor concert before, Dad. There's going to be, like, thousands of punk rockers and I don't want to get separated from my friends. I've never been in the city without an adult with me. I mean, I'm not scared or anything. I'm just, like, concerned, that's all. Just a bit concerned."

I told Meagan I'd make sure she and her friends get home safely. We made a deal.

"I'll come fetch you downtown, Scout," I told her on the phone yesterday. "I'll drive you guys all the way back to Norval or Georgetown or whatever. That's my commitment to you. All you have to do is promise me you'll be responsible and that you'll phone me as soon as the show is over. Deal?"

"It's a deal, Dad. And thanks for doing this. I mean, I'm glad you got your job back and everything, but you're gonna be tired in the morning aren't you?"

You see, Ms J? You see why I adore that girl?

Yes, I'll be tired in the morning. But I'll know my girl is home, safe in her bed.

Happy endings, Ms J. I've been through some crazy times, but they always seem to have happy endings.

I wonder why I still worry so?

***

Just When I Was Having Fun

I'm back to work, Ms J. Well, nearly.

When I got home from my walk with Carolyn yesterday, I found a message on my phone. It was Mr. V., the union boss.

"I spoke with the VP for Eastern Canada and he says he's willing to bring you back to work. Your discipline will be 'time served' but you have to agree that there will be no union grievance on the issue. We can still grieve it if you want, but I imagine they'll hold you out until the matter is settled. It's up to you what you want to do. Call me tomorrow. I'll be in the office at 9:00."

I waited until 10:00 this morning and while I waited, I composed a list of questions to ask Mr. V.

Will I be back on my old job on Monday, then?

Will my work record still show that I suffered a dismissal? I want that expunged.

Will this lapse in employment affect my 2007 vacation allotment?

What about my pension account? Will it now show a deficiency? Who will pay that?

And when can I expect to receive my back pay?


I spoke with V’s secretary.

"Oh he's at a doctor's appointment this morning. He won't be in until 11:00. Shall I have him call you?"

It's never easy, is it?

I'll phone him again later and let you know how things turn out.

---

I just spoke with Paul V. I listened again while he prattled on about how arrogant and intractable the company is and how the union really can’t do much to change things, and blah blah blah

Whatever.

When I could get a word in, I asked him my questions. His answers were not encouraging. I asked him anyway to take my concerns to the vice president who will decide my fate.

“And tell him I’m disappointed in the way I’ve been treated, Paul. Tell him of course I’d like to be re-instated, but I would like to be assured of the right to an appeal. I feel I’ve been treated unfairly.”

I’m waiting now for him to call me back with the company’s response.

I think I’ll have my lunch.

---

It’s 3:00 and I’ve just now spoken with Paul. Here’s the deal:

Fourteen day suspension, shown that way on my record. I’ve been off a month and the company agrees to pay me for the first two weeks. Full salary. That means I only lose two weeks pay instead of four. I’ll lose a few days of vacation time next year. And I’ll have to pay my pension deficiency. I’ll go back to work on Monday, hopefully, unless someone neglects to make the required phone calls.

"That's it," said V. "That's their final offer. Take it or leave it. What should I tell them?"

Any way I look at it, Ms J, it still stinks. Even if they agreed to pay me everything they owe me, even if they agreed to pay me EXTRA – it still stinks.

"Tell them OK, Paul. Tell them I accept. And tell them I hope they rot in hell, the pricks."

I despise the company I work for. But I’ll do my best to suck it up for seven more years.

Seven long years.

***

Employment -- Highly Over-rated

It's weird, Ms J. I'm worried about my lack of employment, but at times I'm content to be off. I mean, there's so much socialising to do, isn't there? This morning I attended a church meeting at the home of a friend. We had coffee and cake and discussed the progress of our student minister. (She's amazing, Ms Journal.) After the meeting, I walked home. I arrived just in time to receive a call from Angry Bob.

"Some of the guys are going out to that sandwich shop up on The Queensway. You wanna come for lunch?"

I accepted the invitation.

Bob drove over and picked me up and we met the others at the restaurant. Wally was there. And Bruno. Bruce too. Bruce retired a few months ago, lucky sod. Wally paid for my lunch. Jeff came a bit later with Joe, my union guy. I didn't complain too loudly to Joe about the union's indifference. He knows how I feel. He's frustrated too. The food was good, and the company agreeable. They all shook my hand and slapped my back when we parted after lunch.

"We miss you, Dale."

"Yeah, the guys are talking about you."

"Hope you get back soon, ya homo." (That was Jeff, Ms J. He always talks like that.)

In a minute, I'll phone Carolyn. Remember her, Ms J? We're going to take a stroll outdoors on this blustery afternoon. I could use a bit of exercise. The veal sandwich I had for lunch was MASSIVE! Tomorrow, I'm having lunch with Joan, and on Saturday night, I'm off to a neighbourhood Christmas party. It's not far away so I can walk there and stagger home.

At times I think I'm happy to be off work and dread going back! There are so many opportunities to socialise, I really haven't time to mope. And right now, Ms J, that's a real blessing.

Who knows? Maybe I'll go wild one day and put up some Christmas decorations.

***

The Power of Prayer

Good evening, Ms J. Chilly out there, eh?

I woke this morning to the first real snowfall of the season here in little Mimico. It wasn't quite enough to cover the blades of grass, standing stiff and frozen in the early morning dark, but it gave the world outside my window a fresh and clean appearance. Winter has arrived.

I walked over to the church this morning at 8:30 and spent a few hours renovating a room there. I worked with two other men. We dismantled an old closet and painted the room. Tomorrow, we'll build some shelves. The plan is to use the room for storage.

I've been praying lately, Ms J, but I never know what to pray for. I know that sounds silly, but I just don't know what, precisely, to ask for. I don't know what I need.

A job.

Well, that's obvious, isn't it? But God's supposed to be omniscient. Surely He knows that. He must know what I need, perhaps better than I do. So here's what I asked for, Ms J. I asked for help. And I asked for the awareness to recognise it when it arrives.

On Monday morning, I accepted an invitation to a friend's house for coffee. We chatted until noon then we went out for fish and chips. Colin paid. It was a brilliant way to spend the day.

This morning at church, as I took an armload of old boards outside for the trash, I saw Joan. Remember Joan, Ms J? She drove me faithfully to my physiotherapy sessions when my leg was broken last year. Joan goes to my church. She's a sweet lady. Sweet. She lowered the window of her car and called to me.

"Do you like chili, Dale?"

I told her I did.

"Why don't you come over to my house for lunch on Friday? We'll have some chili and then maybe you can help me put up my Christmas tree."

I've been looking for things to do, Ms J. I've been trying not to sit alone here at home and obsess about my troubles. And I have been feeling decidedly "Grinchy" over Christmas. I told her thanks and accepted her offer.

This is help. This is the form help arrived in today. Yesterday, too. My prayers were answered.

Prayer. Cool! Sometimes, Ms Journal, it really works.

***

Morning, Ms Journal

A few thoughts to share with you this morning.

Church was fabulous on Sunday. Although I sat and stared numbly at the choir throughout most of the service, I did take one point home with me. It resonates still in me today.

This is the beginning of the season of Advent. This is the time of the year when Christians prepare themselves for the arrival of Jesus. The days are shorter. The nights, longer. And the air has turned remarkably colder. Reverend Linda told us how Jesus offers us Hope. He is the Light and the Hope that comes to us even as we wait in the cold and dark. Her words were like a warm blanket for my soul.

Meagan was here yesterday. Her stepsister delivered her to me just before dinner time. We had a really comfortable visit. She's changed her hair again, bleached her beautiful hair, Ms J, and cut it. It's much shorter now, and white. I like it, and I told her so. She was quite loquacious and I asked lots of questions about Life at home.

Dan is "couch surfing". He's currently staying with a friend in Georgetown. He's safe. Healthy. Apparently happy. And not breaking any laws.

David has gained two pounds since he came home. He's a joyous little boy, smiling at the slightest provocation. Kelly has moved her bedroom upstairs to be close to David's nursery. She's accepted responsibility for the care of her grandson.

Tim has a job.

Meagan is doing well in school. She's popular and enjoying her first year of high school. She showed me her report card and her grades were in the 80's and 90's. I hugged her and told her how proud I am of her!

I told her briefly about my troubles at work later, and asked for her understanding. Christmas won't be too spectacular this year, I told her. She understood completely. I asked her not to share my troubles with her mum. Kelly has enough to worry about without my contribution.

Meagan and I were together for six hours and we talked nearly continuously! She didn't care to watch television and spent only a few minutes on the internet. It felt good that she wanted to be with me. We talked about lots of things, Ms J.

She searched her jacket pocket and produced three or four condoms. My eyes widened and I swallowed hard.

"I got these from school, Dad. The teacher had this, like, wooden penis eh? She called it 'Woody' and she asked if anyone would come up and show the class how to put a condom on Woody. Me and Rachel raised our hands. We went up to the front and we got it right first time!"

Er, yes. First time, eh? Good for you, Scout.

"Yeah, Dad. You have to check it for rips and punctures first. And if you even suspect something's wrong, you throw it away and get a new one."

She handed me three little packets.

"Check it out, Dad. Flavours! Vanilla, strawberry, and banana."

My word, Ms J. In my day, there was only one flavour - Rubber.

"Meagan, have you ever ...?"

"DAD! I'm fourteen for God's sake! I'm not ready for that sh .. I'm not ready for that stuff yet."

My daughter has spent her entire Life thus far, trusting her father. Now it's time for me to trust her. I really have no choice, have I?


She's my light and my hope in the cold and dark of worry. She won't disappoint me.

***

On and On, Anon.

Morning.

Just a few words about anonymous commenters:

Although I usually choose not to respond to comments, I always read them. The Truth is that I enjoy comments - most of them, anyway. When folks comment, it shows me someone out there is reading my blog. Someone is interested in what I've written, and it has stirred them enough to comment on it.

What I don't like, however, are negative, hurtful or glib remarks. Yes, I have written unkind things here and perhaps I need to be held accountable. I won't argue that. But this is my blog, my space, and these are my opinions and thoughts. As someone suggested recently, it's a journal, a sort of online diary. I have been honest about who I am and about what I think, and I have courageously chosen to share many intimate facets of my Life here. I suppose there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity.

All I ask in return is that commenters offer words that are gentle, whether directed at me or at each other. Of course, we're all entitled to opinions. But maybe we could soften them somehow. And quite honestly, I've been considering blocking anonymous comments. Some of them lately have really hurt, and it just seems a trifle cowardly to offer critical comments and then scurry back into the underbrush of anonymity.

Emotionally, I am not healthy right now. I'm asking you to be mindful of that. Please be gentle, and if possible, affirming and uplifting in your remarks. If it's admonishment I need, so be it. But be kind.

Please.

***

Dear Ms Journal,

Sorry I haven't written lately. I've been a bit pre-occupied, what with being fired and all. You know, I've ...

Fired. Yes. Thursday afternoon. Dismissed from my job. A job I'd held and done well and faithfully for the past twenty-eight years. Unceremoniously, ignominiously, kicked to the curb.

Why? That's a jolly good question and one that deserves an answer. I wish I had one for you.

The company maintains the action was warranted based on my alleged violation of three operating rules:

Passing a signal indicating stop.

Failing in the aftermath to protect the train in the prescribed manner.

And finally, failing to protect the train as required when reversing direction to the station platform.

My story differs greatly.

From my position at the rear of the train, I was unaware we'd passed a red signal. When I inquired, I was assured we had not, in fact, passed a red signal. That renders the first two rule infractions invalid. Why would I act to protect the train when I was told it didn't need protection? We did, however, back up about fifty yards without applying a pointless rule which would only have served to further delay an already late train. The track was clear behind us. I could see it. People were waiting on the platform to board our train. Pardon me for thinking of them.

The Truth as I see it, Ms J, is this.

CN fired us - all four of us - in order to send a warning to those still working.

"Do as you're told and don't complain. We are the masters. Serve us without question. Tradition and past practice mean nothing. Collective agreements mean nothing. Your union is weak and ineffective. Bow down before us. We hold your fate in our hands. We will act as we see fit to govern this company and we require your full compliance. Submit or quit. Or be fired."

I know. It sounds pretty ominous, doesn't it? But here's the glimmer of Hope:

CN has adopted a policy lately whereby they fire people with the intention of re-instating them after they're deemed to have suffered enough. Clearly, being dismissed from a job is an emotionally crushing blow. The victim, and I use the word victim without reservation, suffers guilt and shame and fears financial ruin. Often, interpersonal relationships are threatened. Marriages are jeopardised. Credit ratings are adversely affected. After a month or so, the company decides to re-instate the hapless employee, and everything is restored to normal - seniority, pension plan, benefits, everything. They even have a term for it. Management refer to this as a "Significant Emotional Event".

This term is not known or used among employees like me. I discovered a private document some months ago that outlined this cruel policy. The paper was in a file folder and left open on a table in the lounge. I saw it and perused it quickly, thinking it was not meant for my eyes. A few minutes later, I returned to the empty room and the folder had vanished. In retrospect, I wish I had thought to take it.

I feel fairly confident that I'll get my job back. Others have suffered the same fate. They've all (nearly all) been re-instated. I don't know whether they've recouped their lost earnings or not. Quite honestly, Ms J, this is not a issue of money. Not for me, anyway. Yes, I wish I were being paid and yes, I do need the money. But for me, this is an issue of human rights. This is about justice. It's about being treated fairly and humanely with due regard for feelings and family and quality of Life.

And so as always, I'm left with choices.

I can opt to do nothing and simply wait a month or so to see if I'm re-instated. That's what others have done. Waiting, worrying and writhing in emotional agony. That's what the evil forces at CN expect us to do.

I can turn to the union and implore them to intercede on my behalf. The union, I'm sure, have lawyers who could argue my case. I have paid twelve hundred dollars a year for nearly thirty years to the union. It seems reasonable to expect a bit of assistance from them now. But sadly, the union have been nearly invisible for the past few years. My union rep was not present when I was dismissed. I haven't heard from him for more than a week. I don't feel I can expect anything from them beyond platitudes and empty promises.

Option number three is to consult a labour lawyer to determine my rights under provincial and federal labour statutes. Good lawyers are exorbitantly expensive, though. I'm told it could cost four hundred dollars for an initial consultation. Thousands of dollars and months later, I could still be out of work. The company has the twin luxuries of time and of limitless resources. I do not. They could stall litigation indefinitely until I'm bankrupt. And still jobless.

Gosh, when I put it that way, I feel so small and weak!

But those are my three choices, I think. The first is the easiest. The second one, pointless. The third option is the one that carries the greatest Hope for justice, not only for me, but for all those who might be harassed and oppressed in the months and years ahead. Unfortunately, it also holds the greatest risk. At this moment, I'm feeling angry and vindictive and leaning toward the big gamble. If I sue for wrongful dismissal, I'll also seek damages for emotional pain and suffering.

CN must be shown that they cannot continue to treat people with such callous disregard. Indeed, I believe that the future success of the company depends upon it. A successful company depends greatly on a workforce that is motivated not by fear, but by happy hearts desiring to do a good job. This is not a new concept, Ms Journal. I really don't know why the Yanks have missed it.

But that's how I'm feeling right now. Tonight, I could feel frightened again and be seized by paralysis. It's been a real rollercoaster, Ms J. And the ride has only just begun.

***