blueAlto

Wow. This one kind of took me off guard today. I don't know what it is about personal sites, but lately they have provided more than endless fodder for content. As happens every four months or so, I felt the need to get rid of the excess on my computer and therefore went on a huge delete fest of unnecessary files, emails etc.

In the email deletes I came across one from a guy who used to be my best friend. I say "used to", as even though we are still friends, for a while now he has been going through some serious issues, and neither lives close, nor do we have a lot of contact. But friends, always....

At any rate, I came across an email with the subject heading - New Profile: what do you think? - Though strangely embarrassing, I admit, we would occasionally run our profile text by each other, asking for genuine constructive critique, and of course giving brutal hatchet jobs instead. For those of you who have read me since I started this online adventure, you will immediately know this is in reference to Steve. The specific change he was making to his text was due to a rather amusing case of mistaken identity. The last paragraph should provide a bit of clarity. And yes, it is scary how much of a resemblance there actually was. Funny enough, these days I miss that. Thinking of you Steve...

Enjoy the flashback.

Pointbreak says:

"Laid back and easygoing most of the time, serious and opinionated only some of the time. After an extended break, and traveling aimlessly to "find myself" (no such luck), I'll be returning to PhD studies in the fall. So I guess this is where i talk about me. Let's see, I've been told I am / have: an LL Bean vibe, like the outdoors, big into rugby, and surfing when I can. I'm here looking for all types of guys for friendship. Love to have friends of all backgrounds, as long as honesty, confidence and a passion for something are part of your makeup. To be my friend I could care less what you look like, as long as you are ok with what you look like!

Sexually, I'm looking for guys with a non forced masculinity, (ie it is not defined by an "outfit"), someone who is at home in his own skin, and has an appreciable confidence. I'm HIV negative, your status is fine either way, as long as discussion and mutual respect are occurring.

Two things that will cause me to have no interest are people who engage racism or other bigotry in their lives, or if you don't see that a woman's right to choose is just that, and it's as important as any gay rights struggle.

By the way, to avoid any more nasty emails telling me i live in Toronto: NO! bluecubto is not my brother, or using my pictures, or me in a different add, or vice versa. That is Al, best friend from Toronto, and yes we do look somewhat alike and have many similar characteristics. Yes, including the guys we like. And yes to the next question too :)"

Early Saturday evening saw me contemplate a light dinner, but instead relax on the balcony, attempting unsuccessfully to finish the new Douglas Coupland novel, The Gum Thief.  Unsuccessfully, not because the book isn't up to par; it more than is. Like Hey Nostradamus, one of Couplands earlier novels, I predict this is a book that has not yet hit it's stride. So no, I couldn't blame the book for my inability to be pulled into the pages. Simply, I was restless.

This past weekend was one of those odd times when everyone; friends, strangers and others, had left town. And damn it, I wanted to do something. Weighing my options, I settle on what will be a leisurely walk to mid town, where I'll order up Jamaican food, eat in the park, and then take Singher to the bright, shiny new dog park we haven't made it to yet. The insane canine and I will make our own fun.

Literally an inch from being out the door, the phone harshly intones that annoyingly presumptive ring. A shrill, "Answer me, Answer me"!

Yes, that really is how annoying I find that ring. I reach it on the third, offering a very nonplussed and deadpan hello.

Strangely, I hear very clearly the voice of my friend, Chloe. Strangely, because there is no annoying two second intercontinental delay, and there is also no static that could wake the Gods. As was defiantly the case two months ago when I last spoke to Chloe. From Tibet.

"Hey, great to hear from you. Let me guess, you are in a yurt that has upgraded to digital phone service"? I tease.

"Well, no."

"Okay, are you in Europe for a break, where are you"?

"Well why don't you press nine and see for yourself. I'm in your lobby silly"!

The volume and strength of my "Get the fuck up here" sent Singher into barks and spastic jumps, culminating thirty seconds later with a sprint down the hall. A sprint towards the woman who hands down, in my dogs eyes, owns the title of "favorite paramedic partner". As Chloe receives big, blathering, doggy kisses, and I look at the face, and into the eyes of a woman I haven't seen in a year and a half, I realize I am with Singher on that assessment. The awareness that I have missed this person tremendously hits physically, and with full force. She is in my arms as the first tear escapes.

As I sniffle and snort into Chloes shoulder, she attempts to soothingly comfort. "Oh honey, you've had a lifetime in one short year".

And with that soothing I am immediately reminded that this is the first time I have seen my former paramedic partner since....Well, since I lost the other person I called my partner. Now, the tears flow freely; I make no attempt to contain them.

An hour later, seated on the patio at Segovia, we are tasting the first sips of what will prove to be many pitchers of Sangria, while the expertly prepared Paella Vallencia is served. Slowly, leisurely, we catch up, we laugh, we cry. I talk about losing David, she apologizes profusely for not making it back. There are more tears, tempered with smiles, when she begins to understand that I really am doing okay. And when Chloe describes the sensation of reaching the summit of Everest, I am the one who cries, as she assures me that yes, she did have it in her pocket. The worn picture of the three of us on the summit in Jasper. David was in the middle, between Chloe and I.

As she continues, the woman who has just climbed Everest is holding back tears. "It's buried on the south face, with all the other shots and Polaroids and notes of the ones that never got to make the climb".

I am reminded, rather brutally, how much this must mean to her as well. I had completely forgotten that almost fifteen years ago, after university, David had been this woman's preceptor, as Chloe first began her EMT program. He was so proud when ten years later, she (and I), graduated from the provincial critical care flight paramedic program.

Modulating just a little, as I need for the seriousness to show, I lock in on my friends eyes, and offer a thank you from the heart. Meaning it, more than I ever have before.

Throughout the night there are more memories, some laughter and a few tears. Though we smile often, and the memories feel good.

Bringing myself back to a needed reality, I ask, "So, when are you headed back"?

Chloe has recently accepted a position as senior paramedic at the Everest Base Camp.

Slowly, methodically, with a deep breath she begins. "Well..."

I really don't like the tone of that. 

"Al, I'm not going back".

Inhaling deeply, I am set to protest. But before I can, the widening smile, and a slight release of tension in the shoulders tells me all I need to know.

Slack jawed, all I can offer is, "Fuck!  So you really applied"?

"And I got in"!

Her child like sequel of an announcement manages to turn the heads of at least two surrounding tables, though we are oblivious. Instead, we pour more Sangria, and toast to my good friend and former partner Chloe. Since she is now, after me of course, the second flight paramedic from our former base to be accepted into the Master Of Fine Arts in creative writing at one of Canada's top tier schools. Funny enough, the one I just graduated from.

Beaming, unable to hide my bursting pride and joy (as this application was at great prodding from yours truly), I imagine I did a poor job of feigning annoyance, when I make the following comment.

"This better not become a trend.".

We both pretend to make a mental note telling ourselves we will do what we can to ensure this experience remains unique. After the laughter subsides, I hold the gaze of my friend and former partner for slightly longer than is necessary. Smiling, I offer congratulations to a brilliant writer. One who will only become better. The growing awareness that my very good friend is very much back in my life, slowly solidifies itself, and I smile just a bit wider.

Things, it seems, might finally be coming around.

Though I really detest the various "learning strength through adversity" narratives, there is, I am learning, a practical benefit to those times when the shit hits the proverbial fan. Specifically, the ability to gauge ones personal breaking point. Due to a few unexpected family situations which require my time and energy, something has to give. Offered a choice, I would rather not personally realize that breaking point.

So yes, what has to give at this point, is this website. Not closing shop, not taking an extended hiatus; what I have decided to do, is take a good few weeks and zero into what I have to do in the tangible world. Translated, these pages are going to go still until the beginning of July. Not an easy thing to do, especially when you tend to be a type A control issues type of guy. Though I am humble enough to recognize my limitations, ones which have never before been so close to the surface.

I am hoping that you will return in July, and at that point I will be able to articulate a more definitive future for the site. One that I anticipate will be none too different than the current incarnation. Thanks everyone for your support and your kind words, phone calls and emails. And I thank you in advance for your understanding in this situation.

Wishing everyone a great rest of the month. See you soon.

Al 

Writing, as of late, is proving to be a luxury which time has not afforded me. In the spirit of brevity, but with the importance and weight it deserves, I would like to wish my father a very Happy Fathers Day.

I haven't discussed my father a lot on these pages, but suffice it to say he is the most central and important male figure in my life. He not only gave me the blueprint for how to be ones own best man, but he allowed me to witness an enduring and contingent definition of true masculinity. One that has nothing to do with affectation, and one I strive to mirror. I love you Dad.

My fathers favorite song has always been What A Wonderful World. Instead of doing the obvious and playing that here, I give him one of my favourites of a similar name. Here is Sparklehorse with Beautiful World. 

For those of you who have my personal home phone number, no doubt you are aware that I am still experiencing some connection issues on this end. For anyone that does not have my home phone number, if you are attempting to contact me for whatever reason, please do so through a current email address, or via the contact page on this site.

The reason I bring this up, is because there have been several attempts to contact me and offer wishes of support etc, through the 613 area code phone number listed for Al Rae. That is not my home phone number, but my parents home phone number in Ottawa, and leaving a voice mail on that number will go directly to either my mother or father. While I appreciate the sentiment, and all wishes have been received in the spirit they had been sent, it is disconcerting to my parents to receive messages about the current situation that were originally meant for me.

Just to reiterate, there was absolutely no offense taken, and I thank you for your concern, though I would ask that if you do not have my current home phone number or a current personal email address, if you need to contact me, please contact me via the site email form found on the contact page. Thanks in advance for understanding this request.

Al 

 A meme! Direct from my friend Allison, brilliant theater actress, and the only non blogger that knows more meme's than bloggers. Allison thought it might be a good tool to lighten up the mood a little around here. And even I would agree, except that this meme is by far the strangest and most attention deficit focused read I think I have ever seen.  Really, what is about?  You tell me.

No I am not tagging anyone with this....Well, on second thought, yeah, I think I will.  I tag Jack.  Only because he always has really cool answers to seemingly boring things. And two, because he must be dead on his feet after completing the California Aidescycle, the annual seven day California bicycle ride to raise funds for HIV and AIDS prevention, treatment and research. Congratulations on riding in it a third (fourth?) year Jack! Check out his site for a live blogging version of his seven days on the ride.

Okay, now back to the vacuous meme.

Does someone love you?

Yes someone loves me - as in they care. And yes someone loves me loves me - or so he says.

Do you know anyone named Dave?

Many actually.

Ever kissed anyone with the name starting with a J?

My ex Julia. My ex Jim. John. Joe ~  OMG what a mistake that was.  And I'm sure many who's names I didn't catch.

Has anyone ever mistaken you for a family member?

Yes, my family has done this often. Haha.

What color is your parents bathroom

 Light blue. Yes, as bad as it sounds.

Do you think that hair extensions look skanky?

If you can clearly tell they are hair extensions and that's not the goal ~ yes they look skanky.

Are you named after a grandparent?

Yes, middle name of both grandfathers.

Say you were given a drug test right now. Would you pass or fail?

Pass. Boring, I know.

Are you taller than 5'6"?

Substantially.

Do you know anyone in jail/prison?

There is a person I know of in passing whom I was recently surprised to hear was now in jail. And yes, I know someone who has been.

Ever see a dead body?

I was a paramedic ~ what do you think?

Do you like the color green?

Um, yeah... sure. Kinda lame question, huh?

What is your best friend’s Dad’s name?

You know something? I have no fucking clue. Oh well, yes I do. I should, it's my own name, Allan.

How old are you?

Piss off!

Ok... 40.

Who was the last person to send you a text message?

Hmmm... Roger. I actually don't do a ton of texting.  Actually, I find the concept vile.

Ever drove into the ghetto to buy drugs?

Do they sell drugs in the ghetto?

Last restaurant you went to?

Marche Movenpic

What is the weather like today?

Crisp, mildly cool and sunny. My favorite.

Last voice mail you received?

From my Mom.

What did you do yesterday?

Doctors appointment, out of town meeting, slept.

What’s the first thing you would do with five million dollars?

Run away with Tater.

What nationalities are you?

Irish and a bit of Scottish.

How many hours did you sleep for last night?

Five interrupted hours.

Any upcoming concerts you want to attend?

Montreal Jazz Fest

Who’s the last person that you felt was stalking you?

Stalking... like REALLY stalking? I don't think I want to mention that on the internet!

Have you ever been on your school’s track team?

Ha! When wasn't I.

What jewelry are you wearing?

None. I.Don't.Wear.Jewelry.

If all of your friends were going on a road trip, would you?

Depends on where. Well, no it doesn't. Because it totally depends on who's going.

How much money do you have?

I bet there are, somewhere in the world, one or two tacky losers who actually answer that question.

Do you swear at your parents?

I have. Not now. At least not in anger.

Is your phone right beside you?

No.

Have you cried today?

Surprisingly enough, no.

Do you think that someone is thinking about you right now?

Probably. if not, that's okay too. They will eventually.

Do you untie your shoes every time you take them off?

Yes. So shoot me.

What is the color of your bedsheets?

Varies depending on the sheet currently on the bed. Varies as well to how long they may have been on the bed:)  Generally, white sheets. If not white, grey cotton jersey.

Have you ever crawled through a window?

Yes, more than once.

Are you photogenic?

At times i could be model of the year and at other times i look rather "special". Like I should have a rope holding me to one of the adults. Generally though, yes, I can take a good shot.

What’s your star sign?

Virgo. The Virgin. Cruel irony, I know.

Where do you spend most of your money?

Overpriced gourmet grocery stores and books.

What was the last thing you did?

Pressed "Enter" after writing the last answer.

Do you have a tattoo?

Yes.  And I was drunk enough.  And no, still no regrets.  Okay fine ~ a dolphin on my ass.

Is there a secret you’ve never told any of your friends?

I am almost 100% certain that there's no "secret" I haven't told at least one person. But no one person knows everything.

Have you ever told someone you loved them but didn’t mean it?

Yes. I still feel bad about that.

Have you ever changed your clothes while in a vehicle?

Yes.

What are you doing in 2008?

Another ambiguous one. Trying to get the great American / Canadian novel that has already been written, published.

What is your ring tone?

A simple and boring ring.

What were you doing at 2am last night?

Trying to get to sleep after strenuous activity.

Are your parents married/divorced/separated?

Still married. To each other no less.

What are you doing tonight?

Obviously not what I was doing at 2 am!

What are you doing tomorrow?

With any luck!

Who did you last message on Myspace?

I do not frequent that den of bad design.

What’s your opinion on sex without emotional commitment?

A brilliant thing if you are mature enough to really get it.

Does it annoy you when someone says they’ll call but never do?

Immensely.  If I say I will call, I'll call.  That whole "when someone tells / shows you who they are, believe them" thing ~ the best advice in the world.

What did you dress up as for your first Halloween?

A panda bear. 

Favourite Disney movie?

Original Bambi. Or Winnie The Pooh. Was Winnie even Disney?

Feel free to add your answers to any and all questions on your own site, or in the comments. 

Hey everybody. First off, a big thanks to Karen for posting and keeping you entertained the last couple of days. I pulled rank and stole today away from her and her pub lunch post, but she and it will be back before the end of the week. And yes, I apologize for the now and again postings as of late, though as I alluded to, I've been involved in some family issues that have required the majority of my time. I said I would update when I was able, and now I suppose is as good a time as any.

Not really easy news to discuss, I am going to keep the details sparse, as privacy is obviously a concern here. We found out last week that my mother, who has been in full remission (in essence cancer free) from cancer for four years, has had a recurrence. It was caught on a routine examination and we originally thought that because it was caught before symptoms had developed, that it may have been contained. Unfortunately, it is a fairly significant metastasis, and treatment is very limited. That being said, my mother is a fighter, and not surprisingly has decided to pursue all available treatment options full steam ahead.

So all that being said, my next few months are going to be somewhat heavy, between professional and family obligations. Because it is one of the only truly relaxing processes for me, I do plan to continuing writing, and writing in the blog, just not as frequent I imagine. To that end, Karen has offered to step up and add a few posts a week until I am able to gauge where all this is going. I am also planning on enlisting the help of a few guest authors for a post a month, or something similar.

Please understand that beyond large announcements, I am not planning on turning this situation into fodder for the site. If and when I do write about these events, it will be at a time when the writings could only be viewed as reflecting on past experiences, not a current and ongoing narrative. I would appreciate the understanding and offering of privacy in that regard. Thank you in advance.

In closing, I apologize if this entry seems oddly cold and clinical, or somewhat removed. It is a personal coping mechanism and always has been when I have to step into the leader and organizer role.  Please don't take it for anything else. 

I will be heading out of town today, dealing with some unexpected family issues. Not sure when regular posting will resume, though I will post an update in a day or two.

Have a good weekend. 

Al 

Had a conversation with my mother this afternoon that was very surprising, and in many ways, supremely touching. Discussing my parents plans for Mothers Day, the discussion eventually worked its way into some generalities on the day we culturally celebrate mothers.

A day that in the past, as well as today, would always see me remember mom with a card, flowers, and phone call, no matter where I was in the world. Two hours away in Montreal, or half a world away working in Sudan. Happy to say that I never forgot one of those days, though there were times it had been close.

So it was more than surprising to hear the things that mom remembered as central to her experience of that day. It certainly hasn't been the cards and flowers. And actually, not even the phone calls. Strangely enough, it was one card, sent three years ago. One I had completely forgot about.

In December of 2006, our family celebrated my mothers graduation with a BA in Canadian Social Justice Theory, from The University Of Ottawa. For several reasons, it was a very special day. Mom had always been a socially active woman, and had been a crisis nurse prior to my birth. Though after that event, her focus was nowhere else, and she was first and foremost, in every way, a stay at home mother. I couldn't have asked for better parenting, and she does not regret a day of doing that. But as so often happens, when her reality became one of this only child leaving home, my mother came to the startling realization that somewhere along the way, she had somehow lost who she was.

The card that I gave my mother on Mothers Day three years ago, the one prior to her graduation, had a simple message.

Dear Mom,

Happy Mothers Day to a woman I am proud to say is in every way a wonderful mother, and at the same time so many other things, above and beyond "my mother".  As your son, the integration of those two realities is what I am the most proud of.

Love,

Al 

Interesting isn't it, these small things we don't give a second thought to. Often they are the ones that others seem to never forget.

To all the mothers out there, happy mothers day. You are everything a mother is, and so much more. 

I thought today would be a good day as any to offer a few updates on the goings on of Karen, Dan and the clan as they settle into a routine in London, and the new resident who is sharing my living quarters: Abercrombie the dog.

First off, I am happy to report that Karen, Dan and the twins arrived safely in London, and have enjoyed a week just getting settled in, and spending time with Karen's younger sister, Emma, an art therapist for the London school board. Originally they had planned on staying with her sister and her fiance, but weren't sure about living in such close quarters for an entire year. Evidently, those were needles worries.

Suffice it to say they were pleasantly surprised to learn that the fiance was significantly more "resourced" than Emma had let on, and they were relieved to discover the size of the flat they were to share was, as Karen put it, "more than large".  I've seen pictures, and trust me, it is a bloody mansion! They have a fully functional separate two bedroom suite with its own entrance, kitchen, "parlour" and two bathrooms. Of course making my decision to visit, one that may see multiple occurrences over the next year.

Dan started his position with the air ambulance helicopter service last week, and it is apparently been quite the transition. While the basics of paramedic scope and practice are similar, he is finding the orientation and all the local specifics to be quite the learning curve. In many ways I miss the clinical elements of paramedic work, and this position is one I really envy. I have no doubt that after the initial "newness" wears off, Dan will be hitting his full stride and be having a ball.

Karen is planning on adding a once a week entry to the blog, writing on something local and specific to London. She has asked me to put out the word for any suggestions readers may be interested in regarding postings she could write about. So, anything you want to know about London first hand, now is the chance. Leave your suggestions in the comments.

Abercrombie, the Lab / Poodle cross is actually quite the model canine I am finding out. He is more than mannered, is quiet (relatively), and thankfully, is the latest object of Singher's undying affection. So far, so good! Though as I am finding out, walking two dogs this size has proven to be a bit of a unique challenge when doing the old poop and scoop, but I'm learning quickly.  Overall, I have to say that things are going well with two canines in the house, though I am not naive enough to think this is anything but the honeymoon period. A nice way of saying; expect a ranting update sometime soon.

Every once in a while, probably more than I care to admit, I have the ability to shed my Gen X cynical skin, and revert to an embarrassing state of sentimentality. Today was no exception.

In my constant attempt to down size and become more echo friendly, I am slowly purging unwanted and unnecessary "stuff". Never underestimate how difficult this is for a pack rat. Going through some old papers and letters, ones that have been occupying space for longer than I care to remember, I stumbled across the following passage. It was printed on old parchment paper, worn and yellowed from decades of age. I was immediately brought back to a day a little over twenty years ago.

My Uncle Jack had always been my favorite uncle. Brilliant, engaging, in his presence I felt I could conquer the world. A tenured professor at The University Of Alberta, he possessed doctoral degrees in philosophy and anthropology, and had a voracious, almost living thirst for knowledge. Not only a respected academic, my uncle's late teen years found him defending his country in WW 2. I recall being captivated with tales of that time. Not of the war, but of meeting, and falling in love Katherine, the woman who would become his wife, then only a teenage girl living in London.

When I was fourteen Jack died after a long battle with lung cancer. This had been the first death of someone not only close to me, but one I idolized. I remember after the funeral, after the guests left the reception, my aunt Katherine pulled me aside. Through tears, she told me how, at the end of the war, Jack's Army unit was the first to arrive at Auschwitz, helping to liberate the prisoners of that horrific place.

An elderly Jewish man, gaunt and barely able to walk, handed Jack a piece of paper. Through tears he thanked my uncle, explaining he never let himself give up, even though hope often seemed too painful. The man then reached into his shirt pocket, handing Jack a worn piece of paper, explaining that without fail, the words on the worn sheet were words he read every morning of his imprisonment. When my uncle asked him why they were so important, he answered simply, "they made me remember I mattered". The man requested that Jack keep the piece of worn paper, explaining that to him and many of the other prisoners, Jack represented the hope this man had never let themselves give up on.

My uncle had never told that story to anyone but my aunt, though he faithfully kept the paper in his night stand for almost forty years. As she handed me the parchment paper, I was told Jack had planned on giving it me for my eighteenth birthday. Katherine relayed how the words had been an inspiration for Jack's many pursuits and accomplishments. He had wanted to pass it on to me, as she said I reminded him of himself. I was profoundly touched that he had wanted the same inspiration, the same opportunities for success he had been given, for me.

Before going back to join the others, my Aunt Katherine looked at me and smiled, "You know, he wanted you to have this because he was sure you wouldn't let him down. Make sure you don't".

When I look at the events in my life, the many pursuits, the more than a few failures, the many successes, that gift from my favorite uncle, and the legacy of human spirit it represents, have always played a part in my motivations. I never forgot where, at least in part, that resolve has stemmed from.

I've reprinted the words from that page below. The passage is unattributed, and is a simple but priceless message, a reminder that yes, we do in fact matter.  All of us.

Every person born into the world represents someone new, someone who never existed before, someone original and unique. It is the duty of every person of Israel to know and consider that he or she is unique in the world in his or her particular character and that there has never been anyone like him or her before, for if there had been…there would have been no need for him or her to be in the world. Every single person is a new thing in the world, and is called upon to fulfill his or her particularity to the world. That is the honor.

Was talking with a friend today, one who I haven't spoken with in a while. Brian is living in London at the moment, having taken a temporary contract. I was pleased to hear that it was something he was enjoying, and on some deeper levels, he was finding himself closer to where he wants to be in his life.

Which for a change, I was glad to hear. Very much like I am, Brian has been known to occasionally over analyze his specific situations to an unhelpful degree. The problem with that for both of us, has been an inaccurate focus given to whatever it was we were analyzing. Thus, perspective is often skewed, and often wrong. This time though, he seemed content; happy with how things had mapped out.

Our conversation eventually drifted into the idea of happiness being best achieved by a personal willingness to live a few self defined, core beliefs that we come to an awareness of on our own. Specifically self referential, the reward that may be garnered from these beliefs, comes in the ability to know a life lived with consistent principle. That's one thing I believe most of us want, and if I look at the people I respect and view as really having their "stuff" together, they all usually have that element at their core.

So branching off from that theme, here's quite the meme. What are your three major themes that you try to live your life with an awareness of. I don't mean "rules" or things with a very narrow focus, but instead ways of looking at the world and the things you view as important in it, that influence how you interact with yourself, and others?

The following are my top three.

1. What I've talked about a few times before, that being the concept of "directional flow", is something that is hugely important to me. The idea that our general intent, and our way of realizing and experiencing the world and others in it, is coming from a positive and genuine vibe, not an insincere and constructed one. Obviously there is a lot more to the concept of directional flow, but at its core it recognizes that if we act with positive intent, building up instead of tearing down, then our actions are aligned with a karmic good, and fundamentally incompatible with negative harm. Update to #1. This always has a tendency to sound similar to "we create our own reality, thus we decide what will happen". No, that is not directional flow. That is a philosophy that I don't put a lot of stock in, as ones choices and decisions are always, to some degree, dictated by circumstance. Therefore we are not always responsible for the creation of our own reality.
   
2. Having the most authentic and personally beneficial relationship with family and friends as I can. Being a good friend and family member in not only intention, but demonstrated action. As I've gotten older the number of friendships I have maintained has decreased in amount, but largely increased in quality as well as the ability to know a deeper and more authentic relationship.
3. Lastly, what has become more important the older and more mature I become, is to recognize we all arrive where we are by our own navigation, that is entirely dependent on our own timing. And that is based on a whole set of complicated experiences and life events that I, or you know nothing about as it applies to anyone but ourselves. So I really try not to judge things so harshly. Except, and this is a big one for me, except where there is damage occurring to another, there is no use or benefit in judging others experience, as they need to know the experience for what it is to them. Not what it is to me. I think in 2008, this concept is key in both a personal context, and more importantly, a societal and global one.

Not specifically tagging anyone, though if anyone does want to tackle it, I'd be really interested to know what you view as your important themes you attempt to live life by.

Because there really is no sense in feeding you a line of bullshit over it, yes, this is a particularly tough entry to write, Since I have to admit, today has been a particularly tough day. The extent to which, has both surprised and humbled me.

No, nothing is wrong, no one is sick, and Singher is as crazy as ever. What has me more than a little bummed, is that tomorrow evening at this time, two of my best friends and their twin boys will be on a plane to London, ushering off their year of living and working abroad.

But I need to be clear; I am more than happy for them, truly. Dan has taken a position that if I was still working for the flight medic program, I too would have jumped at. Not to mention the opportunity for Karen to spend a year with her sister, and be able to enjoy what will be the third year in the life of their twins, in one of the most exciting cities in the world.

Though when it comes right down to it, I really don't think that I ever considered just how much of a role those two people have played, and continue to play in my life. It's beyond friendship, it transcends the limiting boundaries of straight and gay bullshit, and it's something I have been supremely blessed to enjoy in my life. I think perhaps I feel a little guilty that it has taken the fact of them moving away, to make me see exactly how important that has been.

So, not to draw this out anymore than is necessary, and because I steadfastly refuse to turn this into a painful, ritualistic goodbye, and thirdly because when Karen gets settled she will do a once weekly update from across the pond, for all those reasons, I will close. So, to Karen and Dan, two of the best friends I could hope for, I love you both, take care of each other, and be safe. I will see you soon.

PS  And just remember, you have to come back because I'm the sucker who is feeding and boarding your mangy flee bag!

Late last night, just as I was getting ready for bed, the phone rang. It was a friend from San Francisco who passed on the sad and shocking news that my friend, Matthew Barrymore, had died from complications from AIDS. He was fifty six. I say shocking, as it's been assumed Matthew had been HIV positive since the late seventies at least. And until very, very recently, this was a possibility no one had considered for quite some time.

Matthew Barrymore was one of the first cases that made up a file sent to the CDC in July of 1981, documenting several cases of gay men with strange and rarely seen problems related to their immune systems. Since then, he had done remarkably well. There were several ups and downs in the early years, though time and time again, he rallied and beat the odds. In 1996, when we saw the first transition in the epidemic, the advent of triple combination therapy and protease inhibitors, Matthew had been a case study.

I first met Matthew in 1986, when I was seventeen. Ironically that was the year that became my introduction to all that HIV would be in my life. I had spent three months in LA with my uncle Roger and his partner, my "other uncle", Anderson. Besides my father, Roger would prove to be the defining male figure in my life.  Big, athletic, handsome, a successful film professor at USC, and proudly, unapologetically, openly gay.

It was a great summer, proving to mark the first ueasy steps into the world as an out, gay person. I had finally told another human being I was gay, and Roger, by telling me he had a form of cancer that was common to gay men, was preparing me in advance for his death. I learned later from Anderson that Roger had been told it would be six months at the most. It turned out to be four years.

Matthew Barrymore was my uncle Roger's best friend. He was there when he died, as was I, and he wrote and read the eulogy at his memorial. He was on board the boat when, two months later, we gave my uncle to the ocean that had defined the landscape of the place he called home. Six years ago this past December, Matthew had also been the one to make the late night phone call telling me Anderson had died.

In the year 2000, Matthew, a state award winning elementary school teacher for over twenty eight years, accepted a position as an art history professor at a university in San Francisco. Over the last eight years, I had been to see him three times. I recall on each trip I was more assured than the last, that the man who loved color, as we used to call him, was truly in a place he called home. I say that both literally and figuratively. So much so, that his sense of connection became my sense of inspiration for a passage in my first novel, The Peculiar Comfort Sound Provides (as of yet unpublished). 

He was a man that had an innate confidence in himself and in life, and it was something you couldn't help but sense as a very grounding comfort, anytime you were around him. I remember thinking something silly and cheesy, along the lines of "Matthew made the grey days bright". Thankfully, I expanded on that for the novel.

Matthew, this is for you. Though you will be missed, your colors will always shine.

....In a city by a bay light arrives, embracing each of the colors. The light becomes an assurance of day, and on each arrival searches for the colors it no longer reflects. Only some people realize it, and less experience it, but for those who do, they know this city by the bay, both powerfully resilient and incredibly broken, though many colors are long absent or forever changed, those unrecognizable colors can always be seen with full clarity and true image, when realized in the bright light of our own truth....

From the title of this post you can more than likely surmise that it is in fact, about Karen. A short post and video for me to say my version of "ditto" to all she beautifully stated in her post of this morning. I'll be over to London at least twice, maybe more, and a year will go by in a flash. Well, perhaps for you. Though please remember who's taking care of your bloody dog. You both owe me. Big time!

Karen and I met seventeen years ago. Both recently university degreed, we were not surprisingly, unemployed. We managed to scrape by in the hell on earth job of teaching swimming for the Toronto Board Of Education. Bonding over things such as an aggressive dislike of ten year olds, dry hair, athletes foot, and of course a mutual interest in the music of Marianne Faithfull. While I was a fan, I had not, for example, written a senior course thesis on a feminist deconstruction of The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan. Karen had. Ending up of ended course, getting an A.

So Karen, this is for you. And yes, I'll miss you too. But just remember....I have your dog!

by: Karen Breakspear

No sense in drawing these things out I suppose. What I am referring to is the awkward and painful experience of doing those very unpleasant but personal things that, despite the unpleasantness, still must be done. And what I have to do, both with you here today, and with others very soon, is say goodbye. Because on April 28, one from month today, Danny and the twins and I, will be relocating to London, UK for a year.

Dan, a flight paramedic for the provincial air ambulance service, and Al's former partner before he transferred to research, has applied and been accepted for an exchange program offered by the service here and the shock trauma helicopter program in London. In essence, an exchange of personal for a year, giving each medic invaluable experience in another country, culture and practice environment.

It was a decision we had significant discussion over, and both decided that this is the time, if ever. I have a year left of my leave, and the boys are not yet in school, it seemed crazy not to take the opportunity. So bite the bullet we did. Many of you may recall that London was my home until I left for Canada and university in the early nineties. Being back for a lengthy, but fixed time will allow me to spend as much time as I want with my younger sister Emma, an art therapist for the London school board, and a wonderful friend as well as sister. I will also continue occasionally penning entries for blueAlto. Only this time from across the pond.

And really, all of these things are wonderful and exciting opportunities and I am excited to be doing them. But I am also heartsick. I will have to leave a person who is very central to my life and has been for many years. Al has become, hands down, my best friend, and I am going to completely miss him. I'm not even ashamed to admit that multiple crying jags have been the norm for several days. When I think about what we have been through, together and separate in our seventeen year friendship, the truth is he factors into most, if not all of it.

The death of two very close friends of both of us, Sera and Peter, the ordeal of my robbery and assault, and subsequent trial, a serious but brief health scare for Al, the beginning of my relationship with Dan, a miscarriage, this usually great but occasionally insane blog adventure, and two life altering events for both of us. The birth of my boys, Ben and Lucas, and the unexpected death of Al's beautiful partner, and my good friend, David.

It's been a tough and event filled four years. And in that time, I have come to love, respect more than he can know, and often depend on my smart as a whip, handsome and sexy with a great smile and sick sense of humor, best friend. I am really going to miss you Allan G Rae. You are the best friend anyone could hope for. The fact that several of your friends would agree with my assertion, is not at all a small endorsement.