Some of you who have known me for a long time, or have read my book, will have a hard time believing this, but I had the most amazing childhood. For whatever reason, I strongly feel that providence has brought me to exactly the place that I need to be in the last 45 years and alot of that has to do with the people who have journeyed with me.
Let's start with my sister, because she's the first one I remember. A girl only nine years older than me. Hard to imagine because I always thought of her as light years beyond me at every stage. My sister was the first person I ever remember feeling love from. Real love. The unconditional kind. The kind of love that means you will ALWAYS have a soft place to land. A true "ride or die" in modern terms. I could never be as strong as my sister, who has given up her own life for so many others. And, when I say she gave up her life, I mean that literally. It horrifies me to know that my sister doesn't even really know who she is because she's so busy being what everyone else needs her to be. We, as humans, often sacrifice ourselves to try to make others happy, losing our identities in the process. I want my sister to know, I remember who she is. I remember the girl who laid down in meadows with the sun on her face, feeling the peace of living in the moment. I remember the teenager who was "high on life". I remember the adventurous one, who tried to find her wings by hitchhiking to Toronto. Your true self is still there - it's just underneath a mountain of responsibility, pain and abuse. You are an angel, as your name suggests.
Then there's my mom. This woman... she's a firecracker! Nothing will hold her down. I think she's lived in Quinte West for a few years now and that's probably the longest she's ever been in one spot. Haha. She's been called crazy a few times and I wouldn't dispute that. But, my mother encouraged me to question things and experiment. Mix things up and see what happens. Manipulate in some cases. And, no matter what, love like you've never loved anyone or anything else. Every time my mom falls in love, it's like no one else has ever existed before. Love does change, though. It becomes a burden, the noose tightens, and it's on to the next one. It's not like this for everyone, but it is for mom and I. That may sound harsh; it isn't intended to be. What's wrong with loving passionately for short periods of time? Sharing your heart and soul with a person who lights a fire in you and then finding another person, who maybe quenches a thirst? Or, maybe teaches you to fly? Maybe brings you back to earth? Some of us are not wired for monogamy. If that's shameful, well, I'm tired of being shamed for it. No time for self-righteous bullshit and judgement here. I've got a life to live.
I'll take a brief moment here to shout out all the men who have enriched my life.
Jeff, you're a dick, but I know that's not your only attribute. I'm not mad cos you left, but I was at the time. I'm angry because you blame me for how things turned out when I'm the only reason things turned out at all. Now, I'm even more angry because you're abandoning again and I told you not to do that. I'd give anything to get back the person with the other half of my brain (circa 1984). That ship has sailed, I fear. It's been almost 30 years and I still have to consider you. I don't like that much. Thanks for giving me my magic baby. I still hate your guts, you fucking piece of shit.
Rod, I wish you had the same dreams for retirement that I have. You don't. But, if you change your mind, you have my number. Bring your own car though. I ain't no wifey.
The rest of you (and the list is relatively short), you were probably alot of fun at the time. I have good memories and bad. I like that. It means I have lived.
Bluh, feelings. This shit is toxic.
Back to my family now.
My dad gave me my adventurous spirit. He teaches me to speak to trees and listen to the wind. To follow my heart and check out every dead end road (there's actually no such thing). I think Dad and I have maps etched on our brains. A desire to photograph and catalogue every species, every vista, every memory. Even though neither of us is very good at remembering why we came into a particular room at any given time.
My brother, Gord, who has been gone for 26 years now, is the poet in my head. He still speaks to me through music and words. I don't care if that makes me sound crazy; my dead brother still speaks to me, usually while I'm driving along the highway. He tells me everything is going to be alright and I need to hear that every once in a while.
Gramma Suzie makes me a good Christian, even though I'm not even remotely Christian. But, I know my bible and I know what Jesus taught through the Good Word. Faith, Hope and Charity, motherfuckers. That's all you gotta know.
Probably the biggest contributor to the modern day Sherla writing this blog is Bonnie, my step mother. That was a tough relationship because I did not fit her mould. That's my side of the story anyway. Regardless, if it weren't for Bonnie, I would not know how to appreciate art. I would not be interested in culture. I would never have eaten anything but cereal and dry pasta. My life would have been very black and white. She showed me many ways to see the world and to appreciate all the colours of the spectrum.
My children... I hope I have inspired you to live an authentic life. It doesn't have to be the kind of life I enjoy, it just has to be what's right for you. Osprey, your ability to be happy with so little is so awe inspiring. You are my anchor and my solace and my comic relief. Juniper, gawdammit, too much love for you. You are my saviour, my muse and the best, worst co-pilot. I wish you were coming with me.
With that, I would like to announce that I'm taking this mess on the road! Looking for a place to happen making stops along the way. I'm going to be homeless for a little while, which is making me very nervous. I'm so far out of my comfort zone, I can't even. The next series of blogs will focus on my adventures with living as a hobo as I travel west, trading physical labour for food and shelter. Tune in next week, when I have come to my senses and realize this is a very, very bad idea.
