40 Years in a Nutshell

As I'm now 40, I decided to write down some memories from the good ol' days just to draw the perspective of how long I've been around.

I remember discussing the Cold War (the original one between the Soviets and U.S.) while at University.

I remember when South Africa was still ruled by whites exclusively and Nelson Mandela was a dangerous terrorist.

I remember the Iran-Iraq war and, like everyone, was cheering for Iraq.

I remember the Iranian Revolution and all the characters who were featured on the news everyday. They were crazy ragheads to us because we didn't know any better and the news made them all out to be evil. (Hmm, the more things change...)

I remember the Afghan war against the Soviets, the Mujahedeen who we all praised as Freedom Fighters despite the fact Mullah Omar and Osama Bin Laden would have been among them.

I remember watching the shuttle Challenger blow up while at University and I remember the irony of the first teacher going to outer space, Christa MaCauliffe, who had the eyes of every child in North America watching her blast off, or in this case, just blast.

I remember the jokes afterwards: NASA, Need Another Seven Astronauts.

I remember playing Pong at a friend's house.

I remember the first video game "Battle Tanks" that appeared at Pinball Alley. It was the end of pinball, or so everyone thought.

You wouldn't play battle tanks for free today. It sucked.

I remember when sixteen year olds could still buy cigarettes and if you looked a bit older, fifteen. I remember when no one ever questioned driving drunk. You had to get home right?

I remember when cops would break up parties and tell everyone, even those drunkards who got behind the wheel, to drive home.

I remember when "Bush Parties" were the norm and you could buy marijuana with such names as "Thai Stick" and "Cambodian." Hashish was all the rage, or so I was told.

I remember the first computer. An Apple. I remember the Telex machine and the magical holey tape getting gobbled up and spewing information. Modems back then fit both ends of the phone.

I remember when people that went into computer programming were considered "loosers."

I remember Acid Rain.

I remember Zebra Mussels.

I remember Purple Loostrife.

I remember Selanne as a rookie.

I remember Gretzky as a rookie.

I remember the Broad Street Bullies.

I remember Hugo: Man of a Thousand Faces.

I remember when Lego was just blocks.

I remember the Denim Machine.

I remember "Stay Real."

I remember "Up With People."

I remember when Coca-Cola and Sprite yo-yos were all the rage, Rubbick's Cube, Cabbage Patch Kids, Pet Rocks, and car horns that played "Charge" were cool.

I remember when Jim Henson died, when Peter Sellers died, when John Lennon died, when Peter Tosh died, when Elvis died, but I don't remember JFK!

I remember Happy Days in its peak, the start and end of Cheers, the start and end of Fraser. I watched the pilot for Friends, Seinfeld, The David Letterman Show and I remember Johnny Carson--vividly.

I remember when the push-button phone first came out. No more damn rotary dials--it was a beautiful thing.

I remember when "remote controls" for your television were still attached by cord.

I remember when Beta machines were all the rage and people thought fake wood-grain made nifty electronic appliances.

I remember when everyone had wall paper and shag carpet was all the rage. I remember think shag carpet resembled a floor made of spaghetti.

I remember when everyone had charcoal barbeques and it was still okay to burn you garbage in Saskatoon city limits. Everyone had a "burn barrel" in their backyard and would gather on weekends to incinerate their old chemical laden trash.

I remember the whole Oiler Dynasty.

I remember the Islanders Dynasty.

I remember Maradona.

I remember Jordan.

I remember Borg, McEnroe, Theismann and the list goes on.

I remember video dances and how stupid they were.

I remember being thirty, twenty and ten. I remember a lot of crap: I'm forty!

It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to.

So this is it, the big four-oh. Double that up and I'm in a personal care home with saliva eking from my mouth and shit in my pants. I have reached my "peak," oh, not my peak in life, that was years ago, I've reached my peak in years. I think back to when I turned twenty; I remember it well. I was riding my bicycle home from Canada Packers and I was all in a panic. For God sake, I was no longer a teenager. I had to start acting like an adult. What was I going to do?

I didn't have much of a life back then, no girlfriend and I lived a miserable home life with a grumpy old father who dried his plates in the oven but refused to use the dishwasher. Those were dark days and I really took stock of where I was in life and where my life was headed. What did I want to do?

First I decided I wanted to get smart. I wanted to be a genius so that even if girls hated me, they could at least agree that I was the "smartest in the room." Where does one start being smart, though? The library? I hated libraries; I hated reading and I couldn't write worth a damn. I decided I had to go back to University but little did I know at the time I would spend the rest of my twenties and half my thirties going to university and decent chuck of that actually working at various libraries. Fate is a cruel mistress.

But lo and behold, I loved it. I loved the university life, but after fifteen long years I had but a lowly B.A. to my name. So I had to find work and I found lots of work. I always said, the only thing I did better than get laid off was find other jobs. Here's a list of where I worked since age eighteen:

Kildonan Plastics
City of Winnipeg (Sanitation Engineer)
Eaton's (Receiving)
Canada Packers
Eaton's (Ladies Shoes)
Tip Top
Suregain Feed Mills
Cafe Earl's
City of Winnipeg (Golf Course Maintenance)
Superstore
University of Manitoba Archives
James Richardson & Sons Archives
Brandon University Archives
Purolator Courier (AM dock)
Purolator Courier (Baggage handling-Greyhound)
University of Manitoba Science Library
University of Manitoba History Department (TA)
Cancom (Baggage handling-WestJet)
ATS (Baggage handling-WestJet)
Probe Research Inc.
University of Winnipeg Library
WestJet (present)
University of Manitoba Bookstore (present)

So, as you can see, I leave a lot of this out, otherwise my resume would be ten pages long. And really, what does it all matter at this point. I'm forty now, I gotta start looking ahead, like to retirement, old age, drooling and shitting. What is real scary, in only twenty years from now I will be sixty. SIXTY! That sounds bad. Will I smell like old man? Do I smell now? Will I shake my fist at the neighbourhood kids and tell those "young whipper-snappers" to get off my lawn. Will I discuss endlessly the intricacies of a piece of toast? Yikes, I have to stop talking about this.

But here's the good part about turning forty: you're not as dumb as you were at twenty. Let's face it, you cannot help learning stuff through life and the greater variety of life you experience, the more you learn. I have no regrets that I never followed a designated career path. Careers are over-rated, I mean, who really wants to spend forty years doing the same damn job? I'm also pretty fortunate that I'm still kicking at forty (beat that all you twenty year olds) and that I live a pretty comfortable existence. I think I'm pretty lucky, but learning is an age long process so considering I only started considering getting smart at twenty, buy the time I'm sixty I should be a Nobel winner or at least one of the guys that finishes well back that you never hear about him again, like the guy that invented dryer balls or something.

So there you have it: my initial thoughts on turning forty and a lame excuse to write in my blog.

I got the whole world in my hand---blah!

Dang it's so hard to plan a vacation. First you get turned off the adventure tour thing, then Laos, the country you'd really like to visit, falls into political turmoil. Vietnam is still on the list and I'd really love to see Angkor Wat, but the latest plan is Costa Rica in Novemember and then Europe the following May. I found a place in Costa Rica that looks pretty laid back. It's called Playa Montezuma, yeah, named after the Goddess of Shit, but it's a former hippy hang out that is slightly more sophisticated but still nowhere near the development of Maui.

There's just no point in going to Cambodia without seeing a fewe days of Laos. I'm sorry, it's the heart of Southeast Asia, along the Mekong and French to boot. So it has that intriguing blend of Asian and French quisines. I've already heard about the classic Vietnamese quisine the "Vietnamese Sub" which consists of spicy barbequed chicken served in a French bagette. Crap, that sounds good.

I can always look forward to Europe and to re-energize my "Rural Heart of Europe" tour. Starting in Amersterdam, that traveling south through Belgium, into the Alsace region of France, into Luxemburg (just to say I went to Luxemburg), sailing down the Rhine to Munich, skipping over to Salzburg Austria before driving through the heart of the Czech Republic before heading back to Amsterdam.

Of course, Turkey's on the radar as well but there the inconvenience of bombings there too. Still, Istanbul, then down the Aegean would be exotic and mellow. Then there's Tunisia or perhaps Dominica or Cuba.

I can't believe people have the gaul to say "small world." The problem is the world is just too damn huge.

Some finer points from my resume.

Covered self in magots and covered hand in dog shit while working as
sanitation engineer, smoked myself sick while working in dust filled
plastics factory, picked up garbage at Eaton's, picked up garbage at
Canada Packers, picked up garbage at Airport both as groomer and as
catering guy. Very good at picking up garbage. Cleaned toilets at high density, low class golf course. Cleaned and dumped airplane toilets at Greyhound, Royal and WestJet airlines. Cleaned frozen shit
off pavement and covered self in twenty gallons of piss and shit four
times, a long standing airport record. If you are looking for someone
who thrives on being covered in shit and piss, I'm your guy.