Remembering

December 6 th,

is an important date,

for me.

I remembered only recently,

that it was,

my granny Grace’s birthday,

she passed long ago,

I was only ten.

My granny Grace,

was a woman born,

at the wrong time,

she was lovely,

and,

charming,

and,

quite a party girl,

in her day,

she didn’t make for the best,

of mom’s,

dad kind of got,

the short end of the stick,

there,

but,

I believe later,

in his life,

he appreciated her joie de vivre,

he inherited her charm,

and,

Scottish complexion,

he didn’t have her blue eyes,

but,

neither did he have,

my grandfather’s cold,

steel trap mind ones,

he had her charm,

he had her weaknesses,

they were both,

wonderful,

sometimes,

very hard to take.

I am most like my dad,

boisterous,

and,

indignant,

a wide streak,

of melancholy,

and,

grumpiness,

runs through us,

both,

and,

we got the gift of gab,

from granny.

People who know me,

and,

never knew my dad,

think I look like my mom,

in my middle age,

but,

really I don’t,

recently,

I showed,

my friend the anarchist,

a picture of my dad,

taken at an age,

very similar to mine.

He said,

that it was disconcerting,

how much we looked alike.

December 6 th is also,

and,

most,

for me anyway,

a day that will live,

in infamy,

in 1989,

at the University of Montreal’s school of Engineering,

La Polytechnique,

fourteen young women,

were murdered,

by a little little man,

weak,

evil,

crazed,

a misogynist.

My dad was a man,

of his generation,

a little bit,

macho,

in that way,

those men,

were,

and are,

but,

he was no misogynist.

I was raised to believe,

that women,

were every bit,

as good as men,

in some ways,

maybe better

(his opinion, not mine:-)

Not only did dad,

not think women were less,

he was no homophobe,

either,

when he learned,

I was gay,

he got it.

Least you think,

dad was perfect,

nope,

he sure,

was not,

but,

he left me with many lessons.

After the killing at Poly,

he said,

‘never say that creep’s name,

remember the girls’

that struck me,

and,

I have never said,

that lowly scum’s name,

and,

I never will,

I know it,

I won’t say it,

and,

maybe,

I hope,

someday,

I will forget it.

A great man,

passed,

yesterday,

Nelson Mandela,

he was a good,

brave and smart,

man.

Not a saint,

a flawed man,

as we are all,

real,

and flawed.

He lived his life,

by,

principle,

and,

a spine of steel,

Godspeed sir.

So December 6 TH,

is a day full of memories,

good,

and,

horrible,

A few dates like that,

in one’s life.

Remembering,

is important,

giving thanks,

for what we had,

and,

still do,

is as well.

Not drifting into cynicism,

and,

complacency,

being kind,

but,

staying tall,

in your principles,

and,

righteous indignation.

Today is about,

remembering,

Granny,

Dad,

the fourteen young women,

and,

Mandela.

Be well.

Later girls,

BB