Pterodactyl Airlines

It was 10:30 A.M., May 2nd and we waited in anticipation for the imminent departure of our flight from Manchester to Vancouver. So we waited and we waited some more. At about 11:00 A.M., the pilot made an announcement. "Ladies and gentleman, we are experiencing a slight delay. The electronic baggage loading equipment has broken down and the plane (or is that a pterodactyl?) has to be manually loaded."
So I sat there figuring that we would soon be shortly on our way. Another half an hour passed and the pilot stated: "Ladies and gentleman, the plane has now been manually loaded. However, they have loaded on the wrong luggage. They now have to manually ofload the incorrect luggage and manually load on the correct luggage. If it's any consolation to you, fourteen other planes are in a similar predicament."
Gee, that made the situation so much better? How reassuring to know that your misery was being shared by loads of other folks in other planes. How reassuring as you sit in a stuffy plane with no air conditioning and one usable toilet. Still, I reckoned that soon we would be on our way, off into the blue yonder. At long last, just gone 1:30 P.M., three hours late, we left Manchester airport. My journey, an adventure that would challenge my anxiety, had finally begun.
Now when it comes to flying, I do try to do things on the cheap. So I guess it came as no surprise that I was on a plane with three classes onboard. 'First class', 'Business class' and 'Cattle'. What I didn't realise was that being in the 'Cattle' section meant that we would have to help get the 'flying dinosour' off the ground. We were instructed in the cheap seats to put our feet through the holes in the floor and shuffle our feet in a frantic motion. I found this most odd, however 'Fred' and 'Barney' sitting next to me, were well into it. So with our feet powered momentum, the flying dinosour flapped into the afternoon sky. Welcome to 'Pterodactyl Airlines'.
Over Scotland, over Iceland, over the southern tip of Greenland, our winged beast flapped. Then the route changed from the usual continuance over northern Canada. The pilot took what could be best described as a more scenic path. Below was the prairie Province of Saskatchewan and the city of Regina. From there we passed over Calgary, Alberta and got the fantastic bonus of flying over the magnificence of the Rockies. Wow!
We were now descending into Vancouver. Flying through the Coast mountain range, I glimpsed at the awesome beauty of Greater Vancouver. Seeing the wonderful vision of my other home, my other life, my other world, brought the slightest trace of a tear to my eye. What positive experiences lay before me? How well would I challenge my anxiety and low self-esteem? Brimming with positive thoughts, I prepared for the final descent into Vancouver International Airport.
The pilot came back on the loudspeaker. "Would the people in the cheap seats get ready to put their feet back through the holes in the floor. We need you to use your feet as brakes on the runway! Yikes! What the hell will that do to the remaining sole on my trainers? I think that next time I shall spend the extra money. Saving money on my flight is one thing, yet what about the cost of replacing my trainers?
We landed safely. Local time was 2:30 P.M., an hour later than the time we left Manchester. Now it was time for the joy of going through Customs. Upon reaching Customs, I could not believe the huge number of people waiting to get through. I suppose that was partly due to our three hour delay and missing our allocated landing time. I felt, like I'm sure many others, very stressed at the chaos that ensued for the next hour.
Then I got through to the reception area. Waiting very patiently were my Mum and my Stepdad. I was here in Vancouver. How thrilled I was to see them. How thrilled I was with myself. The first hurdle in my ongoing challenge to live a better life was well and truly under way. The excitement, the adrenalin surging through me, was assurance that this trip was going to better than my last visit here. I knew it, and just as significant, my family could see how much better I was. I had made a pledge to them that I would embrace a more positive life. I was inspired and I knew that over the next three weeks, I would try and be an inspiration to my dear friends from the past. Little did I know that this journey was to be even more poignant than I would ever have dreamed.
So I was at the start of a great adventure. In the following blogs, I shall tell of the great inner strength and resilience of some truly remarkable people who have come back into my life. The first day drew to a close. I thought the sun would never set that day. No 'jet lag' (or as it was called in the olden days 'propeller lag'?) heck I didn't even have 'wing lag' from being a part of the 'Pterodactyl Airlines' experience. (Okay, it wasn't really a 'flying dinosaur' I was on..as a matter of fact, the airline I was on was very good..even to us folks in the cheap seats)
So no parade in my honour upon my return to Vancouver. I was kinda' relieved about that. I mean, shucks, did I really need the embarrassment? The real honour was rediscovering and rekindling warm, sincere, friendships. I am so grateful for what I have. I thank you for your time.

Recluse Still On The Loose.

Greetings friends.  I am now at the the halfway point of my adventure in Vancouver.  When I return to the 'green and pleasant land', that is England, I shall be doing a series of blogs regarding the emotional and heart wrenching journey that I have experienced.  

I have witnessed and embraced the great inner strength of some incredibly brave people.  Their determination in the face of adversity has been an inspiration to me.  Their resilience, which I shall reflect upon at a later date, has made my determination to choose a positive life, grow even stronger. 

So when I return to Leek, I shall be going on a bit of a 'Blogathon'.   I hope you will honour me in reading my stories about the ongoing determination of my rediscovered friends and the inspirational and fear challenging time I had.

In closing, I know that my return to England will be so different than the last time I came back. Last time I came back to a world of emptiness, devoid of friendship.  This time, thanks to all of you, I come back to England, warmed with the knowledge that I have friends.  Your continued support and the support of my friends and family in Canada, has made me more determined to choose positive anticipation rather than be overwhelmed by negative speculation.

Recluse still on the loose?  Maybe, but I sure have enjoyed my time beyond the doorway rather than hiding under the duvet.

 

Hermit on Holiday.

The other day someone asked me how are things. I replied that I was on the verge of becoming a virtual recluse, yet again. They jokingly responded: "Well that's an improvement." You know what? Even though the remark was made in jest, there was some credibility in their statement. For being a virtual recluse is my way of progressing from being a total recluse.
I do challenge my hermit-like state. So boy oh boy, am I ever challenging it now. For I am about to embark on one heck of a huge irony. For someone who struggles to go outside and face the world; what I'm about to do confronts my uncomfortable 'comfort zone', big time.
I am off on a paradoxical journey that will question all my fears. I fear being out there amongst the hectic sea of humanity. I fear being caught out and confirming my overwhelming sense of stupidity. I fear my negative thoughts will undermine the optimistic progress that I have achieved over the last year. I must have the courage to no longer have a negative environment created by others and compounded by me, sabotage my chance to relax and have some fun.
So I will say goodbye to the four walls that have dominated my life. I shall bid farewell to the 'deafening' silence that dominates my life. Out the front door I shall go, determined to head to Manchester airport and take that plane to Vancouver.
I go back to Vancouver a changed man. The man who returns to Canada has experienced many years of tremendous emotional upheaval and pain. I will see my family and dear friends from the past. I hope that through all my turmoil, they see beyond the pain and confusion. Under all those layers is the guy they remember. Although humbled by my mental illness, I firmly believe, that through my humility, they will observe a strong, resilient character.
Friday May 2nd, Klahanie will be the 'recluse on the loose'. Transported back to my other world in Canada, a world full of memories of deep sadness and euphoric happiness. Life's situations have taken their toll on me but I will never give up. What I do now is testimony to the undaunted nature of the human spirit. I have a choice, I choose to give myself the opportunity to live life. So to hell with my fears, I hold my head high and prepare myself for an adventure. Hermit on holiday...that's me.

'Teenanger', 'Teenangel'.

We had a signicant event occur at the 'Klahanie' household the other day. My teenage son, bless the 'well ace' dude, actually found the 'on' switch to the vacuum cleaner. No wait, it gets better. Not only did he find the on switch, he proceeded to push the button and began to vacuum his room. Stunned, I rushed towards a chair. Good thing, because if I hadn't, I know I probably would have found myself slumped on the floor checking out my carpet.
Talking to my teenage son, I often say the following. "Hi son, how are you?" On a good day he may respond with a "grunt!" I must appreciate to acknowledge the 'old man' takes a considerable amount of effort. I mean, how dare I? What is how 'he's doing' got to do with me? I must realise that my concern for his wellbeing may be construed as the old guy being nosey.
On a thoroughly exceptional day, perhaps in a moment of weakness, my teenage son inquires of me: .."are you okay Dad?" Now the rules change and I respond to his question. Being ever mindful of my reaction, I reply (well usually) in a way that does not upset him. No I don't say: "You're asking me if I'm okay? Is there something wrong with you?" No that could possibly cause him to get right pissed off. So being such a wonderful Dad? I resist silly temptation and normally say: "Im fine thanks..and you?" "Grunt" he replies. Doh!
I have learnt to show a bit of interest in my son's achievements. Not too much though, for that borders on showing more interest than is allowed. I have discovered the balance in prasing him without embarrassing him. It is better to acknowledge his accomplishments, just a little bit, than be totally oblivious to his hopes and dreams. I try to maintain a happy medium in my home. Not always easy, but those special moments when teenage son wants to chat with his old man makes it all worthwhile.
My son's room is a 'no go area' for an old dude like me. It is pretty surrreal to think that there is his room just a few feet away from me. Yet dare I even have the audacity to enter his room? No bloody chance! However, I had a look in his 'tip', I mean bedroom. Did I sneak in when he was out? Well no. What I did was go on to Youtube and typed in his 'secret' nickname..lo and behold, there was his room! I think maybe, I should have not gone on to Youtube...but hey, he has some very interesting posters! What a nosey old git I am.
Ofcourse, I was a well-behaved, polite teenager. I'm sure my family would vouch for that? No, I was a teenager struggling with the realisation of leaving childhood and becoming a man. The teenage years are a complex, confusing time. I'm kinda' still a bit of a teenager at heart. My life is complex, when I desperately wanted simple. My world is confusing, when all I desired was a straightforward path. So to my teenage son, I do my best to understand and be there when you need me. "Hi son how are you?" "Grunt!" Doh!

A Sporting Chance.

Hello sports fans. Check out the dude in the photograph above. In high school that guy pictured was labelled as a bit of a 'goof', very much the 'geeky nerd'. He was stereotyped more so on his looks than his personality. I suppose you realise that the young fella' in the picture is me. It is a fresh faced seventeen year old posing for his high school graduation picture. Stigma in life knows many forms.
So based on perceptions, there was no way I was athletically inclined? I mean, guys like me were too busy hanging around the high school library studying up for the next exciting test in science class. So athlete and nerd in the same sentence? Some kind of weird contradiction..or maybe not.
At the start of every physical education class we would do a one mile run. I hung back with the really slow dudes. They were my buddies, we had a right good laugh...at the back end of the one mile run. One P.E. class I made the following announcement to my pals. "Hey guys, today I'm gonna' try and win the race." So I wont be back here acting silly with you guys." "Yeah right Gary, like you can beat the guy who always wins the race!" "I can but try, I will give it my best effort." was my response.
Week after week, this lad won the race. He not only won the race, he won it by some distance. He was usually a good thirty seconds ahead of everybody in the P.E. class. A good looking guy, the envy of many and adored by the girls. Would this one mile run be any different? Would he, once again, coast to an easy victory?
The P.E. teacher blew his whistle and the race commenced. "See you guys later," I said, somewhat unconvincingly to my mates. Stride for stride, I matched him. He became quite concerned and proceeded to up this pace. As he ran faster, I ran faster. I was determined that he would not shake me off. Somehow, I had to make this my day.
We were on the last lap, just the two of us, way ahead of the rest of the class. The pain in my chest was excruciating, yet I found that last little bit of resolve to give this guy the race of his life. We raced uphill to the finishing line, it was close, oh so very close...
The end result? To the shock and bewilderment of all who had witnessed that event, I, the 'high school nerd', had won the race. My buddies cheered, my P.E. teacher was puzzled and infuriated. "Gary, why have you not put in this effort before?" "Well sir, I just couldn't be bothered. Today I wanted to prove something to myself. Next week, I will be back with my buddies at back of the race."
Not sure why I was like that. I guess I wanted to prove that I could do things on my own terms. I recall that year I had one more surprise for those who labelled me according to their own perceptions. In the high school gymnasium, we had an awards ceremony for people who had mastered various athletic skills. They read out name after name, all the usual suspects were called up to receive their award. Then they called my name and I was presented with a gold medallion for sporting excellence.
I had kept my achievement a big secret. Especially the one where I had broken the high school record for most sit ups in a minute. The gasps from the unsuspecting crowd, gathered that day in the gymnasium, gave me a rather strange sense of delight. Hopefully I demonstrated that you can't judge a person's potential by the way they look.
So I reflect back on those high school days with some fond memories. Okay, the fact I was the athletic 'nerd', did not increase my potential in the 'babe magnet' stakes. Yet I didn't mind because I stayed friends with those dudes at the back of the race. One of them became the best man at my wedding. That friendship was more important than winning some high school P.E. one mile race.

Tribes and Tributes. Part Two.

April 4th, 1969, a rainy Good Friday morning. We had gathered at the steps of Vancouver City Hall, all united in the same cause; To help the native people; To increase awareness of their plight.

This was the start of the most memorable Easter weekend of my life. We prepared ourselves for day one of our three day, one hundred mile walk. 'Moccasin Miles' had begun and this fifteen your old lad was thrilled with the anticipation of the great adventure that lay before us.

Through the incessant pouring rain, we finally reached out first destination. Completely drenched, it was so comforting to be inside the warm shelter of Langley Secondary High School. Our first day's travel had brought us almost thirty miles east of Vancouver. Time to relax, time to dry out and prepare ourselves for a night that will be firmly engrained in the minds of so many.

That evening, in the high school gymnasium, we were treated to a 'Pow Wow'. Pow Wow, a sensory delight of dancing, music and a traditional native people's feast. The chants, the festive and spiritual songs, were of joy and celebration. The pounding of the native drums had a powerful effect on this young, wide-eyed, teenage boy. Humanity, from all walks of life, bonded that night in respect and admiration for the tribes of British Columbia.

It was getting late, the Pow Wow drew to a conclusion. It was time to get some sleep, we slept in classrooms. I headed into a room and found a spot to place my sleeping bag. I looked around and realised I was the only white person in the room. All around me were native people from the great tribes of British Columbia.

I felt no discomfort being the only white guy in that classroom. Why should I? Then the good-natured banter began. They noticed me and proceeded to mention a sign that had been placed on the window of the classroom door. "Think you had better read the sign on the door" they chuckled. Clambering over a collection of sleeping bags, I stumbled to the door and read the sign. 'No white men allowed', it stated. Upon my reading it, everyone in the room started to laugh. I laughed too, it was just a bit of fun.

That night in the classroom, we broke down the barriers, we knew that to stigmatise someone because of the colour of their skin, or the sterotypes society had imposed, was to devalue them as human beings. I like to think that I base my perceptions on how people are towards me. To pass judgement, based on misconceptions, is a crime on humanity. Reflecting upon that wonderful day, I drifted off to sleep, the sound of the native drums, a gentle lull in my mind.

I call upon the First Nation's people. May your spirituality continue to inspire me.

The Freedom to Find Each Other

It was early July in 1980. Our 1973, silver grey, Dodge Polara, my 'Smokey and the Bandit' mobile, was packed and ready to go.
We had quit our jobs, given up our apartment and put our few possessions into storage. We knew we were taking a risk, it virtually assured an uncertain future. Yet an uncertain future seemed favourable in comparison to the tragic past my future wife had endured.
We sat in our car and prepared for a two month adventure on the open road. We left Vancouver to drive on the Trans Canada Highway to the wonderful city of Montreal, a distance of almost 3400 miles. Before us lay countryside, more diverse, more awe-inspiring that I had imagined. Once leaving the urban sprawl of Greater Vancouver, we reached the Fraser Valley. Onwards we drove through the splendour of British Columbia, through the Okanagan Valley, heading further east to the majesty of the Rockies.
Surrounded by the magnificent backdrop of the Rockies, Veronica and I found an ideal location to stay for the night. The sun was setting behind enormous mountains, the swirling river beside us produced sounds that reached into my inner tranquility. It was a night to remember, we both drifted of into a deep, peaceful sleep. Alone in the wilds, alone with the lady I loved so much.
Our adventure continued. Through the Rockies, through the foothills of Alberta and into Calgary. Calgary, affectionately known as 'Cowtown', and home of the world famous Calgary Stampede. Our stop in this city was a brief but an interesting experience. We had to keep going, Canada is a very large country.
The landscape began to change dramatically. No longer was the terrain a mountainous or even a hilly splendour. For now we had reached Medicine Hat, Alberta and beyond that was a vast, flat expanse. We had reached the Prairies. As far as the eye could could see, was a panorama of overwheming flatness. The contrast in scenery was truly staggering.
Hundreds upon hundreds of miles of prairie lay before us. As our adventure moved on we arrived in the Province of Saskatchewan. Veronica and I visited the towns of Swift Current and Moose Jaw (how Canadian does the town of 'Moose Jaw' sound eh?). I have fond memories of Moose Jaw. We went and watched 'Close Encounters of Third Kind'..(yeah and we also went to the cinema there!).
Soon our travels would take us to Regina, the capital of Saskatchewan. A grand old city, right in the heart of the Prairies. Yet we did not stay long. Our curiosity led us to a destination about thirty miles north east of Regina. We had got some information of a town that had landscape very different to what we had seen during the last week or so. Upon reaching Fort Qu'Appelle, the information we had been given was no exaggeration. From the incredibly flat land that we had grown accustomed too was this town with hills that could be best described as very large bumps. A bizarre extreme to the terrain that we had been experiencing. There are even facilities for downhill skiing. Hard to believe what we observed , such a short distance away from the flattest darn land I had ever seen.
Yet, it gets even better. Not only were these hills standing proudly in the heart of the Prairies, we found a beach! Yes that's right, a beach smack dab in the middle of Canada. The beach was by a lake named Echo. You guessed it..before our eyes was Echo Beach. ("Echo Beach..far away in time"..hmmm..).
Quite the memory but it was time to move on. Onwards to Manitoba, onwards to Winnipeg (also known fondly, well during the cold season, as 'Winterpeg'). Winnipeg, capital of Manitoba and home to the Winnipeg Blue Bombers of the Canadian Football League. I like Winnipeg, however, there is one street corner you best avoid. The intersection of Portage and Main is evidently the windiest corner in all of North America. Beat that Chicago!
We moved onwards, ever further east, to the Province of Ontario. The land was no longer flat, we were now amongst the forested wilderness of north western Ontario. We came upon lake, a beautiful, pristine lake. Yet something was wrong. The water was clear, the fish floated on the surface, the fish were dead. We were sad, the tears streamed downed our faces. Had we witnessed the devastating consequences of industrial pollution?
We started heading south. Our southward route took us through Thunder Bay and past Lake Superior. Our next major destination would be Canada's largest city. Toronto, a huge cosmopolitan city. A 'melting pot' of humanity from all corners of the world. We went up to the top of the C.N. tower where the views were spectacular. One day, I hope to spend more time in this great Canadian city.
We had to move on, a month had nearly gone by and we were halfway through our money. Time to reach our final destination. Ah Montreal! Canada's second largest city and one of the biggest French speaking cities in the world. I loved Montreal. There is a quaint, 'old world' feel to this wonderful city. I recall, how we strolled through the grounds of the world's fair. I remember as a lad, seeing Expo 67 on the television. Expo 67 was a celebration of mankind. It also marked the centenary of the great nation of Canada. Montreal, a proud French-Canadian city in a proud, blessed country.
It was time return, to head west, to retrace the 3400 miles back to our home, back to Vancouver. I think back on those eventful two months in the summer of 1980. I smile as I remember those occasions that stay so fixed in my thoughts. The beer parlour in Pincher Creek, Alberta where all night long this one guy kept saying: "well I'll be a hound dog!" The night we slept in our car by a farm near Niagara Falls, only to be startled by a police officer, who shone a light on us. The time we slept in our tent by the shores of Lake Ontario, only to be woken up and virtually blown away, by an almighty hurricane.
It was an awesome experience. Our 1973, silver grey, Dodge Polara got us back to Vancouver. The journey had given us the chance to find each other, away from the evil that had left her so deeply traumatised. At last, without negative distractions, we began to discover the true love we had for each other. We had the freedom to find each other. If only that freedom had been lasting. For the 'ghosts' of her horrendous past continued to haunt her.
In a future blog, I will tell you about the disgraceful events that lead us to make a fresh start. I thank you for your time.