Numbers

I wrote my first entry on this blog 365 days ago. I had just arrived home from my father's very unexpected funeral and I was wondering who I was going to share all my weird stories with if he wasn't alive to hear them. He was always my best audience because -- I presume -- we had the same sense of humour and saw the world in a similar way.

My solution to losing my story-telling audience was to blog. I can't take credit, it was my sister's idea. However, you have all become my replacement audience and you have done a damn good job. Nothing personal to any one of you, but it really took the whole lot of you to replace one father.

For those who followed regularly, you may have noticed that there were many instances where I brushed over a subject quickly or mentioned that telling the story would probably land me in jail somewhere. It's not that I didn't think you could all hack it, but I knew my dad would have cringed at the details so I chose to leave them out in his honour. And the truth is that some details are really best left buried wherever they occured. The people who were involved know the details already and don't need to be reminded. Well, maybe they do.

Beth and Libby, do you remember how we used to eat lunch in the same grungy bar several days in a row just so we could watch MTV, which was in its second year on the air when we were in grad school? Do you remember Pat Benetar's music video with everyone dancing in the bar? I think it was called "Love is a Battlefield"? And what about when we decided to slum it on the wrong side of town to drink beer? It's amazing we survived that. We're talking Syracuse here. And there were some pretty nasty types in that bar.

Terry, do you remember when you rode my new bike through our office (with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth)?

Rosemary, do you remember when we got those gigantic raises (that were long overdue) and we didn't know if we would shit or go blind? And do you remember the day that I called you in a panic because I thought I saw Irene on the street (after I had left my job) and I took off into the subway to avoid her? Oh, and what about the day we found out -- once and for all -- about B & J? Thanks Ron for inadvertently spilling the beans. In those days before cell phones, that would have been precisely the moment I would have died for telepathic ability.

And the day that we lost the car keys and we were stuck in the mall for two hours retracing our steps ... very slowly.

And Ron, what about the time we had to make 2000 paying fans look like 10,000? And then, moments later, when the little kid holding the ceremonial flag at the soccer stadium almost knocked off the CEO and the Prime Minister's representative while they stood on the field for the opening ceremonies.

And Barb, I was never so professionally stressed out as I was the day the Greenpeace people showed up at our press conference for the forest industry.

And Tammy, what about the day we stumbled across our hated colleague's fake resume? Or the day that the Queen was photographed holding our card -- logo side out?

And all of this was before I even made it to Israel. Before I saw a guy get out of his car at a stop sign and walk to the car in front of his, just so he could spit on the first car's windshield. And before I knew that you had to know how to handle yourself in a rugby scrum if you wanted to keep your place in line at the cell phone repair shop. And before I knew that the best way to shut down an argument was to leave your car parked in the middle of the street so that no one else could pass -- and then, top it off by going home -- without the car. And before I knew that kids expect their main meal at 3:00 p.m. when they come home from school -- so that they would be refreshed enough to go out and play at 6:00 p.m. when normal people (me) were having their dinner. And before I realized that it is always better to curse in English because YOU F--KING A--HOLE conveniently works in every language. And before I knew that if a wedding is called for 6:30 p.m. you can easily show up at 8:30 p.m. and know you have not missed the ceremony. And before I realized that there are no occassions so special that they really warrant pantihose.

I know I could add to this list forever, but I think that those are probably the best of the items that I forgot to tell my father.

Thank you all for listening in his place.