Picture of me and John Hood outside the Motel St. Jacques.
Went up the road to Montreal
for the funeral of my dear friend Sean Keane in December. Was supposed to go Washington D.C. Westminster ,
laughed about old times and got caught up.
My home town.
Hung around NDG and saw ghosts everywhere.
Visited my old high school, the back where I used to smoke joints and wish no
one would find me out, discover the twisted mental case lurking under the
glazed eyes and cute smile. Imagined my former self 35 years ago, going up to
that kid and saying .. nothing. Intervention? No -- I'd practise the fine art of turning a
blind eye. Painting a room once the offspring has left the nest. Paint that room
immediately and erase any trace of a former life.
Get out.
Marymount in NDG. What a dump. Apparently drug dealers pedalled their wares at the school every day. I learned that from an old Marymount guidance
counselor I met at a twelve step retreat a couple of years ago. Apropos 35
years later meeting her. I told her I was one of their best customers.
My childhood and teenaged years. Ghost wreckage. Helicopter parents? More like crash and burn
parents in my social circle. Just the way it was back then. No interference
with the natural progression of an independent life. Influence was more
inference, letting nature weed out the weak.
What we survive.
Yep, the trip down memory lane had potholes and speed bumps
and water main breaks. But it also had the blazing light of youthful exuberance, of
drowse and bursting imagination. I almost went down, but live to rail, drift
and love.
For those who will, please have a listen to yours truly on
the Comedy Above The Pub podcast, hosted by Todd Van Allen and Darcy Fiander.
http://comedyabovethepub.com/?p=1357
I advertise the Tribute To Sean Keane. Hope to see you there.
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http://comedyabovethepub.com/?p=1357
I advertise the Tribute To Sean Keane. Hope to see you there.
