Yeh Gods, what the hell happened.
Where is the rain?
Some deranged washed out barbie doll on the tube is trying to tell us with a glee in her left eye that the temperature has dropped to minus 10 and that things are about to get a whole lot worse. Snow. Imagine that. Finally an opportunity to take out the Hummer and strike fear into the local populace. This is not the time nor the place to show off your sophisticated little overpriced European or Japanese speedster. Those of us who appreciate the muscle of an American made gas guzzler are out in force. How's the bumper, Bubba? Do you even have one?
Jeremiah's, the place where those of us who appreciate a few beverages right after lunch congregate, is only a few blocks away from the old homestead however it took me about half an hour to get there. Vancouver drivers are notorious for going to pieces the moment the temperature drops below zero and the white stuff is starting to cover our gentle tree lined streets. I used to stop and help out whenever another poor sod would wrap his Lexus or Beemer around a streetlight however I'm no longer in the mood to get my hands dirty. Fuck them. Serves you right, freak. Weren't you the one last week that almost sideswiped our local homeless binner when he tried crossing the road with his Safeway card? Where's the smirk now, shithead.
Fortunately things at the pub are a bit more relaxed, almost civil except for the sniveling and whining from the usual suspects and associated wino's. Nothing that cannot be resolved by a free round of cold beverages. Contrary to my usual destitute circumstances I happen to have a few big bills in my wallet compliments of the friendly folks at Revenue Canada making me the Go To Guy of the day for the regulars. However my new found wealth has allowed me to pay a few bills, taking off the pressure so to speak. I have a few glorious hours to myself which I'm not planning on spending with Bob, Bill, Bert and the other Bozo's but instead with my trusted little laptop.
I think it was in the summer of '69 when Ralph and I crossed paths for the first time. We both had graduated from Elementary school and were now considered sufficiently prepared to enter Junior High. He was a tall lad for his age and that combined with his haughty demeanor made him stand out from the rest of the rabble when we were called into the "aula" to find out who our classmates were going to be. He was standing right beside me, towering over me while looking down his nose at me, a pose I would come to know well. His polished manners and "kak" (but unlike so many others not "kale kak") arrogance was only outdone by my "volksbuurt" and " you want a piece of me" arrogance. Mutual animosity was instantaneous and was raised to even higher levels when we found out that we were in the same class. It only took a few weeks before things came to a head. Without any effort at all Ralph was instantly invited to hang with the cool group while I sought out those with darker motives and looked for coolness in all the wrong places. One morning, while parking my bike, I happened to bump into Ralph's bicycle and crashed it to the ground in full view of Ralph and his posse. Shit hit the fan and not before long we were having a go at each other and that's where I got to meet Mr. "Driftkikker" for the first time. He lost his cool and went completely berserk making me the object of his fury. However I had been there before and this wasn't the first potential beating I had been able to face up to. He seemed surprised that I was very capable of dishing out as much, and then some, as I was taking and that only enraged him further. Things took an unexpected turn when a boy from my neighbourhood got involved, a known thug with promising criminal tendencies, who felt that the conflict had gone on long enough and made it clear in no uncertain terms that the show was over. Ralph felt strongly that as far as he was concerned the matter was far from settled and he was threatening half heartily to get his older brothers involved to even the odds.
(I didn't know Sjarl and Sjon at the time but over the years I would consider the two of them about as useless as tits on a bull and compared to Ralph's character and integrity not fit enough to shine his shoes. Neither one of them would have had the balls or the skills to peel me off )
It took us a few weeks to push beyond that first close encounter and act with a certain measure of civility towards each other and another few months or so to realise that although we were from opposing backgrounds we had enough in common to be on speaking terms.
It took Ralph about a year to abandon the rules imposed upon him by the cool group, just about the same time it took me to stop the slide into minor thuggery and mischief so easily associated with Enschede's "a-sociale" underclass. My burgeoning friendship with Ralph allowed me to envision a different path forward. Even as a young man Ralph already looked at the future as a place of limitless opportunities, not limitations. So many people with similar backgrounds like mine end up believing the bullshit that they are fed in their younger years and already, at a very young age, started building the walls of their own prison. " Ai veur 'n dubbeltje geborn bint woi nooit 'n kwatje."(If you were born to be a dime, you'll never be a quarter) How many young minds have been corrupted with these types of vicious, hope killing, dream dashing, self imposed class based obscenities? Buoyed by Ralph's infectious confidence and hard hitting, demanding and unforgiving rules that characterized our relationship I was able to escape a path that until then I would have considered unavoidable or probably not even would have recognized as such. He gave as much as he took.
We solidified our friendship in our second year of high school and started showing up at each other's homes. Ralph was always quite comfortable visiting our small apartment while I on the other hand needed a few months to rid myself of a gnawing feeling that somehow I didn't belong whenever I was sitting at his kitchen table in, what at the time seemed like a ginormous kitchen, wolfing down a sandwich all the while talking to his mom. Although his older brothers never could shake their unrelenting quest for validating their position as upcoming make belief top dogs, Ralph never suffered such delusions. In those days he never even so much as hinted at our strikingly different backgrounds. We were friends and that was that. His mom and sisters were easy to get along with however it took me a few more years to feel comfortable whenever his dad was around. At that time he was still Mr. Herder, The Director, a mover and a shaker, a giant among mortal men, as far as I was concerned.
We both had little use for school and it showed in our marks. Most of Ralph's posse had moved on to the HAVO/VWO on the Borneostraat while my gang was slowly but surely finding their way to the Ambachtschool and Huishoudschool. Ralph and I ended up somewhere in the middle, at the MAVO on the Jan Vermeerstraat. We were both surprised by our mediocre results and promised each other solemnly that should financial independence not be within our grasp by the time we'd turn 25, we would try our hand at crime and other associated career defining occupations. Not that far of a reach for me but quite a leap for Ralph, considering he was absolutely serious. We picked up smoking well before our fifteenth birthday, started listening to the kind of music that had our parents shaking their heads and our conversations increasingly involved such fun topics like sex, politics ( his hero was Wiegel while I believed that they were all useless and should be hanged at the first opportunity except for boer Koekoek (or was it boer Kroepoek?) not that it makes a hell of a difference), sex, religion ( we both liked Buddhism for its pacifist tenets although we both believed that structured violence and uncompromising massive retaliation was an acceptable alternative), sex, mopeds ( he was about to inherit his brother's Puch while I was considering a souped up German made speed freak, a Zundapp), sex, our female classmates and of course, sex.
By the time we moved onto grade 4 of the MAVO we both were in a process of letting our hair down, literally, and due to the potential violent aspirations for our future, had moved away from mainstream high school thinking and settled in for some unconventional extra curricular activities. Early into that school year a friend of mine "van de buurt" got caught stealing a moped on a dare, took off on the bastard like Evil Knievel and within minutes drove into a steel post, crushing his ribs and puncturing his lungs. His death affected me to such an extent that during one our classes I started losing it. Not able to get a grip on myself, my classmates had a pretty good time giving in to some of the darker aspects of the human psyche. When Ralph, now almost 195 cm tall, clued in, he once again turned to his alter ego, Mr. Driftkikker, and invited anyone who felt so inclined to come outside. We never talked about it, didn't have to. Loyalty stood at the core of our shared journey .
This was also the year that we discovered alcohol and its associated benefits. Beer was not really our thing then, however red wine was another matter altogether. He was a lush, a fellow traveler, and to see him lay down that thin veneer of control, discipline and sense of self and have it replaced by a raving wild man, singing along at the top of his lungs with Mick and the boys, rolling of his bike into the nearest ditch all the while laughing hysterically, was a hoot. God, he was a monster, a true villain right after my own heart. Cheap red wine became our beverage of choice whenever we found our way to "het kippenhok", an illegal drinking establishment in Boekelo, managed by Seine Snippe, one of our classmates and a fellow crackerjack. Our dark habits and expeditions into the countryside demanded an ever increasing financial commitment and it was at that time that Ralph started developing a keen interest in supplementing our allowance with something more then just spare change. He conned his dad, a firm believer in teaching his rambunctious offspring the value of hard work, into letting us work at The Factory, during Christmas break. We started out in the "lasdoppen" department, a hellish and fiendish environment, noisy, dirty, just the right place for two young lads who were up to no good. Ralph did more then his fair share of the daily workload, much to the surprise of the old man and not before long we were both promoted to the "casting department" where we were taught how to make fake, authentic looking fireplace logs, an enterprise that would play such a feature role in Ralph's future career. He never asked or demanded any preferential treatment, either from his dad or from the department staff, worked diligently and got along amicably with everyone. however since our casting schedule did not always coincide with the regular coffee breaks we usually slithered into the "kantine" when everyone else was gone so we could have the ping pong table to ourselves. Since he was unable to outwork me, blue collar background and all that (and an unhealthy portion of stubbornness not to let the arrogant prick best me) we would work ourselves into a frenzy over a game of ping pong. It is there where we worked on our ever expanding cursing vocabulary. He was a better player then me but not by much and at times I would walk away, the Victor. And did he hate to loose! He would not talk to me but instead mumble and babble incoherently to himself, then move on to threatening me with relentless beatings while I could not get enough of rubbing his nose in his downfall. His antics made me laugh until I cried which would infuriate him even further. Honor would not be restored until the next time he once again would reign supreme.
Just came back from the bar where I ended up freaking out a few regulars by downing in quick succession 2 double Balvenie's, no ice, straight up. My eyes were sweating and needed something a tad stronger then a cold Heini.
It was customary in those days that all workers would get a "kerstpakket" to take home during the holidays. Ralph was able to bypass my obstructive independent nature to such an extent that he cajoled me into taking his share of the loot also. On our way home that evening we cycled by my grandma's place and dropped of one of the baskets. By then I knew his heart well enough to know that it mattered to him for all the right reasons.
On January 24, 1973 he showed at our apartment, proudly showing of a silver coloured wreck that he referred to as his kick-ass bike. He graciously offered to pull me all the way to school and I ended up hanging on for dear life, almost ripping off the sleeve of his jacket, while he showed off how fast the bugger could run. Of and on we kept up this scenario until my birthday, a month and a half later when I proudly showed off my ride, less elegant but a lot faster. It took about a week until we decided to switch bikes as to figure out what all the fuss was about. I ended up taking his Puchje to the max, loosing complete control and parking it under the front tire of a tractor on a lonely country road. While I'm pinned under the goddamn tractor with the farmer shouting all kinds of obscenities at me, Ralph is desperately trying to pull his bike from underneath the vehicle. He was at his best, prime form, even the farmer took a few steps back and managed to keep his mouth shut while Ralph was having a fit. When he realised that I was not hurt he did his utmost to break one of my legs but, alas, his attempts came to naught and we ended up hauling his bike, I mean I ended up hauling his bike back to the shop while he tried desperately to outperform me on my bike. We decided that the only course of action was to head back to the casting department at The Factory for Easter break thus allowing me to pay for the damage.
Despite our best efforts we graduated that summer.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Halloween
7.15 and we're right in the middle of it. A multitude of snot nosed little humans are finding their way to our front door to get their greedy little hands on our fine Belgian chocolates and Jamin sour candy. Peace, tranquility and a wide assortment of Grolsch beverages are my usual companions but tonight is one of the few nights that I keep the dogs inside and leave the porch lights on and the little bastards know it. Just writing these few sentences took a while since every few minutes I have to get up because there's another little creep, dressed up like the devil or Dick Cheney, banging on the door screeching" trick or treat". Our own kids are in on the action and are terrorizing the neighbourhood with fervor. Lord have mercy on the poor granola character that is denying them their loot. Organic fruit is not the God we're worshipping tonight. We want, nay, we need candy and we will not be denied. Halloween. Refreshingly uncomplicated and governed by some very basic principles. No dark political motives or shady little shysters in expensive suits to contend with. God knows we've had more then our fair share of shitheads and hustlers find their way into our fair city lately. But not tonight. Tonight they're hiding in whatever sewer they came out of while the youngsters rule the streets.
Friday, August 19, 2011
My son and sensei
Jan, my better half and a committed teacher, sometimes gets a bit flustered when the kids, in her view, are not delivering on the promise that each of them holds. However, as usual, there's another side to the story.
Absolutely, we need to help him along. He needs to improve on his organizational skills, make sure that he completes and hands in his assignments on time and does a better job of paying attention and not provoke his teacher's ire. However knowing him as we do, none of these issues come as a huge surprise. He is a person that appreciates friendship, cordial camaraderie and, in his view, innocent banter. He is still the same boy as he's always been and now we have the obscene duty of teaching him that he must make certain compromises if he wants to fully participate in this society and live a meaningful, rewarding life to be able to enjoy all the comforts that it holds.
Welcome to the machine.
Make no mistake, once he understands what needs to be done and why, and we will succeed in that endeavour because we have no choice, we will see another person emerge. For now, I like him just the way he is. His compassion and care for all living things never seizes to amaze me. He has taught me more regarding the depth of a righteous soul then any other person, past or present and as far as I'm concerned He sits on the right side of God with jesus bringing him warm chocolate milk and chippies. We have to find a way to allow him to continue on his journey and let him become the person that he's meant to be while at the same time acquire the skills and knowledge that will help him along in the future. I know you. I refuse to believe that the end is worth you losing that what makes him so special. The issues involved are manageable, he is doing his best but it needs work, fine tuning so to say. He takes pride in his accomplishments, he loves making you happy when he gets a good mark and he's deeply hurt when, again, in his view we disapprove of him. WE need to learn also and find a way to get through to him without resorting to the usual blame and punish game. He's getting enough unnecessary shit from his sisters without us terrorizing him. He'll be OK, maybe not exactly the way we'd like it to go, but he has all the makings of a good, no, great person. Saskia will be fine and allthough I would have liked a different dynamic guiding her choices, I'm happy for her. Moriah is also coming down the pipe and I'm convinced she'll have a few surprises in store that will have us climbing the proverbial wall. We don't own our kids, they're only with us for a short while. I want to hang on to whatever goodness I can get and let that comfort the rest of my days when they're off on their own.
Absolutely, we need to help him along. He needs to improve on his organizational skills, make sure that he completes and hands in his assignments on time and does a better job of paying attention and not provoke his teacher's ire. However knowing him as we do, none of these issues come as a huge surprise. He is a person that appreciates friendship, cordial camaraderie and, in his view, innocent banter. He is still the same boy as he's always been and now we have the obscene duty of teaching him that he must make certain compromises if he wants to fully participate in this society and live a meaningful, rewarding life to be able to enjoy all the comforts that it holds.
Welcome to the machine.
Make no mistake, once he understands what needs to be done and why, and we will succeed in that endeavour because we have no choice, we will see another person emerge. For now, I like him just the way he is. His compassion and care for all living things never seizes to amaze me. He has taught me more regarding the depth of a righteous soul then any other person, past or present and as far as I'm concerned He sits on the right side of God with jesus bringing him warm chocolate milk and chippies. We have to find a way to allow him to continue on his journey and let him become the person that he's meant to be while at the same time acquire the skills and knowledge that will help him along in the future. I know you. I refuse to believe that the end is worth you losing that what makes him so special. The issues involved are manageable, he is doing his best but it needs work, fine tuning so to say. He takes pride in his accomplishments, he loves making you happy when he gets a good mark and he's deeply hurt when, again, in his view we disapprove of him. WE need to learn also and find a way to get through to him without resorting to the usual blame and punish game. He's getting enough unnecessary shit from his sisters without us terrorizing him. He'll be OK, maybe not exactly the way we'd like it to go, but he has all the makings of a good, no, great person. Saskia will be fine and allthough I would have liked a different dynamic guiding her choices, I'm happy for her. Moriah is also coming down the pipe and I'm convinced she'll have a few surprises in store that will have us climbing the proverbial wall. We don't own our kids, they're only with us for a short while. I want to hang on to whatever goodness I can get and let that comfort the rest of my days when they're off on their own.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Kristy's time has come
Last week I was talking to ............., a regular at Jerry’s, who’s been working for the liberals for years and after a few cold one’s he no longer could help himself but let us in on what was about to happen.I went home, had a few more and wrote this. I liked it better when I wrote it at 2 am but then again, a lot of things make sense at that hour. Anyone else feel that way ? Any way of finding out? Maybe someone with a better grasp of the English language could look it over and put it out there, anywhere . What do you think??
Election time in BC.
Politicians in BC dance to their own little jig and so far we've not been dissapointed. While we’re in the middle of watching Iggie, Jackie and Harpo whooping it up, causing some of us to drink heavily having to put up with their hideous drivel and mind bending false promises, our new premier, Kristy “families first” Clark has decided that this just might be the opportune time to call a by-election . Holy mother of God, is there no limit to what these shady characters will do to get elected? Harassing those who work for a living in Price George, groping old women in Cape Breton and squeezing confused innocent toddlers at a childcare center on the outskirts of Thunderbay is at the order of the day. The federal liberals have us believe that the last 5 years have been a right wing conspiracy characterized by an unrelenting orgy of lust and greed, the Tories are passing themselves off as our saviours, safely guiding the upper and middle classes through a monstrous economic meltdown, full of treachery and imploding pensions while the NDP has a “plan” that has something for everyone, as usual. And if that wasn’t enough now we also have Kristy on our hands. I knew something was up a few days before the announcement was made because the lights were on for a change at Gordy’s place on 4th , just across from Banyen's bookstore. His constituency office, upgraded, or downgraded, depending on how one feels about the recent developments, is on route to Jerry’s, or the “Cove”, as some call it now, a comfortable place for those of us who enjoy a cold beverage or two right after lunch. A visit there is usually an uplifting and spirited affair but having to pass, what is now quickly becoming “Kristy’s headquarters”, has darkened the mood somewhat and ugly rumours are making the rounds. Although it might not seem that way considering the ever increasing frantic dynamic of live on the Westside, and Kitsilano and Point Grey in particular, there’s still a good many of us that enjoy living here. In various degrees we are active within our communities, we don’t give in to Wal-Mart, Home depot or Starbucks and try to shop locally, we participate in community events, Bayview is a “ community” school and contrary to popular belief, so far not to many are card carrying members of the botox/yoga crowd. High ideals, a sense of social justice and environmental awareness without the Big Brother attitude are not just slogans but seem like the right way to go for more than just a few of us. Yes, it makes sense that Gordy, who’s now looking for a way to fade into the background so he can hang out with his own posse on Howe street, should give up his seat. And although I never cranked it up to such a weird level that I could have voted for him, he did for many years represent my neighbourhood, shopped at the same places as I did and on many an occasion you’d see him on Broadway, enjoying a stroll in the sun and talking to people. Yes, I would have liked him better if he had found his way a few time’s to Jerry’s instead of going of his rocker in Hawaii. Ben, Barry or Bruce would have had no trouble shaming him into parting with some of his loot and support our midday boozing adventures but it was not meant to be. Like him or not he was one of us. But now we have to deal with an entirely different animal. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s up to the task. Believe me, anyone wearing the crown in this province has had their fair share of adversity and beastly ball breaking back room treachery. As the good doctor says: ”Getting elected is not about defeating your opponents, it’s about screwing your friends”. But I’m extremely uncomfortable with the whole notion of someone coming into our neighbourhood, babbling about families and communities while she doesn’t have a clue about the concerns that those of us have with regards to what is happening in OUR community. 10 years ago a young person with deep roots in this neighbourhood could still dream about owning a home here, a nightmare scenario nowadays. Our elders, who have lived their entire lives here having to sell because of obscene property tax increases, wild women driving around erratically in their overpriced European hybrids while frantically texting away on their blackberry’s, bright eyed shyster terrorizing our gentle tree lined trees looking for the next hustle, and the list goes on. What comforting words can we expect from you, Kristy? Or will the lights go off once again after you’re done here? Will we see you walking our streets, meeting our neighbours or just hanging out at Angus’s Bakery, having a coffee? Yes, you do volunteer at a community centre around hereand one of your kids is attending school on the West side, like so many others. Why is that by the way? Are the schools in your neck of the woods not up to par? Weren't you.........................................?
Regardless of the way I feel about his policies I was always happy for Gord that he could, and did walk through our and his neighbourhood. It says something about the people that make up this community and we’re all the better for it. Sure we have our fair share of bozo’s but hey, who doesn’t. There are still enough people that care about what’s going on here in our own backyard and are willing to make the effort. I’m sure that your “advisers” have a long list of whoop-ass directives handy to cram down our throats the moment you take your rightful place amongst your own kind in Victoria. Will you do something a bit more substantial besides this silly gibberish about families first, tax breaks for liberal cronies or a few foto ops on Jericho? What about it, eh?
Suspiciously, Willem
Election time in BC.
Politicians in BC dance to their own little jig and so far we've not been dissapointed. While we’re in the middle of watching Iggie, Jackie and Harpo whooping it up, causing some of us to drink heavily having to put up with their hideous drivel and mind bending false promises, our new premier, Kristy “families first” Clark has decided that this just might be the opportune time to call a by-election . Holy mother of God, is there no limit to what these shady characters will do to get elected? Harassing those who work for a living in Price George, groping old women in Cape Breton and squeezing confused innocent toddlers at a childcare center on the outskirts of Thunderbay is at the order of the day. The federal liberals have us believe that the last 5 years have been a right wing conspiracy characterized by an unrelenting orgy of lust and greed, the Tories are passing themselves off as our saviours, safely guiding the upper and middle classes through a monstrous economic meltdown, full of treachery and imploding pensions while the NDP has a “plan” that has something for everyone, as usual. And if that wasn’t enough now we also have Kristy on our hands. I knew something was up a few days before the announcement was made because the lights were on for a change at Gordy’s place on 4th , just across from Banyen's bookstore. His constituency office, upgraded, or downgraded, depending on how one feels about the recent developments, is on route to Jerry’s, or the “Cove”, as some call it now, a comfortable place for those of us who enjoy a cold beverage or two right after lunch. A visit there is usually an uplifting and spirited affair but having to pass, what is now quickly becoming “Kristy’s headquarters”, has darkened the mood somewhat and ugly rumours are making the rounds. Although it might not seem that way considering the ever increasing frantic dynamic of live on the Westside, and Kitsilano and Point Grey in particular, there’s still a good many of us that enjoy living here. In various degrees we are active within our communities, we don’t give in to Wal-Mart, Home depot or Starbucks and try to shop locally, we participate in community events, Bayview is a “ community” school and contrary to popular belief, so far not to many are card carrying members of the botox/yoga crowd. High ideals, a sense of social justice and environmental awareness without the Big Brother attitude are not just slogans but seem like the right way to go for more than just a few of us. Yes, it makes sense that Gordy, who’s now looking for a way to fade into the background so he can hang out with his own posse on Howe street, should give up his seat. And although I never cranked it up to such a weird level that I could have voted for him, he did for many years represent my neighbourhood, shopped at the same places as I did and on many an occasion you’d see him on Broadway, enjoying a stroll in the sun and talking to people. Yes, I would have liked him better if he had found his way a few time’s to Jerry’s instead of going of his rocker in Hawaii. Ben, Barry or Bruce would have had no trouble shaming him into parting with some of his loot and support our midday boozing adventures but it was not meant to be. Like him or not he was one of us. But now we have to deal with an entirely different animal. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s up to the task. Believe me, anyone wearing the crown in this province has had their fair share of adversity and beastly ball breaking back room treachery. As the good doctor says: ”Getting elected is not about defeating your opponents, it’s about screwing your friends”. But I’m extremely uncomfortable with the whole notion of someone coming into our neighbourhood, babbling about families and communities while she doesn’t have a clue about the concerns that those of us have with regards to what is happening in OUR community. 10 years ago a young person with deep roots in this neighbourhood could still dream about owning a home here, a nightmare scenario nowadays. Our elders, who have lived their entire lives here having to sell because of obscene property tax increases, wild women driving around erratically in their overpriced European hybrids while frantically texting away on their blackberry’s, bright eyed shyster terrorizing our gentle tree lined trees looking for the next hustle, and the list goes on. What comforting words can we expect from you, Kristy? Or will the lights go off once again after you’re done here? Will we see you walking our streets, meeting our neighbours or just hanging out at Angus’s Bakery, having a coffee? Yes, you do volunteer at a community centre around hereand one of your kids is attending school on the West side, like so many others. Why is that by the way? Are the schools in your neck of the woods not up to par? Weren't you.........................................?
Regardless of the way I feel about his policies I was always happy for Gord that he could, and did walk through our and his neighbourhood. It says something about the people that make up this community and we’re all the better for it. Sure we have our fair share of bozo’s but hey, who doesn’t. There are still enough people that care about what’s going on here in our own backyard and are willing to make the effort. I’m sure that your “advisers” have a long list of whoop-ass directives handy to cram down our throats the moment you take your rightful place amongst your own kind in Victoria. Will you do something a bit more substantial besides this silly gibberish about families first, tax breaks for liberal cronies or a few foto ops on Jericho? What about it, eh?
Suspiciously, Willem
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Remembrance
Remembrance day.
While I'm sitting at the Legion, sharing a few cold beverages with the man and women that were honored today for the sacrifices they and their mates made, my best friend is running around to find the best deal on plastic flowers. I'm stumped by the realities of my day to day existence in our ever faster moving city where respect and honor are quickly becoming empty words only to be used by cheap hustlers, slick shysters and the 6 o'clock news. Money and self gratification NOW seems to be the altar where we worship.
My parents simple pleasures and strict adherence to old traditions used to be a constant source of aggrevation and dismay. However now that it's my turn to add my voice to shaping my kids future I find myself more and more looking at what sustained their world and grudgingly admit that truth has many different faces.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
musings
Friday evening.
Jan is out with Andy, a geriatric hobo from the Charlottes, one of her truest friends and yes, a real gentleman. Josiah and Moriah are showing their cousins how to build a fort in mom and pap's bedroom while our oldest daughter is catching up on the latest HD garbage that is finding it's way into our humble abode via a 42 " screen.
Our seemingly endless Vancouver summer is finally coming to an end, the kids and Janny are off to school next week and I will try to stay out of any serious trouble by attempting to stay gainfully employed for at least 3 days a week.
It's been 2 weeks since I left "the old country" but I'm still stumped by all that happened while I was there.
Tearing through the narrow back alley's of Amsterdam in a little hot rod Lancia I finally ended up in front of Manja's place, a rustic
I got out not sure what to expect.
Questions running amok in my head. Why was my old pal hiding out in a little no name
There's no beginning and there's certainly no end to this thing so far
How and why does a heart know what a brain refuses to recognize
Why are we not answering the emotional call more often
A song, listened to under the right circumstances can create the right conditions to do the right thing. how do I lash all this gibberish together?
A fine little ditty by the Stories to keep me company and a cold Grolsch to ward off the stifling 20 degree BC heat.
Waiting for the right moment to make some sense of it all
Amsterdam - Enschede a mere 160 km and not much of a challenge for this hideous little monster that the friendly folks at Hertz had set aside for the odd but friendly expatriate that spoke Dutch with a funny twinge. It's been decades since I sat behind the wheel of a sleek little Italian hot rod. Traffic started to ease up around Amersfoort and by the time we got to Apeldoorn everyone on the road ignored the speed signs and settled in for some high speed acrobatics. Trucks were thundering along at around 130 km/per hour except for the Polish, Czechs and Lithuanians. 40 Years of borscht, rubles and cheap vodka will do that to a person and a unrelenting distrust of the" Man" cannot be wiped out by 15 years of French fries, euros and cheap whiskey. However the Germans and the Dutch never had to put up with such challenges and low expectations and as far as they are concerned the right lane is for the elderly, wimps, and other simple minded rabble and the left lane is reserved for cops, criminals, cheap hustlers and speed freaks. Only 80 clicks to the border now and the bold and the rash are running the show scaring the shit out of anyone who's so unfortunate as to be driving an outdated skoda or just taking mom and the kiddies out to enjoy a bit of country side. About 10 minutes ago I was cruising along at a gentle speed of 140 km p/h, passing a column of trucks when I was rudely awakened by a road Nazi, driving a poor man's Mercedes , who was using his high beams to show his displeasure at finding an obstacle in the left lane. True to fine European driving etiquette he kept at least 10 feet of safe distance between his front bumper and my middle finger prominently sticking out the drivers side window. After passing several trucks I moved over into the right lane and not before long Heinz and his lovely wife were beside us. The fact that we were now cruising along at 180 clicks was not much of a concern to me but Heinz seemed to have some kind of issue with his better half. Shifting DOWN did not put his frayed nerves at ease considering I pushed the pedal to the metal on my little rental. Hitting 210 he packed it in and faced up to the fact that he was just another shithead in the fast lane to nowhere. I'm not quite sure where I packed it in but I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't that far behind Heinz .
Jan is out with Andy, a geriatric hobo from the Charlottes, one of her truest friends and yes, a real gentleman. Josiah and Moriah are showing their cousins how to build a fort in mom and pap's bedroom while our oldest daughter is catching up on the latest HD garbage that is finding it's way into our humble abode via a 42 " screen.
Our seemingly endless Vancouver summer is finally coming to an end, the kids and Janny are off to school next week and I will try to stay out of any serious trouble by attempting to stay gainfully employed for at least 3 days a week.
It's been 2 weeks since I left "the old country" but I'm still stumped by all that happened while I was there.
Tearing through the narrow back alley's of Amsterdam in a little hot rod Lancia I finally ended up in front of Manja's place, a rustic
I got out not sure what to expect.
Questions running amok in my head. Why was my old pal hiding out in a little no name
There's no beginning and there's certainly no end to this thing so far
How and why does a heart know what a brain refuses to recognize
Why are we not answering the emotional call more often
A song, listened to under the right circumstances can create the right conditions to do the right thing. how do I lash all this gibberish together?
A fine little ditty by the Stories to keep me company and a cold Grolsch to ward off the stifling 20 degree BC heat.
Waiting for the right moment to make some sense of it all
Amsterdam - Enschede a mere 160 km and not much of a challenge for this hideous little monster that the friendly folks at Hertz had set aside for the odd but friendly expatriate that spoke Dutch with a funny twinge. It's been decades since I sat behind the wheel of a sleek little Italian hot rod. Traffic started to ease up around Amersfoort and by the time we got to Apeldoorn everyone on the road ignored the speed signs and settled in for some high speed acrobatics. Trucks were thundering along at around 130 km/per hour except for the Polish, Czechs and Lithuanians. 40 Years of borscht, rubles and cheap vodka will do that to a person and a unrelenting distrust of the" Man" cannot be wiped out by 15 years of French fries, euros and cheap whiskey. However the Germans and the Dutch never had to put up with such challenges and low expectations and as far as they are concerned the right lane is for the elderly, wimps, and other simple minded rabble and the left lane is reserved for cops, criminals, cheap hustlers and speed freaks. Only 80 clicks to the border now and the bold and the rash are running the show scaring the shit out of anyone who's so unfortunate as to be driving an outdated skoda or just taking mom and the kiddies out to enjoy a bit of country side. About 10 minutes ago I was cruising along at a gentle speed of 140 km p/h, passing a column of trucks when I was rudely awakened by a road Nazi, driving a poor man's Mercedes , who was using his high beams to show his displeasure at finding an obstacle in the left lane. True to fine European driving etiquette he kept at least 10 feet of safe distance between his front bumper and my middle finger prominently sticking out the drivers side window. After passing several trucks I moved over into the right lane and not before long Heinz and his lovely wife were beside us. The fact that we were now cruising along at 180 clicks was not much of a concern to me but Heinz seemed to have some kind of issue with his better half. Shifting DOWN did not put his frayed nerves at ease considering I pushed the pedal to the metal on my little rental. Hitting 210 he packed it in and faced up to the fact that he was just another shithead in the fast lane to nowhere. I'm not quite sure where I packed it in but I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't that far behind Heinz .
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
A Friend
Dear .....................
Time waits on no one. Please forgive for writing in English . I'm so used to having the comfort of a laptop, with spell checker, that the combination of writing by hand and in Dutch will surely corroborate the wide held notion that the academic and literary standards on this side of the pond are on a very slippery slope indeed.
A lifetime, so it seems, has passed since I drove up your driveway as an impudent long haired youngster to corrupt your innocent boy with exotic tales of controlled mayhem, strange customs and fair maidens. In many ways your home, and the people in it, have had a profound influence on my journey, and continue to do so. My friendship with Jan Willem and the values that sustained it, has been a blessing during the darkest stages of a road less traveled. Back in the day a lot of people would shake their head in fear and loathing when the two of us were roaming the gentle villages of our past on the prowl for another worthy deed. However they failed to see that we were brothers in the best sense of the word. Consideration, compassion and loyalty cannot be given , we bestowed it generously onto each other through shared pain, heart breaking beauty and hysterical weirdness. To meet him again this summer and see for myself that he has found a measure of peace and comfort has allowed me to put things to rest knowing that he's doing so well
It was also wonderful to see you again. I'm glad you liked the flowers, my daughter is quiet pleased with herself since it took her the better part of an hour to come back with the appropriate choice while I was enjoying a cappuccino. Growing up as an only child with quiet parents has produced a habit where I try to steal a quiet moment here and there when circumstances allow it. For the last 10 years I've made my home in Vancouver, on the Western edge of Canada, surrounded by 3 children, Saskia, Josiah and Moriah, 2 dogs, Jordie and Dexter, a hamster, a goldfish, a skunk that lives under the walkway, 3 raccoons that love our grapevine and a multitude of native artists, dockworkers, writers, misfits and other degenerates that consider themselves my friends. Ruling this fine crowd is my partner Janice who has been my steady companion the last 25 years. My mother kisses the ground she walks on, since she credits her with saving her little boy.
The dynamic of North American society tends to give credibility to the rumor that money is the altar where most Americans and Canadians worship however I've had the good fortune to grow into adulthood with your son who not only had impeccable taste when it came to controlled mayhem but who also had a keen eye for cultural and historical events. The monasteries of Meteora, a foggy sunrise on the Matterhorn or the flowers on the banks of Ohrid were as much part of our reality as were the beaches of Greece and the hedonistic peculiarities of its residents.
Now that my children are getting a bit older and I'm getting a sense of what kind of persons they are in the process of becoming I feel blessed that I was so fortunate to be exposed to those who inspired me to look further and beyond . Yes, life has been very good to me and for whatever mysterious reason continues to do so allthough once in a while I can't help myself and give in to the dark side to firmly shake the tree of life to see what else is hiding up there.
Be well, Peace and Light,
Willem
Time waits on no one. Please forgive for writing in English . I'm so used to having the comfort of a laptop, with spell checker, that the combination of writing by hand and in Dutch will surely corroborate the wide held notion that the academic and literary standards on this side of the pond are on a very slippery slope indeed.
A lifetime, so it seems, has passed since I drove up your driveway as an impudent long haired youngster to corrupt your innocent boy with exotic tales of controlled mayhem, strange customs and fair maidens. In many ways your home, and the people in it, have had a profound influence on my journey, and continue to do so. My friendship with Jan Willem and the values that sustained it, has been a blessing during the darkest stages of a road less traveled. Back in the day a lot of people would shake their head in fear and loathing when the two of us were roaming the gentle villages of our past on the prowl for another worthy deed. However they failed to see that we were brothers in the best sense of the word. Consideration, compassion and loyalty cannot be given , we bestowed it generously onto each other through shared pain, heart breaking beauty and hysterical weirdness. To meet him again this summer and see for myself that he has found a measure of peace and comfort has allowed me to put things to rest knowing that he's doing so well
It was also wonderful to see you again. I'm glad you liked the flowers, my daughter is quiet pleased with herself since it took her the better part of an hour to come back with the appropriate choice while I was enjoying a cappuccino. Growing up as an only child with quiet parents has produced a habit where I try to steal a quiet moment here and there when circumstances allow it. For the last 10 years I've made my home in Vancouver, on the Western edge of Canada, surrounded by 3 children, Saskia, Josiah and Moriah, 2 dogs, Jordie and Dexter, a hamster, a goldfish, a skunk that lives under the walkway, 3 raccoons that love our grapevine and a multitude of native artists, dockworkers, writers, misfits and other degenerates that consider themselves my friends. Ruling this fine crowd is my partner Janice who has been my steady companion the last 25 years. My mother kisses the ground she walks on, since she credits her with saving her little boy.
The dynamic of North American society tends to give credibility to the rumor that money is the altar where most Americans and Canadians worship however I've had the good fortune to grow into adulthood with your son who not only had impeccable taste when it came to controlled mayhem but who also had a keen eye for cultural and historical events. The monasteries of Meteora, a foggy sunrise on the Matterhorn or the flowers on the banks of Ohrid were as much part of our reality as were the beaches of Greece and the hedonistic peculiarities of its residents.
Now that my children are getting a bit older and I'm getting a sense of what kind of persons they are in the process of becoming I feel blessed that I was so fortunate to be exposed to those who inspired me to look further and beyond . Yes, life has been very good to me and for whatever mysterious reason continues to do so allthough once in a while I can't help myself and give in to the dark side to firmly shake the tree of life to see what else is hiding up there.
Be well, Peace and Light,
Willem
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