I was just reviewing what love is. The best definition, the one so often used at weddings is First Corinthians 13. I reflect that I don't read my bible enough. I've read it cover to cover about 4 times and studied it in church and at various universities. Still nothing beats daily reading for improving ones self awareness. It was the strongest recommendation of Dr. Bob, cofounder of AA, and his wife. My much admired friend. Dr. Willie Gutowski strongly recommended this to me as well. In his family they had a daily reading at meals. My greatest biblical teacher, Dr. James Houston strongly recommended daily bible reading too. He once recommended I read a psalm a day and when I did that I was uplifted as he said I'd be. The Bible is inspiration. I truly admire Dr. Phillip Ney, the great advocate for women and children's rights knowledge of the Bible. My mother encouraged me from childhood. She and her sisters were never far from their Bibles but I can be so forgetful and distractible.
I Corinthians 13 says:
Love is patient - Now I can truthfully say that I would argue till the cows come home that I am patient and was patient but when I truthfully reflect on my marriage, I was very impatient. I am a man who is in fact impatient alot with women in general. I think that Winston Churchhill beat Adolf Hitler and women after that war let Eva Brawn beat Mrs. Churchill. I've been terrribly impatient for women to become more sophisticated politically and recognise the divide and conquer of the powerful left. I am frustrated by their naivity in the workplace and the reduction in doctors income directly associated with the increase in the percentage of women. I've been horrified by the sexist female judges who have found hundreds of cases consecutively against me. Mostly I hate abortion and the women who advocate the mass murder of Canadian children. I feel sorry for the mothers who are victimized by the likes of Morgetaller's wife, who has 3 children herself but let her husband kill thousands of Canadian babies. That said I admire so many women, women like my mother, my aunts, my cousins, my teachers. I admire women who stand up against the sexual abuse of men. I admired my wife in so many ways. But I've been an impatient man. And yet I'd falsely think of myself as 'loving' despite the obvious truth that to be loving one must be patient.
Love is kind - I'm mostly kind but I remember with shame some of the things I did and said to those women I would have said I loved. I 'm not saying they were saints. Several times they almost got me killed and us killed. They were only human but I said unkind things. I used to congratulate myself that I never hit my wife but I 'struck them with words'. I called them 'unloving' and yet here I was the kettle calling the pot black. If I could take so much back that I said I would. I loved asking Dr. Gutowski how he ensures his marriage is so successful, and admiring his response. "I never argue with my wife,Bill". It was true of what I saw to. Arguments are about "who" is right whereas discussions are about 'what" is right.
I guess the Christmas season is so sad for me because it is a time of family and I realize each Christmas that I'm alone and that it was my inadequacy in loving that is the reason for this. I think of myself as a loving person. I even feel I'm loving. But I couldn't last more than 7-10 years living with another despite trying it several times. After a half dozen years I'd become disappointed with giving and working and no children and all the financial cost of wives and feeling I was ever compromising and blaming. I don't think you can be a lover and a blamer as well. I tell everyone to beware of people who tell you how bad their ex was because they're soon be telling everyone how bad you were. Young people love to blame and deny responsibility. As we get older we can see our own faults and begin to accept responsibility for 'our part'. It takes 'two to tango', 'two to love' and 'two to war'. The legal profession makes a fortune off of blaming and shaming and naming. It's good business but is isn't love.
It does not envy - I don't envy so much now. Well maybe I do. I 'd like a lear jet and I'd like to jet set about the world with someone else paying and go to these insane climate change meetings and talk nonsense and swagger and hob nob. I like a party as much as the next guy if someone else is picking up the tab. I compare too much. I remember in my 20's I'd look at my wife and she was blond and suddenly I liked the black haired girls and the red heads and wonder if the guys with those girls were having a better time. I remember seeing movies of lots of sex and thinking that I was getting short changed because my wife wasn't 'creative' in bed. I used to suggest things and get shot down all the time. I could joke and say most women would draw the line at barnyard animals but I never did suggeest that and what I did suggest would be called lame by todays standards. So I did compare and I did envy others and that's simply not loving. I also envied my wives. I'd work two jobs and support them better than I could imagine but they always expected me to pay and I did. I envied pimps who were paid for by women and felt victimized all the time by women demanding and expecting me to pay two fold. I envied. I'd think it was worse because I was married to rich girls but their money went to their stuff whereas my money went to 'us'. So in the end I was paying all the time and they'd complain if I wanted to anything for myself. They always wanted me to give them more money while t hey kept their money to themselves. I envied her for her self centeredness and selfishness. I envied her for being such a princess. But that's not loving. Yet I thought I was loving.
Love does not boast....I dont think I was a boaster. I've been open and shared about things but I haven't 'boasted' but when I've been put down I've retaliated and that's not loving. Most of my life I've heard women boasting. Every day on news and tv and in the world around me women are going on ad infinitum about things women are doing. It doesn't matter any more if a man goes up in a space ship or sails around the world. It 's generally ignored . But if a woman does anything it's like the end of the world. Fireworks and alarms. And always it's said that 'in the past' men were celebrated so today men are not going to be. But I wasn't a man 'in the past'. In my world to day I've just worked and if I get anything it's given to me without fan fare. Men are supposed to work and shut up and mostly that's what I've done. I threw parties and did all manner of celebrating the activities of women. I've been a cheerleader for lots of folk but the fact is I wasn't as sexist as the women are. They seem to boast these days and my wife certainly would go on and on and on about her achievements. So I don't think this applies to me.
It is not proud. I have had pride. I know that God works through me but I used to think I was special in ways. I took things for granted and was glad of my achievements. I didn't compete with others but I competed with myself and enjoyed the progress. today I'm jsut holding on and surviving so I know I was proud when I was younger. That's not loving.
Love does not dishonor others. I was very disagreeable to my mother in law. She was psychotic and viscious and insane and so verbally abusive my ex and verbally and physically abusive of her husbands and a lying. I didn't need to tell my wife about the short comings of her family. The drunkeness and drug addiction and perversion in the family was well known to her. If I wanted to honor her I'd celebrate the positives rather than hitting home the negatives. I was a real shit when I think back on that. I was callous and judgemental and wish I could take it back. I wished I'd read the bible and been a better more forgiving person.
Love is not self seeking. Well I was self seeking. I can think about blow jobs and how I was wanting those and how it didn't matter how un fair her behaviour was given how much I pleasured her in the end I was completely self seekign sexually and while I thought I was doing what she wanted I really didn't discuss it or ask for honest feed back. We didn't talk much and the last year or so there just wasn't any sex and later I was angry about the abortion. That's the way I was and I look back and feel how poorly and unloving I was while I blamed her for being unloving. I actually thought I was loving when I really wasn't. Not in the detail , not daily, lots of times but I was mostly focused on my work, worried for ever about this case or that case, trying desperately to keep somebody alive and not put nearly the time or energy into keeping my marriage alive. I was a good doctor but a lousy husband.
I've got to go now but this is my Christmas season. Pretty sad and lots of self recrimination. It's the darkest time of the year and I seem to remember fondly the loveliest of women, those I left behind. I'm no Rockwell portrait. I wish that I read the Bible daily. I'm trying. I think if I was married I'd make it a must to read the whole list of First Corinthians 13 and keep it like a 'to do' list.
When I asked my father why he thought my marriage failed, he said he didn't know. He atttributed t he success of his marriage to what a good woman my mother was. When I pressed him though he said he'd noticed that I often got good things, but that I was not very good at doing the maintenance. It was a metaphor . Oiling the car, cleaning my room. My father was always fixing things. He was from an older more mature world. I'm from the consumer generation. We get something new and when it gets old we throw it away.
I threw away perfectly good women.
Mother Mary comes to me.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Volvo Penta D2-40 Marine Diesel Engine, Sailboat Heart and Love
My 39.9 foot steel cutter rigged 13 ton sailboat, SV GIRI, needed to have a new engine. The great Yanmar 26.6 hp workhorse had seen better days. I’d had it rebuilt once. It’d taken out the injectors myself on several occasions and had them restored. I’d replaced the alternators a couple of times at least. I’d had the starter motor replaced twice. I’d completely replaced the water cooling system. Yet never had I complained about the engine demanding maintenance, care and repair. It did a tremendous amount of work over a quarter century of use and served me well. Maybe even saved my life on occasion. When it began to leak oil and the bill for repair was going to be $7000, it simply was time to face the facts.
At that time, my engineer sailing buddy, Tom, noted the same engine with very very low mileage up for sale second hand. I was in a recurrent boat crisis of whether to sell or sink my boat rather than throw good money after bad. All the money I’ve put in the GIRI has been good money mind you, but it’s like a marriage. A guy just gets tired of stoking the engine only to hear more complaining. I thought to sell the boat knowing that one simply doesn’t get any return on used boats. Because I’ve divorced too many times I’ve learned the same thing goes for women. My next marriage wasn’t any better than the last except that I was older and saw my mistakes more clearly.
The women were great, obviously. I married them as the best of the best. It's all about wear and tear. Personally I guess I'm like the marine environment. Caustic. Maybe I could have paid better attention to maintenance on the Yanmar and got even more years of life out of her. I certainly know that was true for my marriages. Without lawyers and in laws, in the typical recurrent boaters marriage to their boat I had a reverse of heart. I found myself looking nostalgically at the old girl especially after others remarked on her loyalty and virtue.
In for a penny, in for a pound. The second hand Yanmar was no longer available. I was a little concerned anyway about inheritting somebody else’s problems. The engine is the heart of a sailboat. It’s not just propulsion, especially for crossing bars and going against currents, its the generator for all the boats lights, communication,radar, winches and electronics.
Stem to Stern Marine Services (http://www.stemtostern.net) are real engine specialists. These are the folk that had been selling me Yanmar parts for years and advising me. We’d talked about replacing my engine for a couple of years at the Vancouver Boat Show too. The Vancouver Boat Show is one of the great places where the greatest authorities in the industry are generally just standing around willing to talk to you. Any other time these engineers and mechanics are neck deep in orders and work so aren’t as able to chat and jaw.
Having committed once again to the SV GIRI, remembering sailing solo to Hawaii through winter storms to the sultry trade winds, dreaming again of circumnavigating the world, sailing again to Mexico at least, or finally visiting Australia, or just going fishing up by Lund, I got into the shop and talked to Ben and the rest of the folk at Stem to Stern. The men are handsome, strong and intelligent while the women are beautiful and obviously very smart indeed. They love dogs, too so Gilbert thinks them a better class of folk, like the Queen with her corkies. It was an interesting experience because I went back several times. Each time I asked them one of the specialists which engine they recommended and after much discussion each in the shop steered me to the Volvo.
The D2-40 is 4 cylinders. I liked that. The Yanmar had 3. More cylinders is better. Cylinders are things of beauty and joy. In a jam I’ve run the Yanmar on 2 cylinders. The cylinder diameter /stroke is 77/81 mm. The compression ratio on the D2 -40 Volvo is 23.5:1. Engine revolutions are 2800 to 3200 rpm. The crankshaft power is 29.1 KW. This is all very good.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Yanmar. It was a jewel and if I had just replaced it I would have had another jewel. Like a couple of my wives really. The advantage of the Volvo was that I could get a 10 hp more powerful motor to fit in the same space. Further Volvo had made improvements in their engine which made it better for the sailor at this power range than the equivalent Yanmar. It had low cruising rpms, quiet running, low vibrations and exhaust emission.
I never minded the noise of my engine. I feel the same about the sound of my Harley Davidson motorcycle. I liken it to the sound of a mother’s heart to a baby in the womb. However as my Yanmar aged I confess it vibrated more and the exhaust fumes are a critical factor with an indoor engine. I had one utterly gorgeous buxom American genius beauty on board who actually complained about the smog in my cabin after we’d been driving some hours on the Strait. Her concern for her lungs was nearly as great as mine. When Ben mentioned the improvement in exhaust I naturally thought of that smoking hot babe and her lungs. This was Volvo’s year.
As well, my brilliant sister in law has a Volvo convertible sportscar which is really reliable. We all know everyone with a baby wants a Volvo car because of their concern for safety. I’ve got Gilbert the cockapoo to think of. The Swedes are great northern designers and know how to make heavy equipment. The Volvo Group make buses, and big ass construction equipment . The Swedes are high end manufacturers with the same reputation the Germans have with their BMW’s. I’d just bought a new Winchester rifle but I’d studied the Swedish equivalents and their technical workmanship is unsurpassed. Friends who have Volvo’s in their blue water sailing boats swear by them too. Everyone loves their Yanmar but when guys talk about their Volvos they’re just a little more misty eyed. You can hear the violins.
If I consult a specialist, and I trust they’re not just into making more money but really care about customer service like Stem to Stern has over the years, (and I don’t know a whole whole lot about something except what I research on the internet), frankly, I take their advice. Stem to Stern know their engines. I took their advice. There was little difference in price but a promise of better satisfaction with better performance. If I'd listened to advice about women wiser men gave me I might have saved myself a divorce or two.
Off shore the question of parts came up. Yanmar is apparently more available the world over but what I found when I sailed solo to Hawaii was when I needed electronic parts for name brand equipment they still had to send it to me. That’s the difference today from the old days. If they don’t have something locally you can have it by Fed Ex or UPS within a few days. Everything a sailboat needs, all the parts for everything, can be ordered on line from the manufacturer directly if need be. If I’m cruising I don’t mind hanging out for a day or two or week waiting for a part. That’s why we call Offshore Cruising, "doing boat work in exotic ports". The fact is, everyone who has the tools for diesel engine repair can fix either machine. Diesel engines in this regard are like the cars we had up to the 70’s. I’d been working on my own engines until the computers got added with emission control and all the little mind boggling sensor arrays in the new motors that require special computer programs to monitor. I’ll carry spares when I cruise and know I’ll be able to fix things if I need to though the beauty of a new engine is you really do get years of worry free life.
I’ve also got a Hamm radio, Hamm radio license, and take a Satellite phone offshore with me because I like asking experts for advice when I’m in a jam.
(The psychologist I asked about my marriage though was an idiot and just agreed with me she was a bitch. What woman you're thinking of isn't a bitch when you're thinking of divorcing her. Someone needs to remind you of when you met her her and that first night of love making. No one thinks of that when they're talking to psychologists or lawyers. I think marriage therapists and lawyers should have to give back half the pay if the couple divorce and suddenly we'd see some world class counselling going on rather than all the 'facilitating' divorce that these folks do for personal profit - but I digress. My friends thankfully reminded me of how I loved the GIRI. Of course I'll hate them when I get the bill or the next problem arises.)
When I had problems with my rigging off Vancouver Island I got a radio patch on my Hamm to the best of the best riggers, Pro Tech Yacht Services Vancouver. They told me just what to do with my fouled self furling system . When the mast broke on the way back from Hawaii I used my Iridium Satellite phone to Eric at Pocomarine Coquitlam BC (http://www.pocomarine.com) who got me in touch with the right experts to help me complete the ‘mission’.
That’s what comes with maturity. I know I’m not alone spiritually or even physically. It’s a global community. When I was younger, I had something to prove and wanted to do it ‘my’ way. Now I’m just glad to ‘get’r done’.
It was with great pleasure I saw my new Volvo D2-40 installed in my sailboat. The GIRI is up on the hard in Lynwood. While Stem to Stern was taking the Yanmar Engine out (very respectful of my mahogany cabin too) and putting the Volvo in, I took a couple of days to sand and bottom paint the blessed GIRI adding new zincs. Ben wasn’t comfortable with putting my old winter fuel in his brand new engine so we had the fuel scrubbed too. The old shaft was buggered a bit by fights with logs so I got a new shaft to go with the new engine. Added to that my pre engine fuel filters and bilge pumps weren’t working as well as Ben would have them. I knew that. One of the two bilge pumps was intermittent because of a short and one of the two pre fuel filters was only half working. I’d been planning on getting around to repairing them, relying in the meantime on one. Offshore double and triple redundancy are necessary. Still,
I liked that Ben didn’t want my new engine drowned in bilge or with shitty fuel going into the new baby. Of course I encouraged him to make the improvements. No sense putting a new diaper on a baby if you’re not going to clean the bottom. Just like Ben I wanted this new Volvo to smell sweet from day one and give me years of joy. Best to listen to the experts.
The Volvo Penta D2 - 40 sure is pretty. Sea trials are set for this week. The SV GIRI is looking especially pleased with her new heart and with her bottom all shiny and clean.
At that time, my engineer sailing buddy, Tom, noted the same engine with very very low mileage up for sale second hand. I was in a recurrent boat crisis of whether to sell or sink my boat rather than throw good money after bad. All the money I’ve put in the GIRI has been good money mind you, but it’s like a marriage. A guy just gets tired of stoking the engine only to hear more complaining. I thought to sell the boat knowing that one simply doesn’t get any return on used boats. Because I’ve divorced too many times I’ve learned the same thing goes for women. My next marriage wasn’t any better than the last except that I was older and saw my mistakes more clearly.
The women were great, obviously. I married them as the best of the best. It's all about wear and tear. Personally I guess I'm like the marine environment. Caustic. Maybe I could have paid better attention to maintenance on the Yanmar and got even more years of life out of her. I certainly know that was true for my marriages. Without lawyers and in laws, in the typical recurrent boaters marriage to their boat I had a reverse of heart. I found myself looking nostalgically at the old girl especially after others remarked on her loyalty and virtue.
In for a penny, in for a pound. The second hand Yanmar was no longer available. I was a little concerned anyway about inheritting somebody else’s problems. The engine is the heart of a sailboat. It’s not just propulsion, especially for crossing bars and going against currents, its the generator for all the boats lights, communication,radar, winches and electronics.
Stem to Stern Marine Services (http://www.stemtostern.net) are real engine specialists. These are the folk that had been selling me Yanmar parts for years and advising me. We’d talked about replacing my engine for a couple of years at the Vancouver Boat Show too. The Vancouver Boat Show is one of the great places where the greatest authorities in the industry are generally just standing around willing to talk to you. Any other time these engineers and mechanics are neck deep in orders and work so aren’t as able to chat and jaw.
Having committed once again to the SV GIRI, remembering sailing solo to Hawaii through winter storms to the sultry trade winds, dreaming again of circumnavigating the world, sailing again to Mexico at least, or finally visiting Australia, or just going fishing up by Lund, I got into the shop and talked to Ben and the rest of the folk at Stem to Stern. The men are handsome, strong and intelligent while the women are beautiful and obviously very smart indeed. They love dogs, too so Gilbert thinks them a better class of folk, like the Queen with her corkies. It was an interesting experience because I went back several times. Each time I asked them one of the specialists which engine they recommended and after much discussion each in the shop steered me to the Volvo.
The D2-40 is 4 cylinders. I liked that. The Yanmar had 3. More cylinders is better. Cylinders are things of beauty and joy. In a jam I’ve run the Yanmar on 2 cylinders. The cylinder diameter /stroke is 77/81 mm. The compression ratio on the D2 -40 Volvo is 23.5:1. Engine revolutions are 2800 to 3200 rpm. The crankshaft power is 29.1 KW. This is all very good.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Yanmar. It was a jewel and if I had just replaced it I would have had another jewel. Like a couple of my wives really. The advantage of the Volvo was that I could get a 10 hp more powerful motor to fit in the same space. Further Volvo had made improvements in their engine which made it better for the sailor at this power range than the equivalent Yanmar. It had low cruising rpms, quiet running, low vibrations and exhaust emission.
I never minded the noise of my engine. I feel the same about the sound of my Harley Davidson motorcycle. I liken it to the sound of a mother’s heart to a baby in the womb. However as my Yanmar aged I confess it vibrated more and the exhaust fumes are a critical factor with an indoor engine. I had one utterly gorgeous buxom American genius beauty on board who actually complained about the smog in my cabin after we’d been driving some hours on the Strait. Her concern for her lungs was nearly as great as mine. When Ben mentioned the improvement in exhaust I naturally thought of that smoking hot babe and her lungs. This was Volvo’s year.
As well, my brilliant sister in law has a Volvo convertible sportscar which is really reliable. We all know everyone with a baby wants a Volvo car because of their concern for safety. I’ve got Gilbert the cockapoo to think of. The Swedes are great northern designers and know how to make heavy equipment. The Volvo Group make buses, and big ass construction equipment . The Swedes are high end manufacturers with the same reputation the Germans have with their BMW’s. I’d just bought a new Winchester rifle but I’d studied the Swedish equivalents and their technical workmanship is unsurpassed. Friends who have Volvo’s in their blue water sailing boats swear by them too. Everyone loves their Yanmar but when guys talk about their Volvos they’re just a little more misty eyed. You can hear the violins.
If I consult a specialist, and I trust they’re not just into making more money but really care about customer service like Stem to Stern has over the years, (and I don’t know a whole whole lot about something except what I research on the internet), frankly, I take their advice. Stem to Stern know their engines. I took their advice. There was little difference in price but a promise of better satisfaction with better performance. If I'd listened to advice about women wiser men gave me I might have saved myself a divorce or two.
Off shore the question of parts came up. Yanmar is apparently more available the world over but what I found when I sailed solo to Hawaii was when I needed electronic parts for name brand equipment they still had to send it to me. That’s the difference today from the old days. If they don’t have something locally you can have it by Fed Ex or UPS within a few days. Everything a sailboat needs, all the parts for everything, can be ordered on line from the manufacturer directly if need be. If I’m cruising I don’t mind hanging out for a day or two or week waiting for a part. That’s why we call Offshore Cruising, "doing boat work in exotic ports". The fact is, everyone who has the tools for diesel engine repair can fix either machine. Diesel engines in this regard are like the cars we had up to the 70’s. I’d been working on my own engines until the computers got added with emission control and all the little mind boggling sensor arrays in the new motors that require special computer programs to monitor. I’ll carry spares when I cruise and know I’ll be able to fix things if I need to though the beauty of a new engine is you really do get years of worry free life.
I’ve also got a Hamm radio, Hamm radio license, and take a Satellite phone offshore with me because I like asking experts for advice when I’m in a jam.
(The psychologist I asked about my marriage though was an idiot and just agreed with me she was a bitch. What woman you're thinking of isn't a bitch when you're thinking of divorcing her. Someone needs to remind you of when you met her her and that first night of love making. No one thinks of that when they're talking to psychologists or lawyers. I think marriage therapists and lawyers should have to give back half the pay if the couple divorce and suddenly we'd see some world class counselling going on rather than all the 'facilitating' divorce that these folks do for personal profit - but I digress. My friends thankfully reminded me of how I loved the GIRI. Of course I'll hate them when I get the bill or the next problem arises.)
When I had problems with my rigging off Vancouver Island I got a radio patch on my Hamm to the best of the best riggers, Pro Tech Yacht Services Vancouver. They told me just what to do with my fouled self furling system . When the mast broke on the way back from Hawaii I used my Iridium Satellite phone to Eric at Pocomarine Coquitlam BC (http://www.pocomarine.com) who got me in touch with the right experts to help me complete the ‘mission’.
That’s what comes with maturity. I know I’m not alone spiritually or even physically. It’s a global community. When I was younger, I had something to prove and wanted to do it ‘my’ way. Now I’m just glad to ‘get’r done’.
It was with great pleasure I saw my new Volvo D2-40 installed in my sailboat. The GIRI is up on the hard in Lynwood. While Stem to Stern was taking the Yanmar Engine out (very respectful of my mahogany cabin too) and putting the Volvo in, I took a couple of days to sand and bottom paint the blessed GIRI adding new zincs. Ben wasn’t comfortable with putting my old winter fuel in his brand new engine so we had the fuel scrubbed too. The old shaft was buggered a bit by fights with logs so I got a new shaft to go with the new engine. Added to that my pre engine fuel filters and bilge pumps weren’t working as well as Ben would have them. I knew that. One of the two bilge pumps was intermittent because of a short and one of the two pre fuel filters was only half working. I’d been planning on getting around to repairing them, relying in the meantime on one. Offshore double and triple redundancy are necessary. Still,
I liked that Ben didn’t want my new engine drowned in bilge or with shitty fuel going into the new baby. Of course I encouraged him to make the improvements. No sense putting a new diaper on a baby if you’re not going to clean the bottom. Just like Ben I wanted this new Volvo to smell sweet from day one and give me years of joy. Best to listen to the experts.
The Volvo Penta D2 - 40 sure is pretty. Sea trials are set for this week. The SV GIRI is looking especially pleased with her new heart and with her bottom all shiny and clean.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
My Friend's Wedding
I enjoyed my friend's wedding. I have hope for her. Her husband is French Canadian. The French Canadians believe more in children and family than us English speaking Canadians. She is Thai and not so far removed from her traditions to go for the 'legal lottery' of divorce, blaming the man, taking the winnings, and baksheeshing the lawyers and judges for the war of the roses. If the divorce court were my only encounter with Canadian justice I'd have long ago turned in my citizenship to become a terrorist against this unholy regime. We punish love in this country. We take advantage of the wounded.
Thankfully I've see the lawyers and judges working in their traditional milieu where the enemies are businesses and the casualities aren't the innoscent. My respect for the courts grows as I age seeing the need for lawyers to defen individuals against the state and to negotiate between different business interests. I also appreciate the need for justice to deal with criminals. But marriage is holy. Children are the children of God. Property of family is for the future of family not the interlopers and the courts.
I'm a slow learner. Three divorces and major set backs each time. Broken promises all round and the feeling in the end like some ship wrecked adventurer. There was no NorthWest Passage. Only now with global warming are seas unthawing. There were no maps for what my beloveds and I set out to do.
The consequence is 50 % divorce, no one knowing if the 'good' or 'bad' marriages by description or design survived. 5 year life expectancies the new shelf life. Yet only 5 years before me the average marriage lasted decades.
Feminists hated men and hated family. Social communists they called men the beougeosie and women the proletariat. John Lennon called 'women the nigger of the world' and we believed it. Before the publishing of the "Hazards of Being Male" and science prevailed over doctrine. Gender didn't matter if you were an agricultural worker. Racism was a slander since Indians had their casts and blacks their big black bossman and now North American Indians have their millionaire chiefs. It was always the haves and the have nots, the rich and the poor.
I was thankful to be born in Canada, son of hard working, Christian, law abiding parents of Scottish origin, believers in education and culture, lovers of the outdoors. I grew up on camping and competence. I was blessed.
I blamed myself for the failure of the marriages, blamed myself with the greatest of self loathing despite the women coming from broken families of addiction, divorce and suicide. The best defence is an offence. I was a provider and protecting. My sperm passed the test. I had no control over the abortions. And everyone was having abortions. Divorce and abortion were the macabre dance of the 80's and 90's. Death stalked us everywhere. Even today the ecologists tell us to kill ourselves to save the planet. Old and jaded I note that none of them are stepping forward to show the way. Even Suzuki would offer himself for euthanasia but blames the immigrants instead. Isolationism and fear are the backlash to the ideology and hope of the late 60's and 70's.
I went to so many weddings when I was young. I was the groom too many times but loved being best man, usher, photographer and friend. Then and today I still love the baptisms and christenings and occasional brisque. My father, now dead, said there'd been a time of funerals and then all his friends too were dead. In the end he longed desperately to join his wife and friend of 55 years, my mother.
It is family I pray for each morning. My brother and sister in law loom large in my loneliness. I am thoroughly amused by my nephews and their lives, thankful for Facebook that I can observe their youth. My dog is as always my friend. Friends are close too but not like those roommates and lovers, the ones I married who seemed like someone I'd known in another life and would again know. I miss them. Whatever irritation they gave, the horror and shame of divorce, their rage and terror, whatever once so frightened me is no longer present. I am weary.
In theatre we had a green room. After the play we laughed together rehashing the bright spots of our performances. I loved the theatre. I loved the psychodrama and dance. I love the leading ladies and the props. The costumes were tiring. Even today I wear clothing for others. At home I go naked or wear just shorts or sarong. In science fiction books I've been enthralled by the new material that breathes and clings like skin to the astonauts,
I loved that the families were all together last night. I loved seeing all the little children. It's like church. Children and babies come out and even the old people are welcome. I sat with academics. These gentle folk whose ways are the product of years of surviving the politics of universities. I once longed to return. I saw the school as a place to learn and leave. Now I'm old and the young never left. I am a different thing than those who were so social and sensitive. I felt their wisdom and kindness in their speech. I'm too wild with the real world. I've been too long in the field to mix with the gentle folk.
I feel like a warrior returned from the war who finds no peace in the home. I'm waiting to be sent back to the north. I'm working now on the frontier of the downtown eastside, ghetto medicine. I see no safety in my future, no security or quiet. The university is too far behind and a different "Glass Bead Game" than the terror of the edge I'm foolishly involved in. I loved the way they talked to students and spoke of the lives of their children. A professor told me he'd taken his sabbatical and taken his children on a tour of the world.
I winced. I'd wanted just that life, years before when my divorce ripped me out of the university and I headed out to the front to protect just such places. I left ex wives their in safety, always a provider and protector.
I am a doctor too. I give solace and care, though more and more, it's humor for we're all aging and the parts are wearing and the thought are slow in coming to terms with the losses and mortality. The fear each day is like nails on frozen panes of ice. I'm reminded years ago of people coming to find me to talk people out of trees on bad trips or bad acid.
Everything is going to be alright. All is well. This too shall pass. It doesn't make it better if you cut yourself. There's no bridge high enough. What makes you think there will be an end?
A wedding is a beginning. The community of family and friends gather for an ancient ceremony. We pray and give our blessing for the couple to prosper and proliferate. Maybe they will find peace when the greatest minds of Judaism and Islam continue to fight it out today in the Middle East. Even today the greatest Christian nation in the world, the United States of America, is on the verge or war, economic or other with China which was the last resort for communism and the religion of aetheism. Russia killed 80 million, china a hundred and twenty million and America is condemned for the imprisonment of a million. Things could always be better.
In Canada our problems rarely get beyond the French and the English. The Idle No More American Indian movement threatens to escallate from passive aggression to all out war. In Canadian marriages there is no sex as a consequence just teenagers who smoke more marijuana than any other Industrial nation, choosing illusion over reality, unwilling to come up with a solution now that the communes and love in and wars of their parents have failed to find a solution for living together peacefully. Better to talk about the environment. Canadian women are considered the best housekeepers, for after divorce they always get the house.
Today couples often live in their parents home, like the third world here, where real estate is beyond the price of the young and old men like me drive sportscars, the youth making a virtue of cycling, healthy and as fast some times as my motorcycles.
I liked that there was some 'voluntary' and not 'commercial' in the wedding, unique and a kind of 'party' that the couple gave for us all as we gathered and gifted them. I'd just been to a rock concert and there the corporate flavour of that very slick venue was so different from the wonderful event of great spaces and pauses and people not knowing what they were to do despite the best efforts of a beautiful master of ceremonies. It was herding cats at best. Gilbert my dog was there too barking to be joined by all his girlfriend, the beautiful and bright women who have cared for him over the years. It was a joyful event.
I loved seeing Aim and Marc tooking for each other, touching each other, exchanging rings and finally kissing in public. Tears came to my eyes. Hope springeth eternal.
The couple beside me had been together more than 40 years and those across from me some 30
The plane is leaving . I must go.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thankfully I've see the lawyers and judges working in their traditional milieu where the enemies are businesses and the casualities aren't the innoscent. My respect for the courts grows as I age seeing the need for lawyers to defen individuals against the state and to negotiate between different business interests. I also appreciate the need for justice to deal with criminals. But marriage is holy. Children are the children of God. Property of family is for the future of family not the interlopers and the courts.
I'm a slow learner. Three divorces and major set backs each time. Broken promises all round and the feeling in the end like some ship wrecked adventurer. There was no NorthWest Passage. Only now with global warming are seas unthawing. There were no maps for what my beloveds and I set out to do.
The consequence is 50 % divorce, no one knowing if the 'good' or 'bad' marriages by description or design survived. 5 year life expectancies the new shelf life. Yet only 5 years before me the average marriage lasted decades.
Feminists hated men and hated family. Social communists they called men the beougeosie and women the proletariat. John Lennon called 'women the nigger of the world' and we believed it. Before the publishing of the "Hazards of Being Male" and science prevailed over doctrine. Gender didn't matter if you were an agricultural worker. Racism was a slander since Indians had their casts and blacks their big black bossman and now North American Indians have their millionaire chiefs. It was always the haves and the have nots, the rich and the poor.
I was thankful to be born in Canada, son of hard working, Christian, law abiding parents of Scottish origin, believers in education and culture, lovers of the outdoors. I grew up on camping and competence. I was blessed.
I blamed myself for the failure of the marriages, blamed myself with the greatest of self loathing despite the women coming from broken families of addiction, divorce and suicide. The best defence is an offence. I was a provider and protecting. My sperm passed the test. I had no control over the abortions. And everyone was having abortions. Divorce and abortion were the macabre dance of the 80's and 90's. Death stalked us everywhere. Even today the ecologists tell us to kill ourselves to save the planet. Old and jaded I note that none of them are stepping forward to show the way. Even Suzuki would offer himself for euthanasia but blames the immigrants instead. Isolationism and fear are the backlash to the ideology and hope of the late 60's and 70's.
I went to so many weddings when I was young. I was the groom too many times but loved being best man, usher, photographer and friend. Then and today I still love the baptisms and christenings and occasional brisque. My father, now dead, said there'd been a time of funerals and then all his friends too were dead. In the end he longed desperately to join his wife and friend of 55 years, my mother.
It is family I pray for each morning. My brother and sister in law loom large in my loneliness. I am thoroughly amused by my nephews and their lives, thankful for Facebook that I can observe their youth. My dog is as always my friend. Friends are close too but not like those roommates and lovers, the ones I married who seemed like someone I'd known in another life and would again know. I miss them. Whatever irritation they gave, the horror and shame of divorce, their rage and terror, whatever once so frightened me is no longer present. I am weary.
In theatre we had a green room. After the play we laughed together rehashing the bright spots of our performances. I loved the theatre. I loved the psychodrama and dance. I love the leading ladies and the props. The costumes were tiring. Even today I wear clothing for others. At home I go naked or wear just shorts or sarong. In science fiction books I've been enthralled by the new material that breathes and clings like skin to the astonauts,
I loved that the families were all together last night. I loved seeing all the little children. It's like church. Children and babies come out and even the old people are welcome. I sat with academics. These gentle folk whose ways are the product of years of surviving the politics of universities. I once longed to return. I saw the school as a place to learn and leave. Now I'm old and the young never left. I am a different thing than those who were so social and sensitive. I felt their wisdom and kindness in their speech. I'm too wild with the real world. I've been too long in the field to mix with the gentle folk.
I feel like a warrior returned from the war who finds no peace in the home. I'm waiting to be sent back to the north. I'm working now on the frontier of the downtown eastside, ghetto medicine. I see no safety in my future, no security or quiet. The university is too far behind and a different "Glass Bead Game" than the terror of the edge I'm foolishly involved in. I loved the way they talked to students and spoke of the lives of their children. A professor told me he'd taken his sabbatical and taken his children on a tour of the world.
I winced. I'd wanted just that life, years before when my divorce ripped me out of the university and I headed out to the front to protect just such places. I left ex wives their in safety, always a provider and protector.
I am a doctor too. I give solace and care, though more and more, it's humor for we're all aging and the parts are wearing and the thought are slow in coming to terms with the losses and mortality. The fear each day is like nails on frozen panes of ice. I'm reminded years ago of people coming to find me to talk people out of trees on bad trips or bad acid.
Everything is going to be alright. All is well. This too shall pass. It doesn't make it better if you cut yourself. There's no bridge high enough. What makes you think there will be an end?
A wedding is a beginning. The community of family and friends gather for an ancient ceremony. We pray and give our blessing for the couple to prosper and proliferate. Maybe they will find peace when the greatest minds of Judaism and Islam continue to fight it out today in the Middle East. Even today the greatest Christian nation in the world, the United States of America, is on the verge or war, economic or other with China which was the last resort for communism and the religion of aetheism. Russia killed 80 million, china a hundred and twenty million and America is condemned for the imprisonment of a million. Things could always be better.
In Canada our problems rarely get beyond the French and the English. The Idle No More American Indian movement threatens to escallate from passive aggression to all out war. In Canadian marriages there is no sex as a consequence just teenagers who smoke more marijuana than any other Industrial nation, choosing illusion over reality, unwilling to come up with a solution now that the communes and love in and wars of their parents have failed to find a solution for living together peacefully. Better to talk about the environment. Canadian women are considered the best housekeepers, for after divorce they always get the house.
Today couples often live in their parents home, like the third world here, where real estate is beyond the price of the young and old men like me drive sportscars, the youth making a virtue of cycling, healthy and as fast some times as my motorcycles.
I liked that there was some 'voluntary' and not 'commercial' in the wedding, unique and a kind of 'party' that the couple gave for us all as we gathered and gifted them. I'd just been to a rock concert and there the corporate flavour of that very slick venue was so different from the wonderful event of great spaces and pauses and people not knowing what they were to do despite the best efforts of a beautiful master of ceremonies. It was herding cats at best. Gilbert my dog was there too barking to be joined by all his girlfriend, the beautiful and bright women who have cared for him over the years. It was a joyful event.
I loved seeing Aim and Marc tooking for each other, touching each other, exchanging rings and finally kissing in public. Tears came to my eyes. Hope springeth eternal.
The couple beside me had been together more than 40 years and those across from me some 30
The plane is leaving . I must go.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Thai Wedding - Aim and Marc
Aim and Marc were officially married today. It was a Thai ceremony though Mark is French Canadian. Thai dancers and Thai music. Aim looked thoroughly beautiful in the traditional gown whereas Marc look regal in suit and sash. The opening was a ceremony of challenges for Mark, questions he had to answer , which were very funny when put by the youngest members in the audience. Then the Bride and Groom were united and gave fruit dishes to their parents. A Thai ceremony of marriage with exchange of rings was followed by hand washing purification by all in attendance. This was followed by the legal notary public marriage finalized by a kiss. Parents signed the official documents as witnesses. Thai dancers performed and fine food was served. What a wonderful evening in Port Moody looking out at the boats at anchor.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
