Best fime of year

I really enjoy this time of year. I don't have any awful baggage that clings to me when I think of Christmas. I feel like that frees me up to just rest and enjoy my family. Unfortunately, I don't have my sis and bro-in-law around this time. I'm going to miss out on doing the sibling tradition of the first one awake jumping on top of the other in the midst of dead sleep and yelling, "It's Christmas! It's Christmas!" I've been reigning champion for about 10 years now. The look on my sister's face is the best payoff.

I do have two extra guests with me this year. My friend Judith has left her dogs with me for a week while she visits family overseas. They're a handful, but I'm enjoying having them around. No crazy dog-soiling-bedding stories so far and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the rest of the week.

Putting Down Some Roots

I've been taking a lot of time to look at my life and my surroundings and I've come to this conclusion: I have put down very few roots.

The more I think about it, I wonder if that is the most important thing to be worried about at this point in my life. It also begs the questions of whether I need any roots. That's the academic in me. The pragmatist in me says that the answer is yes, I need roots.

In the last two places I've lived I have almost refused to unpack everything or to put pictures on the walls. Not consciously. I just couldn't be bothered to settle in. In short, I haven't made the places I've lived in feel like a home. What's with that?

But this week I've been feeling very unsettled about being unsettled. I've looked at my apartment and I wasn't feeling good about passing by the assortment of boxes and clutter that were strewn about my home. So I had some help yesterday in getting some new furniture and unpacking the last few remaining boxes. My place isn't exactly where I want it yet, but it's a damn sight closer to the goal. I actually feel like I want people over. I actually feel like I have some permanence that I want to share with those around me.

I think that previously I had been feeling like the bottom could drop out of everything at any moment and it was best not to get too attached to my living space in case I had to run at a moment's notice. Very odd, considering that I lived at my last place for almost 8 years and I have no reason to think that I'll be leaving my current place any time soon. I suppose it has to do with the uncertainty I have felt about my life for a number of years now. It's uncertainty about friendships, relationships, work, profession, church, etc. But I'm finally coming to the realization that I don't have to actually embody uncertainty in the midst of the uncertainties that swirl about me.

How do I live that out? I start by unpacking some boxes and making a home for myself. I start by putting down some roots.

My local coffee shop needs new ventilation systems

I don't know how many of you have had the new hot breakfast items from a certain coffee shop from an un-named city in the Northwest of the United States. They're really very tasty. Essentially, they are gourmet egg muffin sandwhiches with names like "Peppered Bacon, Egg and Aged Cheddar" and "Eggs Florentine with Baby Spinach and Havarti." Delicious! However...

I was just in the store across the street from my apartment to have a coffee and to read The E-Myth (an amazing book that makes me feel like the author just observed my last few years of running a business... but enough on that subject today). I came to a realization that I'm not enjoying the in-store Northwest Coffee Chain experience as much as I used to. And it's because of the hot breakfast items.

I used to come to the stores to enjoy the smell of the coffee beans freshly ground and espresso freshly pressed. Now, all I smell is the breakfast items... no matter what time of the day it is. Perhaps the company could vent the ovens outside. All I know is that it's impacting my in-store experience and that's pretty much the entire reason we all go and buy our coffee from them.

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My parents are in Mexico right now with some friends. Let me just check off the traveling they have done this year: Christmas in Edmonton... check. Numerous trips to Kelowna... check. Switzerland for a month in August... check. Puerto Vallarta, Mexico at a luxury resort... check, dammit!!!

Take a look at the view from the house they're living in. Absolutely sick. Have I mentioned the shitty weather we've been having??? I hate my parents this week.

Oh, how I love the weather here!

It was so nice and peaceful this weekend sitting on my couch and watching the snow fall. Until last night, that is. That's when the rain rolled in and turned it all to the grossest slush that can only be described as slurry. It was disgusting.

The snow is mostly gone now thanks to the rain. But it did leave one lasting impression with me this morning.

I was on my way to meet Will at Starbucks across the street from me and I was finding it hard to get off the sidewalk without stepping into some snow. My right foot got a little wet, but I quickly jumped out of the slush.

I then crossed the street and realized that I was going to have the same problem all over again! How was I to get onto the sidewalk without stepping into the melting snow? What was that I saw? Oh, it was the entrance to the parking lot! There's no snow there! Oh wait... there may have been no snow, but there was a 3 ft. deep lake erm... puddle. Hmmm... must find another way.

No other way presented itself so I stepped into the snow... and right into another 3 ft. deep puddle beneath the snow. As my sister would say, "Good times."

Back online

I last wrote on this blog in early September. Jordan Bateman and I had just finished a large 15th anniversary corporate retrospective for Phantom Screens of Abbotsford. It was definitely the largest project I had ever worked on. 130+ pages of text that was laid out and formatted. A few hundred photos to colour correct and resize. Some very particular clients with a lot at stake. It was fun and I'm incredibly proud of the project.

It was that project that illustrated for me how out of whack my professional life had become. We made a profit... in fact, it was probably the first project I have made a real profit from. That really opened up my eyes.

I'm going to be a bit harsh on myself for a bit. But, bear with me because it has a redemptive ending... well, the ending hasn't happened yet, but the path seems to be turning out to be redemptive.

In addition to my design work, I had been struggling for 2 years with a high-tech marketing company that a friend of mine and I had been keeping afloat by sheer will alone. It was taxing every fibre of my being, my bank account, my health and in August I was ready to just run from everything. That's how bad it had gotten.

So at the same time when I was actually getting a project right for a change, the high-tech company got some new partners and a new lease on life. Suddenly, I didn't feel like I had to carry the whole operation on my own shoulders. I had help and support. We got investors. We started doing intensive planning and dreaming. It was like a real business.

In the space of a few weeks I feel like I went from being a pretend businessman to being legit. I found the ability to ask good questions and make good plans... I went from wanting to cut and run to being ready to build something amazing. I have found resources inside me that I somehow knew were there, but I didn't know how to tap into them.

So, starting December 1st, I go full-time in partnership in a new company called Broadburst that I have been helping to incubate for the past 2 years. It's going to fly and my partners and I are going to be wildly successful. It's a little scary. It means that I'm leaving graphic design as a profession for a time so I can build something that will allow me to build whatever I want in the future.

The other week I had a burst of creativity for myself and I made simple desktop wallpaper. It didn't have any corporate logos or attempt at self-promotion. It was just for me and my desktop so I could remember what I was feeling at that moment. Even though I did the art on my computer, it felt analogue. Here were the words:

"i keep looking around the room and i wonder how i got here. is this me? did i plan this? did god plan this? how come he didn't tell me? what if he did and i didn't listen? so many questions and the future is pretty ambiguous on the ultimate ending. what ending? it doesn't end. why would i want it to? isn't this interesting? isn't this what i wanted? isn't this as far away from boring as i could get? yes. i think this is what i wanted."

Anticipation after hard work

Tomorrow is the unveiling of a project that my business partner and I have been working on for about 6 or 7 months. It's certainly the largest project I've ever worked on and I can't wait to see the looks on the faces of the people it's being presented to -- they have no idea this project was being done.

I can't say any more until after tomorrow because they could inadvertently read this and find out and spoil the surprise. But, the event tomorrow is really one of the reasons I got into this business in the first place. Seeing the tangible results of your creativity and the joy it brings to others is a feeling like no other. I would often get the same feeling after performing in a play where you could feel the audience being drawn in to the world you have created and then applaud a the end. No feeling like it in the world!

After tomorrow, I'll talk more about the project.

Remembering my grandfather

I've been a little distracted in life lately. So much so that I've forgotten to keep a log of my life here on Samatlarge. And, quite frankly, I've taken all sorts of abuse for it (ahem, Tex...) and I'm going to remedy the situation.

However, it won't be the most joyful post because I'll be taking this opportunity to talk about someone who recently passed away: my grandfather.

I'm sorry that this post is so long. But, this is my way of sorting through the thousands of thoughts and emotions that have been swirling within me for the last two weeks.

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I don't really remember what my first memory of my "Granddaddy" was, but I think it had to do with my grandparents taking care of me while my parents were out of town.

But, I really remember going to see my grandparents as my family would drive up to Kelowna on long weekends or for our yearly vacation at "The Lake." The Lake was the property that my grandfather had bought in 1959 as a place for his kids to learn how to build things for themselves while inadvertently building their character at the same time. This property holds an incredibly special place in my heart and I never, ever get tired of going there. For me it's become a place of rest. More on that later.

On those trips, I would perhaps see my grandparents once a day over the two weeks. It wasn't until I was older that I realized how little I really knew about by grandfather. It wasn't that he didn't talk. It was just that he rarely talked about himself. What I've since come to know of my grandfather has come through stories from my dad and his siblings as well as what I can make out from old photos.

However, what I did get to know firsthand was how stern he was and how important it seemed for me to have his approval. If my hair was too long, my folks would wonder what granddaddy would think about it. When I chose Theatre as my major in college, I subconsciously wondered if he would approve. I would tell him of my next solid, well-paying, stable, boring job in the hope that he would give his brisk little nod of silent approval.

I would watch my own father bear the weight of these very same pressures. Although, I think it was always much harder for him because he wanted my grandfather to approve not only of his life choices, but of how he cared for his own family.

I'll never forget this one time that he got upset with me. I was about 10 years old and my sister and I were staying by ourselves with my grandparents for a week. One day they took us to this amusement park and treated us to mini-golf. During our lunch in the eating area, my grandfather remarked on seeing something off in the distance. I turned to look at what he was indicating, but I couldn't see it and I said so. "Don't you contradict me," he burst out. Quickly, I looked again and "saw" what he was indicating and rapidly agreed with him, although I really didn't see anything. I learned quickly that you didn't disagree with him. That was my first indication that perhaps he wasn't the warmest man I ever knew.

While he was sometimes a tyrant in his home and over his family, do not take away the impression that he was an awful man. He wasn't. Like all of humanity, he had his warts on top of his beauty.

I mentioned the family property. He bought it grow his children into people of character. Nothing was more important to my grandfather than people with good character. It was at the property that he taught his kids how to swing a hammer, use a saw, drive a boat, build cabins, water ski, swim... It was with vision that he put all his life's savings into that piece of land on the Okanagan Lake. A consequence of his vision is that his grandchildren also were taught the same things on the very same land. It was where I learned to do the exact same things as my own dad. It's where my father taught me to work hard, but also to play and to rest.

My grandfather was also incredibly generous. When my parents struggled with their finances, my grandfather was overwhelming in his help. When our car died, he found us a replacement and bought it for us, no strings attached. At family visits, he would insist on paying for everyone. He would help friends in times of need. In his later years, he volunteered at the hospital because he knew that he was fortunate to have his health and that others needed assistance at their most vulnerable time.

He loved nature and the outdoors. It's what led him to become one of BC's top forest fire fighters and then be put in charge of training a whole generation of men to take care of BC's forests. My grandfather is, in fact, the man who started the water bomber program that is still used today and has become the the textbook that countries around the world use to develop their own programs.

He was strong. He once was a part of YMCA gymnastics teams during the Great Depression. I'm talking about the teams that create those shapes by standing on each others shoulders. You could only become a part of that team by first being able to walk up and down a long flight of stairs solely on your hands. He could still do that up until his late 30s. He used to lead his Forest Ranger trainees every morning in exercises and runs. He could still outrun 20 year olds when he was into his 50s.

For all that, he was a limited man. My grandfather has seen his children succeed him in their work endeavors. He saw men that he himself trained pass over him in promotion and become his boss. He never got further than being the 2nd in command despite his skills and talent. In fact, it was these limits that nearly broke him apart in his 60s. I realized later that he suffered from serious depression for much of his life.

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His death on September 3, 2007 has given me the opportunity to examine his life as well as my own. Like him, I suffer from depression. And honestly, there are times when I wonder if I'm a limited man, myself. I don't want to be and I think the real truth is that I'm not. It's amazing, though, how powerful our family histories can be in forming and forging our view of ourselves.

There are times when I despised his sternness and his "come no further" manner. Over my lifetime, I saw a very angry man and his whole family walking on eggshells around him.

But, at the funeral this past weekend, I heard many of the good, amazing stories of his life. Some I shared above. But, there are so many. It was then that I realized how much I owe Arthur James Kirk for the man I am today. There's some good stuff that has been passed on to me from my father that he learned from his father -- I am a strong, passionate, caring man because of the values and ideals that my grandfather held dear and taught his children many years ago.

This realization brought me to tears. I am who I am because of every good, bad and ugly decision that that 94 year old man had made over his lifetime. I realized that the crap that stains all of our lives is often the most easily remembered by those that we come into close contact with. But, I also realized that it is so worth digging deep to remember the kernels of greatness that also marks each one of us.

Remembering the bad is easy. Remember the good, however, is harder but is much more valuable. Much like in our lives, it is easier to take the road most traveled -- the road of least resistance which is often full of lies and deception and, ultimately, grief. But, the road less traveled... that's a whole lot harder to stay true to, but is the road that good character and wisdom is found on.

I think my grandfather took the road less traveled most often in his life and he has indirectly taught me to do the same.

I will miss him but he is now at peace after 6 years of battling Alzheimers Disease that ultimately left him weak and broken.

Arthur James Kirk, 1912-2007.