Senseless tragedy hit Toronto yesterday when a 25-year old man plowed a rented van into innocent people for no reason — 10 people have lost their lives and 15 are injured. There is currently no evidence to suggest terrorism, but that changes nothing for those who died, those who are fighting for their lives in hospitals and their families. See you next week.
Yes, I am happy. Very happy. Jumping for joy happy. Nope, I did not win a lottery. This is better, actually. Yeah, better than winning a lottery. I may actually have talked about this before. Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna talk about it again. It’s different this time anyhow.
For at least the last twenty years I’ve wanted to write a book. Nothing to do with ego, I have just always thought there was one in me. God knows I tried. I gave myself headaches trying to come up with topics. I’d write a few sentences, maybe a paragraph or two, only to end up ripping the sheet of paper off the pad, crumpling it up in a ball and tossing it. I even took a book writing course, which I really enjoyed. Not that
Life teaches us many lessons. A lot of the time it’s our mistakes we learn from, but not always. Sometimes it’s the things we do right. And, in the process, if we’re lucky we also find out about ourselves, at the same time. When we decided to close our agency, it was a very tough decision. But that was just the beginning.
There were a lot of very difficult conversations that had to be had; and they all fell on me. First, with the man who ran our parent company. And then with our staff, with our clients, with our suppliers and alliances and with the industry, in general. To say it was challenging and intense would be an understatement.
The biggest revelation was what I discovered about myself: I was much more of a grown up than I thought I was. I didn’t hide. I didn’t cower. I accepted responsibility. I faced it.
I did what had to be done. I told who had to be told, despite the butterflies in my stomach, the nausea, the Continue reading
February is a difficult month for me. Oh, I know, lots of folks suffer through February. It can be a dreary month; and by the time we’ve gotten through November and December and January we’re worn down by winter. And can’t wait for Spring.
But that’s not my problem.
Three beloved family members have been taken from me, in February. Stolen, I sometimes think. My cousin, who was more like my sister. My mother’s twin sister, who was my other mother, my confidante and friend. And my mother.
Cheryl (my cousin) passed a long time ago. In 1976, when she was only twenty-four years old, of what was diagnosed as fulminating hepatitis. Which it couldn’t have been, because her dad died of the exact same thing when she was thirteen months old. Clearly she’d inherited something. So much for the accuracy of autopsies.
Anyway, she died on February 15. Her mother, on February 3, 2000; and my mother on February 26, 2007.
Bizarre, isn’t it? That the three of them would all die in the same month. Like some strange, twisted, cruel co-incidence. Or, maybe not. I’ll never know. Or will I?
What’s really a bit spooky is something my mother told me, not all that long before she died. She said she’d been having Continue reading