The Past and the Future

I treasure life’s unique experiences, especially those that come out of nowhere.

Last weekend, I had one of those experiences. I went to two parties on one weekend – one for our 96-year-old Baba and a first-year birthday party for my littlest niece. It was the past and the future all rolled into one weekend.

One of my favourite people in the world.

Baba first.

At 96, I can’t help but be amazed at the life Baba has lived.

Born in 1923.

Let’s think about THAT for a second.

To say it was a different time would be like saying the winters are a little cold in northern Saskatchewan.

Her mother and father were children of Ukrainian immigrants, simple farmers fleeing violent oppression, seeking cheap farming land in Canada. She grew up in a time where religion and community went hand-in-hand, through times when her family didn’t know if they’d have enough to eat over the winter, and in a home with no running water or Google (FYI, of the two, I think I could survive longer without water than the internet.)

She survived the Great Depression, all the sicknesses that took so many back then, and literally had to walk miles through blizzards to attend school. (And me, I complain if I have to walk to my car in the rain.)

So, imagine how the world has changed in her lifetime.

She saw how the world transformed after World War 2, from the rise of feminism, to the growth of suburbs, to the civil rights movement. She would have listened to the Beatles on the radio, watched men land on the moon on her black and white TV, and seen the ushering in of the computerized world.

For most of her life, she would have used a rotary phone, likely with an overly long spiral cord that risked strangling anyone who got in-between you and the phone. For most of her life, she would have gone to an actual store to shop, not Amazoned a blender or a book about bees. For most of her life, she would have had to rely on her memory to recall who was that actor who played that doctor on that show set during the Korean war, not simply spoken her request to the god-like Siri.

I could go on and on (and actually did, but edited this for brevity). This was a woman who not only lived through those times but refused to be confined by those times.

She never finished school, yet created architectural drawings for the church she helped build. While raising 4 children, she helped run a drive-in movie theatre (which I think is super cool). All of her life, even into her 70’s and 80’s, she organized and led her church women’s group, and worked in the kitchen cooking up legendary dinners at the Ukrainian Hall in Surrey.

She is a woman who has never slowed down, never given up, and always finds a way to contribute.

So, for her birthday, we all gathered to celebrate this amazing woman. Married at 16 to a man 8 years her senior, she had four children, who went on the have great lives and provide her with a boat-load of grandchildren who, in turn, brought forth many, many more great-grandchildren.

One of several tables full of family. Great Baba is at the head of the table.

Nearly all were able to come for her birthday. We sang, (poorly,), laughed loudly, watched a slide show of her life with her family, and cried with her as she thanked everyone for their love.

Personally, I love spending time with her, listening to her stories, hearing her history and shaking my head in wonder at someone who has been through so much, remains so positive, so productive and still so funny.

She is an inspiration.

Tomorrow, the future.

Alberta Trip – Day 1 in BC

traveling from BC to Alberta

traveling from BC to Alberta

Every penny counts when saving up for a vacation

Our plan began well enough (like most plans). Let’s see how it unfolded once reality got its grubby hands on it.

We were all packed and ready to go by the time The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World came home from work. By the time she had changed into comfy clothes, we had the car packed and sat waiting to go.

I think she was a little stunned she didn’t have to drag one away from the piano, one away from gaming and one away from looking stuff up on his computer. You can guess which is which.

We drove as fast as we could through all kinds of weather. Sun, rain, more rain, great splattering rain and then through fog, and out into the sun, again, which by this time had given up on the day and decided to leave the sky.

how to drive in the rain
Safety tips for driving in the rain

Having a family, now, I’m like a little old lady driving to church with a  basket of eggs balanced on her lap. Not long ago, I was seeing how fast my rental sports car could drive in the desert and there was one time when I decided it was a good idea to double the speed limit on the California highway. But then I was only risking my own life. Now, I have the proper distance between cars, largely obey the speed limit and leave the texting to The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World.

Safety first.

The mood in the car was buoyant, though, and the boys were outstanding in the back seat, neither complaining or fighting or spilling something sticky on the car seats.

So far so good.

Suspiciously good.

We stayed with the Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s dad and stepmom. We arrived late but they had stayed up to make sure we were settled in and fed, even though it was way past their bedtime. To be honest, it was past my bedtime, too, but such are the things parents or grandparents do. We ate chips and homemade salsa (which was to die for),  and quesadillas cooked on a super fancy version of the George Forman grill.

Then it was time for bed, and even then, the boys were great. Even quiet.

I began to worry that they’d been replaced by clones, or that The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World has drugged the juice in their sippy cups.

For breakfast, we had homemade jam that was simply outstanding and drank perfectly brewed coffee (the adults, that is, not the kids, no, God, no, on coffee for them until they’re at least 25 or not traveling in a car with us).

But despite the good food and the outstanding behaviour of the boys, the highlight for me had to be hanging in the garage with the-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s dad. The garage had the perfect smell. Pipe tobacco. Oil. Gas. And he’d set up a table there, his mint ’67 Dodge Dart behind him, his tools and automotive signs on the wall to one side.

Now, I’m not a car guy. The-Youngest knows how to tell the difference between a ’67 Mustang and a ’68. He could probably tell you how fast it is and what the car sells for, but me, I’m more likely to comment on the pretty colour or cool sound the engine makes. I have no idea if there’s a 250 CID (4.1L) Thriftmaster inline six-cylinder underneath the hood.

Now I can’t say we talked about anything important or waxed philosophical or discovered a cure for stupid, but it was nice to connect with him, just two guys in a garage, one nerdy goober, and one ex-customs agent finding common ground on sacred ground.

It was a nice, quick visit, the type of visit where you think, damn, I wish I had more time to spend there.

the hangover
Not all road trips end well

A perfect start to what I hoped would be the first vacation that actually went according to plan and didn’t end up like some version of The Hangover.

Next up, another visit. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-world’s mom and stepdad, and her amazing Baba.

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