Blah blah blah blah blah

That's exactly how I felt all day today at work.  Holidays are over, Christmas is done.  All the buildup is over.  Whew!  Next year my wife and I promised we wouldn't have so much food next year.  Instead of a 20 lb turkey maybe just a breast or some other such small amount.  We said the same thing last year too.
Three of the kids won't eat turkey anyway and Debbie is not so hot for it these days either so maybe next year we will actually do what we say we will do.
Driving a bus right now is a breeze with all the kids out of school and many people taking the week off.  A little bit boring at times for me.  I'm quite used to transporting over 100 people at any given time.  When the bus is packed like that there are many standing near me at the front which gives me lots of fodder to trick someone into chatting with me.  I have some favourite one liners to accomplish that goal.  If someone drags a couple of suitcases on board I like to say something like, "running away from home are we?"  That usually gets a response although once in awhile a negative one.  The odd person has just looked at me like I'm stupid.    I'm still waiting for the day some guy responds, "the girlfriend just kicked me out alright @#*hole!"  But normally this is a risk worth taking. I love to chat with people.  Over the years I have met people on my bus from all over the world.  For example; A young girl from Great Britain who loaded a mountain bike on the bike rack.  Her name was Fiona somethin' or rather.  While she stood at the front of the bus watching her bike like a hawk I mentioned that her bike looked awesome, "do you ride a lot?"  She explained the bike was designed especially for her and cost over $8000.00 US dollars.  She was travelling to Whistler to a world class downhill race.  She was ranked 2nd in the world at that moment.  She was riding a bus because it took most of the money she had left to travel from England to Vancouver to attend this race.  Interesting young lady.
Today was a much quieter day for both people and traffic but still a great day to be alive.

Wednesday (Hump Day some call it)

Back in the swing of things already after the Christmas Holidays.  Still nice to find the traffic is light and not a lot of passengers either.  Nice change for a normally packed 99 B Line bus.
Funny story.  Over the years I have encountered a lot of foreign speaking passengers who have questions to ask.  Usually the questions involve places they would like to travel to and how they could possibly get there.  Some of the requests have come with such a strong accent behind it that I have had much difficulty understanding exactly what they are asking me. Most troublesome for me have been questions asked by Asian folks whether they are Chinese, Korean, Hong Kongese, and others.  Doesn't really matter the exact language they speak; no matter which it is, I still experience the same problems in understanding. Over the years I have become somewhat adept at interpreting their requests.  To prove my point I will share with you some of the funniest sounding requests I have had in past years.  Let me say before I begin that I hope no one interprets my remarks as discriminatory because they are certainly not intended that way.  I love people from every race and truly enjoy the interactions I have on the bus with people from all over the world.  They all have stories to tell and it is so fun listening to them.  That said here is my funniest requests.
First of all the most common word I hear is which I interpret this way......"Hugo?"......which means in my world...."do you go?"  This is often followed by words such as......"Beh Woo Mah"....which I discovered to mean......"Brentwood Mall."....or perhaps the words..."Mee Too Taw."....which means...... "Metrotown."....of course there has also been...."Roo Hee Mah."...which, as you may already have guessed means..."Lougheed Mall."
Today I heard another good one for the first time.  I was between trips standing with my back to the front door while I chatted on my cell phone with my wife when I hear a knock on the door.  I turn to see a middle aged Asian couple on the other side of the door both smiling broadly at me.  I say to my wife, "hold on a sec honey," and I open the door.  The Asian lady leans in and politely asks a question in very broken English that sounded to me something like this, "Hugo dis bus mensa T?"  I pretty well caught on to the first few words, "do you go with this bus."  The remainder was more of a challenge.  I leaned closer to her and said, "I'm sorry, what was it you were looking for?"  She repeats, "mensa T, mensa T."  I am wracking my brain, what was it she said.  I am embarrassed to ask again.  I am thinking MacKenzie, Metrotown, a place to eat????  I have no idea.  She sees my struggle and tries to clarify, "mensa T, mensa T, hugh no China tawn." "Aah!" I say, finally getting it.  "Do you want to go to Main Street?" "Yes," she says delight written all over her face.  "Yes, I can take you to Main Street," I say quite proud of my sleuthing abilities.  Another interesting day.    

Back to work Tuesday

Back to work today.  I didn't want to be there for the first couple of trips but got into the swing of things after awhile.  You could have fired a cannon ball down Broadway for the first few hours without hitting a soul along the way.  Now that doesn't happen often on one of the busiest streets in Vancouver.
I was thinking about my sisters a lot today.  Both of them gone early in their lives.  Both as a result of the affects of drugs.  I always seem to think of the two of them around Christmas time probably because my sister Sharon's birthday fell on Dec. 10th.  I don't even know where she might be buried or the exact nature of her death.  all I know is that the last place she lived was in Florida under the name Sherry Boney.  Treena on the other hand died 3 months after my mothers death in Sept. 2009.  She was 40 years old and overdosed.
Can you see what alcoholism can do to a family?  It decimated ours for sure.  Only myself and 2 younger brothers left from a family of 7 including Mum and Dad, both gone.
I think about this kind of stuff a lot.  I wonder sometimes why I was one of the lucky ones.  When I left home at 17 years old, I promised myself I would never drink like my father did and yet when the opportunity came that's exactly what I began to do.  Drink to oblivion.  I dabbled with drugs as well when my first marriage crashed and burned.  I was a lucky one.  I quit both drinking and drugs in Oct 1978 thanks to the help of A.A. and how stayed clean and sober ever since.  I am a lucky one.
Anyway, it was a good day today and I'm actually a little glad to get the holiday excesses out of  the way and back to regular routine.

Boxing Day

I think this day was called Boxing Day is because that's the day you have to find a place to get rid of all those boxes and pieces of wrapping paper.  That in itself is a big job.  A very good day yesterday but happy we can get back to some degree of normal in the next week.  Back to driving tomorrow and our regular routine of living.  It's funny;  all the many weeks if not months of buildup to Xmas and in one short day it's all over with.

CHRISTMAS EVE DAY

All my best wishes to everyone on this the day before Christmas.  I don't know about everyone else but I plan on savouring everything I stuff into my mouth in the next few days.  I have the next 3 days off from driving to do just that.  Life is good.  MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE.

A Christmas Story

The Christmas Gift

by D.A.Bastian

  

     It was the last Wednesday before Christmas and I was driving my city transit bus along Fourth Avenue.  I was thinking about my wife’s wonderful turkey dinner with all the trimmings.     

     As I approached the stop at Fourth and Wallace I saw someone standing at the bus stop.   It was my very favourite passenger, Mrs. Grace Smith.   Although she had never spoken of it, I guessed her age to be somewhere around the 80 year mark.  She stood barely five feet tall and slouched somewhat probably due to arthritis or something which made her tilt her head upward slightly in order to see clearly who she was talking to.  Besides the ever present smile, her most identifiable feature was that every time I saw her she wore a bright red tam pinned jauntily to one side which very much complimented her silver grey hair.  Mrs. Smith reminded me so much of my own mother who had lost her battle with cancer just a year ago not in the physical sense but more her demeanor and attitude toward life.  

     I still missed my mother terribly and found myself in tears at the most inappropriate times when I saw some little old lady who even loosely resembled my mother.  I was often grateful for sunglasses during those moments.

     During the last ten years of her life I had become very close to my mother and loved her dearly.  It hadn’t always been that way though.  

     Throughout my childhood my Mum suffered from a serious drinking problem that I had struggled to deal with ever since I was a young lad.  Because my father was also a practicing alcoholic at the time my home was filled with constant drunken brawls and arguments.  It was not a good environment for a young child and I longed to get away from it as soon as I could.  After running away from home a couple of times prior but returned due to having no place to go, I finally got away when just by chance I passed by a military recruiter’s office and quickly signed up. I promised my tearful mother that I would write often and even send her a few dollars to help out at home of which neither promise was kept.

     While in the military I met a young girl, got married and settled down into a military life 3500 miles away from my family.  The few words I did write in next twenty years were to my mother and simply scribbled with meaningless chatter on the inside of a generic Christmas card. 

     After discharging from the military I managed to find a bus driving job no further than 300 miles of my now 68 year old mother.   At the urging of my wife who said I should try and patch things up with Mum, I reluctantly agreed to try one phone call.  During the next two years I forced a monthly call but my heart really wasn't in it as she continued to drink.  I hated hearing the slur in her voice and listening to the meaningless, jumbled conversation.

     Then suddenly my father passed away so I and my wife drove the 300 miles to attend the funeral.  When I arrived I was happy to see that my mother was sober.  We talked face to face for the first time in more than twenty years.  Two weeks after the funeral she called to say that she hadn’t had another drink since the funeral and that she wanted to talk about things.  Without the barrier of alcohol a new relationship began to grow between us.  I felt like I had found my real mother for the first time in my life.  I began phoning her every week and travelled to visit as often as I could.  It was a wonderful time for both of us.

     Shortly before her 79^th birthday she was diagnosed with stomach cancer.  I drove up to visit her in the hospital more than regularly during the next two months.  One particular Saturday afternoon I expressed my concern over the lack of colour in her face. It seemed a little ashen and weight loss had made her facial skin loose and wrinkled.   She assured me that it was just a temporary side effect of the new medication the doctors were trying.   She said it seemed to be working and that things were progressing along so well that her doctor was thinking about letting her go home next Monday.  Perhaps that’s exactly what I wanted to believe because I accepted her explanation with some relief.  At the end of the visit I kissed her cheek and said I would be back soon.  Mum reached out and took my face in her hands.  She pulled me close to her and spoke calmly, “Don’t worry about me. Really, I’m fine.”  Three days later I was devastated to get a phone call from the doctor saying that Mum had passed away in her sleep the night before.

      It was a few months after my mothers passing that I met Mrs. Smith.  I had pulled over my city bus to pick up some passengers at a stop near Market Street.  I noticed by the logo on the plastic bag that Mrs Smith was carrying that she had been shopping at the super market directly across the street. 

     She smiled warmly as she struggled to climb the up the three steps to board the bus, “Pardon me driver," she began, " if it’s not too much trouble could you please announce the stop at Wallace Street for me?  I don’t see as well as I used to.”

      I smiled, “Of course I can ma'am.  No trouble at all.” 

      After that initial meeting Mrs Smith was a regular on my route.  By the second Wednesday she insisted that I stop addressing her as ma’am.  “My name is Grace Smith but you can call me Gracie," she stated emphatically, "and you are….?”

     “I’m Denny,” I answered.   

      After that, much to my surprise, Gracie began sharing personal insights into her life with me.  She told me that since her husband Herb had passed away several years ago, she lived alone in an apartment building called “The Montrose” near Alexis Beach Park.   “You know, even after 50 years of marriage together Herb still took my hand when we walked.  I always loved that about him.  I do miss him,"she said.

      She talked about her “beautiful” daughter who lived back east. “I received a lovely phone call from her last night.  She is just so thoughtful you know.  She wants me to move back east with her but I don’t know.   I don’t want to be a burden to her family and besides I quite like it here.”

       Each and every week I continued faithfully to announce her stop for her.  Gracie began to reward me with the gift of a few candies that she had purchased at the super market just for me. “See you next week Denny,” she chimed as she dropped them gently in my hand.  It became a wonderful routine that I always looked forward to.

     The last Wednesday before Christmas, everything happened as it always did.   I picked her up and dropped her off across from the super market.  On the return trip I picked her up, chatted with her for awhile until we arrived at her stop at Wallace Street.

     Before Gracie started down the steps she reached into her coat pocket for the candy she wanted to give him.  Not finding them there, she switched the grocery bag to her other hand and dug into the other pocket.  “Oh my goodness!" she said, "I think I may have forgotten your candy.”

     I smiled and waved a hand toward her, “That’s quite alright Gracie.  I’ll see you again next week.  You can catch up then," I quipped. 

     Gracie fumbled back and forth between pockets, searched her grocery bag, and even checked her purse.  “Goodness!  I truly forgot your candy and right before Christmas.  I can’t let my favourite driver go home without a gift for Christmas.” 

     Gracie still quite flustered reached into her grocery bag, briefly shifted items around then pulled out an object and handed it to me.  It was a small multicoloured piece of cardboard that held in place a shiny stainless steel metal ball with many holes within it.  A short thin chain hung loosely from the top of the ball.  Directly above that in bold black letters were the words “DELUXE LOOSE TEA HOLDER.”  She placed it gently in my hand and said, "It's almost Christmas and I'm not going to let my favourite driver go home without a gift from me.  I smiled happily very much appreciating the gesture she had just made to me.  This sort of thing doesn't happen often here in the impersonal city.  

     As Gracie stood on the sidewalk waving her goodbyes, I called out as I closed the door “Thank you so much Gracie, Merry Christmas."  

     A week after Christmas, I was quite disappointed when I didn't see Gracie waiting at her usual bus stop.  I I was disappointed again the following week and once more on the third Wednesday in a row.  I became concerned for her health. “Was she sick?  Maybe she had a fall.”  I just knew I had to find a way to check up on her.

     On my day off I drove to Fourth and Wallace to search that area for the Montrose Apartments, the apartment complex she had mentioned she lived in.  I found it quite easily just a block away from her bus stop.  At the entrance to the tall grey building I scanned the security panel for occupant names.  Running my finger down the list I could not find a listing for Grace Smith. 

     As I was checking for the second time, an elderly gentleman exited the building.  “Pardon me,” I said.  “Do you live here?”

     The fellow nodded. 

     “By any chance do you know an elderly lady named Grace Smith who lives here?”

     “Sorry,” he said.  “I don't, try buzzing the manager.”

      I pressed the button to call the managers suite. “Manager here” a husky voice answered.

      “I'm looking for one of your tenants, Mrs Grace Smith.  Could you please tell me her apartment number?” I asked.

      "Just a second," he said.  A short delay and a rustle of paper later he replied, “Sorry, nobody by that name lives here.”

     I was confused, “Are you sure?” I said.  “She’s an old lady with grey hair.  Always wears a red tam on her head.  Surely you must know…….” 

     The voice cut him off, “Ya, I’m sure.  Sorry buddy.”

     I walked back to my car and drove to the super market.  I asked every check out girl working that day and even spoke with the manager.  No one remembered seeing an old lady of that description shopping in their store.    

     I drove home thoroughly confused and asking myself tons of questions.  Why would she lie about where she lived?  Did she go to her daughters back east?  No doubt she would have told me if she was going.  The whole situation made no sense whatsoever.  

     Later that evening I was sat at the kitchen inspecting the unopened tea holder package she had given me for Christmas and thinking about her.  I undid the little twist ties holding the little ball to the piece of cardboard.  As I rolled the ball around in my hand something caught my eye.  When I separated the two sections of the ball a small piece of paper fell to the table in front of me.  I slowly unfolded it.   In a familiar scratchy handwriting, the very same I remembered by my mother were words I would remember with love for the rest of my life.

     “Don’t worry about me.  I’m fine," it said and nothing else.

    

 MERRY CHRISTMAS MUM AND DAD.  I LOVE YOU.

    

    

    

         

    

    

    

    

   

We are all One

I transport close to a thousand people every day on my regular bus route which contributes significantly to my habit of people watching.  I come in contact with and observe all types of people all the way from businessmen to the homeless, from housewives to hookers,  from construction workers to welfare recipients, drunks, addicts, extroverts and introverts, every shape a person could ever imagine, representing every race from around the globe.  It is very interesting practice to say the least.
 
This got me to thinking today. I must be related to all these people.  A person have to go back a ways to find the connection but yes, I am truly related to all of these people, every one of them. Here's my argument to justify this statement.

If we put any stock at all into Darwin and his theories of evolution we have to believe that somewhere in a dark cave hidden away from the dangers of T Rex and other predators our Mom and Dad (Ugh and Samantha...I just made that up) got together and begat baby boy Mumph and some time later begat baby girl Julie who got eventually got together and begat another, and so and so on.
If one believes at all in Christianity we all began life thanks to Adam and Eve who started the begetting process until here we all are today, the well begotten.

This theory is pretty good too.  Mental note to self, Adam and Eve are both English speaking names.  Come to think of it so are the prolific writers of the good book, Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John.  All good English names. Aha!  There can be only one explanation.  These people were not born in the middle east, No! They were all English speaking people born in an English speaking country, either England, Australia, United States, or Canada. Aha!  that's why we believe in the first world that God is always on our side.

I would further offer the theory that these people were all Canadians.  Why you ask.  Well, remember the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve and the temptation of the apple tree?  The Okanagan Valley fits the description of the Garden of Eden perfectly.  This valley is full of apple trees and has plenty of potentially evil snakes too.

I feel so much better that I have almost tied all the pieces together.  WE ARE ALL ONE!  Aaahh!

6 days to Xmas

Worked today...after all it's Monday.  Lots of holiday traffic on Broadway which means a lot of parallel parking for people who aren't at all used to it.  Lost time everywhere.
Today was not a big thinking day.  My interests were more of feeding my crows at the university.  they love my shelled peanuts.  The whole feeding thing started sometime last fall with just two crows who showed up every day I worked to beg for a peanut or two.   One of them is a large male with a misshapen left foot.  Probably landed on a hot wire.  The other I believe is his wife, much smaller but prettier. (as females tend to be.) lol.  A few weeks after that a couple of more crows showed up. (must have talked it over with the originals)  Then a few weeks later, even  more.  Today I feed about ten of them regularly.  It's actually a lot of fun to watch them interact and fight with each other on occasion.  It's a nice few minute break and takes my mind to other places from driving.  Relaxing.