The second batch from this 30-part nostalgia odyssey, told in old family snapshots.

Foto Flashback #11: The Young Man & The Sea

Dad was a pretty handy fisherman and when I was a kid he’d take us out on the Bow River or to alpine lakes in the nearby Rocky Mountains. Just casting from shore for trout mainly. Not a bad way to spend a day.

When I was about 14 he took me on an unexpected trip with a business associate who also had a son my age. The four of us on a father/son double date for two days of deepwater fishing in Vancouver.

It was a long drive from Calgary, up and over the Rockies then down to the coast. The dads chit-chatted about business blah blah up front and I shared the backseat with the other kid. He was nice enough, and we both had lots of X-Men and New Mutants comics to keep us occupied.

Once in Vancouver, we hired a boat with a captain who would take us out each day on the Strait of Georgia to catch Pacific Salmon.

The first morning, we set out from a fog-cloaked harbour and the further we sailed the more excited I got. On the boat there was all this crazy gear to get familiar with and rules to abide by. I was scared of the ocean but in my mind there was a whole ‘man against nature’ story that made it feel like an epic adventure. I didn’t know a thing about Hemingway but I’m pretty sure I felt like Hemingway.

After the lines were set it wasn’t long before I got my first bite, and man oh man that salmon fought like crazy! This fish was strong enough that it felt like a real test of my teenage manhood. After much grunting and sweating I managed to wrestle it onto the boat, with a nice pat on the back from Dad. We ended up filling the fish cooler both times out.

On our last day the seas were choppier, and the boat bobbed like a toy. I didn’t get seasick, but when I stepped back on dry land my brain continued bobbing back and forth and didn’t stop for hours. So that night at our victory feast in Chinatown I fought through dizziness and nausea and still devoured way too much Crispy Ginger Beef. Just like Hemingway would have.

Foto Flashback #12: Captain Dork

Summer of ‘84 and we’re driving from Calgary to Sault Ste Marie.

It’s about 2,800km and dad got us there in 2 days. He was an animal, just chewing up the road like a machine fuelled by sunflower seeds and staticky radio.

In the first shot we’re with friends who lived somewhere along our route. Their boys look like little devils.

I was self-consciously scrawny, so I’m surprised I’m shirtless. But Ontario gets muggy in the summer so this day must’ve been unbearable. I wore that captain’s hat the whole trip. I thought it looked sharp and enjoyed the salutes of my subordinates.

My brother is in the Red Sox hat, also showing off his physique. Striking a pose on the right is my sister, Cathie, with the brand new short haircut and stylish fedora. She was cool…and more on her later.

I ate gnocchi for the first time at my dad’s old favourite Italian restaurant in the Soo (Minnelli’s?). I learned then – gnocchi may not look like much but has the density of a dying star, and a small plate of it can put you in a coma.

This trip was the first time I met mom’s side of the family, and they were real characters. Mom would show me off, and the Primeau clan was super welcoming and lively.

I remember one sweltering day at some cousin’s house, with a big group of kids. We played and joked around and swam in their above ground pool.

I developed a lightning fast crush on a sunkissed girl with long, shiny hair. She was like 3 years older but nice to me, and I made her laugh. As the day became a perfect Ontario summer evening she broke away with the older kids to do cool older kid stuff, leaving me behind. It was a reminder that, despite being a captain, I was still a small kid and not in her league.

Also met my mom’s stepmother, Joyce. She was a boozer, and I’ve heard the stories now but back then I was unprepared for someone like her. She had fumes coming off her and I could tell mom was nervous. Joyce made a joke about hitting on me if I was older, but it didn’t land. It was a weird, sad visit. Joyce was bad to mom way back when, and now I wonder who had been bad to her.

Foto Flashback #13: Ontari-ari-ari-ohhhhmygodwhatdoesitallmean?!?!

Same trip, but on the way back west. Middle of the night and we’re driving through the vast wilds of northern Ontario. Other than dad the driver, I’m the only one awake.

Thick forest borders the highway, and the silhouetted trees whiz past under an endless field of stars. It’s nature and the cosmos in an awe-inspiring display. The universe is amazing.

But as I stare into outer space the awe fades when it dawns on me that beyond the edge of the universe…there had to be more universe, like, without end. No end whatsoever. It just keeps going. A shudder runs through me as I chew on that unfathomable idea. Then it hits me that time never began and never ends. But what was before the beginning? And before that? And where does the ride end? It doesn’t?!? Captain Jason begins to feel untethered, like he’s been dropped into the middle of the ocean at night. So, like, would it be better to be recycled for eternity, living life after life after life after life…or when I die my entire consciousness is snuffed out, never to return? These thoughts were so disorienting. I was genuinely freaked out and frightened. Even typing this now is giving me a shiver. I don’t like thinking about it.

Now, get out there and enjoy the rest your day!

Foto Flashback #14: Merry and Lucky

Xmas 1990 and I am rocking that MC Serch look hard. I mean with the hair and glasses, not so much with the cheap robe and long underwear.

Mom has redone the front room in a zany confectionary decor that screams “I wanted a fresh new look but this got out of hand!”

What’s that gift in my hand? I’d guess a 3rd Bass cassette, and I’m sure it’s exactly what I wanted.

Note: The phone+phone line from a couple years back was the highwater mark. Things toned down after that, and why not? With that private hotline I was the proverbial “man who has everything”.

In any case, I really like Christmas. I know some people don’t, and I get that. But I’ve been lucky. Growing up, we’d head to Yorkton, Saskatchewan, and stay with my grandparents for a couple days of cabbage rolls and turkey, dice and Cribbage, so much laughter, and of course the excitement of tearing open a new box of LEGO!!! It would be super cold outside but the house was cozy and alive. It smelled of delicious food, pine needles, and cigarettes. There’d be lights and tinsel all over. It was heartwarming, and I loved it.

In my 20s I moved to Toronto and started new traditions. I spent a few years in a row with a great friend for Christmas Day chinese food and a movie, or vice versa, followed by cheeky drinks in the one bar we could find that was open. See? Great food, fun times, more laughs, and still heartwarming!

In later years I found myself adopted by the family of another great friend, who took me in and treated me like one of their own for a decade of memorable Christmases. More great food, more fun family times, and too many laughs to count. And guess what? Still heartwarming!!!

Now I type this surrounded by my wife’s wonderful family here in Vienna, enjoying, you guessed it, great food, fun family times, and much laughter. My cold, Canadian heart? Warmed!

So, with my own family, the friends who feel like family, or an entirely different family, I’ve fallen ass backwards into heartwarming Christmas cheer year after year. And that (sorry but yes I’m going to say it), is the best gift of all.

Merry Christmas, people!

Foto Flashback #15: Reality Is An Emergency

Meet Jeff Watson! We became friends in 4th grade. This photo was likely taken at one of my birthday parties, and he was a must-have for any social event. Jeff was hilarious, with a natural talent for smart absurdity, which was our most highly valued talent back then.

A couple decades after we first met, I was lucky enough to reconnect with him when we lived in the same neighbourhood in Toronto. We would get together to watch Flames games or have a few drinks or a chat. Usually all three.

By that point, Jeff was highly educated but remained down-to-earth. He was thoughtful, full of life and curiosity, and still so so funny. Just a fascinating guy to hang out with. He was a poly-hyphenate who used art, storytelling, and game design (and more) as a professor and mentor to many. He was a bright light.

Jeff died far too young, of cancer. We were born just 6 weeks apart and his passing really got to me for a bunch of reasons. After I heard the news I went and read an address he gave in December 2015, titled Reality Is An Emergency. It’s just one part of a wonderful legacy he leaves behind, and as we approach the end of another year, well worth a read.

Here’s a passage for you:

“There really is confusion and evil in this world, and sometimes you need to fight. But always try to give in life as you give in art, and (even maybe especially) in the most trying moments you face in your dealings with other beings. In such moments, I’ve always found it best to take the high road (and I’ve learned from taking the other path), and to look upon meanness and selfishness and other forms of confusion with compassion. Even the biggest asshole you’ve ever met ends up gasping a last breath and dying someday: feel that, and the route to the high road becomes obvious.”

Foto Flashback #16: Basketball Pt. 1 – Don’t Call Me Silk

In high school I made the basketball team, which wasn’t that hard since Queen E. was super small and didn’t have any real big kids. So at 6’1” (and tons of fun), 175 lbs I played power forward. Not exactly physically imposing, but I could hold my own. I had sharp elbows and a nose for rebounds, a decent post game, and would swat your weak layups into the bleachers.

Our team was pretty decent and full of good dudes:

Jason & Ryan Chase: Jason, the older brother, our best player. Ryan, almost as good, great laugh. Our dads worked together and we’d been tight for years. Multi-sport stars and academic whiz kids but somehow still likable.

Jason Corall: Super steady, could play several positions. Also a great soccer player. The coolest member of the Jason trio.

Jeff Walburger: Deadly scorer, great handles. Did not play in glasses, but that would’ve been cool.

Paul Sunstrum: A Viking on the court. You hated playing against him.

Dave Nguyen: Tenacious but still slick. Made the game look easy.

Stirling Karlsen: Ultimate teammate, bench glue guy. Our best dancer.

Kurikas Triantafyllakis: Fun guy, fun name. Smart player, he always produced.

Steph Kriaski: Indispensable sports med guru. Wrapped my sprained ankles many times.

Coach Tom Parker: Made good dad jokes. Firm but fair. Loved him.

In 11th grade a 6’5” kid moved to our school from the Yukon. He had good hands, soft touch, and could dunk! Kent Courtice became the man in the middle, and with our final piece in place we rolled to the city championship*. Yes, we were big time.

*Division II, but it still counts! And yes, I realize that I’ve just literally put an asterisk on it.

But look at the team photo. You wanna tangle with that murderer’s row of turn-of-the-decade Calgarian hoops talent? No, you do not.

After that game, somebody told Coach that I was a “smooth” player. Because of that, he started calling me Silk. I know it was a compliment and he meant well, but it was an awful nickname. Forget I mentioned it.

Foto Flashback #17: Basketball Pt. 2 – The Imposter

To commemorate our championship we splurged on super obnoxious jackets. They were not subtle. But I loved that stupid jacket.

And in 12th grade, I wanted to get better. I would get up early on weekdays to hitch a ride with dad, who always left the house early. My school was 15 minutes out of his way, but dad supported my newfound work ethic and would drive me there so I could train before classes started. Alone in the gym, so many shots and drills, over and over.

And it worked! I had a great season and was selected to play in the city All-Star game, along with my best friend, Jason Chase. Couldn’t ask for a better result.

But, as the day of the game approached I became seized by anxiety, convinced I was nowhere near good enough to play in such a game, and would be exposed and ridiculed for my lack of talent. I couldn’t face a public humiliation like that! So, I faked sick to get out of playing.

I don’t think Coach bought my act and he insisted I still attend the game. So I went, and sat on the bench in street clothes, watching my buddy Jason playing well and having a good time. I quickly realized that I would’ve fit right in and had fun. That’s when I felt sick for real. My stomach started churning, my head got hot, and I was covered in a thin layer of sweat. This was much worse than if I had played badly. As the game wore on I felt like a loser, knowing I had missed a chance to enjoy something I worked for because I was scared.

Wish I could say I learned my lesson that day and never chickened out of anything ever again. Still, the times since then when I have faced anxiety head-on and done the thing I wanted to do, it has almost always worked out well. Inspirational? Not really, but I guess that’s life.

Foto Flashback #18: Basketball Pt. 3 – Loveable Losers

During Christmas break of ‘90/91 the team travelled to California. Coach Parker knew somebody down there and got us into a holiday tournament in Orange County. The opposition was simply on another level, so we got smoked every game and it wasn’t pretty.

But we had a riot hanging out and seeing sights and, because we were a very hip crew, spent New Year’s Eve at Disneyland.

Finally, we played an exhibition game in the orange-growing town of Ojai. The gym was packed, the people were friendly, and it felt like a real event. Before tip-off each of us was presented with a gift bag that contained a few mementos, and many Ojai oranges. We played our best game of the trip and only lost by 20!

That was our last night in California, and I realized I hadn’t taken any photos all trip so I snapped a bunch of shots around the hotel and on our late night 7-11 snack run. I’d like to thank everyone for agreeing to pose for me and apologize to no one for presenting these photos here.

Foto Flashback #19: Hey Kids, Take A Look At This!

The specifics of this photo don’t really matter, it’s the scenario. It would occur on almost every family road trip, sometimes several times a day. The obligatory stop at an inconsequential and supremely uninteresting roadside attraction. It would play out thusly:

Kids (confused/annoyed, lifting earphones off ears): Why did we stop here?

Mom/Dad: C’mon. Let’s have a look. Good time to stretch your legs.

Kid: (exasperated grumble)

We approach the attraction, read the small info plaque, parents getting more into it, kids totally bemused.

Mom/Dad: Did you know that this is the smallest all-wood-construction Lutheran chapel in all of southern Manitoba? How about that! Pretty good, eh kids? C’mon, sign their guestbook, I’ll get a picture!”

Sorry, I sound like an ingrate. Our folks drove us all over the place while we annoyed the hell out of them, and they kept doing it year after year, so god bless them. But I’ve seen so many pioneer huts, kitsch tee-pees, anchors on plinths, small cannons, musty single room “museums”, open-fields-where-there-used-to-be-something, and giant fiberglass dinosaurs/apples/eggs/geese/whatevers in my time that it all becomes a blur. Yes, a blur. Yes, a warm and hilarious blur of amazing family road trip memories.

Ok, I take it all back, I’m a very fortunate kid.

Foto Flashback #20: He Snooze, I Lose.

Dad was an expert at grabbing some shut-eye on a couch or easy chair, even as home life swirled around him. My Uncle Gary, a farmer and likewise an advanced practitioner in the narcolpetic arts, is seen here in the La-Z-Boy.

And hey, dad was up before the sun and worked long hours, so if he wanted to plop down on his couch in his living room in his house, turn the TV on, select something with zero entertainment value (news, curling, farm report) start reading the newspaper, and then fall into a peaceful, snoring sleep just moments later, who could blame him? But here’s the thing – when you then snuck over to the TV and changed the channel to something with greater entertainment value (A-Team, Knight Rider, Airwolf, even Manimal for god’s sake) his eyes would pop open and he would gruffly call out the name of whatever it was he had been watching (i.e. “Hockey!”)* which meant you had to change the channel back to his preferred programming…at least until he fell back asleep in less than 2 minutes.

*I have a couple friends who, to this day, enjoy yelling this at me as a joke. Say what you will about dad, but the man left us a fine legacy of comedy, not all of it intentional.