1826 Days

On December 20th, 2006, so five years ago today, Susan and I arrived on Vancouver Island to start a new life. The previous eight months in Brighton had been, to say the least, pretty stressful. We had both been laid off - Susan on her first day back at work after a visit here in May, me in August. Then on October 29th, we lost our home to a massive fire in our building, started by our upstairs neighbour's son (who didn't even live there), falling asleep drunk with a cigarette. There's a lesson therein. By some miracle, due to the configuration of the Edwardian edifice and the fact that we lived in the basement suite, we didn't lose any belongings. But we did lose our home in an instant, because while fire goes up, water to extinguish it goes down, therefore putting our ceilings at risk of collapse. They looked heavily pregnant in the days following the fire, that's for sure.

The fire was in many ways an incredible experience. We were watching The Royle Family on TV one minute, then we were outside in the street watching the building go up, engulfed by 50' flames, the next. Firemen and assorted emergency attendees scurried about, doing what they needed to do, as we simply stood there, motionless, helplessly observing the surreal scene.

When over here that May we'd made the decision to put the wheels in motion towards moving to Vancouver Island as soon as it was feasible to do so. By the time the fire occurred it really did seem that the universe was intervening to expedite that process. So, after being nursed through the situation with the extraordinary support and love of many friends, we landed in Vancouver just six weeks after the fire, ready to start anew in our forties. It was a scary proposition, but seemed like our only option, and we came here with the express permission and sympathy of the Canadian High Commission.

Upon arrival we had just over $1,000 to our name (though no debt), a couple of suitcases we lived out of for two months, and our dear old cat, Eddie - who by the time he was released at Susan's parents' home for a much needed meal and piss, had spent 19 hours in his carrier. We'd packed our belongings up in Brighton and spent most of our UK savings to send them across the world by ship. As we could not stretch to paying for our stuff to be insured, we thought, considering our recent run of luck, that for one reason or another we'd never see them again. But we did, as everything arrived intact, smelling of smoke, in February 2007. Phew.

We had no idea when dropping into Nanaimo what might await us. We had somewhere to live temporarily, in Susan's parents' basement - bless them for eternity - but Susan had absolutely no clue what she was going to do for a living; I had even less, especially as I had to attain Permanent Resident status - a process that would take several months - before being allowed to work. As someone who likes to keep busy, have projects on the go and targets to aim for, it was frustrating. Susan found a job that quickly proved to be a nightmare, and my heart broke in two when one night she returned home and just sat in the car in the driveway, crying.

Fast forward to today, we have come a hell of a long way, and life is truly wonderful. Since May 2007, when my legal status was assured, I have been writing for a living, published at least once a month, every month, and also working at Nanaimo's nationally famous independent music (and much more) store, Fascinating Rhythm.

Susan took a complete career shift and is now four years into working as a Service Advisor at an automotive repair garage. She loves it, and has a very good, extremely kind boss. We don't earn a great deal between us, but manage to keep our heads above water, staying out of debt and maintaining a good standard of living.

In August 2007 we bought and moved into our own lovely condo, so getting straight onto the property ladder here, with the help of a loan from Susan's parents that we' ve already paid back. We've created a lovely nest and enjoy sharing it when socializing with... 

... a diverse group of very cool friends who have welcomed us into life here with open arms and much kindness. Some of them have transplanted here themselves from various corners of the world since we arrived, so it has been a pleasure for us to extend the same kind of welcome as was afforded us. We feel blessed to have encountered those folks we have so far, and lovely new people are entering our lives all the time.

As the result of my work and also because we love to do it regardless, we've done a lot of local travelling around Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands, as well as frequently visiting Vancouver and Seattle, experiencing magnificent scenery, and wildlife, like the scene captured in the image above. That's the Comox Valley, about an hour from our front door. As this may hint, we truly do live in one of the most beautiful places in the world, so despite our difficult passage here, we really feel like we've landed on our feet.

It hasn't all been paradisiacal, as just like anyone we have had to endure the stuff of life that wipes away smiles for a time. I've had my share of health problems, as has our veteran cat - he's certainly in his twilight months now - and we had the tremendous stress of a flood in our condo a couple of years back. All in all, though, we have a quiet and simple, but fun and adventurous life here, and if anything untoward comes our way, we will battle through it as we always have, and always will.

So, wow, five years! Yay us! Tonight we celebrate with pizza and champagne and tomorrow, likely with a hangover, we will start our sixth year on Vancouver Island, and look only forward. 
      

Ticking all the Boxes

"A man without a vote is a man without protection."

~ Lyndon B. Johnson


This Saturday, November 19, 2011, is a big day for me. Having finally attained full Canadian citizenship on September 29, it marks my first opportunity to vote in any kind of election. This election is Civic, therefore to elect councillors and a new mayor, and I'm finding it all very exciting.

As the world is seeing with such as the we're-as-mad-as-hell-and-not-going-to-take-it-anymore Occupy movement; the continuing 'Arab Spring;' social unrest and political turmoil most anywhere you'd care to mention, people are calling for change. Loudly. They want it NOW, and in many places are taking the initiative to force that change by any means necessary. While I am not remotely an educated political commentator, capable only of articulating this massive global social revolution in the simplest language here, there can be no doubt even to the most casual of observers that these are historic times we are living through. This year in particular has been extraordinarily tumultuous, head-spinning in fact, as almost weekly another tyrant falls, another nation teeters on the brink of bankruptcy, or riots rip the heart out of another community. (And no, the Stanley Cup riot in Vancouver is not what I'm talking about. That was just sheer thuggery for the sake it.)

Just like anywhere in these times, Nanaimo is in need of change. There are many problems in this small city that are far from unique, and obviously some problems that are. But they all need dealing with, some with greater urgency than others, like a precarious unemployment rate that peaked at twice the provincial average earlier this year. That's very scary in an aging community of this size. And from what I'm gathering by talking with friends and associates and reading local press, it seems the general mood is that an entirely new council and leadership is what is needed in this city. I'm not sure I entirely agree, feeling that perhaps a couple of the incumbent councillors seeking re-election still have much to offer this city. But I do agree that there is a real need for fresh ideas, and so have spent time in identifying who I feel could bring them.

Living in the smallest community I 've ever been part of, it's been much easier to get really close to local politics, and the big issues affecting taxpayers, than I've ever known before. It's a compact community, feeling much smaller than the 86,000+ it actually is, so anything of concern to Nanaimo's citizens is generally easily noticed without trying. The scandals, the mismanagement, the waste of tax dollars... it's all very much in our faces here. The fact that Susan and I have become extremely fond of Nanaimo in the five years we've lived here has naturally led to our caring deeply for how things should or should not be done at the highest Civic level. This election, then, especially as it's my first, has seen us researching every candidate carefully, looking at what they can bring the city, regardless of political experience or local reputation. And now, because our political inclinations are pretty much aligned, we have agreed on a list of candidates we favour, and are ready to vote. In terms of everything going on around the world, even though this is just one small community in Western Canada it, nevertheless feels like a crucial election. For this and other reasons, I cannot recall ever having felt so politically-driven, so roll on Saturday!

Every day I read the local information and entertainment blog, nanaimo-info-blog.com, which has proved an invaluable source of information and opinions leading up to this election. This morning, outspoken blogger Jim Taylor, whose opinions I generally, but not always, agree with, under the headline Time For A Complete Change At City Hall? wrote:
"A sound argument could be made for needing the voice of experience on council for the next three years. However, that only makes sense if past performance warrants putting the same people back in for another three years. I think a valid argument could be made supporting the notion that this council has not earned the support of Nanaimo for another term."

So, what will happen? Whether up for councillors, school trustees or the mayor, I know who I'm voting for, but will Nanaimo, as Taylor asks, elect to "sweep away the cobwebs at City Hall?" In just a few days we will know, but whatever the results I'm glad I'll have finally had my say. 
         

11:11:11, 11/11/11

Where were you and what were you doing at eleven minutes and eleven seconds past eleven on the eleventh of November, twenty-eleven?

At that time in the morning Susan and I were with our dear friend Ariane, enjoying a delicious breakfast at the Cafe Zen in the Vancouver neighbourhood of Kitsilano. If anyone's remotely interested - which is unlikely, but I'm going to mention it anyway - I had a B.C. Benedict and coffee. Excellent, it was.

When exiting this fine eatery with bellies full, I glanced at my timepiece to see it was 11:14.  When announcing the time to Susan and Ariane, something immediately dawned on us, and we all looked at each other aghast. We were instantly ashamed that, despite our best intentions to do so - we'd even discussed it the previous evening - we had forgotten at 11:00 to observe two minutes of silence in honour of the fallen of the two World Wars, and all other wars for that matter. Then again, seemingly not a single other person in the cafe had remembered either. We were to a man and woman all too busy stuffing our faces to even just for a moment stop to appreciate why we are able to do so freely. But it's not like there was any deliberate collective snub; I am certain that had an announcement been made at 11:00 by either the cafe staff or a concerned diner that it was the traditional moment for remembrance, that everyone present would have happily and respectfully complied. It's not like anyone would refuse, surely? It just didn't happen, because nobody thought about it. But the fact that it didn't, and that there was no announcement forthcoming, or probably any thoughts of one, is in itself food for thought, don't you think? What a self-obsessed and insular society we have sadly become.

Speaking of insular...

At 11:11:11 in the PM, however, Susan and I were back home in Nanaimo, watching Vincent Moon's typically intimate portrait of the world of the brilliant Danish band, Efterklang, on the DVD I had ordered months prior. (If you don't know the names Efterklang or Vincent Moon, I implore you to investigate.) The image above was taken at the exact moment in question, but you'll just have to believe me that it is indeed the movie, An Island, on the television! Fascinating, inspiring, and full of some of the most beautiful music of this young 21st century, An Island is a euphoric experience that served to powerfully amplify the single-digit uniqueness of the moment in time that occurred as we watched it. 

But to backtrack, it's weird, you know, that wherever I may be and whatever I might be doing, such an important thing as the Armistice Day two minutes silence should ever slip my mind, because November 11 is a massive date in my life. On 11/11 in 1966 I nearly lost my life when being mown down by a speeding car outside my house in Solihull Lodge, England. I broke my pelvis, left arm and three ribs. My liver split into three parts, and I have a 36-stitch abdominal scar as proof of how it was pieced back together. I suffered head injuries, had a complete blood transfusion, and was in hospital for six weeks. All in all, November 11 is not a date I should ever have forgotten the significance of, but despite the best intentions it can, and evidently does, happen to us all. 

I am Canadian!

On September 29 I attended a ceremony at Beban Park Social Centre in Nanaimo to be sworn in, alongside 61 others (from 23 nations), as a Canadian citizen. I'd have blogged about it before now but have been drunk out of my mind in celebration pretty much since that day. Well, that's not quite true, but I have without a doubt been flying high.

It feels good to have committed to this. I love living in Canada and foresee that I will remain here the rest of my days, so it felt like the the thing to do. Most important of all, I wanted the right to vote, which understandably is only granted to citizens. With Permanent Resident status I could have remained in Canada for the rest of my life, but could not vote or apply for a passport. It's been frustrating seeing Federal, Provincial, Municipal and mayoral elections come and go (as well as a tax referendum), but not have a voice. Now I have one, I will use it, starting with a Municipal election in November.

Canada is not the land of milk and honey - where is? - but it is a great country to live in. As I can personally attest, it's a place of opportunity, and a country where ideas are listened to and encouraged. There's a high level of civility here; the people are warm and friendly and, certainly where we live, there is a tangible sense of community. I like this a lot. There is also an obvious emphasis on family values, so a greater respect for their elders from youngsters.  By and large, teenagers here are very cool kids free of any bad attitude. I also like this a lot. 

You don't need me to tell you that from a natural perspective, Canada is simply spectacular. I live next to a mountain and see towering, snow-capped peaks every day. Here on Vancouver Island we have magnificent forests, beautiful lakes, stunning valleys and peaks and head-spinning wildlife. I see Anna's Hummingbirds every single day of my life, bald eagles as a matter of routine. None of this will ever be lost on me. Yes, we love it here.

The ceremony day itself was very emotional. From submitting the application to taking the oath took twenty months, so there was a big build-up. But once it was over, I felt elated. Susan was beaming with pride and her parents and aunty, also in attendance, were thrilled for me. I was clad in my best bib and tucker - a rare occurrence for a scruffbag like me - and felt as proud as punch to 'become' Canadian. I was given the option of taking a holy book to swear upon, but not being a man of faith, declined. I did seriously consider Nick Cave's The Death of Bunny Munro for a time, but wasn't sure that would go down too well. Especially as the author is Australian. 

After the ceremony we zoomed off to the Discovery Room, the restaurant for Vancouver Island University's Culinary Program. Here, budding chefs test their skills on willing members of the public, who pay next to nothing considering the high quality of cuisine. This lunch was a treat from Susan's Aunty May, and quite awesome. We sat looking out at the astonishing view of the Coast Range mountains running along the horizon, with Mt. Baker in Washington - over 100 miles from where we were sat - as clear as day and twice as impressive. None of us could do anything but smile, high on the air of celebration and family unity. It's the happiest I've felt in forever, the day feeling like a launchpad to the next phase of our life here.

During the meal, Susan suddenly said: "If I may have a moment, I have a presentation to make," then handed me a gift-wrapped package she seemingly produced from out of nowhere. I opened it up, and welled up at its contents as she beamed back at me.

"I've had this for over two years," Susan said, "and been dying to give it to you! I'm so happy this day has finally come!" There I am above, wearing my fabulous gift! My friends here are also delighted at my newfound Canadian-ness, and have festooned me with gifts and cards. The fabulous Photoshopped image at the top came to me in card form from our friends Jon and Jenny, along with a t-shirt bearing a maple leaf and the legend The Eh Team. Dave and Carla gave me a flashing Canadian flag pin and another specially made shirt with Recently Canadian: Established 2011 on the chest. Steve and Lynn gave me a handmade card that reads: You Can't Spell Canada Loves You Without Dave.

I've been deeply moved by all of this kindness and love and feel like the luckiest man alive to have been granted this new beginning, aged 50. I'm not going to waste it, either.    

It's (Not) the End of the World As We Know It

Although as I type no truly earth-shattering news has broken from anywhere around the world, it is still likely that September 21st, 2011, will be remembered for more than the announcement from R.E.M. that the band is splitting up. Yet this news strikes a loud chord with me as I've been onboard, though as you shall read not always comfortably, with the Athens, GA. outfit for over half my life.

For a long period I was utterly obsessed with R.E.M., possessed of a love and fanaticism so deep that amongst my friends, and further afield, my name became, to a degree, synonymous with the band's. Even today when describing the level of unreasonable fandom I reached, I recall the sad time I ordered an expensive and awful CD from Italy by a band called Flor de Mal, simply because R.E.M. bassist Mike Mills performed handclaps on two tracks. Seriously. It could have been Silvio Berlusconi, MC Hammer, or even you, dear reader, clapping away on this terrible band's excuses for songs, and I'd have never known. That CD remains probably the worst thing I've ever heard, but it had to remain in the collection because of my insane completist attitude when it came to R.E.M. I had to have everything - every note, every collaboration and guest appearance, also amassing over 400 bootlegs of mainly live stuff down the years.

So, as you'll understand, I have previously entertained how I would greet this news when it eventually happened. There was a time in my life, at the height of my fanboy madness, when upon receiving the announcement I'd have probably cried my eyes out, fainted, contemplated ending it all; run amok with a machete; turned to crisis counselling; got hopelessly drunk and called my friends in hysterical despair, or hammered on their doors in the middle of the night, caked in mud and snot, adamant that there was no hope left in this world anymore.

Dropping into the BBC website earlier, as I do a few times a day when working at home, I discovered the news as it was breaking. I read the headline, Rock legends REM announce split, and my instant reaction was, believe it or not, calm relief. There was not, and still is not, any feeling of upset. I'm just kind of glad it's all over because, let's be honest, R.E.M. have been in terminal creative decline since drummer Bill Berry left the band 14 years ago, and should have disbanded long before now.

They hit an absolute peak of genius with the masterpiece, Automatic for the People, and from that point, with the exception of four or five songs on each successive album, I believe they've been struggling. New Adventures in Hi-Fi was quite good, but way too long; Monster was just messy with a glammy cockiness that didn't suit them; Reveal and Around the Sun were, in a nutshell, utter garbage. I have played the latter precisely twice - the second airing just to see if my ears had deceived me the first time around, to see if it really was as bad an album as I initially thought. It was, and has remained unplayed since. Reveal suffered pretty much the same fate in this household, with maybe four spins max, as I desperately tried to find something within to restore some faith.

Up, however, as the first post-Berry era release, is a bona fide stunner. I seem to be the only one that thinks so, but it remains a personal favourite boasting, in my opinion, several of their very best songs. I thought there was cause for optimism for the future of R.E.M. when I heard it, but that proved largely unfounded. To my bewilderment, Accelerate was widely lauded as a mighty comeback, but to these seasoned ears it sounded like a bunch of middle-aged guys trying way too hard to remain relevant and cool, and failing. Collapse Into Now, on the other hand, contains flashes of the great R.E.M. of old, but for me it's too little too late, as all signs of true inspiration deserted R.E.M. many years back. That they swore they would never release a live album, yet released two in the last four years, provided me, at least, with all the evidence I needed that the writing was on the wall.

For a fan as passionate as I once was, it was a sad situation to realize I was becoming worried about the quality of each forthcoming new album - losing my religion, as it were - rather than greeting the news with the gushing excitement and anticipation I used to. It is this emotion, I guess, that lies at the core of my relief at the news the band is splitting up. Their legacy remains by and large awesome and hugely influential, so I'm glad that in calling it a day they can keep it that way without delivering yet more stuff that would surely be pale imitations of the incredible material they were once capable of.

All this latter career anguish voiced, this band will remain a massive part of my life forever. Their music and politics have shaped my thinking in more ways than I can mention. I have so many fantastic memories from the 11 times I had the joy of seeing them play live. Really, I have stories you would not believe, so be sure to ask me one day. I still have, yes, all the CDs, all the bootlegs and self-made compilations of rarities and whatnot (though, you'll be delighted to hear, ditched the Flor de Mal abomination years ago). I don't collect R.E.M. stuff with any real appetite anymore, but would pick up a reasonably priced gap in my collection if I saw one. And I've delibrerately extricated myself from a position of obsession with this or any other band. It's just not good for the old noggin (or wallet). As important as music is, it's just music. There are many more important things in life than music and material goods, and after so many years of obsessing over R.E.M., their product, and too many other things, it feels very good to be able to keep it all under firm control these days. I'm a much happier person for it.

As expected, I've had a few emails from friends today about this news. My witty friend Jon in Victoria, also a huge fan, whose email subject header was the quite brilliant, REM Collapse Into Now, Literally, summed it up nicely in saying, "At least they left us some of the finest music in the history of that there pop." Indeed they did, and let's not forget that the IRS deluxe anniversary reissues series will be concluded, so those releases are something to look forward to. Who knows, there may even be a final album or albums of unreleased material, and presumably some solo ventures ahoy, so in reality R.E.M. and the sum of its parts is probably going nowhere for a while yet! Despite my relief that this chapter of the band's and my life is now over, then, I could only ever be happy about the fact they will remain visible.

All that remains is for me to wish Michael, Peter and Mike every success and happiness, thank them from the bottom of my heart for so many wonderful memories and so much great art, and say in all sincerity that I look forward to their next individual moves - with excitement and anticipation, even. They may come back refreshed and inspired to offer up incredible work once more, but if it's not I'll be the first to say so!

Well, Fancy That! # 2

We had friends over for dinner last night and, thankfully after dining, conversation turned to the gargantuan crocodile caught in the Philippines. This led onto chatter about the oddities of nature in general, especially the comical Blobfish, a creature so ludicrous you couldn't make it up.  Then this morning the Sympatico website was carrying a clip of film of a creature I had never previously encountered, something so crazy I can barely believe my eyes: the Devil's Flower Mantis. So, take a look at this piece of film and then try to tell me that he isn't the most astonishing insectidude you've ever seen! Look at those legs! What the HELL?!

Changing the World, One CD at a Time

Last Thursday I had an hilarious exchange with a customer, so simply have to share it with you. The gentleman in question seemed to have stepped straight out of the classic Louis Theroux's Weird Weekends "Survivalists" episode; if you've not had the good fortune of seeing this documentary (to do so, follow the link), it concerns right wing US "patriots" and weapons enthusiasts holed up in a mountain outpost, preparing for the end of the world. It's a blast, believe me.

Anyway, our hero was a Canadian variant with that air of Deliverance madman about him. He was around 35, sporting the obligatory redneck mullet, camouflage combat pants, camouflage ball cap and ubiquitous Harley Davidson t-shirt. He'd been in the store a while, mooching around the Heavy Metal CD section, when he finally walked up to the counter, clutching a copy of Iron Maiden's Powerslave.

My colleague Luke and I were discussing the unlikeliness of the proposed collaborative project between The Flaming Lips and Death Cab for Cutie, a concept Luke was struggling with. "But it's not as horrifying as the forthcoming Metallica and Lou Reed album!" said I (aghast at the notion, as I will be until my dying day, however the album turns out).

"Lou Reed...that's the guy in Foreigner, eh?" said the customer.

"Er, no...that's Lou Gramm. Lou Reed was in the Velvet Underground," I responded, at once smugly amused at this guy's total lack of musical knowledge, and genuinely astonished that, regardless of his musical taste, he had somehow managed to avoid knowing who Lou Reed is for his entire life. How does that happen?

"I don't keep up with the modern bands," he fired back, poe-faced, as I took his cash for the Iron Maiden CD.

"They were around over forty years ago, " I explained, "and you must have heard Walk on the Wild Side by Lou Reed - it's a classic!" I then started with the "doo-de-doo-de-doo-doo-de-doo-doo-de-doo-doo-doo-de-doo" hook of said song, only to have my doo-de-doo-ing stopped in its tracks by an aggressive, "That's cheesy shit!" from our survivalist chum.

"Oh man, it's an awesome song!" I said, in a totally friendly manner, without a hint of condescension, and certainly not expecting what was to follow. Transaction complete, a bag for the CD refused, our conspiracy theorist friend thrust his Powerslave CD right under my nose and roared: "Death to the conventional! This is what it's all about!" He then turned away and marched out of the shop, my parting "OK, you know best, bud!" presumably lost in the cacophony of Maiden riffage that soundtracks his inner world.

So, yeah, Iron Maiden, that most unconventional of bands. Iron Maiden, multi-millionaires to a man, who travel around the world in their own chartered Boeing 757. All hail the underground metal gods for keeping it real. Iron Maiden, whose lead singer wrote (admittedly satirical) books about an aristocratic character called Lord Iffy Boatrace, and who holds the position of Marketing Director of an airline. This will be the same Iron Maiden, I trust, that has been signed to the same major UK label, EMI, for almost thirty-two years. That's really sticking it to The Man. This will be the same deeply unconventional label, of course, that is or was home to the furiously independent, cutting edge, revolutionary acts Keith Urban, Richard Marx, Amy Grant and scores more of their awesome ilk.

Death to the conventional, indeed.