Not my story to tell.....probably one of THE most profound words of wisdom I have ever received.
I will tell you right now, I first heard this from my older sister, years and years ago.
It has become a sort of practice in my every day life this small sentence: not my story to tell.
If I hear something, I immediately ask myself, before repeating this overheard something: Does this story directly involve me? If the answer is no, then I shut the hell up. Otherwise, everything else as far as I am concerned, is hear say. It quickly becomes a one sided story I had no right in sharing in the first place.
If someone has confided in me, with or without consent to share, as far as I am concerned, that story still belongs to them. If they want to share it again and again, so be it, it is their personal story to share.
To be clear I am not referring to gossip or hear say, I am only referring to events personally connected to that person; as in: it came directly from the horse's mouth. They were involved on a first hand basis, it did happen, or will happen to them.
For instance, even if the next person I am talking to has no idea who or what or where a story I have personal knowledge about, I will not tell that story. It is simply not mine to share. And, it has nothing to do with fact or fiction, because another thing I know to be true when dealing with the human condition: there is no reality, only perception.
So, maybe the story that I was told has two sides, and I am only hearing the one. To me, that story is still not mine to tell. It is that person's perception of their reality, not mine.
This is where we need to take our freedom and run, because as far as I am concerned, we are no longer weighed down with things we may or may not have privy to...it's not ours to tell! Therefore we can (guilt free) run away...lighter and lesser burdened with other people's shit/crap/story, real or not.
Really, as uncaring as that sounds, it's not, because it's not your story to tell, so it's not your responsibility. Run! Free! Flap your arms if you must!
Gossip, I can only presume, is exhausting and heavy, the responsibility of all those stories that don't even belong to you? They must be like cement boots.
There are social media stories which are shared that I feel do not need shared. Many, many stories are not ours to share, but mostly what affects me personally, are the tragic horrible accidents that people tend to share with a 'sad face' icon. Why do people feel the need to share these?? Is that your story to tell??
If it is....share away my friend, share away....but this may be the first time a relative or loved one has heard of the event.
If this is how I go in this world? Please don't share it....and definitely don't tell my story unless I personally affected you. In which case, raise a fabulous glass of the most expensive rose you can get your hands on ( use my credit card, I will be dead, what do I care) and say: cheers babe! It's your story to tell!!
I want to thank my sister for sharing with me this incredibly sage piece of advice:
It's not my story to tell...
Thanks B,
XO
Wednesday 20 September 2017
Wednesday 18 January 2017
Han Solo and The Investment...
The year was 1977, my family and I were on our way to Scotland for a few weeks in the summer to visit relatives.
I remember staying at an airport hotel in Toronto the night before our flight left. At this time there weren't a lot of hotels to choose from, this was back in the day where staying in a hotel was big time, it was special. Not everyone got to do this, and I remember having that distinct thought as we pulled up to the hotel that hot summer day.
My older cousins and sister who were apart of this trip were talking about going to see, perhaps the biggest movie for our generation to ever hit the screen. It was Star Wars....and no one had ever seen anything like it. To be honest, I don't think anyone would ever see anything like it again either. We were at a technological age in time that had stood still since the introduction of the rotary dial phone. I am not even sure most homes had push button phones at this time to be honest. Movies depicted change, like being able to see the person you were talking to in video, ( our modern day FaceTime, or Snapchat, and video chat ) but nothing had changed in ages! Not like today when techno advancements are made while the rest of the world sleeps and we wake up to new advancements on a weekly basis. Nothing like that.
So, my cousins went to see this life altering movie, and I swam in the huge hotel indoor/outdoor pool. Simply because I was a little too young to hang out with them, and because: OMG! This pool had access to the outside pool via a small tunnel from the indoor pool. and I was a swimming freak show . Water...water...water....love the water! Always have, always will.
Anyway, after a summer in Scotland I came back to Ontario with the movie 'Star Wars' even more embossed on my brain. Turns out the ENTIRE world was ready for this movie, it was so spectacular for its time. You can't even imagine how for us at that time, who were captivated by exploring and adventure, how this one single movie dominated our lives. I simply HAD to see it.
By the time I had the opportunity to see the movie in my small town, all my friends at that time had already seen it, and could simply not afford to frequent the theatre again. Going to a moving back then required serious consideration regarding how we were going to spend our allowance, pocket money and/or part time job monies. Going to a movie was an investment.
I remember phoning friends to see if they could go to see Star Wars with me, but everyone had seen it, and some?!? twice even! ( Huge investment!!) I wanted to see this movie so bad! ( I also remember being shunned by some kids because I had been away that summer..."oh, you were away when we went to see it! It was a really good movie! You missed out!" )
I think that was what hurt me the most: "you missed out"....like it was my fault my parents had relatives in Scotland that we got to visit every once in a while. Meanwhile the movie was still playing at our local cinema, I hadn't missed out on anything.
My father, Ben, see'ing how let down I was about not being able to see Star Wars, stepped up to the plate and said he would take me. I was 13 years old at this time....entering into that dark side of the pre-teen world: fluctuating and punishing emotions. Going to the movies with your Dad was not cool, at all. Yet, I also remember knowing this was not my dad's thing either. Not the kind of investment he wanted to make either.
So, off to the local theatre we went one Friday evening. Of course it was packed, jammed packed in fact, but we managed to get a couple of pretty good seats. We pulled the red velvet covered seats down from their hinged upright positions, the squeak of metal whining as we did so. It was loud in the theatre, kids mostly, everyone eager for the movie to start. I sat there with my small pop and Sweet Marie bar hoping beyond hope that no one would recognize me with my dad.
Theatres were small back then, well at least our small town theatre was. I stood a good chance of being prosecuted by any peers who knew that the "old" guy beside me was my dad. What did not occurr to me at that time was that my dad was probably crindging about his circumstances too, but for all together different reasons. He was probably dreading having to watch this hyped up science fiction, action adventure movie in a theatre, on a Friday night, filled with noisy kids. But watch we did.
I chomped back my chocolate bar in awe of this space tale, and all its far out space creatures, while my father sat with his arms folded with the biggest look of : " what in the name of God are we watching?!?" I was developing the biggest crush on Han Solo not even daring to look side ways at my dad should he come to realize his daughter's googley eye'd gaze at this handsome , rogue space cowboy. I kept looking straight at the screen so intently I am sure Harrison Ford himself could have been sitting on my other side, and I wouldn't have had the faintest clue.
A little more than half way into the movie I was pretty much on my own because the faint snoring noises beside me ( definitely not coming from Harrison, he probably never snored a day in his life!) alerted me to my father being fast asleep. His head was cranked back on his neck so far, his entire face was pointed straight up to the movie house ceiling. Then his head started to do the snap back and forth thing, which would cause him to wake up briefly, and in doing so snort rather loudly and pretend he wasn't asleep. One thing about adventure movies, especially the space kind, the special effect sounds are really loud, only Harrison and I could hear my dad's nasal snorts and trumpets.
When the movie finished and I let go of my googley eye'd Han Solo gaze, my father woke up, rather well rested too I remember, The lights came up, we were gathering our things, the red velvet chairs springing back to their upright position, and then I heard someone shout my name, not too loud, but loud enough to know someone there recognized me. I didn't look around to see who it was, I just knew the person who called my name did not mean well. Damn!! Now I would be teased mercilessly at school..."Sheila went to the show with her dad, Sheila went to the show with her dad.." There was nothing I could do but wait until Monday and deal with the wrath.
Monday came, I was absolutely dreading it! I stood in the hall with my other class mates waiting to go into our home room. When I heard the voice from the theatre say it: " Sheila went to the show with her dad!" For a moment there was silence, my cheeks were burning with embarrassment, all eyes were on me, and then another voice spoke out: " Star Wars? What a cool dad!" It was our home room teacher. I couldn't believe it! I was saved from adolescent prosecution...not another word was said to me about going to the movies with my dad.
My world quickly went back to normal after that, what a relief. Many years later I remember talking to my dad about going to see Star Wars with me, and I thanked him, because I knew it wasn't his kind of movie. He told me he couldn't remember a thing about that movie, other than is was so damn loud, but that he was glad he went too, because it obviously made me happy. I am thankful we both invested, because now I know, snoring and all, I had a really cool Dad.
I remember staying at an airport hotel in Toronto the night before our flight left. At this time there weren't a lot of hotels to choose from, this was back in the day where staying in a hotel was big time, it was special. Not everyone got to do this, and I remember having that distinct thought as we pulled up to the hotel that hot summer day.
My older cousins and sister who were apart of this trip were talking about going to see, perhaps the biggest movie for our generation to ever hit the screen. It was Star Wars....and no one had ever seen anything like it. To be honest, I don't think anyone would ever see anything like it again either. We were at a technological age in time that had stood still since the introduction of the rotary dial phone. I am not even sure most homes had push button phones at this time to be honest. Movies depicted change, like being able to see the person you were talking to in video, ( our modern day FaceTime, or Snapchat, and video chat ) but nothing had changed in ages! Not like today when techno advancements are made while the rest of the world sleeps and we wake up to new advancements on a weekly basis. Nothing like that.
So, my cousins went to see this life altering movie, and I swam in the huge hotel indoor/outdoor pool. Simply because I was a little too young to hang out with them, and because: OMG! This pool had access to the outside pool via a small tunnel from the indoor pool. and I was a swimming freak show . Water...water...water....love the water! Always have, always will.
Anyway, after a summer in Scotland I came back to Ontario with the movie 'Star Wars' even more embossed on my brain. Turns out the ENTIRE world was ready for this movie, it was so spectacular for its time. You can't even imagine how for us at that time, who were captivated by exploring and adventure, how this one single movie dominated our lives. I simply HAD to see it.
By the time I had the opportunity to see the movie in my small town, all my friends at that time had already seen it, and could simply not afford to frequent the theatre again. Going to a moving back then required serious consideration regarding how we were going to spend our allowance, pocket money and/or part time job monies. Going to a movie was an investment.
I remember phoning friends to see if they could go to see Star Wars with me, but everyone had seen it, and some?!? twice even! ( Huge investment!!) I wanted to see this movie so bad! ( I also remember being shunned by some kids because I had been away that summer..."oh, you were away when we went to see it! It was a really good movie! You missed out!" )
I think that was what hurt me the most: "you missed out"....like it was my fault my parents had relatives in Scotland that we got to visit every once in a while. Meanwhile the movie was still playing at our local cinema, I hadn't missed out on anything.
My father, Ben, see'ing how let down I was about not being able to see Star Wars, stepped up to the plate and said he would take me. I was 13 years old at this time....entering into that dark side of the pre-teen world: fluctuating and punishing emotions. Going to the movies with your Dad was not cool, at all. Yet, I also remember knowing this was not my dad's thing either. Not the kind of investment he wanted to make either.
So, off to the local theatre we went one Friday evening. Of course it was packed, jammed packed in fact, but we managed to get a couple of pretty good seats. We pulled the red velvet covered seats down from their hinged upright positions, the squeak of metal whining as we did so. It was loud in the theatre, kids mostly, everyone eager for the movie to start. I sat there with my small pop and Sweet Marie bar hoping beyond hope that no one would recognize me with my dad.
Theatres were small back then, well at least our small town theatre was. I stood a good chance of being prosecuted by any peers who knew that the "old" guy beside me was my dad. What did not occurr to me at that time was that my dad was probably crindging about his circumstances too, but for all together different reasons. He was probably dreading having to watch this hyped up science fiction, action adventure movie in a theatre, on a Friday night, filled with noisy kids. But watch we did.
I chomped back my chocolate bar in awe of this space tale, and all its far out space creatures, while my father sat with his arms folded with the biggest look of : " what in the name of God are we watching?!?" I was developing the biggest crush on Han Solo not even daring to look side ways at my dad should he come to realize his daughter's googley eye'd gaze at this handsome , rogue space cowboy. I kept looking straight at the screen so intently I am sure Harrison Ford himself could have been sitting on my other side, and I wouldn't have had the faintest clue.
A little more than half way into the movie I was pretty much on my own because the faint snoring noises beside me ( definitely not coming from Harrison, he probably never snored a day in his life!) alerted me to my father being fast asleep. His head was cranked back on his neck so far, his entire face was pointed straight up to the movie house ceiling. Then his head started to do the snap back and forth thing, which would cause him to wake up briefly, and in doing so snort rather loudly and pretend he wasn't asleep. One thing about adventure movies, especially the space kind, the special effect sounds are really loud, only Harrison and I could hear my dad's nasal snorts and trumpets.
When the movie finished and I let go of my googley eye'd Han Solo gaze, my father woke up, rather well rested too I remember, The lights came up, we were gathering our things, the red velvet chairs springing back to their upright position, and then I heard someone shout my name, not too loud, but loud enough to know someone there recognized me. I didn't look around to see who it was, I just knew the person who called my name did not mean well. Damn!! Now I would be teased mercilessly at school..."Sheila went to the show with her dad, Sheila went to the show with her dad.." There was nothing I could do but wait until Monday and deal with the wrath.
Monday came, I was absolutely dreading it! I stood in the hall with my other class mates waiting to go into our home room. When I heard the voice from the theatre say it: " Sheila went to the show with her dad!" For a moment there was silence, my cheeks were burning with embarrassment, all eyes were on me, and then another voice spoke out: " Star Wars? What a cool dad!" It was our home room teacher. I couldn't believe it! I was saved from adolescent prosecution...not another word was said to me about going to the movies with my dad.
My world quickly went back to normal after that, what a relief. Many years later I remember talking to my dad about going to see Star Wars with me, and I thanked him, because I knew it wasn't his kind of movie. He told me he couldn't remember a thing about that movie, other than is was so damn loud, but that he was glad he went too, because it obviously made me happy. I am thankful we both invested, because now I know, snoring and all, I had a really cool Dad.
Monday 2 January 2017
We'll No Speak of This Again....
I credit my sense of humour to my Dad, Ben. He taught me everything I know about laughter, punch lines, dry humour and sarcasm. I think really good humour often comes from a quiet place of observing the mundane, or the bizarre, and then pointing it out to people with added twists. The Scottish comedian Billy Connolly is a pro at this technique, and I think the American comedian Jerry Seinfeld is too. Both of these comedians could leave you breathless just talking about socks, or poo, or being a kid in school.
So was my Dad. Ben could take a regular every day story and turn it on its head (heed), quicker than you could spit the tea out your mouth laughing.
My brother was in his teens when he drove my father's car to pick up a rather drunken friend that needed to get home safely. Unfortunately, my brother's friend was sick in my father's car, and I guess they tried to clean it up, but of course Dad knew about it. I will never forget my father see'ing my bother's friend for the first time after the sick incident.
" Here, Tom* ( real name withheld) see yooo! Did yoo drive tae ma hoose today?"
" Yes Mr.Seath I did...why?"
" And Tom, that wiz yoo who were sick all over my nice car?""Yes, but I am so sorry about that.."
" Well Tom, gee us your keys son..."
"Why Mr.Seath?"
"So's I can go take a big shite in your car and wheel call it even!"
Prime example of a Ben story right there.
Part of growing up in my family was teasing one another, I am pretty sure any family psychologist today would confirm our teasing ways on the emotionally abusive end of the scale. However, all 3 kids turned out just fine...or as normal as you can anyway.
Upon meeting some old cronies of his at the mall, my mother would walk out of a store and ask my father who he was speaking to.
"Those were my friends Jean, yee can git yar ain...."
"License to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations..."
" Oh Mrs.Cane you're a little monkey woman..."
" It's in the hole!".... All the while snickering and snorting, trying to make one another lose it and start laughing, ready to rush out of the bushes at any moment should we be discovered.
Well, one Friday night we couldn't play mix and match with our ceramic hoard, a neighbour had come out to walk their dog, so we had to quickly get away, in my father's 1978 Impala (the front end held together with silver gaffer's tape no less!) a boat of a car, it could sleep 8 quite comfortably. So we road around with our newly 'found' skunks, birds, garden gnomes and lantern keepers for the rest of the night tucked neatly in the trunk. I forgot all about them....until the Sunday.
I woke promptly at noon like any good teenager would do....walked to the kitchen to eat the breakfast my Dad had made 3 hours ago. He was still in the kitchen as I sat down at the kitchen table to eat.
" Shellah, how wiz yer weekend lass. Canny say we've seen much of you through oot tit, mind you..." I answered with your typical teenage grunting..
" Huh? Oh it was ok...didn't do much...the car needs gas.."
" Yee mean tae say you dinny hae $10 dollars between the lot o you tae pit some bloody gas in my car?...well new...if yer no dea'ing much, then how is the gas getting used up?"
The two of us went on talking back and forth for the duration of my breakfast about what doing nothing was all about from my perspective and his. Finally, he says that I should do the dishes...
" Right hen, when yer done, get yer arse up to the sink and git the dishy's done fer your mom.."
He leaves to go have a soft seat as he would call it, in the living room. I drag my arse up to the sink, still a bit blurry eye'd from my past hibernation...gather the dirty dishes, fill the sink and as I am adding the dish detergent I glance outside to our backyard. There at my father's bird feeder is a ceramic lantern holder now holding a gas tank from the garage...a wee ceramic skunk at his feet, the gnome has a rake propped up beside him, and a red ceramic cardinal is in the bird feeder. I froze! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I was totally busted! My father with his ever impeccable comedic timing shouts to me from behind his newspaper in the living room:
" Ok lass, ye've had yer fun. They will all go back, you put gas in ma car and rake the lawn. We'll no speak of this again, wull we..."
I suppose my Dad was just grateful his daughter wasn't out there on the weekends getting drunk or doing drugs...taking those ceramic garden decor items was about as 'bad' as my friends and I ever got. It was a briefly lived life of crime, but my Dad was right...we never did speak of it again, we didn't have to.
So was my Dad. Ben could take a regular every day story and turn it on its head (heed), quicker than you could spit the tea out your mouth laughing.
My brother was in his teens when he drove my father's car to pick up a rather drunken friend that needed to get home safely. Unfortunately, my brother's friend was sick in my father's car, and I guess they tried to clean it up, but of course Dad knew about it. I will never forget my father see'ing my bother's friend for the first time after the sick incident.
" Here, Tom* ( real name withheld) see yooo! Did yoo drive tae ma hoose today?"
" Yes Mr.Seath I did...why?"
" And Tom, that wiz yoo who were sick all over my nice car?""Yes, but I am so sorry about that.."
" Well Tom, gee us your keys son..."
"Why Mr.Seath?"
"So's I can go take a big shite in your car and wheel call it even!"
Prime example of a Ben story right there.
Part of growing up in my family was teasing one another, I am pretty sure any family psychologist today would confirm our teasing ways on the emotionally abusive end of the scale. However, all 3 kids turned out just fine...or as normal as you can anyway.
Upon meeting some old cronies of his at the mall, my mother would walk out of a store and ask my father who he was speaking to.
"Those were my friends Jean, yee can git yar ain...."
- This will seem really cruel to note, but my Dad's occasional pet name for my mother was" Big bitch"...he would always laugh after he said it too. "Ach, Jeanie ya big bitch..." Or if Mom was having a particularly bad day it was: " Jeanie ya crabby bitch.." I know a lot of people would consider two grown people, parents no less, speaking like this to one another incredibly disrespectful. I remember when my husband first met my family...he could not believe some of the things we said to one another. Keep in mind tho, this was all talk within the family, we did not say these types of things to one another in public. Behind every unusual family nick name or comment was a true devotion to making that person smile or laugh.
"License to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations..."
" Oh Mrs.Cane you're a little monkey woman..."
" It's in the hole!".... All the while snickering and snorting, trying to make one another lose it and start laughing, ready to rush out of the bushes at any moment should we be discovered.
Well, one Friday night we couldn't play mix and match with our ceramic hoard, a neighbour had come out to walk their dog, so we had to quickly get away, in my father's 1978 Impala (the front end held together with silver gaffer's tape no less!) a boat of a car, it could sleep 8 quite comfortably. So we road around with our newly 'found' skunks, birds, garden gnomes and lantern keepers for the rest of the night tucked neatly in the trunk. I forgot all about them....until the Sunday.
I woke promptly at noon like any good teenager would do....walked to the kitchen to eat the breakfast my Dad had made 3 hours ago. He was still in the kitchen as I sat down at the kitchen table to eat.
" Shellah, how wiz yer weekend lass. Canny say we've seen much of you through oot tit, mind you..." I answered with your typical teenage grunting..
" Huh? Oh it was ok...didn't do much...the car needs gas.."
" Yee mean tae say you dinny hae $10 dollars between the lot o you tae pit some bloody gas in my car?...well new...if yer no dea'ing much, then how is the gas getting used up?"
The two of us went on talking back and forth for the duration of my breakfast about what doing nothing was all about from my perspective and his. Finally, he says that I should do the dishes...
" Right hen, when yer done, get yer arse up to the sink and git the dishy's done fer your mom.."
He leaves to go have a soft seat as he would call it, in the living room. I drag my arse up to the sink, still a bit blurry eye'd from my past hibernation...gather the dirty dishes, fill the sink and as I am adding the dish detergent I glance outside to our backyard. There at my father's bird feeder is a ceramic lantern holder now holding a gas tank from the garage...a wee ceramic skunk at his feet, the gnome has a rake propped up beside him, and a red ceramic cardinal is in the bird feeder. I froze! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I was totally busted! My father with his ever impeccable comedic timing shouts to me from behind his newspaper in the living room:
" Ok lass, ye've had yer fun. They will all go back, you put gas in ma car and rake the lawn. We'll no speak of this again, wull we..."
I suppose my Dad was just grateful his daughter wasn't out there on the weekends getting drunk or doing drugs...taking those ceramic garden decor items was about as 'bad' as my friends and I ever got. It was a briefly lived life of crime, but my Dad was right...we never did speak of it again, we didn't have to.
x
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