Because I Can… the random thoughts of Marc Scott

I love old movies. I’ve likely said this before, but it’s OK. It’s my blog. So, if I so choose, I can say it again. I so choose. Movies from the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s. Movies in which the men were gentle and the women carried themselves with grace. Movies in which love had to do with romance and not sex. Movies where men “wooed” women with chivalry and respect. Movies where the women wouldn’t give a man a second thought if he did any less.

All of the guys wanted to dance like Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly. They wanted to sing like Frank Sinatra or Bing Crosby. They wanted to be like Cary Grant or James Stewart. The women wanted to dance like Ginger Rogers or Cyd Charisse. They wanted to sing like Judy Garland or Kathryn Grayson. They wanted to be like Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly.

One of my favourite scenes from a movie is from Singin’ In The Rain. It is, of course, Gene Kelly’s routine for the title song. Perhaps more so than any other scene in any other movie, it captures a feeling of pure joy. You can’t watch that routine and not smile. He is man who has been captivated by a woman, and his heart, in that moment, is clearly on his sleeve for all to see.

December the 3rd was a brutal day for me. Not because of any event or circumstance per se. It was just “one of those days.” I hadn’t had a day like it in quite a while. My attitude was just junk that day. I’d like to say that it wasn’t about a self pity party, but I suppose, maybe on some level, it really was.

I was having an email conversation with a friend. In essence, I was spilling my guts about the prospects of facing my 3rd Christmas alone. She knows how much I love Christmas, and I was telling her that I just didn’t want it this year. I had kind of given up. I really was starting to let myself believe that hope was gone. It sounds dramatic, of this I am aware. But it’s also true that, unless you’ve lived through even some of what I’ve gone though, it’s hard to truly understand all I was feeling.

My friend, bless her heart, tried to encourage me, but I wasn’t interested in hearing it. I was miserable, and, frankly, I wanted to continue to be miserable. Christians don’t like to let Christians be miserable. So Christians are always trying to fix problems. But you know what… I wanted no part of it. God loves us, even when we’re ticked. I believe He understands. So on December the 3rd, I was in a bad mood all day long.

On December 5th, two days after the worst day I had had in a very long time, two days after I had quit women, given up hope, and was settling in for another holiday season alone, something unexpected happened. Something amazing happened. Two days later, my hope had been restored when – following a series of coincidental events – a young lady “Facebooked” her way into my life.

When I reflect on the story – which I’m not allowed to tell – I smile. Maybe coincidence wasn’t coincidence at all. Maybe it was all part of something greater than me and my bad attitude from December 3rd. I don’t want to overthink it. Not yet, anyway. So instead, I’ve just chosen to bask in it. And like Debbie Reynolds did to Gene Kelly, this young lady has captivated me. She did it with her quick wit, her blue eyes, and a smile that could brighten the rainiest day!

On my way to church this morning, as the skies opened up and the rains came down, I found Gene Kelly on my iPod. I played it once. Then I played it again. Then again. I ended up listening to it on repeat all the way to church. And the more I listened, the more I sang, and the more I pictured those blues eyes and that smile in mind, the more I finally understood what it was like to be “Singin’ In The Rain.”

I tried online dating.  There.  I said it.  It’s out in the open.  I’m not entirely sure what I’m expecting to happen next, though I admit I’ve had visions of pointed fingers, ridicule and, in one particular scenario, people threw tomatoes at me.  What can I say?  I have a vivid imagination at times.  I’ve held this truth inside like a dirty little secret.  Like the way everybody loves to listen to “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go” by Wham in private, but when it comes on the radio in public, they act like it’s the dumbest song ever.

It’s not supposed to work this way, or at least, that’s what I tell myself.  I’m if I’m going to be honest, I think that’s why I’m embarrassed by it.  Who relies on an online dating service to find their true love?  Fred & Ginger never had computers or the interweb or email and they got to together every time!  I know… I have all the movies on DVD.  That said, it still gets me, right here, every time Meg Ryan says, “I wanted it to be you” to Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail.

I don’t go out much.  OK, I don’t go out ever.  As I looked at the circumstances of my life, I realized that I had 3 options for meeting women.  Work.  Church.  Fire.  I’m not convinced that mixing business with pleasure is ever a good idea, so I’ve avoided dating anybody at work.  I’m also not particularly fond of the idea of dating married men, and there are a lot of those at CKPC.  I suppose that has been a factor too.

My church is pretty small, and it seems to me that there aren’t very many, if any, single women in it.  Truth be told, I sit in the back corner by the door, sneaking in as soon as the service starts, and sneaking out as soon as it ends.  I’ve definitely looked around the room or time or two though, you know… just to see what I see.

The idea of meeting a woman at a fire call certainly has a rugged, romantic appeal, in a Hollywood movie kind of way.  The hero (that would be me) forcefully charges into the burning building.  He pays no attention to the dangers that surround him.  His only thoughts are on finding the damsel in distress (do they even say damsel anymore?) and rescuing her.  With all the grace of a Mack truck he bursts his way through the closed door, runs to the fair maiden, tosses her over his shoulder, and carries her right into happily ever after!  How great would that be?

Since it became alarmingly obvious to me that none of my limited social settings were going to prove fruitful in the quest for true love, and since my social awkwardness was going to keep me from just walking up to random women in the grocery store, I determined a new strategy was in order.  With that in mind I prayed this prayer…

Dear God. It’s me.  Marc.  Wait… you knew that.  Sorry.  Anywho, here’s the deal.  I’m an odd sort of guy you know?  I mean, I don’t like the things that a lot of people like.  I think different.  I work different.  I watch old movies, and I listen to old music.  I call the woman at the checkout counter ma’am, and I still open the doors for ladies at Walmart, even though the feminist independents get a little cranky with me about it.  That’s OK though.  I do it anyway.  I’m a bit of an old soul, I guess, and I’m looking for somebody that would be OK with that.  I’m not a social animal.  I like quiet nights in.  I like to take spontaneous drives and random walks in the wilderness.  You already know this.  I’m rambling.  OK, so God, here’s the thing.  If You could find the perfect girl for me and send her to my apartment, that would be really cool.  Thanks so much.  You’re the best!  Amen.

I really prayed that prayer.  Just like that too.  Then I waited.  And I waited some more.  Then I checked with the landlady to make sure my name was beside the right apartment number on the directory inside the front door.  I switched apartments about a year ago, and I wanted to make sure they had me listed in the right one.  Then, I waited some more.

One day, I was thinking about things, and how it didn’t seem to be working out for me.  Then it hit me.  It’s not very gentlemanly to expect a lady to come to your apartment on a first date.  In fact, that’s just downright inappropriate!  I tell you with the utmost sincerity that my intentions were entirely pure.  Nevertheless, my mom, and maybe even my grandma, would have some pretty strong thoughts on such behaviour!  So with that, I apologized to God for not thinking it through in the first place.  Then I joined eHarmony.

I confess now that I went into this venture, which began in January, with an attitude of defeat.  It’s just not how I pictured it in my mind.  Boy meets girl.  Girl notices boy and smiles.  Boy’s knees get weak.  Boy faints.  Boy comes around, stands up, dusts off, looks around to see if anybody notices, then tries to act cool for girl – she wasn’t supposed to notice.  Girl giggles – she noticed.  Boy’s heart flutters.  Boy says something witty.  Well, boy tries to say something witty.  Mostly he just stumbles over his words.  Girl smiles.  Boy’s knees get weak again.  Boy realizes that he needs to find a way to end this embarrassing merry-go-round.  Boy asks girl out for Dr Pepper.  Girl says yes.  Romance ensues.  Love blossoms.  Happily ever after begins.  Nowhere in this entire drawn out fantasy that has played over and over and over in mind is there a scene where boy emails girl and doesn’t even know her name!

The first step to fixing a problem is recognizing you have one.  I had a problem.  I was embarrassed about online dating.  So embarrassed that it took me months before I even told my parents.  I didn’t want anybody to know because I felt like less of a man.  Like geekboy, sitting in his bedroom playing online chess with Herbert from Zimbabwe until 4 o’clock in the morning.

Recently, I realized that maybe it’s not so bad.  Maybe it’s not nearly as socially unacceptable as I had made it out to be in my head.  I have confessed before, I tend to over-think things.  This may have been one of those things.

I am not convinced that I will meet my dream girl through an online dating site.  However, I am now also not convinced that I won’t.  That was a big step for me because maybe I can try a little harder, or take it a little more serious, or at least not be so dang humiliated by the idea of it!  And in the end, if eHarmony provides me with nothing else, at least they reintroduced me to a great song by Natalie Cole that I had long since forgotten and that was worth the price of membership alone!

I once read that if you like somebody you should tell them.  It might be embarrassing, but you’ll never regret stepping up.  There is truth in that.  I suppose there is truth in that.  Of course, all the truth in the world wouldn’t actually make me bold enough to make such a move.

Loneliness is bad for me.  Of course, it’s not really good for anyone.  But I definitely know it’s bad for me.  It gives me too much time to think.  I’m a thinker.  Those that know me well would say I’m an over-thinker.  They’re right.  I guess that’s why they know me well.  I confess, that I most definitely over think.  Especially when it comes to girls and the idea of telling one I like them.

In my loneliness, which leaves me in my thought, I cover the spectrum.  To the moon and back.  If you’re going to think something through, you may as well cover all your bases.  That’s what I say anyway.  My first thought is usually something like this… I will tell this girl I like her, and she will tell me she likes me back.  It will be perfect, and beautiful, and romantic, and just like a Fred & Ginger movie.  Without question, we’ll live happily ever after!  I like that thought.  I think that may be why I daydream so much.  If I can’t find it in reality, I create it for myself in an alternate reality.  For the record, I’m not crazy.

After I’ve covered the sensational side of thought, I move it a little more towards the middle.  These thoughts usually include things like, maybe she’ll like me.  Maybe she’ll agree to go out with me and we’ll decide we like each other.  Maybe we’ll just be friends.  Maybe this will be the first and last conversation we’ll ever have.  Maybe she’ll have a boyfriend.  Maybe she’ll be engaged.  Or, even worse, maybe she’ll be married!  As I work my way through the middle towards the other end of my thought spectrum, I usually arrive at the, who’s kidding who… she’s not even going to talk to me side.

This, I have decided, with no actual experience to base it on mind you, is where my reality exists.  This is what keeps me from talking to girls.  That and the fact that I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I’ve never met.  For the ladies reading, yes, that is a Mr Darcy quote from Pride & Prejudice.  And yes, I’ve seen the movie several times and rather enjoyed it, though I’ve not yet read the book.  I will.  I don’t know why I’ve decided this is where my reality lies.  I just know I’ve thought about it plenty and assume this is how it would play out.

On the far reaching side of the spectrum from the young lady in question turning out to be the one true love of my life, there is my greatest fear.  This, in fact, has also kept me from speaking to ladies on numerous occasions.  You are going to laugh.  It’s OK.  I laugh too.  In my little parallel universe of thought, I fear that I will confess my interest to a lady only for her to tell me she was previously a man.  It sounds utterly ridiculous, but these days, it could happen!

Today I spent the day with 400 women.  It gets better.  I spent the day with 4 other guys with 400 women.  Think about those odds for a minute.  400 women… 5 guys.  Pretty stellar.  If you’re a guy.  Oh, but I’m not done yet.  Of the 5 of us guys, 2 were married.  That means, 400 women and 3 guys.  It just keeps getting better.  “It’s like heaven,” one of them joked.

I worked an event for World Vision today.  It’s an event for women (Girls Night Out).  You figured that out right?  I thought so.  Anyway, it was me and 4 other guys that were running the bulk of the event.  I want you to know that none of us do this to meet women, although, after reading the first 600 words of this blog you may think that.  However, at the end of the event, the married guys were most definitely harassing us single guys about whether or not we got any numbers.  None of us did.

I spent most of the day floating around the venue desperately attempting to go unnoticed.  Meeting women was, in fact, that farthest thought from my mind.  I feel confident in saying that none of these women may have previously been men, so that wasn’t necessarily a factor in my desire to go unnoticed.  That’s just kind of how I role at these events.

As the event came to a close, I found myself sitting off to the side of the stage, the man behind the curtain if you will.  The MC for day, Kelita, (who is spectacular is so many ways – Kelita.com) was sitting at the piano, and lead the ladies in Amazing Grace.  As I sat there in the quiet darkness of the offstage area, I found myself moved nearly to tears as I listened to the chorus of 400 angels singing such a beautiful song.

I don’t know if being one of a handful of single guys in a room of 400 woman is necessarily how I would describe heaven.  But I will say this, I really hope it sounds a little something like they did as they sang that song!

Sunday was old movie day.  Actually, many of my days off tend to turn into old movie days.  There is just something about old movies, especially ones from the 30’s and 40’s.  Love had nothing to do with sex.  Language was eloquent, poetic and filled with romance, as opposed to being inarticulate, prosaic and laced with profanity.  Ladies carried themselves with elegance and grace, and the men were gentle and chivalrous.  Our society would be well served to watch a few of these movies and learn some lessons, men especially!

Of all the movies, and all the genres, I find myself most drawn to the musicals.  I work in radio, yet, most of today’s music does nothing for me.  So much of it really has nothing to offer me.  I don’t mean to paint it all with a wide brush, but I don’t think it would be a stretch to say that the vast majority of today’s popular music revolves around sex and self.  There is certainly a lack of romance!

During my movie day, two songs in particular spoke to me.  Oddly enough, they’re on the opposite ends of the spectrum from each other.  Yet, as I listened to them, I could relate.  On a personal, emotional level, I connected with the lyrics.  That doesn’t happen to me very often, if ever, when I turn the radio on today!

The first was from “Easter Parade” with Fred Astaire (whom is one of my favorites) and Judy Garland.  Judy sings a song called “Better Luck Next Time.”  This one nearly made me cry.  It was her performance as much as the lyrics.  As I listened to her sing, I could feel exactly what she was feeling.

For ev’ry rose that withers and dies
Another blooms in it’s stead.
A new love waits to open its eyes
After the old love is dead.

That sounds alright in a careless rhyme
But there’s seldom a second time

Better luck next time
That could never be
Because there ain’t gonna be no next time
for me – no siree

Made up my mind
To make another start
I’ve made my mind up but I can’t make up
my heart

I’d like a new lucky day
That would be nice
But this comes just once in a lifetime
not twice

So don’t say better luck next time
That can never be
Because there ain’t gonna be no next time
for me.

The second song was from “On The Town” with Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra (two more of my favorites).  It’s called “You’re Awful” and Frank sings it with Betty Garrett.  As I watched them perform, all I could think to myself was that one day I can only hope to be so lucky as to have someone that has this effect on me.  Someone I could sing this song to.

Gee I don’t know, I’d like to whisper sweet nothings
Those words that everyone knows
But my thoughts gets mangled,
And all the words get tangled,
But since you asked me, here goes:

You’re awful, awful good to look at,
Awful nice to be with, awful sweet to have and hold.
You’re nothing, nothing if not lovely,
Nothing if not dazzling, nothing but pure gold,
You’re frightening, frightening me when you say
That you might go away,

You’re boring, boring into my heart to stay.
You’re cheap, dear, cheap at any price, dear,
Cheap for such a diamond,
Cheap for such a pearl,
What I said before, I’ll say again,
You’re awful, awful nice to be my girl.

You’re old, dear, old with worldly wisdom,
Old like Gordon Soda, old like finest French champagne,
You’re so-so, so-so, so-so kinda charming,
So-so kind of witty, so I can’t explain,

Can’t stand you, I can’t stand you giving some fellow the eye,
Can’t stand you in the arms of another guy,
Who needs you? Need you to distraction,
Need you too this crazy, need you rain or shine,

I’m the one who needs you,
And I think you’re awful, awful nice to say you’re mine.

Maybe it’s the old fashioned, hopeless romantic in me.  Maybe I was just born in the wrong era, I don’t know.  I just know that seldom do they make them as good as these anymore!

I used to be the center of attention.  I used to be the class clown. I used to brave.

In Grade 7 I remember standing out because of my desk.  Sure, I had a desk like the rest of the class.  But I didn’t like it much.  I preferred not to use it.  So most days, you could find me in the front left corner of the class, directly behind the teacher’s desk, sitting on top of her 5 drawer filing cabinet.  She didn’t seem to mind much.  I behaved, for the most part.  I got all my work done too.  I just liked to be different.

In High School I went through an odd phase of odd clothes.  Refer to this blog At Least I Never Fell Off The Stage… for more on that.  I wore clothes 8 sizes too big and in very bright colors as well.  I was the only guy in a high school of 900 that did.  Being different didn’t bother me.  It was all in good fun.

I remember one time taking the stage in my church on a Sunday.  I loved my old church.  It had been the same for 637 years and it needed to be shaken up a little.  I decided that I was the guy that was going to shake it.  So instead of a safe song from the hymnal, and on the opposite end of the spectrum from the country/gospel/bluegrass, I looked to the sound booth from the stage – with my pants on backwards by the way – and gave the nod to the sound man who hit the background track for “Jesus Is Just Alright” by dc Talk.  I was pretty sure I’d be banned from church for the rest of my life, but I was willing to take the risk.  Instead it became the first of several performances!

I used to be fearless.  Confident.  Full of self esteem.  I used to not care.  I did what I did because it was what I did.  You could like it or not.  Accept it or not.  That was entirely up to you.  I didn’t need approval.  I just liked to be different and wasn’t afraid to be noticed in the process.

To know divorce is to know rejection.  Rejection so great can change a man.  I want it to be known that I do not blame my ex-wife.  I blame divorce, and divorce takes two people.  In the face of such a huge rejection, it would seem that I lost site of that man I used to be.  I wrote a bit about this a couple days ago.  Refer to the blog In Search Of Myself for more on that.

I recently attempted to date again, and my first “try” so to speak, was with one of the most wonderful young ladies I’ve ever had the privilege to know.  A woman who could brighten the darkest day with her laugh, who could melt you with her smile.  A woman who defined joy by how she lived her life.  In some ways, she reminded me of how I used to be.

On our first “official date” as I called it, though not our first time meeting, I picked her up at her place and she was unaware of the plans for the evening.  As we set off on our way she asked what we would be doing and I said, “we’re going to a karaoke bar.”  She looked somewhat concerned.  I’m not sure if it was the mention of karaoke, bar or both.

I proceeded to explain to her that I was going to sing her through a century of music.  I’d begin with the music of the silent films of the 20’s, and this would, no doubt, be my best performance.  Moving into the 30’s, it would be songs made famous by Fred Astaire.  The 40’s, songs made famous by none other than Mr Frank Sinatra.  The 50’s would be devoted to the Golden Age of Rock N’ Roll.  For the 60’s I’d treat her to my favorites from the Motown era.  My plan for the 70’s was to divide them equally between the Disco sounds of the Bee Gees and the Folk melodies of Sweet Baby James… James Taylor.  The 80’s would belong to Huey Lewis and The News, one of my favorite bands to emerge from that decade.  I was also considering throwing in a little bit of “Wake Me Up Before You Go” by Wham.  The 90’s… none other than MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice!  I suspected I’d do well in this decade, or, at the very least, I’d be stinking entertaining!  I’d wrap the evening up with music from our current decade and planned to devote it entirely to my personal favorite… Michael Buble!

At this point, had the doors not been locked, and the traffic moving swiftly on the QEW, I’m quite sure she would’ve removed herself from the vehicle.  In the end… we went mini putting!  Who was I kidding anyway?  I wasn’t going to sing karaoke!

You know what… a couple of years ago, I would’ve actually done it.  I would’ve made a fool of myself, but I would’ve been able to guarantee that it would’ve been the most memorable first date she’d ever go on in her life, even if it would’ve likely been my last with her!

I didn’t realize it until after we stopped seeing each other, but I’ve lost that carefree, fearless spirit that once filled me.  As a result, while I was getting to know this young lady, and giving her the chance to get to know me, I played it safe.  I see now that what I was doing was trying to protect myself from rejection.  The irony is that, ultimately, I may have very well set myself up for failure!

I don’t mean to say that I lied or misrepresented myself, I don’t believe I did.  Perhaps I just didn’t fully represent myself.  But, the reason for that is because I have lost that part of myself, and it took another loss to help me realize it.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, a lot of praying and a lot of soul searching over the past week.  I’ve been reflecting on some of the changes that have taken place in my life in the past couple of years.  I don’t know if I’ll ever make full sense of them, and maybe I’m not supposed to.  At the very least though, I want to learn from them, and, Lord willing, grow from them!

Sometimes it’s good to just remove yourself from life for a while.  To spend a little time looking in the mirror.  Not just at your physical reflection mind you, but really looking deep.  You’d be surprised what you can learn.  One thing I’ve learned is that I want to be fearless again.

I suffered a deep, intense hurt.  A hurt that brought me to my knees.  I have two choices now.  To stay there, accepting a life of defeat.  An adequate, safe life.  Or to stand up, brush off, and risk it all again.  For it is in this, that I will find a life of abundance and victory.

“I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.” John 10:10

I am sorry for not taking a chance with the young lady I dated.  I was afraid to be free.  To be fearless.  To be me.  I’m sorry I was too afraid to risk it.  She most certainly would’ve been worth it.  There is a great karaoke spot on Clifton Hill in Niagara Falls.  It’s right on the street with TV monitors on a post so the tourists walking along can watch.  I should’ve taken her there.  I should’ve sang!  Lord grant me the courage to risk it all next time!  Help me be me again!

I don’t recall to many of my birthday’s.  There have been 30.  For many of them I was working and they simply passed as any other day.  Time marches on, the calendar turns a page.  It’s of little importance to me.  Certainly everyone remembers their 16th, or at least those of us in Ontario do.  That was the day I went and got my Learner’s Permit to be able to drive.

I remember my 30th.  It was only a few months ago.  I slept in half the day, woke up, baked myself a cake, and then ate it while watching Fred & Ginger movies on the couch.  That was a pretty solid day.  I should note, that while I did indeed eat the whole cake, I didn’t eat it all that day.  I tried to pace myself a little.  I’m not a complete glutton.

Perhaps, though, the most memorable of all was my 22.  In the week leading up to, and following my 22nd birthday, I got the greatest gift I could’ve hoped for.  Two days before my 22nd birthday, I got accepted onto the Fire Department.  It was an opportunity I had worked and waited for, for three years.  No better gift could I have received.

I was sitting in my room one night, I still lived with Dad at the time, watching TV.  I don’t recall what I was watching, it was probably nothing great.  In the midst of the show a thundering bang echoed through the chambers of the upstairs hallway.  Dad was beating on the wall.  He is not a crazed lunatic, it was just the easiest way for him to get my attention when I was watching TV.

I came to the top of the stairs to find out what he wanted and he told me to get dressed and get ready.  The Fire Station in the neighbouring town had just been paged out for a structure fire and it was more than likely that we were getting called in next.  This was going to be it.  My first structure fire!  Much of what took place in the moments that followed is a blur to me.

Dad and I responded to our Station; he is now retired, but served for 33 years.  We geared up, got in the Pump and we were on our way.  My first structure fire… holy crap!

We arrived on the scene of a large fire which had spread among a barn and some greenhouses.  The guys that were with us were dropped off at the scene and Dad and I were instructed to take the Pump one concession south.  Our job was to fill Tankers from small creek that ran nearby.  Part of me couldn’t believe I was driving away from the action, although, being a rookie, I understood.  The other part of me was riding in a Fire Truck with Dad; and this time not just in a parade!

We went and got set up, and what took place next made me want to cry.  Something inside our Pump broke.  As a result, we couldn’t fill Tankers and there was no use for us to be on scene.  The truck needed to be returned to the hall and we needed to find a way to fix it.  Now, not only had I driven away from the flames, but I was about to drive away from the scene entirely!  This was NOT how I saw my first structure fire going!

Once we were back at the hall, I probably moped around and whined a bit, I don’t recall for sure, but that is likely what I did.  Guys worked at trying to diagnose and repair the problem with the Pump.  Then it happened.  A second chance!  One of the Officers pulled up and offered to take me back to the scene with him. Thank you Captain Mitchell!!!

Much time had passed when we returned to the scene.  The bulk of the fire was knocked down, but I didn’t care.  I was still there, and this time around, I was going to play.  I was assigned to a sector and an officer, and, being the Probie, I was given instructions to stay close by and not doing anything stupid.  I agreed to comply.  I would’ve agreed to anything at that point!  I just wanted to get my gear dirty!  Little did I know how dirty it was about to become!

I was assigned to run a deluge gun.  It’s a master stream device that delivers a lot of water in a hurry.  My objective, keep the hydraulic lines of an excavator tearing apart the wreckage of the structure cool.  It seemed easy enough.  All I cared about was in that moment, I become a Firefighter!

I spent hours, I don’t even recall how many, standing knee deep in a manure pile, in the middle of a torrential rain and lightning storm, thinking if lightning strikes and I’m working this deluge gun, I’m going to die.  I didn’t rescue any children.  I didn’t run into a burning building.  I did nothing heroic, nothing like you’ve seen in the movies.  I just waded through a heap of crap and sprayed some water.  Yet, it was the greatest birthday I’ve had yet!

I’m a big fan of old movies.  I love the black and white romances from the 30’s and 40’s.  I’m a big fan of old musicals too.  There is just something about watching Fred & Ginger dance that makes you forget everything else in the world for those few moments.  I get lost in the movements, the story, the dialogue.  Back then, they could tell a love story that was actually about love, and not about sex.  I miss those days.  Not to say I ever knew them, obviously they were a few years before my time.  I think I would’ve like living back then.  But, I digress.

From time to time I enjoy a good action movie as well.  One of my favorite franchises to watch is the Lethal Weapon series.  It was in this movie series that I was introduced to the fine, and I’m sure, highly scientific, act of willing things to happen, or, not happen.  When Riggs and Murtaugh are trying to overcome their age, they will themselves to not get old.  In Lethal Weapon 4, when Riggs is trapped underwater, he wills Murtaugh to his location so he can be saved.  It’s brilliant.

Two weeks ago I decided it was time to do a little willing of my own.  So I put away my winter coat, crammed the sweatshirts to the back of closet, and busted out the short sleeves and Spring jackets.  I decided I was going to defy Winter and will it to be Spring.

The temperature nose dived to -20C the first night of my new venture.  I left the radio station at midnight, wearing a short sleeved shirt and a Spring Jacket.  My windshield was frosted, flurries were in the air, and I was pretty much convinced that I was little more than an idiot.

I am not one to be easily defeated when I have my mind made up about something.  Under normal, intelligent circumstances, I suppose this would be an admirable quality.  When it comes to matters of nature though, it ranks up there with glow in the dark combat gear, ham flavored massage lotion, and solar powered flashlights as an all time epic failure!

I am not deterred though.  I’m still sporting short sleeves.  I’m still cloaked in a Spring Jacket.  In fact, on days when the sun is shining I’ve even caught myself rolling down the window while I drive to work.  What I have decided is that it’s all a state of mind!

I may not be able to will Spring to come any quicker, although I could work on some kind of a bribe with a certain groundhog for next year, but I can choose how I trek through the final days of Winter.  That’s not to say that any good will come from quite literally freezing my butt off.  However, if I focus on milder temperatures, short sleeves, walks along the riverside, the sparkling reflection of a morning dew, and the rainbow of colors from all those fresh April flowers, I will certainly have less time to be miserable waiting for Winters curtain call.