So now it's turned from a day with some urgency about making myself ready for church,to a rather lazy Sunday morning of laying around and watching television, and likely drifting off back to sleep sporadically throughout the day, watching a race and trying to fix something decent for dinner. Life is actually boring here, and,I think ,not sustainable.I can work every day I want to, it's so damn busy here, and in fact I've worked every day that I've wanted to, and a good many that I'd rather not have worked. Unloading the trailers is rather profitable because of the way it's paid out, but it's not much of a job.It requires no intellect at all, and those who employ me to that end expect me to have none, and treat me accordingly at times.It's been about five years since I've taken any classes, which bothers me.I think of applying to University Of Calgary for a class or two, but I haven't gotten around to it yet.Calgary has never really been a community that I've accepted as having any permanence.People ask if I like it here and the best I can manage is that it kind of suits me right now. I've never told anyone I like it, and I've never come to view it as home.The whole "Home" thing is just kind of way up in the air right now.If I were completely truthful to myself, I'd likely try to deal with this issue,before the economy turns again, as it always does, and Calgary becomes not the place to be.I really should try to figure out where I'd like to live, because this isn't really living, it's just being.
My most memorable day here in Calgary was, of course the day that defined the era we are now living in.A cool, trending towards warm Tuesday morning in September.I'd gotten up early like I do most days. At first light I was already up and about.One of my first thoughts of the day was that it was my nephews birthday.I looked outside to the usual sights and sounds.A black squirrel running nimbly along the overhead wires.The creak of a dumpster lid swinging open.The Hollow and distant metallic clink of cans being tossed out onto the pavement.Just a bit farther away,the gathering of early morning traffic out on Twenty Fifth Avenue.
I was in the habit of keeping the radio on a talk radio station all night, dozing and waking,then listening either syndicate old radio shows, or the talk show host from Nevada that talked the night away of subjects having to do broadly with the paranormal. As I was gathering up some fruit for breakfast, listening to the usual commercials, the weather, and traffic reports, the news of a plane hitting The World Trade Center.I tried to visualize New York City, and as I did, it occurred to me that it was most likely a small plane, since all of the larger planes seemed to fly out over Harlem, and there was never a lot of air traffic over downtown Manhattan to the best of my memory.Likely a plane running into mechanical difficulty after leaving Newark, or perhaps while attempting to land there.The usual local fare continued for a while. Still no real details, though the morning host assured us they were watching the story.
Then that terrible other shoe had dropped.A few minutes later.Another plane, the announcer said had hit the other tower, and I knew this was not ordinary, in fact I knew that there would be no more ordinary days for some time, and when ordinary returned, it would be of a vastly different kind, a much less preferable reality. That day had come by which time would be divided into the time before and the time after.I kept no television in that apartment down by the river, so I listened to the story take over the airwaves the way a malignancy takes over a body.At the last minute that would allow me to still get to work on time I walked out into a glorious fall morning and walked over to the C-Train, catching a southbound to work. The conversation is what I most noticed, how it seemed and angry,electric whisper, alternating with near silence, minute after minute.
At work the television was on in the lunchroom, and it was turned to full volume so that it could be heard throughout the shop.I poked my head through the door and saw for the first time that vision now etched forever onto the retina of every person living at the time. It was slow in the shop,very few customers coming in and they were all talking about the news of the day. I got a lot of chances to leave the floor and stick my head back into the lunchroom, to watch those terrible images.Two of the worlds tallest buildings penetrated by large aircraft, burning, then plummeting to the earth in the middle of Lower Manhattan. I tried to imagine what it would have been like to have been there gazing up at the scene, watching the fires.I wondered how far away I would have had to get to escape the falling rubble.The best I could do was think that I would be unable to outrun the debris before it overtook me, that by the act of being there, I would be consumed.
I guess in a sense I always knew a day like this would come.But I wasn't prepared for it when it did.Outside, emptying the trash from work I was most keenly aware of the yellow jackets swarming around, a malevolent presence,and I swatted them away to avoid being stung.When I went home, there was a man at the train station hawking an extra addition of the news paper, something I'd never seen happen before. But the most unsettling thing was the absence of planes overhead.I was born into the aviation age and had no conception of a time without planes. The birds and insects that filled the sky seemed so awesomely loud, so much more noticeable, so eerie.
That's the world we live in now.I can conjure the scene in my mind without additional stimulus,the exact pattern of smoke and flames,bodies dropping to the ground, seeming to take so long in doing so.the Americans are in Iraq and Afghanistan now and Canada is in Afghanistan.Soldiers are dying as politicians pledge to restore us to a greater state of security. I can see the pictures.Two buildings dropping to the ground.Two soldiers arriving on the front step of of a home, changing the world still further for some young wife and her children.
I roll over uncomfortably on the bed and set the television to the right channel.It's nearly race time but I'm thinking I will likely sleep some more. I'm seeming to be tired, much more so than usual. I've got work to do tomorrow and the luxury of rest right now.So maybe I'll use it.
My most memorable day here in Calgary was, of course the day that defined the era we are now living in.A cool, trending towards warm Tuesday morning in September.I'd gotten up early like I do most days. At first light I was already up and about.One of my first thoughts of the day was that it was my nephews birthday.I looked outside to the usual sights and sounds.A black squirrel running nimbly along the overhead wires.The creak of a dumpster lid swinging open.The Hollow and distant metallic clink of cans being tossed out onto the pavement.Just a bit farther away,the gathering of early morning traffic out on Twenty Fifth Avenue.
I was in the habit of keeping the radio on a talk radio station all night, dozing and waking,then listening either syndicate old radio shows, or the talk show host from Nevada that talked the night away of subjects having to do broadly with the paranormal. As I was gathering up some fruit for breakfast, listening to the usual commercials, the weather, and traffic reports, the news of a plane hitting The World Trade Center.I tried to visualize New York City, and as I did, it occurred to me that it was most likely a small plane, since all of the larger planes seemed to fly out over Harlem, and there was never a lot of air traffic over downtown Manhattan to the best of my memory.Likely a plane running into mechanical difficulty after leaving Newark, or perhaps while attempting to land there.The usual local fare continued for a while. Still no real details, though the morning host assured us they were watching the story.
Then that terrible other shoe had dropped.A few minutes later.Another plane, the announcer said had hit the other tower, and I knew this was not ordinary, in fact I knew that there would be no more ordinary days for some time, and when ordinary returned, it would be of a vastly different kind, a much less preferable reality. That day had come by which time would be divided into the time before and the time after.I kept no television in that apartment down by the river, so I listened to the story take over the airwaves the way a malignancy takes over a body.At the last minute that would allow me to still get to work on time I walked out into a glorious fall morning and walked over to the C-Train, catching a southbound to work. The conversation is what I most noticed, how it seemed and angry,electric whisper, alternating with near silence, minute after minute.
At work the television was on in the lunchroom, and it was turned to full volume so that it could be heard throughout the shop.I poked my head through the door and saw for the first time that vision now etched forever onto the retina of every person living at the time. It was slow in the shop,very few customers coming in and they were all talking about the news of the day. I got a lot of chances to leave the floor and stick my head back into the lunchroom, to watch those terrible images.Two of the worlds tallest buildings penetrated by large aircraft, burning, then plummeting to the earth in the middle of Lower Manhattan. I tried to imagine what it would have been like to have been there gazing up at the scene, watching the fires.I wondered how far away I would have had to get to escape the falling rubble.The best I could do was think that I would be unable to outrun the debris before it overtook me, that by the act of being there, I would be consumed.
I guess in a sense I always knew a day like this would come.But I wasn't prepared for it when it did.Outside, emptying the trash from work I was most keenly aware of the yellow jackets swarming around, a malevolent presence,and I swatted them away to avoid being stung.When I went home, there was a man at the train station hawking an extra addition of the news paper, something I'd never seen happen before. But the most unsettling thing was the absence of planes overhead.I was born into the aviation age and had no conception of a time without planes. The birds and insects that filled the sky seemed so awesomely loud, so much more noticeable, so eerie.
That's the world we live in now.I can conjure the scene in my mind without additional stimulus,the exact pattern of smoke and flames,bodies dropping to the ground, seeming to take so long in doing so.the Americans are in Iraq and Afghanistan now and Canada is in Afghanistan.Soldiers are dying as politicians pledge to restore us to a greater state of security. I can see the pictures.Two buildings dropping to the ground.Two soldiers arriving on the front step of of a home, changing the world still further for some young wife and her children.
I roll over uncomfortably on the bed and set the television to the right channel.It's nearly race time but I'm thinking I will likely sleep some more. I'm seeming to be tired, much more so than usual. I've got work to do tomorrow and the luxury of rest right now.So maybe I'll use it.
