The Girl and the Mass Transit Idea

Part of being a parent is passing along your values to your children.

One thing I seem to have passed along is my love for, and belief in, mass transit systems. This includes the idea of transportation that is sustainable, a part of city infrastructure which is otherwise walkable.

By the time The Girl is the age I am as I write this, it will be the year 2049. This is one year before the big alternative energy target year in Europe – the EU energy roadmap for 2050 –  that will completely discontinue dependence on fossil fuels, and nuclear power. By then, alternative energy will not be alternative. And mass transit won’t be a “nice to have”. I don’t know what the world will look like by then here in Canada, stuck as we are in 2013 having to endure subsidized propaganda about how oil pipelines are the future of economic prosperity, and as safe as mother’s milk.

If I’m still kickin’ by 2049, I’ll be 80, and still against all that!

In the meantime, a lot of the people in The Girl’s life live apart from each other; friends, relatives, and of course parents. It takes a while to get places sometimes. As is well documented here, I went without a car for a while, crossing bridges and making pick-ups that were often challenging. And even since I’ve had the car, we’ve talked about ways to use it responsibly, to take transit when we can, and definitely to walk places when it’s possible to do so.

In any case this sparked a discussion about mass transit as the Girl sees it. This isn’t just about her, and her immediate circle. We’re talking a global solution here!

Here it is: The Passway.

It’s an electrically-driven “elevator”-like public vehicle, that seats up to ten people, with room for bathrooms.  You go into it, and decide on a destination – anywhere in the world. That’s how it’s kind of like the elevator idea, walking in  and pressing a button to the floor you want to end up on. Only, with the Passway (so named because you are “passed” from one location to another), there is a central “brain” (her words!) that is accessed by way of a map interface – maybe like Google Earth or something (must confirm). You plot your course, and away you go. The Passway is supported by a network of wires that intersect all over the world.

“You can go to China!” asserts the Girl.

I haven’t asked her how much it costs (“why does the world need so much money?” she was quoted as saying last week, to which I had no conclusive answer …), or how long it would take to build. “I might invent it.” she says.

I’m hoping for a drawing. We’ll collaborate on it, as she also suggested. And I’ll post it here.

In the meantime, here’s a picture of the two of us; the burgeoning civil engineer, and her loyal draftsman.

The Girl and Random I Love Yous

It happens every so often. There is no pattern. It’s just:

“Daddy?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

I don’t question it, and who would.

The Girl & The Pirate Ship

The traffic over the Alex Fraser bridge is unpredictable. It’s at the worst possible time of the day that I traverse the route during the working week. Most of the time, it’s busy but bearable. But on the day this week that I made my way to pick up the Girl, there were multiple accidents in both directions along the route.

So, in picking up the Girl at daycare that dark and rainy evening, and attempting a return journey, I just gave it up. It was time to say uncle to the traffic, being as it was completely clogged, and shrouded in darkness, rain, and palpable impatience all around. I think it was Shakespeare, or William Blake who once said: “You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em”.

So, the Girl and I got off the highway and repaired to a local family restaurant known for their varied menu, “O”sauce times three, and pirate-oriented kids menus. You know the one.

It was here that the Girl drew this:

It’s a picture of us, her and me, on a pirate ship of course. She took the liberty of dressing me as a pirate. Note the hat. And pay particular attention to the large, blue earring on my left ear, there. That was something she wanted me to notice specifically.

I’m sure the pirate theme of her menu helped to inspire it. But, I wonder too about the idea of adventures, of travailing the dark, rainy landscapes together, braving crazy traffic, with a bit of an adventure at coming to a restaurant to eat instead of my place might have had something to do with it too.

Our time together is very intentional. That’s the nature of how things are in both of our lives right now when it comes to each other. Sometimes, it really can feel like a nation of two, at sea together (in the best sense of that phrase), on adventures, even if some of them aren’t all that exciting to the casual observer.

It seems to me that this thing we’re all in, whatever it is, is a series of voyages. We gain and lose shipmates along the way. And when we all get to a certain age, maybe our ideal sailing companion on the search for treasure isn’t going to be our Dad. But, I do know that when this era is over, when spending hours on end together, just she and I, isn’t going to be enough for her, I will miss it. She will grow to the point that she will need the presence of others more so than she will need mine; her peers, her lovers, her times that she’ll need to be off on her own, and in her own presence, without anyone. That’s as it should be, of course.

But even when I will celebrate the person she becomes, I will miss the little Girl she was. This knowledge makes me want to capture moments like this as they happen, to savour them, to hard code how they make me feel into my memory, to be aware that I am in an era that is progressing toward newer ones that hold their own treasures, with everyone involved in them all in the state of becoming, including myself.

Perhaps this picture holds a symbol of this era she and I are in right now together, here in 2012 on the cusp of 2013. Maybe not. I don’t know. But, I really like it. It made me want to preserve it for posterity.

So, here it is.

The Girl and the Schedule

I was supposed to see the Girl get her orange belt in karate tonight, and was even on my way to the karate dojo to do just that. But, her Mum called to say that the Girl was home, sick. Stuck in traffic on the way anyway, I figured I’d go by and see her, even though it wasn’t my night.

At present, my nights are Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays overnight, with Sunday mornings therefore thrown in. Since her Mum and I split, it’s pretty much stayed this way, although I had Thursdays instead of Wednesdays for a long while. Those are my nights. The Girl, at this point, knows the routine. There have been times when we’ve deviated from it, for special occasions and other things. It’s not like the break-up is a hostile thing so much so that there’s no flexibility when it comes to sharing moments of triumph, like a karate belt ceremony.

But, sometimes  I think it strikes The Girl as weird that I’m there on the days I’m not “supposed” to be. I think when I swung by there tonight, she was surprised to see me. It’s like she lives in two worlds, two planets. One is the one I’m on. And the other is the life she has with her Mum. Well, maybe I’m more like a moon to her, rather than a whole planet.

Source: observando.net via ecomom on Pinterest

But, that’s actually OK.

One thing we talked about early on is that we wanted to make sure that the Girl was rooted, that she always felt a sense of home, not trapped between worlds, between two parents, even if she is a frequent flyer. Mostly, I think it works. That’s why it’s weird for her to see me not on my night, I think.

Once again – weird is good. I always knew it.

The Girl, Her Dad, Levon Helm, and His ‘Girl’

As some readers out there may or may not know, I’ve spent a few years writing a music blog, The Delete Bin, which among other things shows my geekdom surrounding all kinds of musical genres, ranging from pop music to jazz. This post here on MatGtGaM can be looked upon as something of a cross-over, maybe. But, this is ultimately about fathers and daughters, and their journey together. So, it fits.

Anyway, on April 19 of this year, one of my musical heroes passed away at the age of 71 after a long battle with cancer; Levon Helm. For those of you who don’t recognize the name, he was the drummer, singer, and multi-instrumentalist of the incredibly influential rock group The Band. Over the course of their life as a group, they’d backed Bob Dylan when he played his first “electric” concerts in the mid 1960s. They’d also created critically acclaimed, even game-changing albums, had played the Woodstock festival, and were featured in Martin Scorcese’s film about their last show – The Last Waltz.

But, all the while, Levon was also the father of a daughter, Amy. Here’s a cool picture of them, which recently appeared on Amy Helm’s Facebook page in memoriam of her late dad.

Source: plochmann.blogspot.com via Jamie on Pinterest

In this shot, it looks like Amy is about three or four years old. Her dad was in the heyday of the Band by this time, with this picture probably taken just before Levon and the rest of the group hit the road with Bob Dylan again for one of the biggest tours of the 1970s. Yet, he was a devoted father, with a daughter clearly devoted right back. Look at Amy’s little hand as it curls around the back of his neck. That’s love.

Later, when Amy grew up, the two of them would collaborate as fellow musicians, recording and touring, even here to Vancouver where I saw them play in 2010. They’d become close as adults. They’d become friends. This was inspiring to me at the time, when I saw them perform together.

But, in seeing this picture, it struck me that they had a relationship that must have developed over time to get things to the point where they could develop a healthy adult relationship. Even in the middle of his success as a touring musician in a major act, he still found the time for Amy, who when she became an adult herself took to friendship and artistic collaboration with her father as a matter of course.

I imagine that the story isn’t quite as simple as that.  I imagine there were struggles and strains between them like there are in every relationship. But, what I’m reminded of when I look at this picture is that I too have a goal that’s pretty clear where the Girl is concerned; see to it that I function as best I can as her father now, as she needs me to be for her during this period of her childhood, so that later on, she and I can also become good friends as adults.

I think ultimately this is what every parent wants. It certainly looks as though Levon and Amy had it. In her grief, I imagine this is one of the treasures that Amy can take as her own, and is something from her dad that is stronger and more enduring than his death.

For more information about Amy Helm, and her relationship with her dad (among other things), read this interview with Amy Helm.

The Girl and New Year 2012

Happy New Year everyone!

In thinking about the passage of time, I thought I’d post this pic, taken in June of 2007, when the Girl was a year and a half old. It’s one of my favourite pictures of the two of us.

It really doesn’t seem that long ago. And yet, it feels like an eternity. That is the nature of time, I guess. And I suppose too it underscores the point that we need to take hold of, and cherish, each era in the lives of our children. By extension of course, we grasp hold of our own eras, too. It’s one of the perks of parenthood.

From the Girl and I – well, mostly me – Have a Happy 2012!

The Girl and Antlers

Here’s some photos.  First, the festive antler-oriented shot:

And the non-festive, and kinda nutty.

The Girl and Babies

The Girl, aged 3, and taken on a farm in South Surrey. It was a photo shoot for her third birthday.

It was announced recently, that Pinky, who is the Girl’s mechanical toy Guinea Pig (and twin to another toy Guinea Pig, Purpley), is “going to have a baby”.

The Girl has a grip on the basic mechanics of how babies are made, with a few of the details missing. For instance, she has an impression that there is a baby inside every girl, just waiting to be born. We’re still talking about it.

But, she knows where she came from. Recently, I recounted some of the key events of her birth. I told her about taking her mum to the hospital. And I told her about the labour, from my perspective anyway. She asked if it hurt. And I said it did.

But, I told her about when she was born, and about my being the second person to hold her (counting the OB). I told her about seeing her turn from a greyish, to a vital pink as her heart began to pump life around her little body, without the help of the placenta. I told her about her little hands curling around my thumbs, and the absolute joy I felt because of her very existence.

“When I grow up, I’m going to have a baby, too.”

I’m not quite sure where this comes from, and it is rearing its head quite a bit lately. It doesn’t worry me. I have always positioned the whole thing to her as “IF YOU DECIDE to have a baby …” when she’s asked about the role of parenthood. I think she’s just curious about it.

But, the thing is this: IF she does decide to become a mum, I think (and it’s early days yet, I know…) she’ll make a good one. She’s got something of a nurturing spirit, even toward me, her father. And she’s encouraging, positive, and quick to celebrate the victories of others.

My preference for her of course is to become the person she needs to be, children or not. Because it seems to me that that’s what bolsters the best parents – those who have garnered enough experience to know that there is more to their existence than seeing to the existence of another.

But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

What’s a good name for a newborn mechanical toy Guinea Pig?

The Girl and the Knock-Knock Joke

photo: lippert61

Me: Knock, knock

The Girl: Who’s there?

Me: Banana.

The Girl: Banana who?

Me: Knock, knock

The Girl: Who’s there?

Me: Banana.

The Girl: Banana who?

Me: Knock, knock

The Girl: Who’s there?

Me: Orange.

The Girl: Orange who?

Me: Orange you glad I didn’t say ‘banana’?

(waits for laugh, in vain)

The Girl: Let me tell one.

Me: OK, go.

The Girl: Knock, knock

Me: Who’s there?

The Girl: Banana.

Me: Banana who?

The Girl: Knock, knock

Me: Who’s there?

The Girl: Banana.

Me: Banana who?

The Girl: Knock, knock.

Me: Who’s there?

The Girl: Banana in his underwear!

Me: You’re supposed to say ‘orange’.

The Girl: (giggles)

Me: You just like to say the word “underwear”, don’t you?

The Girl: (giggles harder) …

The Girl and The Tomato With a Handle

It’s amazing what they’re doing with produce these days. While on a summer picnic this week, the Girl and I happened upon a tomato with a convenient handle for easy portability.

The irony is that the Girl doesn’t like tomatoes. No amount of tomato-ey convenience will sway her.

“I’ll like tomatoes when I’m growed up,” says she.