#93- Losing My Bus Pass

Last Friday morning could not have started any worse. 

It was horribly and and unseasonably cold for a summer morning and I sat shivering at a table on the patio of a coffee shop. I was tired and still had to work that day. As I got up from the table I patted my pocket, a reactionary tick I have to check if I have everything. Where there was supposed to be a bus pass there was only a piece of crumbled paper and the feeling of utter despair. I desperately rifled through my backpack only to come up empty again. I had lost my bus pass. 

So much for T.G.I.F.

After a violent mood swing that featured more cursing than an R-rated movie and exaggerated "why me" moments fit for the stage, I accepted that losing my bus pass was not that big of a deal. It was in fact a blessing in disguise.

Losing my bus pass meant less sitting on crusty, blue seats watching the world go by and more walking around in the sunshine, taking in the world around me. 

I explored my new neighbourhood, I noticed interesting new nooks in a city I thought I already had completely figured out. I stopped to look at books at the little, independent bookstore around the corner from me. I saw a lady sing about an American privateer, whatever that is.

I had been stuck, stuck on buses, going about the daily grind and not noticing all the beauty that summer in Ottawa had to offer. Losing my bus pass was a ticket out of this rut.

So I am grateful for losing my bus pass. I am grateful that life made me stop and realize its beauty when I refused to do so on my own. And even though I know I will need to get a new bus pass for next month, I will always remember that part of summer my own two feet were the best transportation around.

#92- Fatherly Advice

I know, I know, I missed Father's Day, by a long shot, but I'm going to try to make up for it by giving homage to what just might be one of the best things about fathers worldwide; fatherly advice.

It seems to me that fathers have it hardwired into their brain to impart the cumulative wisdom of their years into bite-sized nuggets of information for their offspring. As a former student journalist it is astounding to me how concisely dads can put huge metaphysical queries into one or two sentences or a witty phrase.


On the eve of my departure to Kenya, almost four years ago, my dad and I were talking, probably about the Blue Jays or something, when he suddenly gave me some of that fatherly advice. He told me that when I faced adversity on my trip, when I had a bad day or felt like I couldn't or didn't want to continue, I should remember one thing; why I was there in the first place.


I nodded and thanked him, but I gave the advice a mental brush off, stuffing it in the back of my brain. Why would I need that, I thought, I'm on a once in a lifetime trip with friends, doing something good. I won't face any doubt or hurdles, emotional, mental or physical.

Of course I was wrong, as arrogant teenagers often are, and mustered up that sage wisdom of my father's more than once along my journey in Kenya, and was 1000 times better off for it.


And now I keep that advice close at hand in whatever I do. Whenever I start to grumble and get discouraged at the ice cream store where I work, I try to remember why I am there. I am there to serve ice cream, I am there to make people smile, help a family connect, a child find the extraordinary in the ordinary and give a sweet end to a sometimes bitter day. And when I remember this I realize the smiles and laughter much more and my tired legs and negative thoughts much less.


So I am grateful for fatherly advice. I am grateful that wisdom, kindness and knowledge can be passed from generation to generation to make this world a better place.