Surrender to the places that seduce you...

The following is the original and the rewrite can be found by clicking here.

Easily missed from the main street if you are not looking carefully; its only marker is a Carlsberg beer sign high over the alcove to the entrance. If not for the neon OPEN sign and THE HOLE IN THE WALL  embossed in gold on a window tucked back in the shadows, you would not know it is there. It may seem you should go down the stairs but don't - That is not the way in.

Inside, the space is narrow and long, with the bar along one wall. There is a rustic feel to the space with the wooden floor, the brickwork walls, and the back lit stained glass over the bar; all complimented by the eclectic style of the booths, the art on the wall, and the music in the background... there is a warmth that invites you to take a seat and sample the many craft beers, try the cocktails they can make or enjoy the food they offer - An oddly familiar sensation of being in a speakeasy takes hold; a bygone era that with a little imagination becomes real. 

The people come in waves, leaving the bar empty one moment and full the next. Standing room only on a Friday or Saturday night with live music filling the air, only ever escaping into the street when the door is opened.

It is a place I keep returning to (alone or with friends), as if being seduced by a forbidden lover. 

I would not go so far as to say I am a "regular" but there was one time my beer was poured and in front of me as I sat down; a brown ale called 10w30 from a local craft brewery. It is my beer of choice, Woodford Reserve is my bourbon of choice, and an incredible bacon cheeseburger is my default for food. 

It is curious how a place can seize you and create a connection never to be forgotten; The Village Kitchen and Pie Shoppe in California, the Ranstead Room in Philadelphia, the Hotel de la Montagne bar in Montreal*, and now The Hole In The Wall - I will carry them with me always. These places spur on the human condition I suppose... they give us a place to savour all of our senses, be a voyeur or an exhibitionist, remain solitary or be social, and allow for engagement in the conversations that bring us together. 

They whisper your name, forever calling you like a great love, "Come join me, I am waiting. We have much to talk about."

Surrender to the seduction, but don't pick just any place.

iamgpe

* I almost broke down and cried when I heard they demolished the Hotel de la Montagne. The bar in the lobby was truly one of a kind. 

The moment that defines us...

The following is the original and the rewrite can be found by clicking here.

I greet death differently now.

I suppose it was my sister's doing; that witching hour phone call, the lonely trip to the hospital and a quiet goodbye to who she used to be. I collected up her things and then in the silence of a new dawn walked back to the car... a forlorn scene as I balanced a vase and bamboo stalk along with her other possessions; the metaphor for the last seven months of her life. She was cremated five days later and her final resting place is an urn in the shape of a birth bath because she didn't want to be buried in the cold ground - She wanted to stay among the living. 

As a matter of course, the following days and weeks involved the contemplation of death; not a macabre examination of death itself but more a pursuit to understand life. There was the predictable reflection that life needs to be lived, all the while embracing trite words like "zest, gusto, bucket and list". In the end though, there was just the resignation to the inevitability of death and that our lives were then defined - Nothing more "can be written" that defines who we are, and what we have done.

I looked at the caller ID on my phone and was deeply saddened as I knew what would greet me when I answered; my long time friend Paul Sipprell had died after his long battle with cancer. His life's defining moment had come. 

Paul was a loving husband and father of two beautiful daughters, an accomplished graphic illustrator and artist who befriended everyone he met with humour, kindness and generosity. Avidly pursuing his outdoor passions until his mind could not convince his body anymore, Paul personified the grand appetite for life, adventure, friendship, bravery and the appreciation for a life lived - A life well defined by any measure.

I will miss my friend deeply and cannot help but consider what my defining moment will ultimately look like.

Rest in Peace Paul.

iamgpe

I put out a call for blog ideas and this is what I got...

I thought it was a stroke of genius* on my part to put out a call for new blog ideas so I could expand my scope of topics, challenge my thinking and develop myself - One of my oldest friends got back to me rather quickly.

After reading what she sent me twice, I actually muttered, "WTF am I going to do with this?" As I said, she is one of my oldest friends and a real sweetheart, so it would simply be wrong of me not to give it that ol' college try.

BTW, this is what she sent me:

"We're all about lightness and novelty in our society, but sometimes there's merit to keeping 'things' as totems, or physical reminders of good times in the past. I think sometimes, we're all about the pristine and sterile and we shouldn't be afraid of the layers of treasures and detritus that build up over the course of a lifetime." 

I like to tell everyone that on a daily basis I work with a 1000 word vocabulary; holding true to this conviction, I had to look up "detritus" [dəˈtrīdəs] which is defined as waste or debris of any kind. I will say literary interpretation has never been a strong suit of mine but then again I did say "I wanted to expand my scope of topics, challenge my thinking and develop myself", so I guess I got what I asked for.

No doubt there is innuendo regarding the youth culture and beautification of everything around us, with the "novelty" of fresh faced potential being preferred to the weathered face of experience; continually trying to retain order in what is believed to be an "unspoiled" image before the chaos and layers of a life lived has settled in. To this, there is a reminder that a life truly lived has both treasures and detritus (see above definition) and reflects our journey - All of which should be embraced and not feared.

But the question has to be asked, "Why only totems for the treasures when a life truly lived embraces the detritus as well?" I get that keeping 'things' as totems of the good times is much more enjoyable then that of the bad times - I mean, who needs the pain?

However, if these "totems" are seen more as signposts of a life lived and not as good or bad memories, they become "markers" of where we have been, what we have accomplished, the sights we've seen, and are forever reminding us of how far we've come - All to be celebrated as a life being lived.

And if we are willing to share our totem's stories, they become signposts for those who are finding their way.

I hope I have done well by my old friend,

iamgpe

* An example of a real stoke of genius is the 3M Sticky Note... what I did, not so much.