i arrived in canada, 47 years ago today.
we left ringway airport in manchester on a boeing 707.
my first plane ride.
i hadn't seen my dad for over a year.
i left behind all my friends. my family. many of my toys, my books, many of my clothes, my dog, the only home i'd ever known.
my dad met us at the airport.
he had a huge car.
a pontiac parisienne.
he drove us near downtown toronto.
i was awed.
when he brought us to our new home - a tiny two bedroom apartment in a massive apartment building i was equally awed that we had a fridge, a stove, a bathroom with hot and cold water, and everything was new. it had furniture, a balcony, and i could see the don valley parkway from the bedroom window in a bedroom i shared with my brother.
my dad took a huge risk in going to canada alone the year before.
he took on the possibility that life there would be better.
it had to be. we had next to nothing.
i owe him my life, several times.
all that i have i have through my work.
but the possibility of the many kinds of work i now call my life was given to me through he and my mother's incredible decision to leave behind everything.
thanks mum and dad.
i learned to love my dad completely as i helped teach him how to love completely.
my dad died a buddhist.
i often wonder if he's returned to my life in another form . . . . .
because i'd love to know him all over again.