Ongoing Letter - Allan's Place
Allan's journal to the world. (Sounds important, doesn't it?)
I took my first attempt at cleaning one of Father’s long guns – a 20-gauge single-shot shotgun.
I read my info about transporting it, checked the status of the gun, making sure the trigger lock was secure, put it into its bag, and went to Wholesale Sports Outdoor Outfitters and got some advice, cleaning stuff, and ammo. I came back home to do the deed.
Now the task of cleaning it. I don’t think father has ever cleaned his guns. Talk about grimy.
Since Father got sick until just a bit ago, things have been stressful for me. I’m not great with expressing my most inner feelings. I’m not altogether sure I believe they should be expressed. As Stanislof once said, “I have religion – I just think it should be a private thing, not yelled out for everyone to hear.” There are things I don’t really wish to blab, to discuss. It obviously does many people a great deal of good to explore, voice, compare, listen, vent, etc. Those people have a hard time understanding that many of us don’t wish to. I want to just live my life, not talk about how it is lived. Yes, I feel – I just don’t want to discuss it. As Curly once said, “I crap bigger than you.” Well, good for you. But TMI. Keep your crap to yourself.
So I lost a friend. They were upset at me that I didn’t call after Father died. I was busy talking with many people and dealing with many details. (Still am.) Three other friends whom I told next time I spoke with them didn’t get angry. They instead knew that I needed time to myself. Acceptance.
On to other things. I notice that since my old blog, going back to October of 2014 of the Third Generation of the Ongoing Letter (sounds official, eh?), nothing has been said of many things. So here goes – a kind of rapid-fire update.
The van, a.k.a. “38”, is gone. I sold it to a young person in Coaldale. He wanted to buy an older ‘collector’ (and, being older than 25 years, it was) to pimp it. Last time I saw it, he took the toilet out of it and removed the rear bumper. I wonder what became of it. I just know it’s gone, along with the Fun Craft logos Glenn painted on it.
I’m not at Flexibility anymore. I quit. I gave my notice before summer began. Almost six years is enough. I still see students now and then – Mongali, for example – and I’m happy to see they’re doing well. New country, new life, new future. But I wanted to concentrate on my education at the college and my new career. I have one tutor student at this time. Not sure if I’ll have more. I’ve taken down my teaching website but might resurrect it in its new form later on. Hard to know. But, for now, I’m done with teaching.
I’m at an auto court (motel) in Cranbrook, BC, heading back to Lethbridge. For the first time in years – since before Glenn quit drinking – I’m having a drink. I bought some expensive Kentucky bourbon and dribbled a somewhat healthy quantity of it with some organic Okanagan beer and am now sitting out here in the courtyard of the auto court. Although it’s quite cold, it’s also pleasant.
I couldn’t leave Father’s house until about 10am and had been booting in the whole time, but I arrived at Cranbrook about 7pm and decided to take a motel room instead of pushing through. Got a pain in my stomach, thirsty (didn’t pack water), hungry (forgot my Burger King burger in the fridge at Father’s), and been through hooplah for one week, so it’s probably time to just stop and sleep go again in the morning.
This morning I packed up a few of Father’s things, like his Eaton’s driving safety badges, some photos, Eaton’s blankets, jeans (he’s probably not coming’ back for ’em), and various other keepsakes. Glenn still has some things in the house, so I’ll pick those things up later – or not. The shop is full of Father’s machines and machining equipment (welder, spanners, collectible farm implements, and such) and Glenn’s Coca~Cola collectibles; I have a year or so to figure out what to do with them, as does nephew Les. (Glenn left all his Coke collectibles to Les almost three years ago).
Laura will be living in Father’s house until the time comes to deal with it. The house is in ‘probate’ until it’s cleared by the courts. This will take up to one year. In the mean time, nothing goes in or out without my say. … Funny that I’m not there to enforce this. But Laura is there, and I trust her.
By the way – and this isn’t the Kentucky bourbon talking ’cause I’ve maintained this stance since day-one – if anyone has any problem with Laura’s involvement in this, you’re welcome to talk to me. That should be clear enough for everyone.
Father has passed away.
I posted on his blog http://www.lesjohnston.ca/2017/09/11/father-has-passed-away/. I got a message from Laura while in class today. I knew it couldn’t be good. It wasn’t. She was in tears when I called her back.
I am wondering if I have to fly out there anytime soon. More than $300 one-way. In class right now, one class tomorrow, so there might be time.
update
I’m at a motel in Salmo, BC, on my way to Rosedale / Chilliwack. Father’s viewing will be tomorrow 4pm sharp.
Laura is clearly upset. She’s returned all his meds to the pharmacist / chemist / drug store so as not to have them just sitting around in the house; morphine, cancer drugs, sleep, mental stability, etc. Best clear them out. She’ll have a lot to think about with her life now. Her power in the situation has just dropped out from under her. She cannot be in charge of the house now that Father’s gone. This must be quite unsettling for her. I will give her how much time she needs to decide when to leave. Or an arrangement otherwise.
Aizlynn (in England, on bike tour) spoke with me (driving Crow’s Nest Hwy 3 to Rosedale) re all this. She’s of the mind that all legal things must be done soon, and I’m for sure the guy to get them done, so it’s the right thing to do, going out there. No one else has that ability – only me.
Time for bed. 10:30pm MDT (9:30 PDT). Long drive before me in the morning.
Thank you for everyone who has called, messaged, etc. Thank you for your love and caring.
I renewed my license today. It expires in a week (my birthday). I just happened to notice the expiry date while doing some other paperwork. Good thing – otherwise, I’d have never noticed. There were about 20 people in line. A woman said, after small talk about the lineup, “I thought I’d chosen a day that there wouldn’t be a crowd.” I replied, “Maybe you did!”
This is the kind of thing I’d normally have an English lesson on, if I were still teaching ESL.
The true meaning of the end comment was: