"Music can change the world because music can change people." Bono |
Do you play a musical instrument, or perhaps some sad substitute, albeit with absolute glee?
(Whatever your response, I hope there's an abundance of music enriching your life.)
"Music can change the world because music can change people." Bono |
Do you play a musical instrument, or perhaps some sad substitute, albeit with absolute glee?
(Whatever your response, I hope there's an abundance of music enriching your life.)
Several sites declare they are both used to express "annoyance, disapproval, dismay, surprise, impatience or distress." The urban dictionary explained that yeesh is "yikes" and sheesh combined and etymologically they are variants of the exasperated expressions, geez/jeez (and their profane origin)...or, at least that's the hypothesheesh. ;)
Either way, I love them.
I checked my tag stats and discovered I use "sheesh" far more often, and this made me wonder if this interjection is regional. Do you use sheesh or yeesh or both, or something a little more spicy to express your irritation?
Spotted in this restaurant (5 stars) |
Niagara Falls, Ontario Canada aka the Horseshoe Falls |
My wife and I attended a wedding north of Toronto recently, so we used the opportunity to visit Niagara Falls. Since she had never been to the Falls, we did everything we could in an afternoon: rode the funicular down the escarpment to the river, took the boat tour (so much fun!), braved the thongs of tourists tasting maple syrup, bought the requisite t-shirts, and paid $15 for a small bag of chocolate almonds at a store I'm sure was named The Tourist Trap. It was a lovely day. But I was waiting to get to "the spot."
With my parents and older brothers, I visited Niagara Falls decades ago when I was 11(?) and snapped a photo in this spot. Although I don't recall much from that first visit, I do remember it was early on January 1, and thus a thoroughly different tourist experience. Essentially we were the only people there that morning.
I remember how it felt, for me: powerful, beautiful, alive. Yet my Dad looked over the edge and said in his characteristically deep and slow voice, "it's just a bunch of dirty water falling off a cliff." My Dad was often reductive, but I suspect his particular disdain that morning was due to the fact that he had just spent a week with his older sister, a person I observed during that visit (from afar) with equal fascination and fear. She was scary.
So what was so special about revisiting this spot? Reflecting on it now, I have no idea. Before we arrived, I guess I was hoping to feel something...special? There's an alchemy that sometimes occurs when revisiting childhood places, reinhabiting sentimental spaces, a kind of emotional time travel experience that can be especially meaningful and deepen those experiences. Right?
Nope. Not this time. My tone may seem negative, but that's not my intention: just being honest.
I wanted this spot to say something, mean something, signify something (explain something). Despite my magical thinking, there were no voices from the past or explanations about long-ago hoped-for happiness, nor new connections or understandings. There were better feelings though: gratitude for this experience with my wife, gratitude for the time and resources to travel, gratitude for my life now. Being able to unapologetically marvel at life!
The Falls have changed and so have I. Erosion is inevitable and the Falls have been reshaping themselves for thousands of years. All progress is typically upstream.
I think longing for "the spot" was about discovering something that never was. It's one of my romantic default bad habits: revisiting the past hoping to write a better narrative. Although I often continue searching there, happiness is not in the past; it's right now. Shakespeare may have said "what's past is prologue," but a happy epilogue makes for a great story too.
source |
It's probably insensitive to say I know how Jasper's residents are feeling, because I've never lost a home and community to fire, but there are growing numbers of Albertans who have been terrorized by wildfires, me included.
A few Junes ago, I recall taking video of everything in our home before we flew to a celebration in Montreal. Why? For insurance purposes, I needed a video record of our dwelling contents; there was a definite possibility our home could be ash when we returned. Then we packed our most important keepsakes into our vehicle and drove it to another community to park in a friend's yard, outside the evacuation alert zone.
Amongst all your cherished possessions (knowing you cannot take them all), contemplate having a few hours to decide which ones are the most important to save. You can take as many as will fit in your vehicle. Which ones would you be okay with never seeing again?
That was a tough month. Unlike many Albertans who've lost homes and businesses, we were spared. That time.
Our family has collected so many happy memories visiting Jasper. It's difficult to summarize why they are so special, so I won't try. If you'd like to read about a few of them click here, or here, or here, or here.
But one other memory keeps bubbling up, one I didn't write about. It brings tears; it shouldn't but it does. After skiing all day, just the four of us visited Jasper's movie theatre. The crowd was small and our kids were a little young for Blades of Glory but happy-tired from all the fresh air and mountain scenery, we settled in with popcorn and candy like that movie was made for us. It was. We laughed the loudest and longest, all at the same time. We were that family. Hilarity filled us to the brim and we watched until the very end of the credits, basking in the "Iron Lotus" induced endorphins, bahahahlalahaha. Remember that film?! "Spandex. Glitter. Egos. Ice blows." Clever satire, top tier improv, and goofy characters.
I don't know why but this memory feels so poignant today. It doesn't make sense. But what does in a world where one of the four seasons is now fire season?
And where next?