Happy Birthday, Canada!

Happy Canada Day!

This is going to be a short post.  I just wanted to wish everyone a happy holiday and give you all a quick update about what we've been doing.   Sini is still away, but I've heard from her and she's doing fine.  She says she's having a good time but she misses me and Skyla, and she says she'll be happy to be home again.

Meanwhile, Skyla and I came with Sapphire to spend the Canada Day long weekend at her parents' house.  We took the ferry to the mainland on Saturday.  It was Skyla's first ferry ride, and she loved it.  I think Skyla is going to grow up to be a traveller like me.

On the ferry, we went out on deck and Skyla got really excited when she saw some seagulls.  She kept shouting, "Bird!  Bird!"  Sapphire told her what kind of birds they were, although I suspect she identified them more for my benefit than for Skyla's.   I think Skyla was just happy to see some birds and know how to tell everyone what she saw.  Mostly, I don't wish for sight, but on Saturday morning I would've given a lot to be able to see the expression on my little girl's face and to watch her jumping up and down. 

It rained on Saturday afternoon and almost all day on Sunday as well, so it hasn't been a particularly good weekend for hiking, climbing, going to the beach or playing outside.  We spent some time visiting Sapphire's grandmother, and there was a community sing-along on Sunday night, but mostly we just hung around inside and tried to keep from getting too bored.

The weather was better today.  This morning, there was a huge community breakfast to start off the Canada Day celebrations.  It was very noisy and busy at the community centre, but the food was awesome!  After breakfast, there were games for children at the sports field next to the community centre.    Sapphire's parents did a big barbecue in the afternoon, and that was really great.  My favourite part of that was the watermelon.  As far as I'm concerned, no Canada Day barbecue would be complete without the watermelon.

 

Late in the afternoon, we all went into town for the parade.  There were street vendors selling souvenirs, t-shirts and flags and of course there were the ubiquitous hotdog stands and people selling popcorn, french fries and cotton candy.   Sapphire shared her fries with me because I didn't think it'd be wise for me to try eating an entire serving of them on my own.  Skyla had some cotton candy which she judged to be "Yummy!"   Sini would probably be annoyed with me for letting Skyla have all that sugar, but this is a special occasion.  Canada Day only happens once a year.   Of course, it's nearly midnight and Skyla is still up, so I may come to regret my lenient parenting.  

I'm sorry that I can't really tell you much about the parade.  Sapphire did her best to describe things to me, but I had a hard time coming up with mental images of most of it.   I enjoyed the pipe and drum music.  A lot of the floats had music playing on them too, so I was able to hear some of the parade.   Skyla's favourite part of the parade was the horses.   She squealed and clapped every time she saw one and called out, "Hi, horsie!"   Not only does my child love adventure, but she also seems to be horse crazy.  Apparently, the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree.

After the parade, there was a free concert.  That was my favourite part of the day's activities.  We all went to listen.  I thought Skyla would get restless and that I'd end up having to leave with her halfway through, but she was remarkably good.  She likes music, and I think she was fascinated by all the people and all the different sights and sounds around her.  She sat on my lap for most of the show, and only fussed once or twice.  Dave Carroll was the performer I liked best, but I also really enjoyed Valdy's performance.  Jon Vezner and Kim Dunn were also there.   Kim Dunn's song "Life's Looking Back" has become one of my new favourites.  It makes me think of Skyla.

When it got dark and the concert was over, there was a fireworks display.   I'm not a fan of fireworks, but I went anyway.  As it turns out, Skyla loves fireworks.  I thought the noise would bother her, but she didn't seem concerned by it at all.   In that respect, my daughter and I differ greatly.   Of course, history has a lot to do with that, I think. 

My earliest memory of fireworks is from when Michael and I were about six years old.   We went with our parents and maternal grandfather to the Canada Day celebration in the nearest town to where we lived.  The parade and the games were fun for Michael,  but there were a lot of things I couldn't participate in and, for me, it'd just been a long and tiring day.  By the time night came and we were all situated on a huge blanket in the middle of a field with hundreds of other people all doing the same, I was feeling exhausted and cranky and just wanted to go home.   When the fireworks started, everyone was ooh-ing and ahh-ing at what they saw, but the only thing I experienced was a series of deafening booms and a faint smell of smoke in the air.

I guess I don't need to tell you that I was scared.  I remember crying hysterically, and I remember my grandfather saying to my mother, "Julia, people are staring.  Can't you make him stop?"

Instead of focusing her full attention on comforting me, my mother somehow made the situation all about my grandfather.  "Tyler, darling, the fireworks aren't going to hurt you.  Will  you please stop crying?  You're embarrassing Grandpa."

Thanks, Mum.  Way to handle your terrified six year old.

I heard my father speaking to my grandfather in an exasperated tone, "For God's sake, Mike, can't you see how scared he is?  He's a little kid and he doesn't know what's going on."  Then, Dad's big hand was on my shoulder and he was saying, "Here, Tyler.  Come to me."

I didn't need much encouragement to leave my mother's side and go to my father.  I'm sure I must've flung myself into his arms.  I always felt safer with Dad than with Mum for some reason, and that night was certainly no exception.

"You really ought to make him sit still and stop bawling," my grandfather said.  "Michael isn't carrying on like that.  There's no reason why this one should be."

"Michael can see what's happening," said my father. "Tyler can't.  Just try to imagine what it's like for him."   

"Why would I want to do that?" My grandfather said.  "I'm telling you, James, if you keep coddling that boy he's going to grow up soft."

I don't think my maternal grandfather ever referred to me by my name.  He never even called me by name when he was actually addressing me.  I was always 'boy' or 'that one', as if he didn't consider me worthy of  a name.    When I think back on it, I can't help wondering what he really thought of me.  I suppose it doesn't really matter now.  I'm just thankful it never occurred to me to ask that question when I was a child.

"You raised your kids your way," my father said firmly. "I'm going to raise my kids my way."

I recall my grandfather grumbling in response to that, but I don't remember what he said.   I was just glad to be held by someone who understood how upset and confused I was by the noise.  My father stroked my hair and told me that it was okay to be afraid, but that the fireworks really wouldn't harm me.  They were very pretty, he said, and looked like flowers, stars, and rocket ships shooting into outer space.  He said they were white, green, orange and red and they looked very bright against the black sky. 

I wailed, "But, why are they so loud, Daddy?"

When he told me they made loud noises because they were exploding, I think I became more panicked than I'd been before.  I pressed my head against my father's chest and begged to go home.   He told me to be brave, and that we'd go home when it was over.   I don't think I was very brave, but my father didn't make any further comment on it.

When it was finally over, Dad carried me all the way back to the car.  Michael was whining because no one was carrying him, but Grandpa told him to behave himself.  I'm not sure, but I think Grandpa did the driving on the way home.  Dad sat in the back seat with Michael and me, and he held me on his lap the whole time.   Looking back on it as an adult, I realize that probably wasn't the safest thing he could've done, but his nearness was what I needed at the time and I'm sure he knew that.    Leaning against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and breathing in the scent that's distinctly him - horses and earth and lavender soap - I let myself settle down.   By the time we got home and my father tucked me into bed, I was perfectly calm again.

My parents never took me to another fireworks display after that.  In fact, I never went to another one on my own, either.  Not until last year on Canada Day, that is.   And that, to my eternal embarrassment, was when I realized I'm still afraid of them.

Last year, Sini wanted to see the Canada Day fireworks.   She arrived after Canada Day in the first year she'd been with us, so she didn't even know about the holiday then.  The year after that, she'd been pregnant with Skyla and was too sick to leave the house, much less go out and subject herself to mosquitos, loud noises and an uncomfortable seat on the damp grass.   Last year, though, she was determined to celebrate the holiday to its fullest extent, and she wanted me to celebrate it with her.

I protested that I didn't want to go.  I told Sini that I don't like loud noises, and besides, I didn't see the point of attending an event that's largely visual, but Sini said I had to come because it was her first time seeing fireworks and she wanted to share the experience with me.   So, reluctantly, I agreed that we'd leave Skyla with Rommie while we went off to witness the grand finale of our local Canada Day events.

I was totally unprepared for my reaction.  With the first boom, I felt my heart rate speed up and I started to shake.  In an instant, my brain abandoned the knowledge that I was a grown man and insisted that I was once again that terrified little six year old boy.   The feeling only got worse when I reached out and realized that Sini and I had somehow moved more than arm's length from each other.   I didn't know where she was and, for one horrible moment, I didn't know where I was.   That was the point at which I acknowledged that my panic was rapidly expanding beyond my control.

When I called Sini's name, she was there in a second.  She pulled me in close and I buried my face in her hair.   "I want to go home," I said.

"Why?" she asked, even though she must've known perfectly well how frightened I was.

"Because I don't like the noise," I told her.

"It is only noise," she said.  "It cannot hurt you.  The fireworks are very beautiful.  The last one looked like an orange chrysanthemum." 

"Really?" I said, intrigued despite my fear.  Long ago, my father had described them as looking like flowers, too.  "Are there...stars?  And rocket ships?

"Every time there is a noise, a new shape comes.  The ones that make a whistling sound look like comets.  Some of them look like snowflakes or stars."  There was another thunderous noise and Sini exclaimed delightedly, "A supernova!"  

"What?" I said.

"I must find out how this works," she said.  "It is truly fascinating."

"You find this fascinating?"

"It is science," she said, moving her hand in a slow, calming, circular motion over my back as she spoke. "Science can be explained.  We should not fear what we can explain.  If we do not fear it, we must form other emotions about it.  I think it is fascinating."

That gave me something to think about, but I was still upset, and Sini ended up holding me pretty much the whole time.  

The next day, Sini started researching fireworks on the internet.  She insisted that I 'help' her do this research.  My role consisted mainly of sitting beside her and listening while she read articles to me that she found online.   She even found a documentary about how fireworks are made.   Eventually, I got very bored by all the details, but I had to admit Sini was right; the more I learned about fireworks, the less scary they seemed.   I still don't like them, but I'm proud to say that, this year, I only flinched each time I heard a bang.  The impulse to run and hide wasn't there.   Maybe next year, I'll be able to sit through the whole thing and only be startled once or twice.

Who knows?  Anything's possible, right?