Strangers in a strange land

It is surprising how easy it is to unknowingly distance yourself from those who are closest to you.

I am a very lucky man. I have a wife who loves me, three beautiful children, a good job, and enjoy the comforts of what is for all intents and purposes a very good life. The problem with the equation arises when the different elements of that life collide. There is simply not enough time in the day to spend time at work, time with the kids, time with my wife, time fulfilling my other responsibilities, and still maintain a margin of time for myself. It simply is not possible. Sure, it would be easy to spend ten minutes watching TV with my wife and then cross that off the list, or to sit downstairs with my kids while they play on the computer and call that spending time with them. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. People, and relationships, need quality time.

That’s where I run up against the wall. My job is extremely demanding, both in time and energy. When I work days, I leave the house at 4:45 am and I’m usually not back until almost 7 pm. It is absolutely draining to come home after a fourteen hour work day and still try to find energy to take the kids out to the park, play with them, clean up, and wrangle everyone to sleep. By the time I get home, usually all I want to do is hide for an hour to collect my thoughts then go to sleep, because I know I’m going to have to do it all again the next day.

The problems with this are numerous. One, I feel like I’m missing out on my kids growing up. I never wanted to be one of those dads who never had time for his kids, but as the weeks go by and the camping trips we had envisioned never materialize and the days I wanted to spend with my boys watching trains and eating junk food never seem to come, I slowly begin to realize that I am becoming the parent that I swore I would never become. Although I enjoy my job, it takes a lot out of me. I am also coming to the realization that it is also taking a lot from me.

I am fortunate enough to have a very good relationship with my wife. We don’t fight, and in fact it’s fairly rare that we even disagree over anything. Sometimes though, it’s hard to keep from feeling like we’ve lost ourselves in our family. As exhausting as work is for me, watching the kids all day is equally taxing for her. By the time we get them to bed at night, we usually end up sitting in the living room together watching TV until one or both of us fall asleep. I miss the way things were before we had kids; when we used to go out and play tennis, or go running, or go floating down the river on the weekends. I miss jumping in the car and driving to Banff for dinner just because we felt like it, or going out to the mountains and going hiking for the day. We used to DO things. In fact, I very rarely used to watch TV at all.

I suppose that the changes come with the territory, and that once our kids get older and our finances aren’t so tight we will be able to start doing fun stuff again. It’s not like we never do anything, but we don’t really have time for ourselves as a couple or as individuals anymore. Sometimes it starts to feel like we are in slavery to our children, existing for no reason than to change diapers, feed and bathe them, and make sure that they are safe and relatively happy. Although parenthood can be gratifying, it can also start to feel like it’s slowly sucking your soul away. I can now understand how people say that they don’t know what to do with themselves once their kids move out. You spend so long being completely focused on them, that once they leave home you no longer remember who you were before you had them.

I don’t want to end up like that. I don’t want to be fifty years old and end up living in an empty house with a spouse who barely talks to me anymore because we’re both so damn tired all the time. I don’t want to end up not understanding my children because I didn’t have the time to spend with them that I would have liked. I want to be able to take them camping or up to the mountains for the day. I want to have fun with them and get to know them as they grow up. I want to be able to have a regular date night with my wife so we can stay close. I want to be successful at work so my family will want for nothing. Last but not entirely least, I want to have time to learn and pursue my own interests in order to retain what’s left of my sanity. I don’t want much……do I?

So what’s the solution? If I knew, I wouldn’t be writing this right now. I suppose it becomes a question of prioritization, and of setting some things aside in order to make time for others. Cruelly, it seems that there is no easy balance to be found. All I know right now is that I am not willing to let my family fade away into the background while I try to figure it out.

Souviens-toi

With all the fighting in Lebanon and Israel over the past month, we have been inundated with pictures and video of bombs dropping, roads and bridges in ruins, and buildings collapsing. People crying, people screaming, people shooting at each other. It leaves me to wonder if humanity will ever wake up to the reality of its unbelievable inhumanity. If anything, it seems to me that if there is one thing that human beings are incredibly good at; it is killing one another.

Conflict is not new. In fact, it has been around since the first handful of people on this earth; given a violent birth at the hand of Cain as he slew his brother Abel. Not much has changed since. Although I do not have a personal stake in the war in the middle east, it bothers me all the same. I find that I am increasingly disturbed by people’s ability to rationalize violence, death, and destruction.

My wife and I have often spoken about the need to educate our children about the horrors of war and those who sacrificed their lives in the hopes that we would never have to experience them. Remembrance Day occupies a place of respect in our home, and both of us agree that it should never be celebrated as simply another day off of work or school. As the generations change and the veterans of these battles pass from this world, it becomes increasingly easy to forget the atrocities committed during the great and terrible wars of the last century. We must not allow this to happen. It has been said that those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it; and this has never been as true as when speaking of conflict.

Perhaps I feel more strongly about this than most North Americans because I have witnessed the wreckage of the second world war firsthand. I have seen the blackened bunkers and the bombed-out buildings, and have gained an understanding of the psychological scar that blankets the mentality of anyone who is old enough to remember the fighting. I have stood before the memorials and walked among the endless rows of white crosses, overwhelmed by the number of them. I have visited Oradour-sur-Glane.

Oradour is quite possibly the most disturbing thing I have ever seen. A tiny town on the banks of the Glane river in south-central France, Oradour was the site of a savage attack by German forces on the morning of June 10, 1944. Four days after the D-Day landings on the beaches of Normandy, the German forces were reeling and struggling frantically to send re-enforcements to the front. The French resistance forces, sensing a shift in the balance of power, began intensifying their efforts to prevent the nazis from regrouping. Somehow, the Germans received intelligence reports that a resistance cell was operating out of Oradour-sur-Glane. Fuelled by the frustration of the defeats at Normandy, their retaliation was swift and brutal. They rounded up every man, woman, and child in Oradour and initiated a massacre. The men were separated from the group and brought to the village square, where they were surrounded by German forces and systematically executed. The women and children were locked in the church, which was set on fire. The Germans maintained a perimeter outside the blazing building and shot anyone who attempted to escape. Not satisfied with the carnage they had already caused, the German forces destroyed the public tramway, looted the municipal buildings, and burned the entire village to the ground. When it was over, 642 civilians had been slaughtered.

The village has been preserved as a war memorial, and it is striking. Blackened walls stand solemnly over empty doorways, and the rusty rails of the tramway still lie embedded in the crumbling stone streets. Even on a sunny day a feeling of dread hangs heavy over this place, as if the earth itself is ashamed of what happened here. The rusting hulks of old cars still dot the sides of the roadways, and an interpretive building contains the only remains of those who once made their lives here; pocket watches, clothing, dishes; a child’s doll. The entire village has been preserved exactly as it was found as a reminder.

I will always remember how I felt as I walked along those ravaged streets and stood on the same ground where hundreds of men were senselessly gunned down. I still fight back tears as I remember stepping into the charred nave of the tiny church. The pockmarks of bullet holes dot the walls and altar, telltale signs of where the Germans fired repeatedly and indiscriminately into the crowd of women and children in order to subdue them as they set fire to the building. The arched vault of the roof turned the building into an oven, and the resulting inferno was so intense that it melted the bells in the tower above. The bells remain there today, strange and unnatural blobs of copper sitting in the corner where they landed. Perhaps the most heart-wrenching element of the whole awful scene; the rusted frame of a baby carriage sits twisted on the floor before the altar, a poignant physical indication of the extent of the atrocity committed here.

The signs erected at the gates of the village are graven with the words “Souviens-toi”, or “Remember”. As I left Oradour that day, I was certain that I would never forget.

So what now? Even as I sit writing this, people around the world are being bombed, shot, blown up, or tortured. It seems we never learn. All we can do is to mind ourselves, curb our hatred, and begin each day with the honest intent to do good to our fellow man. There are those who will never follow suit, but the path to change starts in our own homes. We must do all we can.

If you want to visit Oradour-sur-Glane, you can do it here.

Living the dream

There is something to be said for being in the right place at the right time. Yesterday I had the opportunity to be part of something that has only happened twice in the past eighteen years; a manned pusher operation on the east slope of Rogers Pass, BC. While some of you may take this opportunity to let out a disinterested yawn, for me this was the Mount Everest of experiences. In order to understand why, perhaps a little history is in order.

The Canadian Pacific Railway was originally expected to be built through Yellowhead Pass, west of what is now Edmonton. Had this alignment been followed, western Canada would likely look a lot different today. When the Canadian Government learned of the proposed route, they feared that building the line so far to the north would leave the fertile southern reaches of the prairies open to attack and possible annexation by the United States. The CPR was obligated to choose a more southerly route through the Rockies via Kicking Horse Pass. This complicated matters on two fronts. First and foremost, the rugged valley of the Kicking Horse was by all accounts a terrible pass and presented the railway with a treacherous 4.5% descending grade as the line plunged westward from the continental divide. Second, the new route west of the Rockies would necessitate a crossing of the Selkirk mountain range; through which no known pass existed. Surveyors tried and failed repeatedly to find a viable route, until the CPR in desperation called in one of the most colourful characters in Canadian history: Major Albert Bowman Rogers. Although it took him the better part of two years to do so, Rogers ultimately discovered the pass that bears his name today. His findings came not a moment too soon; by the time of discovery the track laying gangs had already reached Kicking Horse Pass and the company was essentially building westward in blind faith that a pass through the Selkirks existed at all.

Rogers Pass itself is almost as legendary as the man who discovered it. It is wild and remote, and is one of the most savagely beautiful places on earth. Unfortunately, it is as unforgiving as it is impressive, and the railway would come to know its true nature almost immediately. Although Rogers Pass is technically a pass, as a transportation thoroughfare it is terrible. The grades were punishing right from the start, and the winters were terrible beyond imagination. Avalanches claimed dozens of lives and heavy snowfall paralyzed the line for weeks at a time. By the turn of the century, with the cost of operating over Rogers Pass mounting both in lives and dollars, the CPR decided to eliminate the problem by constructing a five mile-long tunnel underneath the summit. Completed in 1909, the Connaught tunnel was at the time the longest railway tunnel in the world.

Rogers Pass remained a formidable adversary. Although the worst sections of the line were circumvented, the snow was still just as heavy and the grades just as steep. From the mouth of the Beaver River west to Stoney Creek, the westbound grade was a torturous 2.2%. As trains grew longer and heavier, CPR was forced once again to look for solutions. The answer was simple: more engines. CPR created a manned pusher district on the east slope of the pass in order to assist the loaded westbound trains. Extra engines would be cut in at the base of the hill and would push the train westward up to the siding at Stoney Creek, where they would be cut off and return to the bottom to await the next train in need of assistance. In the 1970s and 1980s, the operation was spectacular. The Rogers pushers consisted of two dedicated sets of six locomotives, which would be cut into the train about 3/4 of the way back. Westbound bulk trains would usually have three locomotives on the head end and two mid-train “remote” helpers, and would still require the six-unit pusher in order to tackle the hill. With train weights approaching 14,000 tons, the eleven locomotives, yeilding a combined total of 33,000 horsepower, would use every bit of power they could summon to shoulder the tonnage to the top of the grade. Finally, as the mid-1980s brought yet another increase in train weights, CPR decided that the pushers had grown too costly and inefficient to continue to operate. They built a new alignment under Rogers Pass, tunneling for eleven miles under Mount Macdonald and Mount Cheops and effectively double-tracking the line. Hundreds of millions of dollars yeilded a dozen new bridges, a more manageable 1% westbound grade, and two new tunnels; one of which is still the longest tunnel in the western hemisphere. Due to the grade reduction, all westbound trains would begin using the new Macdonald track immediately. The old line became known as the Connaught track and remained in use, but only for eastbound trains that would be descending the grade. Although impressive in its own right, the new line spelled the end for the Rogers pushers and seemed to domesticate the once-forbidding pass. The Macdonald track opened in 1988, and the pushers, like so many stories of the pass they helped to conquer, faded into history.

In 2004, shifting rock in the Mount Shaughnessy tunnel forced CPR to close the new line for two weeks in order to stabilize the walls of the tunnel. Unable to squeeze 24 hours worth of trains into the twelve-hour window when the engineering crews would not be working, CPR was left with no option but to use the old grade. The pushers returned to Rogers Pass. They saw limited use, as the company preferred to use them only on priority trains and ran as many trains as possible during the window outside the tunnel work block. Two weeks later, the pushers were banished once more; presumably forever.

In July of this year, the rock inside the Mount Shaughnessy tunnel had again become unstable to the point that CPR once again had to undertake a massive repair project. Once again, the company was faced with the unpleasant necessity of running westbounds up the Connaught track. This time, however, it would be longer-term. The tunnel work would require between six and eight weeks to complete, and the twelve-hour work blocks would be extended as necessary in order to complete the tunnel work as quickly as possible. I had never witnessed a manned pusher operation and had to see it before it disappeared again, so on Wednesday a friend and I made the trip to Rogers Pass to see a piece of history in action.

I decided that I wanted to write an article about the pushers. (no, this isn’t it) I have always enjoyed writing and have often dreamed of being published. I figure that there is no time like the present to start trying, so off we went in search of material.

We found the pusher set at Rogers and spoke with the crew, who referred us to their supervisor. As it turned out, I knew the guy and we ended up talking to him for over an hour. At the end of the conversation, we not only had the information we wanted but also an invitation to ride with the pusher crew up to Stoney Creek and back. Needless to say, it didn’t take us long to accept.

I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that the ride was a serious thrill. The train we pushed weighed in at nearly 18,000 tons, and I have never seen locomotives work so hard in my life. With the advent of modern technology, the engines now are much more powerful than they were in the 80s and it now takes seven units to move a train that previously required eleven. Still, the display of power is impressive. Standing on the walkways, I could feel the engines shake as the wheels fought for traction, and I could feel the heat from the exhaust even though it was several feet above my head. The four units pushing for all they were worth made a sound something like jet engines at full power, and it was absolutely deafening. When I walked past the cooling intakes for the radiator, the air was being drawn so hard that it began to suck my clothing towards the intake grilles. It was the first time I have ever been on a train and been able to truly understand the force that is required to defy gravity by moving heavy tonnage up a mountain grade. It was almost like I could sense the inertia in the train, as if the cars were leaning back against us, waiting for an opportunity to roll back and crush us for attempting to force them up the hill. It was, in a word, humbling.

On the way down, the crew told us about some of the changes over the past twenty years. Both of them were veterans of the original pushers, and had plenty of stories to tell. When we reached the famous Stoney Creek bridge, they stopped the engines so we could get out and take some commemorative pictures. That’s me on the front of the unit, with 17,600 horsepower rumbling behind the cab and the ground about 325 feet below me. It really did feel like I was on top of the world.

I know that most of this will be lost on a lot of the people who read this, and that’s assuming that someone actually will. To that end, let me express my appreciation if you actually made it this far. To you it may sound about as exciting as a full-day marathon of Engelbert Humperdinck music videos overdubbed in Portuguese, but for me it was once more thing I can now cross of the list. Not only was it cool and fun, but I was lucky enough to be a part of history. Next week the tunnel will be not only repaired, but completely re-lined with reinforced concrete. The pushers will be gone again, and this time it is very likely that it will be for good. Even if that turns out to be the case, I will remember them forever.

Play-dough and pipe cleaners

Heaven knows, I love my children. Some days, however, I don’t like being around them very much. Yesterday was one of those days and today is shaping up that way as well. I’m not sure what causes it -maybe the lunar cycle or something- but every now and then they go on a tear for a few days and I absolutely cannot stand their behaviour. Truthfully, it’s amazing that there haven’t been any casualties yet.

My job is somewhat high-stress, and this past weekend was one of the worst I’ve had in a long time. Dealing with the fallout of three major derailments on very little sleep can be trying, and when you throw screaming kids into the mix the second you get home, things can get ugly really quick. It’s not so bad when I’m on a cycle of night shifts because even on my days off, I have to stay up really late to keep my body in cycle. Those few hours to myself to unwind after everyone goes to sleep are golden, and they keep me sane enough to be nice to my kids again in the morning. When I’m on days, though, it is non-stop. To aggravate matters, in order to help take the edge off of the soaring cost of living in this city, my wife has decided to go back to work part-time. The great thing about her having her own business is that she can schedule her clients during my days off so I can watch the kids instead of sending them to day care. The bad thing about her having her own business is that she can schedule her clients during my days off so I can watch the kids instead of sending them to day care. I’m rapidly coming to the conclusion that I’m just not wired for this “Mr. Mom” stuff.

Today I was running around in circles trying to clean up the kitchen and make sure that nobody was lighting themself on fire when in desperation I threw three tubs of Play-dough and a handful of pipe cleaners on the table in front of them. To my amazement, they took them and actually started playing! Quietly! Together! Without fighting! I stood there in wonder and quietly offered up my thanks for the miracle I was witnessing. Of course, the spell was broken 30 seconds later by the ear-splitting sound of crashing glass as the Frog flipped over the table containing my wife’s decorative storm lantern and send shards of broken glass into every corner of the living room. I guess nothing lasts forever.

Processed

Cheese.

No matter how relevant it seems in your head, thoughts have a funny way of coming out all wrong. You think you’re writing something deep and meaningful, but when you read it a few days later you are overcome with the realization that your supposedly novel and intellectual post could very easily find its way into an advertising campaign for the Dairy Producers of Alberta. It started out as food for thought, and it it ended as cheese. Worse than cheese, even. Cheez-whiz. Remember squeeze-a-snack? If not, you’re lucky. (and probably in better health than those of us who do remember) It was a bright orange cheez-whiz-like product that came in a tube, and you simply squeezed the stuff out on to your crackers like toothpaste on to a brush. It was a plasticky, chemical experience (with no artificial flavouring or colouring, I’m sure) that was so far removed from any legitimate dairy product that it didn’t even deserve to be called cheese. Sometimes, that’s what I feel like I’m writing.

To exorcise the dairy demons and feel like a guy again, I’m taking a bit of a departure today. Something light-hearted, off colour, and manly. Yes, it’s time for:

ADAM’S TOP TEN HOTTIE LIST

10: Lindsay Lohan. The girl can’t act, can’t sing, and is generally a train wreck, but she’s pretty stinkin’ hot. A date with this wild child definitely wouldn’t be boring; just make sure your car insurance is up to date before you go. She was in three different car accidents in 2005 alone.

9: Jessica Simpson. Let’s hear it for the only blonde girl on the list. The chick is intensely irritating, is completely devoid of personality, and has the IQ of a potted geranium. I can honestly say that there are only two reasons I can think of to like Jessica Simpson.

8. Eva Longoria. OK, so she’s short, and vain, and conceited. She’s beautiful, and her temperament is just fiery enough to be sexy. If the interviews I’ve read are anywhere close to accurate, she just might be the one actress out there who really is a lot like the characters she plays. Considering that the only character I’ve ever seen her play is the one on Desperate Housewives, this chick is a tiger.

7. Sarah McLachlan. I actually discovered her music watching the video for “Possession” because I thought she was hot. I still do. She isn’t glamour-queen beautiful, but there is a mysterious attraction to her that absoloutely lights my fire.

6. Angelina Jolie. She might be higher on the list if I wasn’t just a little bit afraid of her. I look at this woman and all I can think of is “wow”. Then I remember that one of her hobbies is collecting knives for use during sex play and that she wrote her first husband’s name in her own blood across the back of her wedding dress, and the wow factor finds its way out the window in a pretty big hurry. I wonder how Brad is holding up.

5. Sandra Bullock. This one almost didn’t make the list because of an interview with her that I recently read that shed some light on her personality. I had always heard that she was super nice and down to earth, but Mrs. Monster Garage has some serious attitude. Then I remembered that this is a hotness list and being hormonally driven should be based on nothing more than looks. Jesse’s girl gets the nod.

4. Natalie Portman. One of the purest beauties of our time, and she’s brilliant as well. The whole Queen Amidala thing will undoubtedly spawn a new generation of Star Wars fantasies, but getting beyond that, the woman is gorgeous.

3. Kiera Knightley. She captured our hearts as the damsel in distress in “Pirates of the Carribean“, then showed off her goods in the director’s cut of “King Arthur“. And what goods they are. This chick has it all. The face, the body, the personality, and lots and lots of money. Besides, English accents are hot. No yo-ho-ho here.

2. Anne Hathaway. I never really paid much attention to this one until I got dragged kicking and screaming to “The Devil wears Prada“. Then I paid a lot of attention to her. The little girl from the Princess Diaries has grown up in a big way, and the results are spectacular. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on your point of view) she has decided that in order to showcase her maturity as an actress, she must also showcase that fantastic body of hers. Graphic nude scenes in “Brokeback Mountain” and the straight-to-video “Havoc” have taken her career in a completely new direction.

1. My wife. You didn’t really think I’d abandon the cheese, did you? Come on, I lived in France, for crying out loud. For those of you who know us, you also know that yes, my wife really is hot enough to be included on this list. For those of you who don’t, well, I guess you’ll just have to take my word that my wife is hotter that everyone else’s. Points for personality too; after all, she has to put up with me not being able to keep my hands off of her. After three kids in five years, the woman has proven her patience and her inestimable worth. A keeper for sure.

There you go. Hotties, I salute you. *insert “schwing” sound effect. Now if you’ll excuse me, I uh, think I hear my wife calling me…..