23 and (Kinda) Me
Finding nature and nurture in the Great White North.
Old man take a look at my life,
I’m a lot like you.
- From “Old Man”, Neil Young
Joshua Tree on the Gatineau
I just spent a few days in Quebec, with a final long weekend in Wakefield. It’s a bohemian village of artists and stargazers strung along the western bank of the broad, dark Gatineau River, 30 minutes north of Ottawa. Creative crossroads like Joshua Tree or Taos share similar vibes. Rustic cafes, organic bistros, and artist boutiques. (Kaffe 1870 is a locals favorite for lunch and an afternoon craft beer.) You’ll see more indigo ink and Doc Martins than Estée Lauder and Jimmy Choos. I can do the high life, I can do the low life, and I can definitely do the boho life. I love the energy in towns like Wakefield.
The placid Gatineau River, from my cousin Ellie’s deck, near Wakefield:
My brother and I had come to Quebec to visit our Uncle John, who has taken up residence in a very senior, senior center. He’s the last of our aging cohort of aunts and uncles, and at a spry 89 eager for company and a chance to get out and about. Morning coffees at Tim Hortons, lunch takeout from the local grocery, then dinners in town, somewhere simple with a few beer-on-tap options for Joe and me. John prefers a tall glass of milk these days.
My apple hasn’t fallen far from John’s tree. I take that as a good thing. His mind remains sharp as a tack, even if the body is conceding to age and entropy. He cut a dashing figure in his youth, and shared my fondness for cars, bars, and good fun with close friends. He has a sharp wit, curious mind, and stays on top of all events local and global. He also remains a bit of a flirty rapscallion, age be damned.
I’m not a carbon copy of my uncle, however, and it takes just a short visit to be reminded. I am my mother’s son, and she was a calmer, more compromising version of her kid brother. Qualities that still serve me well.
Carbon copies don’t exist in the wild. Neither with humans nor beasts. Even among identical twins, divergence starts early. We are formed and forged by a multitude of factors beyond genes: personal tragedy and triumphs, parental guidance (or lack of), cliques of friends, economic class and opportunities, formal education, environs (urban center, leafy suburb, hippy village, …), and the like. This truly singular identity is what makes us each so damn fascinating and shapes the gifts we are uniquely armed to offer.
I wrote about the beauty of singularity in a 2013 essay titled “Y U r U” (click here to read), after being gobsmacked by Michael Phelps’ dominant performance at the 2012 Olympics. (How’s he do that?) In all ways physical and mental he was uniquely gifted to move unnaturally fast through water. It’s as if the gods of swim looked down upon the newborn Phelps and said, yeah, this one will be our swimmer. So, what was their plan for me?
Imagine a world where the likes of Phelps, Aretha Franklin, Banksy, Frank Lloyd Wright, Richard Feynman, or Greta Thunberg stood apathetic to their exceptional gifts. Their indifference would be our great loss. In this era of staggering challenge, are we no less obliged to appreciate our particular talents and share them for the good, … with family, in the local community, or on the world stage? Some food for thought.
Back to the Gatineau
Caitlin Dolan is a talented singer/songwriter in Wakefield with a trio called the Artichoke Hearts (click here to learn more). They released an alt-acoustic EP in 2016, with a new album dropping this October. She’s family of the once removed variety, from a different generation, gender, geography, and entire life experience. So, our musical styles are understandably different, … but similarities curiously abound.
We’re storytellers, leaning into emotional entanglements both beautiful and painfully not so. She’s fond of strings, piano, and harmonies to build passion and add depth. I do as well. I am sure she shares my compulsion to play, write, and share. See that guitar over there? I think I’ll go pick that up. It’s something I cannot not do, despite life’s many little obstacles. Genetic predisposition? Just a bit more food for thought.
He says lie down beside me
let me whisper in your ear
remember me now
in this moment right here.
- From “Last Valentine,” Caitlin Dolan
Holding me near
feeling your breath
warm on my ear
and I hear
baby I love you so.
- From “I Won’t Miss You,” Bill Magill