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Remembering My Grandfather

Grandfather would help me with my school studies, namely anything to do with numbers. The lessons weren’t restricted to the kitchen table. Going from place to place, he’d have business radio tuned on the dial and explain financials and economics to me as they were broadcasted. He encouraged me to ask questions, as many as I wanted. What he couldn’t answer, we would figure out together. There was always an answer. “We just have to find it, that’s all.” First stop, the books.

He would show me his scribbles from his projects and assessments. He’d teach me how to build and repair what seemed to be anything that could possibly be built and repaired. Grandfather was always on top of things, precise and confident. “Measure twice, cut once”, he taught, was not limited to carpentry but in other aspects of life as well. “Sometimes you have to make your own measure” meant more than counting paces to estimate the length of a room or pathway.

When he wanted us to go out for dinner, with a grin on his face he’d ask me if I wanted him to take Grandmother and me to his favourite café…which was not her favourite. In her quick protest, and before I could answer, she always told him that I didn’t want us to go eat there. We’d laugh about it. Sometimes we’d go anyway. Sometimes another place, but still such a treat to be at the same table with these great minds. I’m grateful of his inclusion when I was able to take part.

Grandfather taught me a great deal about so many things in so many ways. I still learn from him every day. When I work on repairs around the house, write out arithmetic, problem solve, or balance a budget, I hear his resonating voice of instruction and encouragement.

As of yesterday, it’s been 13 years since he passed away. I miss him dearly. I don’t have many relatives who are accepting of me (almost all of the inclusive ones have died), but with him I know I have always been, and always will be, his grandchild no matter what.

And I know this to be absolute like I know that whole numbers are integers, and numbers are infinite.

 
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Posted by on October 12, 2013 in On Being Adopted

 

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Recognising Today

I suppose I’ll resume this blog by starting out with the same type of post as most do in their beginnings: a blog entry about future blog entries and what it all means to me, etc.

I have thought about this for a few weeks now and have decided that I’m not going to take this in any particular direction but forward. After all, the title of my blog states the intention of writing about things in my life so I’ll post about a variety of perceptions and events that are going on in my world. Some will be happy, sad, frustrating, discovering, simple, complex…such is life.

So many people have been kind and encouraging to me. Most people tell me that I should write a book, or at least have a blog or three. I don’t always find myself to be that interesting, but I am humbled by those who do. Some aspects of my life are unique, such as being a gender variant man and adopted, but most aren’t. Methinks a big part of my influential stamp on the world is how I am able to cope and see myself, and others, in a way that most would not think they would consider themselves. I hope others realise that my conversations and experiences with them intrigue me, even if they don’t think they have too much to say. I know how that feels. Maybe I should encourage them to write a blog too. 🙂

I enjoy talking with people and sharing ideas, so why not publish things to reach more people? I recently confided in a friend saying that I have written a lot in the past and journal often, but have a fear that those who have been negative, and downright hateful, would be more motivated just by my having more of an open presence.
Anne Lamott

Sure. Some would say to just not write about them, but they too have moulded how I experience things in my life so it is only fair to allow them the credit that they deserve. There have always been others who pull me through and they will always have a greater place anyway.

So today, I am going to face those fears and not be held back by the possibilities that might come from negative reactions. Today, I am recognising that by allowing to be censored is just another way to miss out on the goodness that others may have to offer. Time to make good on that.

 
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Posted by on January 28, 2013 in Purpose

 

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