Yes Man

Why are we doing this?

It's a question I've been asked a lot. It's a question I continue to ask myself. It's the number one reason this blog got started months before we're actually leaving. I still don't know if I have a clear answer. It's not one thing. It's not a million little things. It's somewhere in between.

Fact #1: I am a near 43-year-old single father.

Fact #2: I do not have a drivers license.

As I and a few friends have joked, a sports car would do me know good, and I have no hope in hell (nor desire frankly) for dating a significantly younger woman. So with those two traditional avenues for a mid-life crisis not available to me it looks like I've turned to the next best thing. Travel. Giving it all up. Getting away.

Honestly there's likely some uncomfortable truth in there somewhere but I like to think that if it is a mid-life crisis spurring this on then at least my sons are going to benefit from it too. So mid-life crisis turned cool parenting move. Who says there isn't a silver lining?

Psyche aside, a number of things converged over a period of time that resulted in me thinking this was the thing to do. In no particular order they were:

• The pool game with Charles and Morgan that I've already written about, that introduced the possibility to me, and got me jealous about it to the point that I had to do it too.
• Conversations with the same Charles about the education system and some interesting TED Talks, which I also posted previously.
• Yes Man, starring Jim Carrey - I am a sucker for RomComs
• The Secret Life of Walter Mitty - First in theatres and now having the distinction of the first movie I actually bought via Apple TV.

So why are we doing this?

I think the number one reason we're doing this is because we can. When I first thought and talked about it at the pool game I was all no, not possible, can't happen. But then I started thinking. And that's where Jim Carrey comes in. For those who don't know Yes Man, it's the story of a guy who, for typical RomCom reasons, has isolated himself from his friends, has a non-stimulating job, and basically says no to nearly everything. He ends up at a personal empowerment seminar where he makes a covenant to say YES! to everything. The story goes from there. He does it.  He transforms his life. He goes overboard. He learns an important lesson. He gets the girl that he almost lost by going overboard. Happily ever after.

No, I do not think that that's what is going to happen.

When I saw this movie years ago I was struck by the premise of it. The idea of saying "no", and how that closes us to the world and it's opportunities. The thing I've come to believe over the years, partly due to work, and a lot due to parenting, is that saying no is quite often the lazy way out. No is easy. Saying no means you don't have to think about the topic anymore. The subject is closed. Done. Buh bye.

"Yes" on the other hand, or even "maybe" requires effort. Yes means figuring out how, putting your mind to something, potentially sorting through problems. It means investing your time into making something work that may or may not be something you care about all that much. But someone does, so perhaps it's worth the effort. 

A few years ago I started making a concentrated effort, especially with Jake and Noah to say yes, or to at least say maybe, and then to figure it out. Sometimes it still ended in a no, but the no wasn't a knee jerk reaction because I was distracted or tired or something else at the time I was asked. It was a considered no that got the same thought process and commitment a yes requires. I'm finding I like the results a lot. I'm a better listener, I'm a more active parent, and, by saying yes to their and other people requests, I'm opening myself to so many other opportunities and making myself happier along the way. 

So the morning after the pool game I started with a yes, and then tried to tear it down. I came up with all the reasons I could think of that would result in no, and then went about addressing each one. And you know what, not one person or thing that I identified as a possible no actually was a no. Everyone has been supportive. Everyone has said yes.

We were led by a star

Today was an exciting day.

Today was a day where we made a stand. A commitment. A bold declaration that we were indeed going on this trip!

Today we went shopping at MEC.

Today was the day where we picked the bags that will hold our belongings for a year and sit, hopefully comfortably, on our backs as we wander about. And not just the bags. The stuff that will go in the bags, and clothe our bodies as well. The pants. The shirts. The socks. The water bottles; though we won't we wearing those. The water purifying wand thingy that is just way too cool not to have and wave around hoping to make feathers fly or large rooms suddenly redecorate themselves.

Then there were the other little day bags, security bits, universal (or at least planetary) plugs so that laptops will have the juice they need when they need it no matter where we find ourselves. The list is not endless, but it does go on. I however will not meander further along it's path.

Except to mention the shoes. Picking a single pair of shoes to cover the year is no small feet. (I do hope that earned at least one groan from someone.) When I was reading about Paul Salopek's seven year walk in National Geographic last month I combed the few pictures of him in the article in hopes of figuring out what kind of shoes he has. I mean, if you're gonna walk for seven years then you're gonna get good shoes, so heck, better check and see. Alas, I did not find out. Despite that, we were all successful in finding shoes we feel will keep our feet, if not tap-dancing, at least quite happy. I am also pleased to say that it didn't take too long, all things considered. Nowhere near my best showing for in and out of IKEA, that other bastion of cool stuff one had not known existed when the day started but now must have, but still, given that we were shopping for a year of stuff, and that there were three of us, I'm happy coming in under three hours. That's more than an hour under the US average time for running a marathon, and doesn't require nearly the amount of training, nor chocolate milk.

Post victory street meat? Absolutely.

And the best part of it all? We're not going to look like triplets. We've got different bags, different shoes, different, well, different stuff. This is something I am very, very grateful for. It takes a lot of effort to not just get three of the same. When you're all looking for essentially the same things, picking different versions end up being harder then you think - even at MEC. But like Brian says: We're all individuals.

Turns out he's right.

Books, Bookings and Beginnings

Years ago a group of us went out for lunch at a Japanese steak house near the office in Mississauga, and on the way out of the place we got the obligatory fortune cookie for that little extra bit of sugar to help us through the afternoon, and of course, the fortune. Now fortune cookies as we all know are astounding in their clarity of vision, precision, and offerings of direction for daily living. They are the snack equivalent of a horoscope. They are a tweet with a special crunch.

Okay, no, generally they royally suck.

But I cracked this one open, popped the cookie bits in my mouth and immediately failed at reading the french phrase I found pinched between my fingers. I flipped my fortune (good title for a Home & Garden TV show if someone was looking) and was greeted with the following:

"Be prepared to modify your plan".

Now, honestly, this was pretty cool. It's excellent advice. For anyone; and certainly for me. Not something I'm good at though. Embracing change - yes it's one of the TELUS, who I work for, corporate mantras, but still, something I'm not the best at, though I do try.

I pinned this little bit of fortune ticker tape to my cubical wall back at the office, and ever since have tried to embrace the simple message. Tried to not hold on to my preconceived notion of how something should be, and allowed for ideas, plans, whatever to morph as they go along. I have failed more at this than I have succeeded.

When I finally officially moved out of that desk a couple weeks ago I took down that fortune and put it in my wallet so that I could pin it up at my new desk. I haven't done that yet. But I did actually pull it out of my wallet at a meeting today and shared with a couple of folk.

Anyway, I say all this because I'm quickly realizing that with this blog, not to mention with this trip, I need to be prepared to modify my plan. I'll likely be saying it a lot over the next year - or perhaps I'll start living it more. We'll see.

In the case of this blog I had laid out a strategy for how I was going to tell the story, the parts, the dramatic one liner cliff hangars that punctuate a deep thought that should resonate with anyone who reads them. The long descents into past stories to add poignancy to current events. The serialization of the story that got us to this point. I would spool it out, reel readers in. Captivate.

Yeah. Um. No.

I've currently concluded (I expect like LOTR Return of the King that there will be many conclusions) that my good intentions on what to write "next time" will continue to fall by the wayside based upon what is clambering around in my head and driving me to write at that given moment. This will work great on the road, but for the present it's kinda conflicting with what I thought I was trying to do.

This has been the long way of saying: I'm gonna get back to the "why we're doing this story and how those two TED Talks are relevant" story later. For now I wanted to quickly write about two other things that have happened in the past couple of days.

Books
As part of preparing for this trip the boys and I have decided to get rid of a lot of stuff. Essentially go through all of our belongings, determine what actually matters to us, pack it away safely, and then give everything else away. Now, we have serious amounts of stuff. Not nearly as much of either of my parents - but ya, I come by it honestly, and am passing it on to Noah and Jake.

I have many, many books. I love books. I would say that books have always been a big part of my life. I read a great deal, and used to read to the kids every morning, and I think like my parents, have helped to instill a love of reading and books into Noah and Jake. I also really like owning books. Actual books too. The physical kind. I like bookshelves stuffed with books, and our apartment continues to find room for additional shelves as the existing ones begin to overflow. Books have been a huge part of my life for as long as I can remember, and I would say that a not-insignificant amount of my identity is founded on my books.

So when we decided to reduce the amount of stuff, I knew for me that that meant going in and reducing my library to the books that really matter. This has turned into a wholesale slaughter. My forest has been reduced to a few stumps and brush. And no, it's not quite that bad, but man does it feel like it.

And the thing is, it's one of the first things to really make this trip, and all it could be, very real. And it's scary. And it's uncomfortable. And it's totally the right thing to be doing, and like many right things, it's kinda hard.

We'll see how far I go with it. But it's a beginning.

Bookings
So, the other thing that has made this very real is that this evening I booked our flight to London, UK via Reykjavik on Iceland Air. So on July 15th we are officially leaving Canada. I have my friend Parvez to thank for that.

I had gone to the passport office this morning to get the kids passports updated. The ones they have are current but will not have six months left on them by the time we're nearing the end of our trip, so I needed to apply for new ones for them. Apparently I did not have the right paper work, so will go back Wednesday to continue that process. I'll write more about that another time.

I've been pretty anxious about getting the passports because for some reason I'd gotten it into my head that I needed the passport information to purchase the plane tickets. I swear to you I've seen this somewhere when actually trying to purchase online.

Now this afternoon Parvez and I were waiting on a meeting to begin and he, being the very kind individual that he is, asked how things were going with the planning, and if I had booked anything yet. I told him my passport story and lamented about my need to get new passports before booking any flights, but being anxious to book the first flight and make this all real through a financial transaction. Aside from being kind, he is also smart and therefore was able to gently tell me I was wrong, I did not need my passport information to purchase plane tickets. We tested this theory, and sure enough he was correct.

I almost purchased the first tickets then and there but thought that I should wait till I got home so that the boys could share in this momentous event. They did, but I'm pretty sure it was only to humour me. Which is fine, I like to be humoured. Apparently buying plane tickets online does not have the same impact on teens as it does me. Oh well.

But it's another beginning.

I've also decided to keep that fortune in my wallet. I think it's going to come in handy over the next year.

Fear

The idea that my sons could become "identical people" is an incredibly frightening thought.

Identical People

This is the first part of part two of what got me wanting to do this. I guess that makes its 2a. (Given that foreshadowing I'm tempted to make the next segment about why we're going to Elsinore, but probably not.) It happened around the same time as part one did, and it was kicked off by Charles telling me to watch the second one and me watching the first one instead.


Building a School in the Cloud:

Do Schools Kill Creativity?

Back later.

Pool with a Paramedic

Okay, so my friend Morgan is more than just a paramedic, and he's not the only one who figures in this story; my friend Charles does too. I just like the near alliteration of the title so had to go with it. I've known them both for about 20 years, (they've known each other longer than that) and this evening of shooting pool at the Rivoli is part one in the tale of why Noah, Jake and I are taking this trip.

That's not where the night started though. This night started at The Cameron House seeing Morgan's one man show "The Emergency Monologues". Highly recommend by the way. Charles and I had planned to meet up, see the show, and catch up after a couple months of not having connected.  I ended up working door. This is what happens when you go see a friends show by the way, so chat time with Charles was limited. Conveniently though, after a fantastic show and helping Morgan load up his car (see previous note about friend's shows) we all needed a bite to eat so headed east along Queen looking for possible prospects, and landed at The Rivoli. Now, if you don't know the Rivoli, well, go look it up, that's what the internet is for. Suffice to say, it's a good spot to share time with friends, eat, drink, shoot some stick and not get laughed at too badly for sucking so bad.

We got our table, ordered our food a drinks and got down to the serious business of deciding what version of 8-ball to play. I admittedly am a novice, so when the idea came along that you could split the balls as low, mid and high ball between the three of us, with the 8 ball being the coup de grace for any player, I was astounded by the brilliance of it all and proceeding to scratch my little heart out all across the felt.

Charles and Morgan got to talking, as they are want to do, being friends and all. Charles and his wife Susannah had been discussing the idea of taking their two girls out of school for an extended period and doing some travelling. He had mentioned it to me once before but was now talking in earnest about it with Morgan. You see, Morgan and his wife Lydia had done precisely that with their three kids for a period of near four months a couple of years prior. They were exchanging notes. They were discussing pros and cons. They were discussing waking up on mountain tops, along walls of a castle, seeing a new city everyday, not driving in India, how spending ones life in an RV would be fantastic. They were discussing dreams lived and waiting to be lived. They were discussing how it brings a family closer together, how it prepares the kids in ways no school can, how it can change everything.

They were kicking my ass. At pool. At parenting. At life. Roughly in that order.

So I kept listening. Morgan won another game. Charles and I ganged up on him.

He deserved it.
Shark.

I shared my newly found immediate desire to do the same thing. I told them it sounded incredible, that they were right, and that they were so lucky, ever so lucky to be able to such things. I told them it was impossible for me to even think of doing such a thing. My sons' mom and I are divorced and we share custody - she'd never say yes to such a trip. I don't drive, how could I get us everywhere we wanted to go affordably. I have a 9-5 Monday - Friday kinda job where I do "important stuff" - how could I step away from that for any period of time. People NEED me. I love my apartment. The boys are in or are soon to be in high school where the demands are much greater than in primary/junior school. Name it. Everything was a reason that made it impossible.

So I kept doing what I did pretty well and sunk the cue ball. Charles did too.

I was pool table green with envy. And despite what Kermit may say, it is actually pretty easy. But the evening continued, and with it so did the conversation, and topics changed, and more games were lost (I think we won one somewhere in there), and eventually as all nights do, this one ended.

As if it had been a night out at a casino (according to popular legend anyway) the next couple of days the feeling kept with me. It started with:

"WHY can't I do that? What makes them so different from me that they can do this and I can't? Well, lot's of things. For one..."

Which slowly became:

"Why can't I do that?"

Which became:

"Sure, I could do that."

And finally:

"I am going to do that."

So while envy is one of the seven deadly sins and all that fun stuff, it strikes me that even these feelings we're not supposed to have, or are told to feel bad about having, actually have the potential for positive change. And to be clear here I am not making a sweeping endorsement for the seven deadly sins, but I do believe that what you do with any particular feeling, how you act upon it, is what actually matters. It's where you direct the focus. Some people may choose to direct the focus externally, not on the source of the feeling (that's all comin' from the inside), but on the trigger for the feeling. And ya, certainly something I can be guilty of. This time though the focus was internal. Sure Morgan doing this and Charles talking about doing it spawned the idea, proved it possible, and got the ol' big wheel green machine rolling along inside my head. But it was cool. The idea of such a trip was incredible, and something I'd wish for them and anyone. I just needed to wish it for myself too.

So I did.

Gotta love MEC

This afternoon I met my Dad for brunch, enjoyed a couple of martinis, a nice sunny walk, and then wandered over to MEC (Mountain Equipment Co-op to the uninitiated). I've been meaning to get over there for a little experiment for a couple of weeks now, and given Dad and I were walking in that general direction I just kept going till I got there. Seemed like the right time. (In retrospect that might have been the second martini talking.)

For those of you who don't know (and yes, there are people who don't know about MEC - yet) MEC is the place to go if you have any plans of doing anything outdoors for any period of time. Or at least, in my opinion (and judging by how busy it was today alot of other peoples) it is. It's where you go to get hiking stuff, camping stuff, general backpacking stuff, all the really neat dooies (thoughts on how to spell that correctly anyone?) for climbing, kayaks, canoes, SUP. And all sorts of stuff I have no idea about as I haven't ever fully explored it. Anyway, once the boys and I decided we were taking this trip I new that was where we were going to get our stuff.

But first research.

I'll start by saying I love Google. I don't know how anyone planned this sort of thing before Google. I've started reading backpacker blogs and peoples write-ups on how much it costs to travel for a year, how to travel lightly, what to pack if you're wanting to travel lightly, and all the sorts of things I know absolutely nothing about but need to have at least a little clue about in order to pull this trip off. And while I may not know a great deal, I am good at correlating multiple sources of information and averaging them out to reach some sort of conclusion that I feel confident is not going to cause us any harm, and hopefully not too much hassle. And what I learned through all this reading was:

1. We don't need nearly as much stuff as you'd think.
2. It should all fit nicely in 40L backpack, that, if possible should be carry-on size to make our lives easier along the way.

Naturally the next step was to call for a second opinion on my primary sources and conclusion so I turned to my friend Marc - the most competent human-being I know. Expect to hear more about him. And Marc pretty much agreed. Marc agreeing had two key effects: 

1. I was quite proud of myself for making the right decision.
2. The boys got a little bit more confident that they might actually survive this year with me after all. (They too find comfort in Marc's competence.)

Then began the bag research. And surprisingly, this was fun. Two months ago I would not have seen myself as someone who would be reading reviews of backpacks. I don't read reviews. Movies, books, restaurants - all really important things to me - no review reading. Doesn't happen. Apparently though, when I decide to fit everything I need for a year into a bag the size of a carry-on AND I've reached the conclusion that the satchel equivalent of a TARDIS is not available yet on ThinkGeek, then, well then I get pretty motivated.

A few reviews later and I land on this one - the Tortuga. And might I say, I never would have thought I would get excited about a backpack. I mean, I really love my work bag and all, and yes, I got kinda excited about it when I bought it and I think once actually referred to it as my precious, but that was a one-off. I know people with bag collections, fetishes, issues, call it what you will. I am not one of those people. And this is a backpack. But oh what a backpack. I think anyway. I certainly hope so. The sucky part - they're only available online and they're out of stock and not expecting new stock until May. Noah and Jake love them too, so we're all crossing our fingers that we'll be able to get them on time.

Anyway, MEC. The experiment.

Before buying any backpack, no matter how cool that backpack, it seemed like a good idea to try and fit all the stuff I decided to bring into a similar sized bag to see how it actually went. So today I went off to MEC and did exactly that. And might I say, the folk at MEC are patient, and kind, and really, really cool. I explained what I wanted to do and that I wouldn't be buying anything, just grabbing a bag and a whole bunch of stuff to stuff into it to see how it all fit, and then likely coming back another time to buy three versions of it all and they were totally good with that. Perhaps a common request they get? I really don't know. 

I started with the bag - carry-on size. My plan was to get everything on the list and neatly put it into the bag and see what kind of room I'd still have if any. Oops - no list. Kinda didn't bring that with me, and didn't feel like reading it via my phone's browser. But I remembered a lot of the key items and started pulling them all together in my little cart, sometimes grabbing more than required - just to make up for the things I figured I was forgetting. For some reason I picked up an inflatable travel pillow that was a couple of inches square. Neat. Why I grabbed it, no clue. Let's blame the martinis. This item I will note was the only small item I grabbed (and it wasn't even on the list I don't think).

I also blame (or thank) the martinis for me not actually trying to pick out the exact clothes and gear I would want to be taking. I was all ready to start looking for the different pants and shirts that I would want, get the right size, colour, everything. Find the universal sink plug, chargers, adaptors, sewing kit, first aid stuff, little containers for detergent, bags to put them all in. Find all of it (or at least as much as I could remember) and stuff it in.

Do you ever get a voice in your head that starts with "Um... Ah... Um.... Excuse me?" I do. After the um-ing and ah-ing settled down the very practical question "What do you think you are doing?" meandered across my mind, paused to look pointedly in my direction, and silently added (yes, a voice in your head can still add something silently to a thought) the not necessarily unnecessary moniker "dumbass" to the end of the query. I am thankful for that voice. It's that voice that got me to grab three of the same pair of pants, two of the same shorts, three of the same collared shirt, two... you get the idea.

I then found a bench in the shoe section and proceeded to try and get it all in. And to ensure I was compensating for not having gotten everything (or perhaps I was just really bloody lazy and the compensation line is simply a justification I sold myself on), I left everything on their hangars. So it was a really crapping packing job with all this awkward plastic stuff in there too. And you know what? It all fit. No problem. Fit just fine. Fitty fit fit. See kids - the internet does tell the truth. Lesson learned.

Satisfied with my learnings I hauled all of the stuff out, got the clothes on the "put-away" rack, and then put away the remaining few items in their proper spots. With a nod and a thank you to the kind fellow who helped me when I entered I took my leave of MEC - twenty minutes after having arrived. Not a penny spent, but a big comfort now actually knowing that that is what we are going to do, and that we will be able to pull this off.

And so it begins...

Come this June my son's and I are going to be going on a little trip. Well, not so little. Come this June we've decided to pack it all up for a year, start heading east, and basically not stop until we've gone all the away around and gotten back to where we started from.

And where are we starting from? Home. Toronto. This really amazing city I have lived in my whole life minus a few years away at university.

So it's going to be a bit of an adventure (assuming we do it at least partially right), and many that we have mentioned it to have said that they would be interesting in hearing about it. The three of us (Noah, Jake, and I - hi, I'm Christopher by the way) had already been talking about doing some sort of travel diary/blog-type thingy, so that nearly everyone suggested it too seems to have cemented it under the category of "good ideas".

Here's hoping it doesn't suck.

(The blog that is. The trip is going to be awesome.)