I think I'll write about blogging. Bloggers do that sometimes.
Living several hours apart by car, I don't see my dad very much these days. But he does write to me quite often, by email. And from those emails I am certain that I can easily make the claim that my father is The Worst Speller of the Entire Internet. You need the Rosetta Stone to decipher what it is he is saying, and then in the end it was only a story about how he filled the mini-van gas tank on the way back from the hockey arena.
I guess it's cool that he still plays hockey at the age of 73. He's still pretty good looking, too, actually. A silver fox, Leslie, one of my art director friends, would call him.
But the SPELLING is not hot at all. It's so bad.
Last weekend we were all at my brother's cottage together and I got to have a rare visit with my dad. We barbequed a big dinner for everyone - he being my highly skilled grill man - and in our banter I casually made fun of his spelling and what a terrible writer he is. He said "I have a blog now". I thought he must be joking and I said "ha ha, you are the last person on earth who should have a blog."
When I came back to town he sent me an email containing his little blog that has two posts in it. I read it over and it was absolutely horrible. Really bad. All about his lawn and how he re-seeded the lawn with a friend of his who is also retired.
In that same email he also told me how to google a special blog that he really likes and has been reading loyally for a few years. A blog written by a man named Brian - a grandfather - who lives in a place called Nain Bay Labrador (Canada). My family has longtime connections to Labrador, and my father and brother go there once a year to fish on a glorious lake accessible only by bush plane. The rest of the year my dad thinks about the next time he'll be able to go up there. Thinks out strategies for how he'll pack more lightly. How he'll change the menu plans (he's the main cook among the men who go up there together) to be even more simple yet delicious.
My dad didn't know how to just copy that link and send it to me, so I did google it and I managed to find my dad's favourite blog with no problem.
The first - or most recent - page of the blog was a note from one of the man's relatives who posted that they regret to inform us that Brian had passed away a month ago. Wow, I thought. That SUCKS.
I read through some of Brian's postings about dog sled races, salmon fishing, and his political concerns about living in Canada's far north. I guess the politicians there are just as hopeless as the ones in big cities, if not worse.
Most of the blog posts had no comments at all. There were plenty of clear, beautiful pictures, including some recent ones of the man's son and two grandchildren. His granddaughter, a newborn, was all red and puffy and beautiful. "She's finely here", wrote the proud grandpa, unaware of his delightfully accurate play on words. He went on to mention how the new baby's big brother was "all into her ... for now."
Feeling I had grown to know this man a little better, I went back to read the 15 comments - the largest response by far to anything he'd ever written - that accompanied the most recent blog posting, his death notice. There was a lovely outpouring of appreciation for the blog he had shared. There was sorrow in losing the connection to a faraway yet fascinating place that he had given to people around Canada and around the world. Folks who usually did not reach back out to him, choosing to absorb his shared experiences in silence and anonymity.
One of those comments was from my dad. I saw his little thumbnail photo first. Then saw his name all spelled out, loud and clear, not hiding behind any avatar or pseudonym like the rest of us. My dad's message was spelled out pretty clearly too - no more than one apostrophe appeared to be out of place.
"So sad with Brian's passing he will be missed by Family,Friend's and Bloggers like myself.
I enjoyed his daily updates on what was happening in Nain and particularly enjoyed pictures of meals he created.
So we in the south Kingston,Ont who have been following his Blog will miss the link to the north.
Bob (last name)"
When I found my dad's comment, I read it furtively like someone sneaking a peak into someone else's diary, and instantly I couldn't help but shed a few tears. Even now, seeing it, I'm lumpy-throated and misty-eyed. And even now, while I think I know why I'm having that reaction ... it does surprise me a little.
So I thought I'd write about that experience here, here in my blog. And maybe someone will even read it sometime.
Here's that photo of Brian's granddaughter, Mia. She was born April 6, 2013. I'll never know her, but may the world treat her well.
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