Canada ❤️ The Hip

I got into The Tragically Hip later in life. In my youth, I was more mesmerized by the shiny videos on Much Music over solid lyrical content or geographical relatability.   

After it was announced this past May that lead singer Gord Downie was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer though, I felt like I had been hit in the stomach. First off, hearing news that someone so young (52), someone seemingly still so full of zest and future achievement, should have to deal with the evil that is cancer is always troubling. Life is unfair in so many ways. 

Secondly, it was then that I realized just how deep their sound indirectly permeated into moments of my life. The guitar riffs, the lyrics, Gord's voice ... they have become part of the country's landscape. I have many memories of their catalogue of songs playing on the radio as my family drove down the highway veins of the nation on summer vacation. Like a great soundtrack to a film, the auditory experience felt seamless to the views uncovered. The Tragically Hip were the earnest sound of Canada, from coast-to-coast. 

My high school years are reignited as I recollect my best friend Rita, a huge fan who would play them whenever I visited her home. 'Trouble at the Henhouse' had just been released and I remember pausing to soak in the beautiful wordsmith of 'Ahead by a Century', my personal favourite song of theirs:  

First thing we'd climb a tree
And maybe then we'd talk
Or sit silently
And listen to our thoughts
With illusions of someday casting a golden light
No dress rehearsal, this is our life

I've always loved this verse. It has since transcended that era and now, as an adult, perfectly sums up my feelings for friends and loved ones. Enjoy each other's company. Enjoy the moments, no matter how insignificant they initially feel. It all matters. I've evolved from being entertained solely by gloss and now covet the story a great song can share. 

I created the following animated GIFs as a farewell to the band as they perform their last show on Saturday, August 20.

Thank you for being undeniably (and unapologetically) Canadian.

And thank you for reflecting and recording our values and history over the years.  

Thank you. 

To donate to the Gord Downie Fund for Brain Cancer Research, click here.  

Animation created by Deborah Clague (2016).

Animation created by Deborah Clague (2016).

Animation created by Deborah Clague (2016).

Animation created by Deborah Clague (2016).

Animation created by Deborah Clague (2016).

Animation created by Deborah Clague (2016).

Animation created by Deborah Clague (2016). 

Animation created by Deborah Clague (2016). 

Your Occasional Monty

It would be impossible for me to love this little guy any more than I do. My wee Monty was meant to be a part of my life. He is the perfect faithful companion through thick and thin, always full of exuberant joy and wearing a contagious smile.  

Also, he kinda looks like a seal. 

Fillings

I hate going to the dentist. Not for the typical reason of real or imagined pain, but rather the judgement I always face from the dental assistant. Like Groundhog Day, our interaction has become rebarbative and predictable. After socially-mandated graces, the assessment: 

"You have a lot of fillings."

I don't even think I have a higher than average count of them (at least according to my very brief, unscientific Google research) but her reminding me of this with no further professional advice or edict does nothing to change the situation. I am aware of the fact that I have a few fillings. I am also aware of the fact that I love sugary sweets and am addicted to them like the legal heroin they are. Praise modern dentistry for allowing me to continue this unhealthy relationship while retaining gleaming pearly whites! And so, as we perform this "foxtrot" year in and year out, I revert to the blood of my stiff-lipped British forefathers, state an emphatic "alright" and sink into the dentist's chair while silently wishing for a cloak of invisibility. 

When my dentist arrives, the man with all the sharp tools and instruments, I am elated. He's a friendly, interesting dude. Knowledgable. Never condescending. Well travelled. On my most recent visit, we discussed Dubai. He's visited a few times. Gave advice on what to see and what to do and then offered to introduce me to a contact of his living there.  

A contact that, by sheer chance, operates a business in the design field! 

A contact that wants to show me "the real Dubai"!!

A contact that may, perhaps, know someone who will let me drive their Ferrari!!! 

My world continues to get smaller. And the dentist's office proves a place of business beyond restoring enamel and making me feel guilty for eating too many Mars bars. 

Resuming countdown...

P.S. - no cavities!!!!!

Dubai Bucket list

I am excitedly counting down the days until I take flight to the playground of the middle east, Dubai. Before any trip, I diligently research and daydream about what I plan to do. For this excursion, there is just SO much that I don't know how to whittle it down (although I'm sure my wallet will decide that for me). Here then is my ultimate Dubai bucket list: 

1. Marvel at the galaxies above from the pitch dark of the desert. The one excursion I booked well in advance was a desert safari. From this seemingly hostile, barren environment arose the great, ultra-modern meccas of Abu Dhabi and Dubai. It will be impressive to observe this stark contrast of nature vs. man's attempts to tame it but I will be truly blown away if my "north of 49" self can survive the day without getting heatstroke. I do not take to the sun well, which should make this entire trip rather interesting. Thankfully there will be plenty to occupy my mind from riding a camel, "snowboarding" down dunes, enjoying a feast under the setting sun, smoking shisha, and learning how to bellydance from a pro. 

2. Haggle at a souq. In Dubai, there is a spice souq, a perfume souq, a textile souq and a gold souq. I plan on visiting them all (even the fish souq!), hopefully returning with items to fill my suitcase with (save for the fish souq!). After visiting so much of Asia, where I mastered the fine art of haggling with a steely, unwavering gaze, I feel quite confident in my ability to negotiate. And if ever in doubt that I'm not about to take home a bottle of pure jasmine oil at a price I can part with, I will use the one tactic sure to garner sympathy: "But I get paid in Canadian dollars".

3. Ski. Despite living in a climate where snow covers the ground for six months of the year, I have never been downhill skiing. Actually, that is a bit of a lie. In junior high, we had the mandatory field trip to the only "mountain" (né slightly elevated hill) within close proximity to my hometown. During my introductory lesson, I witnessed a classmate wipe out and severely hurt themselves. It was at that exact moment I decided sitting in the chalet and sipping hot chocolate was more to my liking. While in Dubai, I do plan on visiting Ski Dubai. Perhaps I will ski. Maybe I will drink gourmet cocoa. For SURE, I will escape the heat. 

4. Photograph the architecture. In another life, one in which I had the focus and drive to sit through many more years of schooling, I would be an architect. Whenever I visit the great cities of the world, this is what captures my imagination; what spurs inspiration for my own, relatively meagre in comparison, art. Architecture is the backdrop of our lives and sets the tone of a city. Dubai is clearly making a statement with theirs; that they are innovative, bold and want to be perceived as one of the world's greatest centres of socio and economic activity. 

5. Drive a Ferrari. It doesn't have to be plated in gold. But if I had a choice in colour, maybe green. Shiny, metallic green. This is my daydream item. Probably not going to happen, but if I really wanted it to, I could make my way over to Ferrari World in Abu Dhabi for an afternoon of racing and riding the world's fastest roller coasters. 

Now back to counting down the days...

"Dubai Money"

"After achieving that wealth, he decided he wanted more. He wanted Dubai money."

Some months ago, I was conversing with a client after a photoshoot. The subject of travel came up, in particular Dubai, a place I have always wanted to visit. I listened intently and was regaled with tales that were downright obscene. The client's daughter had recently moved there with her husband and he visited them frequently. He talked of the insane wealth in the nation, some of which they had managed to procure. Within a few years of hard work and clever investing, they were millionaires. 

I left that encounter intrigued. I like to learn about new things. But moreso, I like to experience them.

In my lifetime, I would really like to experience "Dubai money". 

So that's why I decided to visit and thus extend my year of adventure. 

I'm sure part of that initial conversation was embellished. Or, at the very least, any hardships covered up. Few want to hear about the blood, sweat, tears and setbacks that go into success. Most just want to believe that dreaming big is all one has to do. Because that's all most people choose to do. It's such bullshit. Unless you are born affluent, success comes at great cost. Friends, family, sanity. At the end of the day, for some, it might not be worth it. I thrive on it though. I love the challenge of setting a goal and meeting it. My ultimate goal is to look back on my life as I near its end and be proud of the person that I was, rich or poor.

But we're on the topic of wealth now, so ... I'd still really like to experience "Dubai money". 

The one problem, of course, is that I will be visiting as an imposter. I am not rich in Canada. I am certainly not Middle-Eastern rich. After doing preliminary research and trying to establish a daily budget (with an increasingly sinking dollar), I quickly realized that I will probably be frequenting the McDonalds in the mega-mall located next to my hotel. They have a value menu, just like my home and native land. In terms of activities, I'm a cheap tourist. 95% of my time is spent walking about doing photography. For the remaining 5% this trip, I am willing to laze about on the beach. That should be free. I hope. 

All in all, I am very excited for the experience, whether or not it includes driving a gold-plated Ferrari. But if someone could hook me up, I am so down for it. I drive a Nissan. 

Redux

I set out a goal in 2015 to live a year of adventure and feel I fared pretty well. So often we get caught up in the motions and minutia of everyday existence – wake up, go to work, return home, vegetate and complain that life is passing one by – without actively trying to improve the situation. I've certainly been caught in that vortex. It's unfortunate that a traumatic life event was the catalyst towards re-evaluating things, as I would have loved for my father to meet the person I am today. But even without this sudden motivation, I still needed a completely uninhibited best friend to keep me committed to the challenge of truly stepping outside my comfort zone. 

It's been exciting.

It's been life-affirming.

My confidence has been raised.

My fear is practically non-existent. 

My entire goal in life, now, is to be as bad-ass as my father was. As he was considerably legend in this regard, it's a grand proclamation. And while it may seem easy to write about personal growth from a position where I can actively entertain it, exacting change doesn't have to be a herculean journey. The most powerful initiative I undertook last year was in simply opening my heart. It was, however, harder than climbing a mountain. 

In 2015, I studied a lot. I learned a lot. I traveled. I explored. I loved deeply. I got hurt deeply. I was empowered. I was vulnerable. It was my year of adventure. 

In 2016, it shall continue. 

Next stop: Dubai. 

Bowie

I've written about it before. Such a huge part of my life has been spent driving around Winnipeg, rather aimlessly, while listening to classic rock. Despite lack of apparent purpose, it was never wasted time though. In retrospect, it is those seemingly unexceptional moments, with friends or just my thoughts, that I now reflect upon wistfully. There's magic in the mundane. The quiet hours contain the essence of what life is all about. 

David Bowie was a massive part of the soundtrack for those moments. I first heard about him when I was a wee kid growing up in the eighties. My mother was in love with him (as she should have been; he was quite regal) and would often blast "Let's Dance" while tackling housework. I would be on the floor, creating yet another mess with my toys, fully cognizant at that young age that the song was really good, at least from an instrumental perspective. I was too young to understand the lyrical content. 

Bowie wasn't really part of my high school experience. Classmates seeking an icon to emulate flocked to Jim Morrison, while I bopped to the Spice Girls. But my college and post-college life were filled with his genius. A close friend with much more cred and much less embarrassing titles in his music library introduced me to musicians that went beyond the ego of pop culture and embraced genuine artistry. Bowie, of course, lived this. It was eye-opening for me. The depth of verse. The primal desire to create. The willingness to expose and be exposed. To innovate. To try. Bowie did all of these things. His legend was mesmerizing when he was alive. And now he becomes one of those figureheads of history that we feel privileged to have witnessed in real time. Those long drives down Portage Avenue, through Transcona and beyond listening to his vast catalogue were not wasted hours but a study of this philosophy. 

It is rare the artist a generation grows with; even rarer the artist that several generations can claim to be influenced by and share our lives in symmetry with. 

Some people are just born to be.