The Beginning

I guess I should start at the beginning....

We met on Nov. 23, 1984.  I was barely 17, and Mike was 20.  My closest friend at the time had invited me to come to her boyfriend's birthday party, and my future husband was a guest of her boyfriend as well.  Ironically, my friend had tried to fix us up before.  But it was the '80s, the decade of hair bands, and I wasn't at all interested in dating someone in the military who wouldn't have the long, glorious locks of my romantic ideal.

The basement apartment, where the party was held, was across the street from where my grandmother lived, something I took as a sign of serendipity later.  The room was full of army guys, and a little overwhelming for a 17-year old at her first party of this sort.

Our eyes met across the room, where he was sitting on a footstool rolling a joint, and he asked me if he could sit in the empty spot next to me.  I recall him being very sincere and charming.  By the end of the evening, he had sworn he would never lie to me.  Why on earth I believed that, I'll never know.  The naivety of youth, I suppose, and wishful thinking.  But I did.  I'm the kind of person who says what they mean and means what they say, and it never occurred to me that there was any other way of being.

Some of the other guys at the party were unhappy that Mike was monopolizing my company, and they told him it was time for him to go.  Mike had always been outside of this group, a place he often found himself.  He never quite felt like he fit in anywhere.  But anyway, before he was ushered out the door, he asked for my phone number, writing it on a package of matches as he left.

Inexperienced with drinking, being the good Mormon girl that I was, I ended up waayyy too drunk at that party, with no one looking out for me. It was then that I learned three valuable lessons:

1. Don't let other people mix your drinks.

2. Only drink with people you trust.

3. Rye is disgusting going down, and worse coming back up.

I ended up in a compromising position with another of the men attending the party.  I came to in a bedroom with him on top of me while I was throwing up on him.  That messy insistance of the rye coming back up saved me from losing my virginity without my consent that night.  I guess I should be grateful for the rye, really.  I cannot stand the smell of it to this day.

The offender was extremely unhappy about being thrown up on.  It was a result of this commotion that my friend found me, cleaned me up and helped me get home, though that part is a blur to me.  If that had been in the age of todays cell phone cameras and social media, my life would have been over. I would have been one of the unfortunate girls that we see today who's poor judgement at the mercy of unscrupulous fiends costs them dearly with no end.  I'm very grateful that wasn't the case for me.

In any event, Mike did call me.  It must have been the next day, but I don't remember, and can't imagine that I would have been in any shape to hold a conversation.  Perhaps the vigour of youth, and having deposited the contents of my stomach the previous evening on the man who deserved it, gave my body the opportunity for a speedy recovery.

I don't remember how the conversation went, but Mike asked me out and we had our first date the next weekend, Nov. 30th, 1984.  And the rest, was history.

Come Hell or High Water

As I am sitting here on a Saturday night, in my finished basement, watching the documentary Hell or High Water: Rebuilding the Calgary Stampede, which details getting the 101st Calgary Stampede up and running on time in 2013 despite the devastating floods that hit Calgary and the surrounding areas only 2 weeks before, I can't help but reflect on what was going on in my life and my marriage during that time as well.

This is initially prompted by the date that appears on the TV screen as the documentary begins.  An all-black screen features the date in white typefont in the bottom lefthand corner.  June 21, 2013, the first day that the documentary covers, was our 27th Anniversary. Seeing the date so stark and bold on the screen gives my heart a little squeeze.  A slight feeling in my solar plexus of having been gently punched.  As the cameras pan over the devastation of the flood waters, I think back to that day in my life. The debris and dirty water echos the state of my marriage then, though I only know that something is wrong, not what.  I still think that my husband's PTSD is behind his moods and behaviour. I have no idea that he was already in an inappropriate relationship with another woman long before we even left for Cuba just 10 days before, for what was supposed to be a celebration of our anniversary, and an opportunity for us to unwind and reconnect.

June 16, 2013 - Mike & I on a catamaran tour in Cuba

We were fortunate to live in a part of Calgary that was not physically affected by the flooding, so we didn't have to deal with the personal and property losses that so many others in the city found themselves struggling through. We came back from our "anniversary celebration" trip to Cuba just two days before, in the wee hours on June 19th.  I was coping with jet lag and the lingering disappointment of the end of our vacation and opportunity for renewal. I felt as if I had been on vacation with a stranger. By June 20th, we were both back at our jobs.

June 19, 2013 Facebook Post

"So good to be back in YYC! Land of crisp air, reliable washrooms, and Tim Horton's :)"

The home renovations being done by our contractors to finish our basement, among other things, were supposed to be wrapped up by June 22nd, shortly after we returned home. There remained only one major project left undone; a custom window seat in what would be our new, amazing, romantic master bedroom. You know, the one I now sleep in alone. As it turned out, it would be another THREE months before this was finished, being told with every week that it should be finished any day now.  This caused a bottle-neck in being able to put our house back together, and left us continuing to cope with the ongoing stress of a chaotic living environment. The portion of the renovations that my husband, with the assistance of my brother, had been tackling were not yet done (and still are not as of this post).  Throughout the renovation process, Mike had largely refused to take on any responsibilities relating to the renovations, leaving it all to me.  So, I came home to the joyful tasks of wrangling the cabinet maker to finish the project, and negotiating a dispute with the main contractor over the final bill.

Window seat finally completed on Sept. 28, 2013

In addition, I worked for an engineering firm at the time, and we began to be inundated with calls from flooded homeowners and City of Calgary property managers needing structural evaluations of homes and businesses. My work, which had already been too much for one person, was now beginning to spiral completely beyond my control.  While the city, and with it our iconic Stampede grounds, were overrun with water, my life was again overrun with stress. But I was still the cog in the wheel grinding away to keep our lives together, one day at a time. Organizing the renovations, running the house, managing vet appointments for the three cats, medical and psychologist appointments for our two daughters, and massage therapy/acupuncture appointments for myself to help relieve the physical effects of the stress.

That determination and drive to open the Stampede for business no matter what, utilizing community spirit, hard work and, if necessary, sheer force of will, is exactly how I felt about my marriage and my family.  I was confident that no matter what, given just enough time and tremendous effort, teamwork, and a little luck, things would come out alright in the end.  Because you just don't give up.  That is unheard of in our community, and has certainly never been a part of my character.  So I just kept plugging along, certain that all we needed was the strength to see it through, and just a little more time. Doing it the hard way was never a deterrent to me.  Just a greater challenge that you dug down deeper to deal with.  That's part of what marriage means to me.  Loving and supporting each other while working together toward a common goal.  It doesn't matter how messy it gets, life is supposed to be messy.  I was undaunted, and determined to rebuild my marriage.

June 21, 2013 - Edworthy Park, Calgary AB

Successfully getting the 2013 Calgary Stampede up and running, despite all obstacles, gave the city hope that life does go on, and everything was going to be okay. I'm currently doing as they did. Cleaning up the debris of my life, rebuilding and moving onward, come hell or high water.