I want my brother Ivan’s job.

He’s been working and living at a lighthouse on B.C.’s rugged cost for as long as I can remember. The beauty of it all, and the part I envy the most is that he lives in total isolation with almost no human contact unless you take into account the junior lighthouse keeper who lives next door. Due to the isolated location, groceries and supplies are flown in by helicopter.

His job, in my opinion, is the closest any of us could ever come to achieving absolute peace and serenity without shaving our heads and joining a Buddhist retreat or cloistered monastery. In a perfect world, his job would be mine.

The older I get, the less I want to interact with human beings, even though my work demands it of me. It’s an irony not lost on me. Weekends are spent alone in the country with my cat Gus. We communicate mainly through telepathy.

Kidding……..

I do in fact have one sided conversations with him, and for the most part he appears to agree with the majority of requests I make. For example, we have a tacit understanding that I will keep his food and water bowl full, litter box clean, and play fetch with him as long as he promises not to drop rodents at my feet when I’m least expecting it. I have enough grief already with Snakey the woodshed snake showing up unannounced and terrorizing me.

Because my brother has very little to do most days, with the exception of taking the occasional weather readings and passing them along to the coast guard, or engaging in leisurely strolls along the beach, taking magnificent photos of sunsets and wildlife, he has endless time to sort through old family photos and subsequently post them onto Facebook.

Old photos tend to do one of two things; either remind us of how old we have become in the mere second it took to blink, or else bring back pleasant and nostalgic memories. As some of my childhood friends have been added on Facebook, we have recently been engaging in an ongoing dialogue consisting of filling in one anothers memory gaps. What one person has forgotten, the other has managed to remember. Together we have been contributing pieces that comprise our childhood dating back half a century ago.

As my brother Ivan was posting a number of old photos, he noted that my best friend Patsy (my friend from the age of five), was in nearly all of our family photos. It wasn’t a coincidence, as she practically lived at our house. If she wasn’t at our house, I was at hers. Her mother who was like a second mom, repeatedly told me that I would never wear out my welcome whenever I landed unexpectedly on their doorstep, asking if Patsy could come out to play.

I began life as a blonde



Yes, these are my people.



Me in the middle with my grand-mother and two siblings, Ivan and Jocelyn.



My dad washing the old relic of a car..



My brother Ivan and grand-father on the John Deere.



Me in the middle. (Halifax)



My father and his helicopter.



I’m on the right in my pj’s recuperating from chicken-pox. My partner in crime, Patsy is on the left in blue. My wee brother David is in front looking adorable and my sister Jocelyn, is taking up the rear.