Ron A Smith.com

I’m sure we have all heard the song by Peggy Lee “is that all there is”.

A song where the singer talks about dramatic events in her life and once experienced she asks “is that all there is?”

I’m bothered lately. I watched my grandfather, my close friend die over the course of 2 months. He was in pain, uncomfortable and miserable. Together we watched his old, weak body give out and, in my honest opinion, before he was ready to be done with it.

If I can be totally honest it hasn’t consumed me all that much. Numbness, denial and just blocking it out has been my ritual. Thinking about it brings more questions, concerns and doubts that bother me to my core.

I haven’t written, thought, discussed, debated or dialoged lately. I’ve just been going through the motions of life with the backdrop of “is this all there is?”

My mind races with thoughts and I let them leave me just as quickly as they come. I’m not about to say something drastic that “I’m depressed” or any of that nonsense. I think what’s happening to me is that I’ve been apart of something very drastic, very serious and very close to home and I haven’t the foggiest idea how to deal with it. I’ve never experienced anything like it and I feel by being forced through it has provided me with some sort of secret knowledge that one can only acquire through an experience I just endured.

I’ve been observing people lately. Older people primarily and I find myself listening. I did this a lot with my Granddad as he had lived an entire life and I had much to learn.
There is a common theme to older people that haunts me as I listen; its regret. As a youth interacting with older people you hear it so much and yet you can’t identify with it. I’m too young to have real regret I suppose. There aren’t too many things I do that time and ambition can’t resolve. But that’s the thing about older people, time isn’t on there side and regret is its byproduct.

With my Granddads departure it has presented me with some daunting realities; an obvious one that never really resonated until now. It’s that I am mortal. I will become old someday, have limitations, lack time, have regret and I will die.

This word regret is consuming me. Do I regret anything? Are there things I am doing now that when I look back 50 years will say “I should have done that differently” and if so, why am I not picking up on and changing those events now?

At some point you are forced to deal with the issue of death. Either through a near experience personally or a near experience where you lose someone you have vested time with.
The issue with death is there is no going back from the knowledge you acquire. You’re forced to ask yourself some serious questions and I am struggling with those right now.

Further more, I feel it alone. It’s not that others around me haven’t experienced death but its these questions I ask are not questions that can be answered. I have always thought a certain way and now…. I don’t. These doubts, these regrets are swirling in my head, making me re-think every step, every friendship, every Endeavour. What do they all mean, does it even matter?

My Granddad is gone and it appears everything his life was lives within mine and others memories. He spent his entire life going on about his business, having worries, regrets, fears, accomplishments and for what? He’s gone now so does he rest easy now that he’s crossed the finish line and people will recall him as a good man? Is that all there is? Your own on goings and then when your gone, peoples perception.

I’m very frustrated.

I have a confession. I am a news whore. I love listening, reading, watching and talking about news. Current affairs, upcoming, could be. You name it, I have whored it.

Recently, I stopped. I am tired of listening to news about things across the planet and that for the most part have nothing to do with me and this news is usually depressing. Another reason is what news today is covering. For the need to continually produce relevant, exciting news we have stooped to new levels of low that I don’t want to partake in.

A recent example is Tiger Woods.
Sure, he drove into a fire hydrant at an odd time in the morning and may or may not have been drinking. I DON’T CARE. It doesn’t deserve this much coverage. There is WAY more important things to cover.

News has become a joke. News agencies don’t care about real, thought out, well informed thoughtful news. They don’t have the resources, time or readership. So what we get is weak snippets of shitty news.

I am still an information whore though so I have turned to things like on line books where an author covers one specific topic and delves into it.

Another thing that has consumed a lot of my time is “This American Life.”

I love it. It has seriously changed my news listening life.
There is a theme to each episode and a variety of stories on that theme. Its mostly true stories of everyday people, though not always. Each show is an hour long and I can’t get enough. I have listened to about 30 in the last few weeks and each one is getting better and better.

They cover politics and health care to marketing strategy and peoples obsessions with animals. It is so random. I love it.

In May of 09 I became a home owner. Woohoo!

It appears that houses know you are a new home owner and are like “let’s break everywhere.”

I bought an older house so I knew I would have issues and for the most part, I can’t complain. Everything is working well.

It’s the working well that is getting me. The actual cost of operating a home is enormous and monthly.

People used to say to me “you pay how much in rent? You could be a home owner for the same price.” Damn you I say to those people, damn you.

Sure, the initial house loan may or may not be equivalent to that of a rent payment. What those home owners don’t tell you is that new bills start getting delivered address to you: Home Insurance, house taxes, hydro, water and gas.

Before if a furnace broke, toilet leaked, pipes burst or power lost I just picked up a phone and made a call to the land lord. When you’re a home owner, you become that person.

Sure, I get it, eventually and in the long run I will smile because my house will “appreciate” and I will retain the money I have put into it: eventually. The unfortunate thing is that right now I don’t live in eventually. I am living today. And today my ass is broke.

Last night however I was sitting in my house. Cleaned the kitchen and the living room and I just sat. No one was there and it was quiet. It was peaceful. I was home.

Let me set the backdrop:

Feb 27th 2009.
I went to transfer my cellular Bell account over to my Granddad and was informed that there was $4 owing on my account so he wouldn’t be eligible for a $200 phone upgrade nor could we transfer the account until the amount was paid in full. I went home and paid on line.

March 4th.
The payment went through and my Granddad is eligible for the upgrade. We go back to bell, purchase a phone and have the sales person call Bell Customer Service so he can give them his personal information, provide credit card information and transfer the account from my name to his.

Oct 2nd.
My Grandfather died.

Mid October.

I call Bell to inform them that my Grandfather has died. “Sure,” the Bell customer service rep says, “I need a death certificate for Ron Smith and we can close the account.”
I inform her that I am Ron Smith and the person in question is Geoff Shepherd. Who is Geoff Shepherd she asks?

It appears that Bell took my Grandfathers info (changed address, home phone and provided a credit card) but apparently this wasn’t actually a “transfer.” Apparently I needed to call and tell Bell to officially change the account over even though I was sitting there in the store with my Granddad while this passing of information took place.

Me, being pissed off and up for a stand off, contacted the manager of Customer Service and had it out with him. He told me there is nothing he can do for me because according to his notes there was no note of a transfer made, even though the evidence is strongly in my favor.

He then said “its $400 to close the account out or you are better off getting someone else to take the account over” to which I replied “I tried to transfer already with my Granddad but apparently you have a bunch of retards working for you, further more do you think I would EVER put anyone through the agony of using bell as their cell phone provided?”

Sure, yelling at him does nothing for the situation but for 30 seconds I felt damn vindicated.

In the end I will pay the $400 because my credit is now going to be effected if I don’t pay. As furious as I am about the entire ordeal I feel I will win this battle.
Firstly, they lost me as a customer. I am closing the phone and in doing so will end a 6 year relationship of 384-5400. I used to say “Ron Smith is 384-5400.” Not anymore.

Secondly, I work in the technology field and what bell fails to realize is that we are a word of mouth society. People respect my technology input and you can be damn sure that Bell is now the last company I would suggest for anything wireless, home phone, internet or cable.

Third: A part of my job is to manage cell phone accounts for our many employees. Accounts renew all the time and Bell is now on my “transfer” list.

So, thanks for the memories Bell, you should have taken all that money you used on a new look and invested it in handling your customers better.

On the night of October 2nd, Geoff Shepherd at the age of 83 passed on peacefully at home. Beloved husband to his late wife Dilys (1999). A loving father to Denise and her husband Jim, Val and her husband Ron. Proud Grandfather to Carol, James, Jeff, Ron, Natalie and Great-Grandfather of Benjamin, Evan, Lily and Jaxon.

Yesterday I lost not only a Grandfather but one of my closest, most cherished friends.

Since his passing, I have been surrounded by friends who have been of great support in this time of healing. In recounting our times together, many have expressed how fortunate I was to have had a relationship with Granddad that neared more of a brotherhood. A friendship that some never encounter in a lifetime. I have always been tremendously grateful for my friendship with Granddad. As I continue to tell the many tales about my times with him to my community, the same sentiments are continually repeated: amazement and envy. With every passing day, I understand even more how truly blessed I have been to have him so closely woven into my life’s story and recognize the value of his imprint on my journey.

Growing up in England, Granddad didn’t have much impact in my life. He was a “typical” Granddad. Holidays, presents and pictures were all I knew as he lived on the other side of the country. At the age of 7, my family decided to immigrate to Canada. As before, my Granddad and Nanny would ‘cross the pond’ to visit and stay with us from time to time. It was in my first year of high school that everything started to change.

The catalyst was my Nanny’s unexpected passing. As a typical 14 year old, I never gave it too much thought at the time at how this event must have devastated my Granddad. Not only did he lose a loving partner of 48 years, but his overall life story that he had planned was ripped away from under him. My Grandparents were World-class travelers. When they weren’t visiting with us in Canada, they were traveling Europe; their lives a continuous vacation. They had settled into a great community of friends in the south of France, where they spent the later of their days.

After Nanny’s passing, this lifestyle changed for Granddad. His time spent in Canada become longer and his worldly travels fewer. Finally, he moved into our home where he became a sort of roommate to me, his room being directly across from mine. Looking back that should have been so odd for me, but that was just how things came together and I never questioned it.

Granddad spent his days listening to classical music, walking our dog gypsy, swimming, cooking and reading the paper. His evenings were spent with a scotch in one hand and the channel changer in the other. Everyday when I got home from school, there he was, studying some language, quizzing me on current affairs and preparing some type of soup in the kitchen. Granddad always made dinner. No pizza or processed foods. Fresh veggies, sprouts, meat and some type of herb, spice…. or branches.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but my Granddad was molding me. I find that through watching him over the years I have come to respect and enjoy the real fine things in life: family, food, friends, conversation, music, reflection and, of course, a fine glass of scotch.

Granddad was with me to experience a great many of my firsts in life; the first time I drank too much (can still hear him as he laughed from his chair), my first cigar, gifted by him, which didn’t agree with my stomach (again, he laughed from his chair). My entire teen years have my Grandfather throughout them, from sharing wisdom, teaching and lending an ear. He was a great listener.

During the Second World War, he served the English Royal Air Force proudly. His love and fascination with planes born from these years never left him. When he started taking flying lessons in Sarnia, I remember him taking me up in the plane and flying over Sarnia passing over mine and my aunt’s house. He would let them know he was coming before hand and they would be out in the garden waving away!!

My relationship with my Grandfather changed drastically when I turned 21. No longer was I the teenaged roommate. I was a young man, working full-time and out on my own. But we always found a way to schedule times together almost every week. Granddad would come for dinner and we would cook our meals, watch shows together and he would spend the night. During these times our talks matured. He really opened up about his life. Failures, triumphs, fears, regrets, love and the day to day grind. Without realizing it, he became my confidant.

Geoff was getting older now entering his 80s, so traveling to Europe on his own became more demanding. He required a companion on his travels to do the heavy lifting, the hours of driving, the drinking and dining. I was the fortunate one who became this travel buddy. Every September, for 3 consecutive years, we set sail for Europe. The agenda was pretty broad: go to Switzerland, Italy and France. The rest we made up on the go, speeding down the auto route sporting a Mercedes Benz, sipping on the finest wines and eating the freshest of foods. This was Granddad’s style, Granddad’s way of life.

Geoff had acquired many a friend over the 40 years of travel to Europe. We stayed at Hotels which were once bed and breakfast havens that had flourished over the years. Geoff was on a first name basis with the proprietors at all these hotels, which were a family grown business he’d seen develop from the ground up. They were his community across the continent, some of his closest friends.

I was introduced to his “other family” in a small spot on the southern coast of France called Val-Rose. It is here that he and so many other vacationers from England settled in their trailers. Geoff spent over 10 years of his retired life there with his wife and, after she passed, another 10 years visiting. He made lifelong bonds with new and old friends here. We were always welcomed when we arrived. Lots of conversation, food and of course good drink. The residents are so amazing and I am so thankful he introduced them to me. These people are so full of love and contentment. Val-Rose embodies my Granddad’s way of life. It is his truest home. It is a place I hope to visit many more times throughout my life.

Geoff and I were to set sail again this year. Unfortunately, his body could no longer keep up with the energy of his mind and soul. Witnessing the failing physical form of a man so vibrant and full of life was one of the hardest times in my life. Knowing it was even harder on him made it all the more painful to experience.

On the eve of what should have been our departure for our fourth tour to Europe, I was by my Granddad’s side at the Sarnia hospital. After pouring us each a healthy glass of my finest scotch, we looked each other in the eye and knew what the other was thinking. We cried together. We cried, knowing “you’re going to get better” didn’t need to be said, this was no time for superficial pleasantries. Our bond, the love and respect we have for each other was too genuine for such palliative falsehoods. Through tears, I expressed my greatest sorrows in losing him, in his not being able to meet my future children. He apologized for not being able to meet my future wife and attend my wedding. He wished I were 20 years older or, better yet, that he was 20 years younger.

In his last weeks, Geoff was constantly surrounded by his loving family. He was peaceful and he was ready for his next journey. Granddad and I talked about death from time to time. Having seen the world as he had, having experienced as much as he could, he wasn’t afraid of what was to come. Death, for him, was the next chapter, the next adventure.

Granddad, wherever you are, I wish you all the best in this new adventure.
I will forever recount stories from your journey and will never forget our times together.
Know that I will carry you in my heart, always.
Your Grandson, your friend.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about areas in my life where I am lacking. For if I am not asking this question I have the habit of growing complacent or worse yet, thinking there is nothing wrong to correct.

I’ve been reflecting about where I go/going/gone wrong and have I at least learned anything from these reflections.

If I am being honest with myself I would say I am most certainly prideful, followed up with its byproduct – conceitedness. “I’m not conceited” I thought to myself the other day and then in my readings a day later I came across this: “If you think you are not conceited, it means you are very conceited indeed.”

I think pride to be the greatest sin out there because of what it causes people to become. Where they focus their time and finances, your views and how you treat others are all drastically bent and distorted by pride.

I don’t think the issue is pride by itself. It’s when you take your pride and attach it to other vises in your life.

Greed is a vise in my life. My greed enjoys more money and with this money I enjoy my house, home reno’s, vacations, better drink and food, entertainment with friends and obviously fashionable apparel. But only to a certain point. If I inject my un-checked pride into the mix of my greed it mutates it into something much worse.

This feeling comes upon me and I start to yearn for a better house not because I need a place to lay my head but because someone else lays theirs better than mine. My vacations need to be more exotic, expensive and further because someone may have one upped me. My food and drink and who I enjoy those things with need to be of a certain class…. Pride gets me to a point where what I have isn’t enough and the only thing that curbs my pride is climbing the ladder higher than others.

If you read this and think “that’s sad Ron, I’m not like that” I would think that’s a good indication that pride has you all rapped up my friend. The problem with pride is that it’s in competition with everyone else as pride is competitive by nature. I know I am prideful because I get annoyed when I see it in others. It is because I wanted to be the big shot at the party that I am so annoyed at someone else being the big shot.

Two of a trade never agree.

Recently my Grandfather has fallen ill – very ill.
3 hearts attacks in the last month, his heart is failing him daily.

After a very unstable stay at the hospital he has been sent home with the hope of recovery of getting comfortable to be at final rest.
This pains me very much. My Grandfather is one of my best friends. I don’t just see him as a relative. He is someone whom has spoken a great deal into my life.
Weekly drinks at Paddies with our reserved seats and yearly vacations to Europe; our conversations have made me rather worldly.

That was then and statistically speaking my better days with him have come to a close. When he was looking his worst we had “the talk.” If you have ever dealt with someone who is on their death bed you know what I mean. It was very intimate. He and I communicated honestly and freely – we said our good byes. We cried deeply about him not being at my wedding, meeting my wife and holding my children. He said he wished that I was 20 years older or better yet, that he was 20 years younger.

It’s tough watching a man who has lived a full life still capable of living an even fuller one. It pains me more when you watch so many people just wasting away their youth.

My Grandfather requires 24 hour attention and I will do my part with the rest of my family to be there, assist and care for. However as I do this, the thoughts of it not being fair or “if only we had more time” wont be present. Granddad and I have had an amazing run together. What I have experienced with him trumps many people’s experiences with their own relatives. He and I have said our good byes.

When he and I catch each others eye from across the room we know what both of us are thinking. He has told me for years that this “way” of life is not for him. He dreads it and now he is dealing minute by minute with it. It’s hard for me to watch him because in his mind I know he is locked down, trapped and tormented.

Even with a “full” recovery things won’t return to way he wanted to live. My Granddad is very active. Daily he works out, walks the dog, swims and plans vacations over seas. He keeps sharp by studying language (he has learned 3 in the last 10 years), reading countless books and learning the ways of the internet and email to keep in touch with people from around the globe.

I miss that person. From what is occurring now I feel so disconnected. I don’t like seeing it just as much as he doesn’t like being it. Even though I am putting on a strong face I don’t like my time with it all. This isn’t the man or the time I want to remember. I remember someone much different. Is that horrible? I am trying to see the positives of it all however if I am being honest with myself I must admit that I would wish him a quick, peaceful passing over a drawn out, flat lining, uncomfortable last few months.
Part of it is selfish and part of it is me knowing his real wishes. In the mean time I will pray, fast, reflect and sit by my Grandfathers side.

I am starting to see more and more the two paths people live by when it comes to the prospect of being in a serious, loving relationship with someone. The first type is a person who is comfortable in their skin being single. They don’t approach the single life as a hindrance nor see themselves as lacking, needing or the odd person out. If a relationship presents itself to that person it is seen as a bonus, adding to their already functioning life.

The other people are those who crave a relationship. They yearn and seek out to such an extreme that they tend to make an unwise choice that most likely will lead to sadness, dissatisfaction and ultimately, a broken heart. I would say that the majority of the adult single population fit into this way of thinking. Desiring a loving, nurturing and safe relationship, they do it: they settle.

Settling is entering into a relationship with a less than desirable mate for the sake of escaping the single life. Fed up with breakups and longing for a stable mate, I would imagine when one “settles” that the “nice” feeling of being with that new person only exists due to the relief of escaping the single life. Being caught up in the swirl of desperately trying to find “the one” and the constant ticking of that annoying inner clock reminding people that they are getting older by the moment, can cause this to happen I am sure.

So why settle? Well, I think it has SO much to do with how we are all “programmed” to view our life in accordance with relationships. We are raised to believe that the ideal life is one in which we fall in love, marry, have children, go on vacation, grow a family, retire and grow old. This ideology is instilled in us from day one.

As we enter the dating game we are weaving our way through relationships, trying to decipher what type of person best fits our needs to sustain this healthy and loving relationship as described above. If a person does not find this truly compatible mate, they will most likely opt to………… settle.

Settling may bring temporary happiness, however the key word is temporary. When a person is in a relationship that is not the ideal one for them, they are choosing to close off the option of finding true love. This is not fair to either person in the relationship. I like to believe that we all desire love, having someone to care for us above all else, the feeling of being safe and secure in the arms of another. I don’t think setting produces those results.

Remaining single and waiting to meet someone that will provide you with a truly loving relationship is wise. Be pleased that you are abiding to your standards. Falsely believing that continuing to remain single is such a dreadful choice, and settling is the option you choose, you will be losing the prospect of truly enjoying your life bonded with someone you undoubtedly love.

What if finding true love isn’t what you desire and actually isn’t the goal.
Can people settle and actually mean to do so? Are some people’s expectations set to high and by trying to reach their target cause their issue of singleness? Are people who settle more realistic? Can one argue that settling is better than being alone?