Читать книгу A Brief Time in Heaven - Darryl Blazino - Страница 6

“Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

— JOHN LENNON

Like so many people, I had spent much of my life working obsessively so that life would be better in the future. As a teenager I took a condensed course load supplemented by summer school in order to complete high school a year early. I studied feverishly in university while playing Junior A hockey (which meant twenty-hour bus trips every third weekend) in order to gain acceptance to dental school. After four strenuous years I graduated youngest in my class and returned to start a busy dental practice.

In retrospect I guess it should have come as no surprise that my midlife crisis came early as well. I had hoped my days of sixty-hour work weeks would finally be behind me, but a busy practice had left me tired and frustrated. I loved dentistry, but no matter how many lunches I worked through, evenings in which I stayed late, or “breaks” that were filled with emergencies, there seemed always more to do.

In about 1996 I was beginning to burn out. I wrote a letter and placed it in my top drawer in an envelope labelled “2000.” It was hardly a great work of prose, merely a basic message. When I was to open the envelope in the new millennium, I hoped to find that I was less stressed and was spending more time doing the things that I loved. It seemed my life was slipping by, and if I didn’t make a conscious and concerted effort to take control I felt true happiness would always be a dream for the future.

The message was simple but elusive — spend time doing the things you love and eliminate those you dislike. Among my interests were travel and a wide variety of sports, but a chance meeting with an old friend led to a wilderness fishing trip, and over the course of the summer I came to realize just how much I loved the outdoors. Soon I was introduced to canoe tripping in Quetico Park and found it to be a watershed moment in my life.

I hired an associate, which increased my leisure time and flexibility dramatically. Dentistry became enjoyable again, and more importantly I discovered the time to explore. Canoe trips had become an obsession, and they became the dominant feature of every summer. There is a Buddhist proverb which states that when the student is ready the master appears. In much the same way, I was introduced to Quetico when my eyes and ears were ready to appreciate its beauty. I wanted to experience every aspect of this magnificent land.

My mother laments how this passion for the outdoors blossomed just a few short years after the passing of her father. I have fond memories of fishing with him for walleye and perch at his beloved camp at Whitefish Lake. It was his home away from home for months of the year and a base for mushroom and berry picking and hunting expeditions for duck, grouse, and moose. We were the regular recipients of his walleye fillets, moose steaks, and ice cream pails full of plump blueberries; each one a special treat, the marvellous fruits of his labour.

As a teenager I lost the patience for fishing and seemed always immersed in one sport or another. I regret the missed opportunity of sharing time with a wise and passionate woodsman. More than that, as a parent now I see the tremendous value in grandparent time for all involved. He was such a good soul. He was a great mind with a kind heart, and I know our relationship could have been so much stronger than it was.

My dad’s father and I connected through our love of hockey, and this Blazino tradition has been passed on in a similar manner between my sons and my father. I am well on my way to ensuring that the boys have plenty of outdoor memories with their Nono (my wife’s father). Already there is a photograph of a proud Nono posing behind smiling young boys struggling to lift a hefty stringer of fish. A similar photo from the 1970s is one that my younger brother and I cherish — one of the few I have with a person I wish dearly could join me on a wilderness adventure.

Author with his brother and Nono proudly displaying their catch (1977).