Saturday 21 April 2012

About three years ago I started to wander about this vast Canadian country.You might think it had something to do with being middle age crazy but the real reasons involved the company I worked for ceasing to exist,a death in the family,and an attemp by someone to burn the house I was living in.And so,after thirty years of living in Alberta,in the Canadian west,I set out for my home province of New Brunswick,nearly three thousand miles to the east,on the atlantic coast.And there I spent the next year,in my old hometown,which had changed nearly as much as I had in the over thirty years since I'd left.Which proves convincingly why it's true that you can't go home again.Oh you can go,set your feet down on it's streets,but the whole point is that its not the same anymore than I am.That's a story,or ,more likely more than one for later.That sentimental sojourn was followed by two years in Toronto,Canadas largest city.My reasons for going there?I wanted to experiance life in the cultural center of Canada.And a wonderful experiance it was,though it was way too. hard to make a living there.It was there,though that I began to form the idea of writing a memoir.Not that my life seems especially interesting to me,but it might someone else.In Toronto I met with,was mentored and inspired by and shared bits of my life with other memoir writers.Now,I'm back in Alberta,though I'm not necessairly happy to be here.I was rooted here for over thirty years,but I suspect I was never really happy here.There is so much I miss about Toronto already.Again,thats more than one good story for later.The point is that all of this wandering begs the question:where is home?






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