As I mentioned in my previous post, we didn’t make it to Montréal during the three days my brother and I spent in Québec back in August, but we did make it as far south as Trois-Rivières, which is about one-hundred-and-ten or so clicks southwest of Québec City. It’s actually about halfway between Québec City and Montréal. We wandered around the downtown a little and popped into the tourist information centre. It’s a very attractive city, and it was nice to explore a place I’d never visited before

It also was incredibly hot that day, so despite how nice the downtown area was, air conditioning was something we desperately needed, so we ended up having supper at a very nice Italian place called Mondo Resto-Bar. Later we sought out a music store so I could actually purchase an André Gagnon CD in Québec. That was something I’d been wanting to do right from the start.

As with Québec City itself, we only spent a couple of hours in Trois-Rivières, but the city has a charm all its own, and I’d like to get back there some day and spend a bit more time. I also want to get to Les Forges de Saint-Maurice National Historic Site, which is about a dozen clicks northwest of downtown. It’s a site run by Parks Canada that commemorates the founding of the first industrial community in North America.

It also happens to be one of my André-Gagnon-related destinations. (more…)

Wow, another blog entry only five days after the last one. And another video blog, to boot. I must really be jazzed about this upcoming road trip.

Okay, so the sound on this video sucks the big one. I’ll have to learn how to reduce wind noise on the iPod’s microphone if I want to do anymore outdoor video blogging. But it sure was fun talking into the camera out at Peggy’s Cove. It really was a fabulous day.

So far the footage from the day looks good. I haven’t transferred everything to the computer yet, but I like what I’ve reviewed so far. And in putting this video blog together, I learned about a few more features of iMovie that I hadn’t looked at yet.

Video editing is just major fun.

Counting down to the Québec trip.

Stay tuned.

The video pretty much says it all, but I do want to clarify one point: I’ll be using the iPod touch for video blogging while I’m on the road, not for taking actual documentary footage. I have my Canon PowerShot SX20IS for that. Plus, I’ll be taking a Zoom H2 digital audio recorder with me for capturing additional audio.

We’ll be stopping in Kamouraska (André Gagnon’s birthplace), Verdun (in Montréal, where my dad was born), Lachine (also in Montréal, where my dad grew up), Ville Émard (also in Montréal, from the title of André Gagnon’s song “A Ride to Ville Émard”), Forges du Saint-Maurice National Historic Site (from the title of André Gagnon’s song and album “Les Forges de Saint-Maurice, written for a television series of the same name), and Charlevoix (from the title of a movement of André Gagnon’s three-movement piece “Le Saint-Laurent” called “Devant Charlevoix”). I’ll also be taking footage of whatever strikes my fancy along the way. I’m particularly looking forward to visiting Trois-Rivières, a town I’ve heard of many times but know next to nothing about.

Did I mention I’m jazzed?

More updates as planning proceeds.

Every once in a while, life just hands you a treat. It’s usually unexpected, outside the realm of the everyday, and genuinely smile-inducing. When it happens, it can make your day.

Just such an event came my way last Friday as I was walking to work. I was at a major intersection, just up the hill from where I live, waiting for the light to change. I looked to my right, and there, also waiting for the light to turn green, was the oldest-looking car I had even seen in my entire life. It was sitting well past the crosswalk, it’s nose nearly in the intersection, and the driver was signalling to the cars behind him, presumably that they might have to go around him.

Needless to say, I gawked. I love old cars (I don’t know many people who don’t, actually), and this was total vintage staring me in the face. I was going to wave at the driver and make some kind of comment, but for some reason I held back. I just looked at the automotive wonder before me and grinned.

When the light changed, I had to be careful of my steps, because my head kept turning to my right to look at the old car. The sound of the engine starting jarred me into the realization that it had been shut off while the car was stopped for the red light. As I crossed the street, the old car got into gear and finally passed me as I reached the curb on the other side. (more…)

… in which the blogger attempts to get over himself.

You know, sometimes I think I take myself way too seriously. I mean, I do have a pretty decent sense of humor, and I can definitely poke fun at myself, but I also spend an awful lot of time inside my own head, dwelling on my own problems and trying to figure out what I’m doing wrong.

I’ve also shared a lot of this with the blog-reading public. I’ve written about my personal journey and challenges, and I’ve been most gratified by the fact that readers have commented on these posts and actually encouraged me. That’s part of the reason I write these things. I want to connect with others, and I hope to somehow make a difference in someone else’s experience.

But at what point does public journaling cross the line and become public posturing and whining? At what point does “This is me” turn into “Poor me”?

I hope I haven’t crossed that line, but something way in the back of my head tells me that I’ve come perilously close.

I need to face the fact that I’m a very self-indulgent person. I’m an approval-seeker of the first order, and all those comments I mentioned have been very nice ego strokes. I mean, yes, I know everyone wants approval; everbody needs validation once in a while. But seriously, when you refresh your Facebook page umpteen times to see if anyone has commented on your status update, you know you’re in serious trouble.

So, it’s time for me to—as they say—get on with it. Instead of doing tiny little things and looking to see if anyone noticed, it’s high time I took some of those big things I’ve been thinking about, mulling over, talking about, tweeting about, and blogging about and actually start doing them.

I mean, how many times have I mentioned this documentary I “need” to make about my dad and music? How long does it take to get through another draft of my novel? When am I going to continue the Voices of Reason project and get another interview up on my blog? When am I going to stop sulking about my precious pantomine script and get back to my involvement with community theatre? There are so many things I want to do, and I am doing none of them.

[Okay, I actually am working on the novel. It just seems to be taking a long time.]

I guess you could say I’m fed up with myself. I’m tired of blaming everything on my “inner saboteur”, as I like to call him, and citing all the wounds and traumas I’ve experienced in the past as reasons for my lack of action.

It’s time to take my personal journey and repackage it. Instead of using it as ashes to spread on my face, I need to turn it into fuel for my creative vehicles. And, yes, there are a quite a few of those vehicles parked in my mental garage, but believe me, there’s more than enough fuel for all of them. I just need the right mix. And then… whoosh!

I don’t mean to minimize everything I’ve been through. I’ve fought hard for my mental health, and it will always be an important issue for me. I just think it’s time to move up to the next gear and honor my journey by making better use of it.

And, hell, I’m a creative person. I can think of a few ways to do that.

Let’s keep it real out there. (Time to take my own advice, eh?)

I have a picture posted on one of the walls of my cubicle at work. Each day over the last eleven days, I’ve been placing poppies around the edges of the picture. Eleven days, eleven poppies. The picture is of a young man in an Air Force uniform, his smile wide and genuine, his eyes twinkling.

I was named after this man. His name was Eric William MacDonald, and he was a sergeant in the Royal Canadian Air Force. He was stationed in England and was a gunner aboard a Lancaster bomber. Returning to England from a mission, they were coming in for a landing in a dense fog. The pilot misjudged the runway, and the plane crashed. All aboard were killed.

My uncle was twenty years old.

Today, I’m remembering him, even though I’ve never met him. My mom was eleven years old when he died.

I wish I’d known him. He was Mom’s hero.

And he’s my hero too.

Thanks, Uncle Eric, for going overseas to face grave and terrible dangers for your country, and for the rights and freedoms of all of us alive today.

Thanks to every person who has ever served their country, and to all those who are serving their country right now. You have, and continue to, make a difference.

I hope you took time to remember today too.

Thanks for visiting.