Grandma French

French's grandmother passed away a couple of weeks ago; she was 98, and I haven't had the chance to really see how he was doing.  He had a pretty good relationship with her.  We used to go over to her apartment about once a month for lunch when we were in high school.  The only minor catch was that we had to bring her dimes for her March of Dimes collection. She made us shepherds pie every single time.  It was awesome.  Some kids at school ribbed us about hanging out with old people, but we were well fed and French was well loved by her.

She was really nice, but a bit funny.  French's grandmother gave him a fancy leather wallet on his birthday and Christmas every year.  So French was flush with wallets.  He had so many that he often gave me one after removing the crisp twenty she always included.

He was over last weekend for a party, and I brought it up.  Nothing doing; he would not talk about his grandmother.  All he talked about was how he'd recently broken up with a girl, then started to date a different one, only to find out that they were cousins.  Let's just say French is single now.  He had a few too many beers, and kept telling tales about the big blow-up that had occurred when his ex showed up at her cousin's house only to find French.

I was a bit disappointed, but he told it in a totally hilarious manner.  So I dropped it, and stopped being a downer by asking about his grandmother so much.

When everyone left I found a wallet, still in a box, with a little notice/prayer card from his grandmother's funeral on my kitchen table.

Worship

Over the summer every time I saw French he was cranking P.O.D. (Payable on Death).  They are a Rap/Rock/Reggae band from San Diego.  At first I thought that French was really digging them because he shares a similar fashion sense.  He sure looks like these lads:

I think I heard every every P.O.D. song over the summer, but there was one song that he played every single time. French called this part of the song his prayer:

Take away the scales from my eyes
Anoint your love upon my life
Have mercy on my soul and hear me when I cry
Do not abandon me, and don't forsake me
Lead me on the path of integrity

Amen 


This is the most Christian, or in touch with God,  I've ever seen him.  Last night he drove me home from work.  We got in his car and he said: "time to worship."  Then he played this song:

Rose's Rant

Rose listens to us a lot.  She is a good listener.  Some nights you even forget that she is there, but not last night.

We were all talking shop; a couple of Canadian teachers, and even an American one from Pennsylvania.  Even the non teachers had a lot to say.  This went on for a while.  Out of nowhere Rose just snapped and let us all have it.

I'll do my best to relate it...here goes:

The problem with the education system is that it doesn't stand for anything anymore.  You all talk about the values you have to teach, but they are "so random", as the kids say!  Each school seems to create some bizarre acrostic poem where each letter stands for a "Character Value".  Hillcrest: Honesty - Integrity - Loyalty - Leadership - Caring - Responsibility...etc.  It is bullshit! (yes she swore)  So by that logic if a school has a shorter name it would have less values, or a school with a longer name would adhere to so many more values.  Parents should be putting their kids in schools with longer names.  In Ottawa don't send your kids to Bell!

She took a breath:

My God  - why don't schools stand for education?  These days, by the sounds of it, you teachers can't even give a kid a zero, or a failure.  What a bureaucratic mess.  You even have teachers who do give zeroes getting fired for having integrity.  I thought that was one of the beloved Character Values!  This must really confuse the kids.

She started to lose a little steam, but added this:

And the drug pushers, and troubled kids don't even get help.  They just wind up back in class pushing their drugs, or skipping, and being late to class every day.

She concluded:

You can't have a system where every one's values get the same respect.  What if the values conflict?  Not everyone can be right.  What a mess.

She caught herself, and realized that we were all looking at her.  She added: "I'm sorry.  I don't know what I'm talking about."

Rose picked up her kids and ran out to Bruce Fish's truck.

Fighting Back: Wrestling with Cancer

Now I go to a lot of wrestling events with French.  He has gotten back into the indy scene recently, but this show was different.  This show was dedicated to a wrestler named Phrank Morin.  He fell ill a couple of years ago to an agressive form of cancer.

The wrestling community from Ottawa, Montreal and the Northeastern States were sad for a while, but then they decided to do what they do best: fight.  Many wrestlers and even more fans now get together to create a event to fight back: "Fighting Back: Wrestling with Cancer".

In just two short years it has become a massive success; attracting some of the top indy talent in North America: Bobby Lashley, Jay Lethal, Harry Smith, and Tommy Dreamer.  There is an amazing number of local Ontario talent as well: Player Uno, Stu Grayson, Michael Elgin, Tyson Dux, and many more.

Last year they raised over $10 000.  There is still money coming in from last night's show, but the tally is already over $14 000.  This is quickly becoming a major charity initiative in Ottawa.

French was working the show last night.  He was "Event Staff".  I noticed that he kept a close eye on all of the wrestlers when they performed big spots (moves).  French always seemed to be the first guy over to see that they were okay.  Then he'd slip back through the aisle and wait for the next moment he could help out.

Talking to him later I realized that this was his proudest night in wrestling; even if he wasn't on the card.

Beer Cap Pockets

Bruce Fish told me, with a big grin, that he'd caught someone dump sleeping; it was French.  He'd walked over to the dump to see Bruce Fish and Rose, but he'd missed them.  He'd been drinking pretty heavy so he just crashed in their trailer/office.

Bruce Fish had come in early, before his shift started, and found his friend passed out.  He let him sleep it off and worked on his dump art.

When French finally woke up and came out of the trailer he started to empty his pockets.  They were full of beer caps.  This is our old method from high school to keep track of our beer consumption.  Sweaty and I drove up from the cottage to collect his brother and we were marvelling about the pile of caps on the table.  It was a big heap of PBR and Bud caps.  French had been "having a few" with our summer cottage neighbours from Pennsylvania.

There was a lot of laughing and back slapping.  French mostly grinned sheepishly and rubbed his temples.  I didn't count them, but I remarked that it looked like the new record.

Rose had come in unnoticed.  She said: "that is some kinda tragic record."

on the hustle

French likes to say "I ain't no hustler, but I'm on the hustle".  He then lets out a big laugh.  French has been able to score a few teaching jobs here and there, but nothing steady.  He didn't finish his B.Ed until he was in his thirties.  Therefore, French feels that he is lost in a sea of recent grads and go getters.  Somedays he just blames  his tattoos for his lack of a steady teaching job.

I  haven't seen him this past July more than once or twice.  He caught me up on what he's been doing.  He has been filming indy wrestling events, and doing a bit of video editing for some of the wrestlers.  French got a short gig tuning, restringing, and resetting all the guitars for a community centre music program.  After a big wind storm he became the local tree expert, and fence rebuilder.  He even installed a new toilet for one of his neighbours this week.  Busy guy.

Also, Sweaty and him have continued flipping cars that they buy and then fix up.  French is talking about going full time on the hustle.

He seems real happy - maybe I'll join him eh?



Here is one of his videos:

On Prayers and Hot Rods

I have a long history of having a very ambivalent relationship with the Church.  I certainly have not been a faithful person, or a faithful Christian.  In fact, I have spent most of my life embittered against God.   This summer I've had a few more of those ancient glacial ice chips knocked from my shoulders. I've seen prayers answered.  

I've spoken with people who have asked God for very specific help.  One guy even quit his job and asked God to send him a partner who was interested and willing to start up a Christian Ministry.  The idea was to acquire a garage and teach youth how to make hot rods.  I was there when his prayers were answered.  There were four of us talking about this concept.  One of them agreed to stay and be a partner on this project even though he was just visiting from Australia.  This Australian guy has over ten years of experience working in youth ministry, and he is an avid motorcycle enthusiast with all the required skills. 

The third guy offered them access two different garages.  He'd bought a property in a nearby town that came with a shop.  It was even complete with a beam for an engine hoist and a selection of tools and welding equipment.  He also had a lead on another vacant garage in another town.

These two guys could have this idea up and running in the fall.

Coincidence right?   A blessing right?

So it all comes down to faith: faith in Jesus, or faith in chance.  Which one takes more faith?