Fallen people are my favourite people. There but for the grace of God go I. My friend Devon and I used to to meet up after work on a Friday night, and spend the night drinking with the men that spent Mon-Friday there. The world made sense when in the company of these men.

At his bachelor party he went missing in New Orleans in the French Quarter. Call it luck but with little worry I enlisted a friend and found him in 10 min. I didn’t look on Royal or Bourbon St. I looked down the back alleys. Sure enough, there was Devon sitting with a homeless person, and his dog. The homeless person had on Devon’s favourite hat and they were both drinking out of a brown bag. The twosome turned into a foursome and was my favourite night there. We didn’t seek these people out to slum around, we sought them out because we felt at home with them. We loved their authenticity.

I’ve written about this before, but it’s a huge part of me. I honestly feel the best of us are the ones that society has outcast, fallen to addiction, or just simply ended their life.

One day I hope to write a book called “Died Suddenly”. That’s the term we use when people end their life. Each chapter will begin with a suicide note. Then I’ll attempt to tell that persons story. When they ended their life they had no hope, thought no one was listening, felt their loved ones were better off without them, or just simply couldn’t take the pain anymore. Perhaps they felt they had simply outlived their usefulness. I want to prove them wrong and make their lives heard. At least by me and the 3 people who might read such a book.

I got this character trait from my Dad. It also runs in all my siblings. As a family physician many of our holiday dinners would have the outcasts in his practice around our dinner table. Men who had fought for Nazi Germany, Bank robbers, Lonely seniors, etc. all shared Christmas dinners with the Cottiers. To this day siblings get messages from patients expressing gratitude to my Dad. One letter recently recounted,

“….your father said, you don’t need a prescription, you need a cheque, he then pulled out his chequebook and handed me one.”

You don’t have to agree with people to love them. I met a man at the Town and Country bar in Bowness I’ll never forget. He had dearly loved two women. Married the first who died in a car accident after 10 yrs. He had mourned her for a decade, then finally fell in love again. His second love died as well. She got sick and died quickly. He gave up. He spoke to me for hours about women, how to treat them. The waitresses told me he was the most respectful customer. He made them feel safe and always supported them in their goals. He had his name carved in the bar. He was successful. He drank himself to death. Bad choice for sure, but don’t tell me this man wasn’t one of the best ever.

I spent 2 nights with a drifter in BC. I miss him to this day. He had a similar story. Lost his family. Didn’t want to restart. Was happy with what he had been given, didn’t need more. When I asked him If I could get him a hotel, he said he had a place. As I left I saw him setting up in the ditch beside the road. Am I crazy to think he was a happier man than me?

My life is changing. Soon 2 weeks of the month it’ll be just me and Bauer. I’ll drink much less than I used to, but I’ll find more of these lords in peasants clothes. Maybe ill have 1 beer instead of 15, maybe I’ll mention Jesus and what he has done for me. But mostly I want to listen. I want to be taken down their life’s journey.

People are NOT the sum of their successes or failures. If you want to find something interesting or unique, look outside the norms. Society punishes people that struggle to follow norms.

On one arm I have my kids names tattooed on it. On another is an excerpt from a poem I miserably try to live my life by. It’s ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling. The line I chose was:

…..if you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two imposters just the same.

To me that means success and failure are illusions. Certainly not something to define or measure people by. I hope whoever reads this, will look at people differently.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris

Continue reading “Horizon Indicator” →

We all are going somewhere, in some manner, at some speed. I wonder if you could zoom out far enough, if it would all make sense.

AC/DC sings about being on a Highway to Hell. They must be intent on getting there. If Hell was my destination, I’d hitchhike down this highway and forget to stick my thumb out. Tom Cochrane relates life to a highway. He must do it different than me, because half the time I’m going backwards.

Then there’s the proverbial fork in the road. The road less travelled. We all know it’s never that easy, it’s at best a traffic circle with exit signs in a foreign language. if the choice was always one way or another, I’d like to think we’d get it right 50% of the time. Most of us don’t. We all want to take the road less taken. No one plans to end up in gridlock. There is also a road that leads to Hell, it’s paved with good intentions. All roads lead to Rome, so I guess we’ve found Hell.

Paths are great. By nature they are less travelled. They also limit the mode of transportation on them. I can’t think of any reference to Hell, but if it leads there, you won’t see the AC/DC tour bus rolling down it. Paths still take you somewhere. A path can also be a visual of where you have come from, and where you are headed.

Lastly, my favourite, trails. Trails lead to no particular destination in my mind. They are what you get off of any of the above to go down. You don’t know what’s down them. Unexpected things are around every turn. Along these trails you might meet another soul, as off the beaten path as you. Maybe you stop and talk for a while. Trails are seasonal, temporary, but without a doubt the best to travel down. It’s a trail that pulls you to Heaven. At least Heaven on earth.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris

Often my favourite times to write are when I write about my friends. When I read my own drivel, I enjoy these ones the most.

Kevin is one of my best friends. I likely first met Kevin when I coached his son in soccer when our sons started sports together very early in their lives. My idea of coaching soccer was to boot the ball as far as I could and make the kids run and go get the ball and dribble it back to me to boot again. In other words I played fetch with 4 yr olds. This wasn’t the first time I was an idiot coach as you will soon find out.

Kevin is quiet. But don’t be fooled, he’s good at everything he does. He’s humble. He doesn’t seek or want attention in anyway. He likely won’t enjoy this post. I’ve played baseball, hockey, coached with, ridden bikes and worked with Kevin. He’s meticulous, and does everything right.

Some of my favourite times with Kevin were our trips in to Calgary to play hockey together. He was my defence partner and is again this summer. He gets to watch me rag the puck, and wait till I lose the puck to clean up my mess.

On these trips home we’d talk. We’d drive home on the backroads and rarely did we not pass a massive, beautiful home that Kevin hadn’t constructed. Kevin doesn’t brag, he’d mention it in passing, literally. We have a few things in common. Our fathers were both health care professionals. My dad a doc, his a dentist. I think we both probably grew up in their shadows in a way. Two sons of respected men that chose to swing hammers, or at least nail guns. We were both happy to earn our living in a humble way.

One of the last years I coached I was being way too hard on my team. It was pathetic. I was treating 12 yr olds like it was pro hockey. Kevin politely asked me if he could talk to the team alone. He told the boys he wanted them to have fun, and how could he make it fun for them. My feelings were hurt but that was my vanity, and soon realized how wrong I was, how right he was. I’ll coach again and I’ll remember that lesson Kevin taught me. As a coach it isn’t about you, you are there to serve youth.

I’ve had a motorcycle for about 10 years. A couple years ago Kev bought his first bike. He asked me to take him out and show him and his son a few tips. Fast forward 3 years and I went riding with them, and they both have better bikes, and are better riders than I’ll ever be. When I see Kev ride he looks like he was born to ride motorcycles. Not shocking is it?

We spoke the other day, we both admitted as our kids age and roles diminish that we are feeling a bit lost. We pledged to have some breakfasts together, talk if we absolutely have too. It feels good to have friends.

Kevin, if you read this you have my deep respect and gratitude for being my friend all these years. I’m not the easiest guy to be friends with.

If ya read this far, thank you.

Tris.

Life As A House is my favourite film.

I’ve watched this movie at least 10x. I watched it again tonight. The plot is simple I guess, but I connect to this film as a son, a father, a man who has learned love isn’t always enough, and a carpenter. The truth is the movie breaks me every time. I know what it’s like to build a home for those I love. I’ve done it 3x. The first home was built start to finish in 3 months. Brooklyn was coming, and we wanted it ready for her. I was so proud of myself.

The second home I worked day and night framing while my family at the time were away for a lakeside holiday. I wanted the roof to be on by the time they returned. All I could think of was hoping they’d be happy when they turned the corner home and they could see trusses on the upper walls. Memory fails but I’m sure they were.

The last one was built to give my kids a home with their dad, and in part for a woman I dearly loved. We had been living in an awful duplex, and that was rock bottom for me, for them with me, and for the woman who tried to be there with us. I built a beautiful, unique home that reflected my desire to give my family somewhere beautiful to live. The materials where inexpensive but I poured my heart into it. I tried to create something with a heritage feel. Now, I have a dream to build myself a warm glass cabin at the river, but not sure I’ll ever be able to leave this house. I’m not a vacation home kind of guy, so two homes is not an option, so I will see. But I think I need to do it one last time. It’ll be a cabin for my family.

I wish every man could build a home for his family. There’s been nothing more fulfilling than building something for those I loved.

I love looking at historic homes. I also love looking at abandoned prairie homes. If you see a home that looks different then all the rest you can bet the story behind it entails a man trying to make a place attractive to a woman who really doesn’t want to be there. I laugh to and at myself every time I tour/see one of these old homes. Many of them were built by men who came from Europe, and were trying to entice a faraway bride to join them. I can relate to this.

I think I love old homes because I imagine a simpler life in purer times. I think most men built there own homes in the past. You took a lift of wood or perhaps a Simpson Sears home kit, built some walls on some timbers embedded in the ground. You had a wall down the middle to hold up the ceiling which was also your second floor. Hand cut rafters at a steep pitch for headroom were hand nailed onto your ceiling joists, which created a nice loft. You built a few dormers to bring light into the loft. You’d build a porch, and a small hip roof above it. Then, you’d build windows in place and hang a few doors. No permits, No architectural controls, No building codes. And you know what? They had better homes, and if you consider the fact they were smaller, used less energy. Often times your stove heated your entire home. You didn’t have 50 pot lights, triple car garages, ensuites, 3 bathrooms, mechanical systems et al.

The houses looked better. They are the homes we all love in the fields. I have long decided that so called progress has become anything but. Then, almost everyone could have a home. Now, homes are becoming a pipe dream for many.

I know we can never go back to those times. I think that’s my curse. I always want to go back to those days. I’ve spent far too much of my life studying how things used to be built, rather than how they are built today, or at least how they will be built in the future. Almost every new home I build now is done under silent inner protest.

What we will see in the future is cubed homes manufactured mostly by machines. They will have even less character. They will be modular. They will all be the same. They will be soulless. Hand skills will be all but lost. No man or woman will know how it feels to build his family a home. Is this really what we want? Ted Kaczynski made some evil choices, but if you read his manifesto, he got some things right. Technological advances have had some very harsh consequences.

We can’t go back to the 1900s. We can’t order a Sears home kit and relive the past. But maybe we could slow down. Build smaller. Make it easier for families to spend more time together and for things to be simpler? I think we really need to buckle down and make sure we do everything we can to give our kids a healthy, sustainable and affordable future.

So, back to the film. There is a line about change that I love, The main character is talking to his son and says this, “ ….change can be so constant you don’t even feel the difference until there is one. It can be so slow that you don’t even notice that your life is better or worse, until it is.”

It is my wish that my children get the chance to build their own lives, homes, futures, and that the slow and steady change is for the good. It’ll make me happy to try to help build that life. A life as a house if you will.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris

It’s becoming unpopular to be a Christian and that suits me just fine. Who knew one day my defiant personality would one day help me walk and live a better life?

Despite what you may think Christians are under attack around the world. Bring it on, because as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.

This has been a great summer for me. I’ve been praying and asking God for wisdom, direction and help. Yes, asking for help. I loathe asking for help from any man or woman; I feel it infringes on my freedom somehow, and strings will attach themselves to me. I like to be free from all encumbrances. I need to learn to accept help from others, but I’ve become dependant on God.

It amazes me how my life changes when I commit to God, and try to walk the path I believe he asks me to walk. I stop disliking people. I work harder. I’m kinder. I’m a better Dad. There is a grace and spirit that is not my own that washes over my life and the peace and comfort it brings is priceless.

I asked a man I respect if he would baptize me at my river property. Just me and him, maybe my kids if they’d like to attend. I told him I was a lone wolf Christian and didn’t have a church I call my own. He stressed repentance to me, and felt I needed to find a church. I haven’t found a church yet, but I’m thinking about his guidance and plan on riding my motorcycle Sundays to countryside churches, see if I feel I belong somewhere. I do like Centre Street church too. The part of me that dislikes being tied to others will need to be worked on.

I chuckle to myself because I think maybe why this man suggests I repent is I recall a very hostile conversation between him and I. I disparaged his church, questioned without any tact or kindness everything he stood for. I was hurting and unloaded on him, both barrels. I can’t remember if I ever apologized, I might send this to him. I am sorry.

I’ve had a lot of loss and pain in my life. Most of the loss has come from pushing those I love away. I need to learn to not do that, and I’m trying.

This summer on top of all my general contracting projects I took on some framing contracts. I wanted to push myself and my crew this summer. I’ve had an energy and strength that I didn’t know I still had, and there have been some really fortunate strokes of luck that have made it amazing. A good example is as me and my two employees with little framing experience got to the large 10/12 roof on the duplex we were building, a top notch crew had time off and asked if they could come get hours with us. 3 amazing men came and we all put the roof up and sheeted in 1.5 days. I couldn’t help but feel God had my back.

This has always been my experience. Essentially I believe we were all molded by a creator who loves us. We are a perfect design in a perfectly designed world. If we align with God, our lives will start to make sense. It won’t be easy but we will literally have God with us. As the verse says, who can be against us?

One of the greatest gifts you receive if you give yourself up to God is the ability to see. Resentment is gone. Jealousy is gone. Guilt is gone. Hate is gone. And you really SEE people. One of the men that helped me on the roof really inspired me. He was quiet, did all the hard stuff, was kind, had no attitude. This is a great man. You stop focusing on yourself and you see the greatness around you. You also see where you could say a kind word, encourage or help out.

I wish I could share better what it is that I know. what I feel. I think many know, but I think many don’t and subsequently feel lost and alone. We look for answers in everything but the source of life. Drugs, therapy, philosophers, politicians, pro athletes, etc. . Can you imagine being God? Loving your creation with all your heart, and being dismissed at every turn?

The other night lightning struck in the small town I live in. It was a single crash. It was so powerful I cannot describe it. It shook me to my core even as I slept. My VERY first thought was of God, and his power. I was later asked if I had heard it, and my answer was it was the kind of thunder that makes you want to get right with God. The person who asked the question said he felt the exact same way. I can’t help but think everyone who heard it thought that. Anyone that knows me knows I have a long history of problems with authority. Tomorrow I’ll go register my vehicle and pay 1000s of dollars in fines. Teachers, employers, etc, could all attest. But I will kneel before, thank, ask, commit to and serve the Lord. It won’t be perfect, far from it, but I’m trying.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris.

One of my favourite summers was a few years ago. After yet another disastrous attempt at a relationship, I was looking for something positive to focus on. A friend of mine had developed a community garden, and my daughter and I decided we wanted to put our hands into the dirt. I met some amazing people that summer, and not the least of them was Jean Gauthier. He was fixing water hoses and cleaning up.

“Are your the maintenance man here?” I queried.

“No, I have a plot, and am just helping out.”

He spoke in a French accent, and I was reminded of all the hard working Francophone Canadians I’d worked with over the years. If you want a hard worker, hire one. Jean was working for an Oil and Gas company at the time, and as we all know that industry has been hit hard. Jean was laid off as pipelines were delayed and cancelled.

Jean came to work with me that fall. He was humble, quiet, hard working, honest, kind. That winter we purchased a bobcat together and took on a snow removal contract. Jean cleared off one of the largest lots in Calgary every night it snowed, with a small bobcat, no loader, no blade. It would take him 8 hours. As any snow removal company knows, finding guys to go out in the dark and push snow is next to impossible. It was my decision to sell the equipment. It was obvious I had the right man, but the wrong equipment.

As my work slowed Jean went to work at Plasti-Fab. It wasn’t long before he was given added responsibility, as always, but the pipeline company he had previously worked for came calling and offered him his well paid position back, and he took it.

That winter I was volunteering to drive a couple to Airdrie to catch rides to the Tom Baker for chemotherapy. They told me about a man that came and shovelled their sidewalk for them every time it snowed. It was Jean. Being humble as he is, he never mentioned it. He was doing a lot of people’s walks. He is Crossfield’s snow angel, and he’s been doing it for years.

Jean is running for town council. I wanted to tell everyone who he is. How great he is, how honest he is. He is incapable of lying, cheating, or manipulating. He will always do what he says.

Myself and Jean are very different. He loves rules, I die under them. He likes order, I love chaos, but he has my vote. I’m sure I’ll disagree with him often, but I’ll know he’s working hard for this town and has its best interest at heart.

He messaged me after the town hall candidates forum:

“Did you watch me screw up?” He asked.

“You are awesome Jean, I’m proud of you.” I replied.

But if you really watch that forum, did Jean promise anything we know he can’t deliver? Did you hear him say he’d work hard, he’d learn? I did. everything he does or says is 100% Authentic.

There is nothing in this for me. I have no connections to the town and I rarely do business with them other than to submit permits or pay taxes. I don’t know if Jean is right or left politically, I don’t care. I rarely believe in anything, and am usually a sarcastic, jaded cynic. There is something so authentic about Jean. He will go to the meetings, he will take on jobs, and he will do them well. We need ideas, but we also need workers. Jean is a worker. Imagine looking out your window and watching a town councillor shovelling an elderly neighbours sidewalk. I want to live in that town. He’s awkward, he struggles to find the right words, English is his second language after all, but he’s a resourceful man who loves to get things done.

Honestly, the idea of Jean on town council has me smiling, hopeful even. Look at the world we are in, imagine if we voted in the humble, the awkward, the ones that serve others without a camera filming. I’m tired of slick talk, and no walk.

In the candidates forum, while discussing the town hall, he was wondering aloud about “wheelchair people” and if a site would be accessible to them. Obviously he didn’t find the appropriate words, but he was thinking about the right things. That’s Jean.

If you read this far, thank you. Tris.

I love Easter. Especially this one. I get excited for it every year. Easter and Thanksgiving, but especially Easter. For reasons most might understand this Easter seems to hold an extraordinary reason for hope at a time when it’s most needed.

As a Christian, my perspective is the world seems to be in as dark a place as I can recall. The things I believe to be right are said to be wrong. The things I believe to be wrong are celebrated.

In an odd juxtaposition I read this weekend about how toxic ‘purity culture’ is. Meanwhile ‘Satan Shoes’ are selling for thousands of dollars. One of the selling features is a drop of human blood has been dropped on them.

Can you see it? Can you sense it? The ages old spiritual war of good vs evil is waging. The difference now is we are seeing evil becoming the norm, celebrated even. Alternatively we are seeing the values that set us free and lead to rich and rewarding lives vilified.

In this new world where we no longer see forgiveness, empathy and love for those we disagree with, we are given a very stark choice. The message of Jesus has never looked and felt so good. It’s divinity has never been more obvious. Love your enemies. Do good to those that persecute you. Turn the other cheek. Forgive your debtors. How does that sound next to belittle, label, mock and cancel? All done under the guise of love and tolerance. Why does it feel so vindictive, resentful and spiteful? I know why. And I know where it’s headed.

This weekend represents the ultimate triumph of good vs evil. The victory was won with bloodshed, but the blood of Christ and not of those he vanquished. The Victory wasn’t won with mocking or ridicule. The Victory was won with sacrifice, forgiveness, and love. There is very little of that in the world right now. There is very little of that in my own personal life.

Betrayed, crucified, buried.

Healed, forgave, rose.

Whatever your path to God is, get on it. This upcoming weekend is the ultimate reminder that if God is with you, no one can be against you and you can transcend humanity and all it’s evils with forgiveness and love.

That one can ask for the strength to do that, and receive it, is the greatest proof of Gods existence. Gods promise of prayer answered doesn’t relate to what we want or need, but in finding the strength to forgive and love.

Evil will hate you for it, but if you love them back, Good will win.

If you are completely lost and at the end of your rope, I want you to know there is a real hope available to you. It will just require a little faith. I’ve been there.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris.

Another Friday night laying here looking at my ceiling. I don’t know what to say, what to write, but I know I need to do something. Men are not emotionally intelligent, and we sure as hell do not know how to handle them. I’d rather break bones than feel emotion some days. When I feel this way I often write. Next one will be light, promise.

This week I saw the strongest person I know cry when I touched her hand. She reached out, when I held her hand I looked into her eyes. I saw a pain I can not describe as her countenance broke, tears streaming from her face. She didn’t make a sound. Is there anything more heartbreaking then a soundless cry? It’s as though the person crying knows no one wants to hear them. I left completely broken inside, and angry at God.

My daughter went home to her mum today. Thousands of times now I have watched her and her brother before her, get out and walk away. I think I’ve wiped tears away 90% of those times. Fuck half time. Then I think of my brothers, who get to see their daughters much, much less than half time.

I see my son in front of his computer till all hours of the night doing engineering with next to no help from the University. He does labs with materials he finds around the house. I’m sorry everyone, Teachers are not the heroes, students are. I will never again say that those who have fought through University haven’t worked a “real” job. I worked very hard as a teen, but nothing like what my son is doing. It’s easy to do manual labour with friends, having fun, making money. Try Engineering Math with deadlines, and virtual teachers.

I drive to Airdrie and see a missing girls face on a Billboard. I try to burn it into my head, just in case I see her. I know I never will. I think about what her parents must be feeling. It’s an uncomfortable thought, but not thinking it doesn’t make the girl any less lost.

I get home and across the street there is an ambulance in front of a home. I know the person. He’s fucking awesome, always helping me and my son out. Today he’s not doing so well.

“As long as I’ve known you, you have gone to dark places.” an old friend messages me.

She’s right. I will not apologize. She doesn’t ask me too, she tells me it’s ok. That means a lot. Thank you, Tanya.

Can we all just cut the Bullshit? Can we stop pretending? It isn’t all good. We are all a mess. All of us. I don’t care who you are, I know you are hurting. Your parents are ill, kids are sad, partner depressed, bills unpaid, health fading, whatever. Go ahead and post the happy Facebook stuff but I will also “like” the horror show we all know is playing in the background, should you choose to post it. It’s not drama, it’s truth.

That’s what we call it right? Drama. Attention seeking. We mock them. Have we not evolved enough to know by now that attention seeking behaviour is a cry for help? Keep mocking that and soon the person will be crying, no sound.

One of my favourite movies is the “Memphis Belle”. It’s the story of a Bomber and her crew in WW2. They are embarking on their final run, and cloud cover over the target delays the flight. Upon hearing the news one of the crew members calls out, “SNAFU”. Then they all say in unison, “Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.” They are a brotherhood, and they are in it together.

I wish we could get there. We have the “Let’s talk” day, but has anyone ever heard anyone talk? Seems to me to be some goofy corporate virtue signalling. We need to start actually talking. Let’s stop saying everything is ok. Maybe we shouldn’t be living and let living. Maybe we should start asking each other hard questions. Maybe it should be ok to answer, “Not good.” when asked, “How are you doing?”.

Positivity is huge, but can we be honest about the fucking mess we are all in? Maybe if we were more open about the swamp we are in, we could all climb out together.

Tonight my sister is alone in a hospital in the middle of nowhere. She’s in isolation. She can’t walk. She has no phone and is in a stark, stark room. Her fucking remote doesn’t work, so she can’t even change the bloody channel. So if you have more faith left than I, please say a prayer for her. For my friend. For the missing girl. For all the kids struggling with school and work. For yourself. For me. For all those in pain. If you stop and look around, they are everywhere. It’s SNAFU.

If you read this far, ty.

Tris.

I don’t know if the world has taken a hard left, or if it’s just slowly passed me by. I remember observing my parents, thinking that they were a step behind, trapped in a past world. Is that me now? I think so.

I listen to AM radio. I choose the news or a documentary over the latest Hollywood offering. I rarely crack the speed limit; even find myself cruising 10kmh under. I drink one beer. I talk less. I don’t chase women, and they sure as hell don’t chase me. I say things like “chase women”.

I stopped playing hockey. My bucket list could fit in a Dixie cup. I know what a Dixie cup is. I stopped coaching hockey. I stopped looking for new music and my recently played playlist has less than 6 songs on it.

When cops pull me over, I’m meek. 600 dollars for not having my paperwork on me? Whatever. Hope it goes to a good cause. If I invested it, it would only be worth 100 bucks anyway.

I think about where I want to be in 10 years. I have no idea. People that know me will find all this amusing. I was anything but dull. I always had a dream. Now I’m as exciting as rice pudding with no milk, sugar, cinnamon or butter. You got it, I’m a big cup of rice with dry raisins. White rice. Bland. Boring. Dry. Brittle. Dehydrated.

I sense a lot of people are feeling the same way. In many ways age is a state of mind. I’ve allowed myself to get very old. I’m 46 going on 75. This needs to stop. I’m getting close to ‘nothing to lose’ territory. I’ve never been afraid of much, add in reduced responsibility and 4 brothers and 3 sisters who are all as fearless as me? The possibilities are endless.

I will: coach again, swim in lakes and oceans, visit my sister more, walk with friends, throw parties at the river, play new music and play it louder, work out, visit friends more, and build/design things I want to build. I want to share my faith with anyone who wants to hear about it. Not because I’m worthy to tell the story, but because it’s too good a story not to tell. I want to play hockey again. I want to fly, I always want to fly.

The world has passed me by, but the race isn’t over. Don’t count me out just yet. Or maybe more importantly I shouldn’t count myself out. Who is with me? Thanks Bauer, I knew I could count on you.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris.