I am currently in Nova Scotia. With my friend Daniel, we spend the week with our old boyfriend Al Zheimer, as his wife Sheree calls him.
Posted at 6:00 a.m.
In a lost and devitalized bled, in the north of the province. Minimum population. The place is very beautiful, because the sea is omnipresent, while being rural. Acadie in towships, to image.
Other than that, not many attractions.
My favorite, a distillery, where they make excellent whiskey, believe me. I try to do my big part to encourage local buying when I’m there…
Otherwise, the classic monument to local fallen soldiers. One church per 50 people, I’m hardly exaggerating, several phalanxes of Christendom here. And originals, which try to create fairs and charms of the country, to catch tourists in their lobster cages, as a former prime minister said.
We are a trio of old scoundrels from the suburbs of Quebec. More than 50 years of friendship. We celebrated the fiftieth anniversary well, like each of the 49 others, by the way. We have happy wine, and we ramble on a strong beat.
I’m competitive, the one of the three who won the cancer derby. But Al, proud as it is not possible, managed to do even better. He decided to pass the sponge, snub us, forgetting us, us and the rest, quietly. In the beginning, he had the art of subtlety. But as I write to you, things are getting a little complicated. It also does it faster, let’s say.
I tell you about it, because he allows me, as he allowed his girlfriend, Sheree Fitch, an English-Canadian author, who wrote on the subject. He wants us to know more about this dirty karma, this disease which spoils his third period, at 65 years old.
As it happened, he was given leave at Sheree. Al is occupying. Oust, lady! Gone, respite. She needed it. We, for a couple of years, we make sure to come at least every six months. There, we aim for every three months, and more, if necessary. And it doesn’t go badly…
A so-called early case. Medicine had predicted five years, before it started to slip a little faster. On time ! They were too right, the wizards.
But no question of whining about his fate! We will not change our relationship. When we arrive, we tell him that we are delighted that he still recognizes us. And then, we give him a test, to understand what stage he is at. So we play a part of Cribble. Until the last visit, he was in on it. But this time, we didn’t dare…
Al moved from Quebec over 35 years ago. The Maritimes for a long time, and then Washington, for more than 10 years. CTO of a large network there, including New York. The type to negotiate his square meter camera on the lawn of the White House, which he shared with a distant cousin, Al Jazeera. And retired, become a real one again Maritimer. Disconnected from Quebec, a guy who doesn’t know Les Cowboys Fringants.
A carpenter’s son. He knows how to build everything, he does wonders. Hereditary. A useful spouse, he, not like me.
Sheree once wrote: He builds, I write. It sums up their couple, adding to it the integral, visible, unconditional love. They built a dream. In the bottom of a row, an enchantment: Mabel Murple’s World. A colorful universe, especially purple. A library. And horses, donkeys, goats and chickens. Delicious. The children no longer want to take off.
What he suffers from, progressive and thankless amnesia, he saw his mother die of it, after having lost her dignity. He swore it wouldn’t happen to him, that he would control the end of the story. But it is not that simple. The brain discards the most recent memory, and so on. Both of us, after 50 years, we are okay for a while. But the most vicious thing would be to lose his second language, the one with which he communicates with Sheree. You see the complication from here?
Of course, she gibberish, and shoots us with migraines, forcing us to talk – muy slow — in our language in his presence. Phew!
We had found a solution. French immersion for her, with lessons. We rented them an apartment in my neighborhood of Saint-Roch, in Quebec. I had them in my sight. Everything was fine, Sheree was progressing. But he, a physical and a textbook, was suffocating. They decamped. Al missed his donkeys… We thought it was super nice for both of us! However, like old donkeys, we don’t give up our place, it seems to me.
Here we are, a little annoyed. What else to do?
Finally, we are present. We accumulate bullshit with him. We take steps, we go back in time, we recapitulate, with the little dark cloud that follows us. We simmer meals, we drink, he is thirsty with us. But he survives less late. And we watch over the body, quite a bit later, and we talk behind its back.
We should tell him that we love him when we leave… Hum! Not sure. We would surprise him, and we would too. He might take it badly, it might feel like a goodbye.
Nirvana Unplugged Who’s playing, Come as you are… Memoria… Memoria…
Cobain, which we miss.
Am trying to make a link, me there…
My heart is in water, suddenly…
Fuck Al Zheimer!
Between us
I want to thank all the artists and personalities who have joined forces with the Procure 2022 Bowvember campaign.
Let’s fight prostate cancer in style.
To participate with elegance.