Showing posts with label Ingrid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ingrid. Show all posts

Thursday, February 21, 2008






Dear Mr. Thompson,

I have just returned from seeing you for what I think will be the last time, although your memories and gifts of friendship will fill my heart forever.

It was hard to enter the room.

It was even harder to leave.

The drive home with your broken-hearted friend; a fog.

It was hard to remind your friend, of thirty years, to stay focussed on the fact that you are still here: for a brief glimmering moment, and to take the finite time, to retrace some glorious memories spent, before you silently leave.

My heart is sad for what will be lost.

And while I contemplate what will be lost, I want to tell you what I have through you.

I was so fortunate to have you as my grade five teacher. I think of you in your powder blue suits, your gold glasses,your marvellous Gyanese accent and the sound of your melodic laughter. I think of eyes with compassion and a strong self assured person who could command thirty, crazy, high-strung kids, with the greatest of ease.

Grade five was a blessing. Your class was a reflection of you. I loved how you would start our day with a current events story. Everyday, you would pull down the map point to the country in question and talk, lecture about the events of the day it was all so fluid, so spontanious, so rich. You knew so much. You never talked down, or looked down, you always opened up horizons and borders, enlightened us about countries and traditions abroad. We would sit on the carpet and marvel at how what would appear to be a 'simple news' story brought in by a student, could and would be so much grander in its ramifications on the world's stage.

I loved how you found humour in your disciplining the 'rabble rousers'. I loved how you had a rubber billyclub that you nick named 'The Persuader'. I loved that you would pull out from under your desk, and with a walk of a king, you would hit the bully club in the palm of your hand for dramatic effect, and while it squeaked you would walk over to the rabble rouser and stand over the offending body. You never hit anyone, but that Persuader always had kids in fits of laughter when the Persuader had to be called upon.

I remember on the day you became a legend, when you saw John Betley get ready to send a spit ball over to Ricky Collins, the Persuader was pulled out, we all marvelled at how you 'knew' what was about to happen even though you had never looked up from your desk and Ricky Collins swallowed the spitball rather than admit that he was indeed a rabble rouser.

A great deal was learned in your class, far beyond the three R's. Your classes were great lecture halls, you encouraged minds to explore, you encouraged respect for others, you taught that we all had social responsibility to each other and the community.

I loved it when you had 'yard duty'. Ingrid, Maria and I, would love these times as we would hang out with you in the school yard, follow you around and hear your opinions on our concerns and fears.

I loved the fact that you gave us gangly gals; us oddballs; the monniker of 'Leon's Angels' and through this monniker we felt so special, so important, and so loved.

I adored how you would sing 'Maria' from Westside Story, to Maria. Whenever I hear that song, I am instantly brought back to the ole schoolyard and your beautiful voice and how it was sung with a smile of the heart. A time of true happiness with a fun, compassionate, caring, teacher.

Ever so often when I walk through the my old school grounds I can envision you standing in your beige parka holding court.

I loved how you stood up for what was 'right and just'. You always were a believer in education. No child was ever left behind. No child was lost in the masses. I can marvel at the fact some thirty year later, during our lunches, you can tell me every single one of your students strong suits. You could even tell me the profession of some of your students through intuition, you were never wrong. I was always so surprised at how we all mattered.


After your Leon's Angels moved on to post secondary education, you were promoted, and then promoted again, and again, to where you were one of the big cheese's of education. You were always a humble person. You were always true to your profession and calling. You never lost sight of the task at hand and that was the education of children. And even when you retired you still helped with literacy, how you still volunteered your time to teach children so that they may reach their true potential. How lucky and fortunate those children were to have you by their side.

You were a great man who gave many a child wings so that they may go forward and add to the world. Everyone has something to give, sometimes a child may need a bit more time to see it. And you always made the time through gentle persuasion, to open a child's heart up when they were discouraged and to bring them back to the books to enlighten their souls.

You were a favourite by many, as you did see light in all of us no matter how foggy it may have seen to us at the time..

I was so blessed for that fact that we reconnected five years ago. I have loved our lunches together as adults. I have adored the time with you and Wayne and Bill. Who would have thought that I would have the honour of being a friend to my grade five and six teacher, as well as my gym teacher? It strangely felt like family. It always felt like I was meeting with my 'oddball uncles'. I loved how you would meet me around Scooter's schedule. Always in my neck of the woods, I loved how all of you had a vested interest in my daughter and of my stories of our beleaguered school system. I loved how you 'knew' Scooter through me. And how when I told you of the story of Scooter's race, you laughed, gave that all knowing look you could give, and reassured me that 'Scooter is just like her mom as a kid.'

I loved the friendship. I cherished it. And I loved the wee notes you would send of encouragement, they were always filled with great wisdom and insight. You were always so supportive to me in all my endeavours.

And now, Mr. Thompson, I am so sorry you are leaving us.

I am so sorry for all that the world will lose in your passing. A true hero. A true educator, who gave wings and futures to so, so many.

I am so sorry that we will not have another lunch together.

I am so very happy, blessed and honoured that you were my friend and my teacher.

You were one of a kind.

And you have left your mark with so many and for that I should feel blessed, and I truly do.

But at present, I find it hard to get beyond the loss of you as I leave you behind in the hospital.

So with all due respect Mr. Thompson,( I could never call you Leon, as much as you berated me to) in all due respect Mr. Thompson. I shall miss you.

But for whatever it means, you gave me wings, Mr. Thompson.

You made me part of who I am today.

You taught me a great deal when I was a kid, you continued to teach and support me as an adult.

I thank you, thank you, the earth has lost a true angel, Mr. Thompson.

And God's Speed, dear friend.

The heavens certainly will welcome you with open arms, as you certainly helped a great many spirits, soar.



Tuesday, May 15, 2007





During Robert's performance, some of my friends started on with a dialogue.

Who does he think he is? Dylan?

That has to be the worst Dylan impersonator I have ever heard.

I know Dylan and that is NOT Dylan....

Pendullum, you can not be serious? You think? THAT? THAT guy, up there, is Dylan?

As my friends talked and argued about how the man before them, could not be his Holy Folkness, and each revelling in the better insult, I ignored them. Bullying through dialogue does not make a moment any less so...

Robert played on,I sat mesmerized drinking in this truly unique moment. A moment of hearing a person who was at first Robert to me, a nice guy at a bar, who approached me at a bar, who happened to read some of the same books as me, and had some of the same thoughts and interesting antedotes, and as he sang, in this intimate bar, he strangely became distant. He became a rock and roll icon. He was playing for such a select group of people and yet he started to soar, he transformed, as he played the harmonica to where he became unapproachable in my mind's eye. But maybe he became unapproachable as to where he brought me.

I drank in the moment.

And I had seized the moment and just listened to him instead of them.... I heard the voice in my heart and in my head. And I was at peace in my thoughts, his voice brought me on adventures to New York, to peace ralleys, his voice brought me to Paris and and his voice brought me to Larry Durrell and thoughts of enlightenment and faith in a moment.

Dear Blogger reader, and great friends out in cyberspace, I have told you about my dearest Ingrid, a few months ago, and how she came to me with her diagnosis of Stage Four Cancer.

I have told you how scared she was.

I told you, how sad I was. I have told you of my tears. I have told you of my broken heart.

And all of you were so very very kind to me. You poured out heartfelt condolences, you poured out support and you poured out faith, to me, and in me, to be of help to my ailing friend. You tried to support and lift me up, so I could help my friend. You all were being such angels out there in the world. Faceless angels, with gentle whispers, of encouragement and prayers sent through the air.

And I would be wrong to say that I had faith in my heart. On particulary tough days with myself, I would go back to your comments from months ago. And through my tears, they, those kind comments, of love and support, would strangely, help me along the way, bring me comfort and give me glimmers of hope, for the future. But it could be a future that may be without Ingrid.

I would be wrong to say that I was like the woman who first met Dylan, who had faith in the course.

I would be wrong to say that I did not question, everything, and the universe, when I heard of what the diagnosis was.

I could only hear 'Stage Four.' I could only hear how it was in her bones and travelling up her spine. I would look at my girlfriend, travel back in time through ole pictures and letters, moments shared, looking for strength and faith in the outcome The past was definite, the past was concrete. But I could not give my heart hope for a future to be shared with her. And I could not really live through another cancer moment.

I have been jaded.

I have been scarred.

And the past was comforting to me, as the future seemed so bleak.

And I have lost so many good friends to cancer. I have lost so much that I did not think my heart could take another. I hardened my heart of the possibility of losing her. Losing her before the loss, before she, my dear Ingrid, really took to the stage.

I had lost faith in the battle.

I had lost a faith in the unbelievable. And this is a truly horrible thing to lose.

But today; today, could be the day, when faith could be restored.

I went with my dearest Ingrid, for her last radiation treatment. Her cancer is in remission. I have been told of the STAT of the cancer having a 40 percent chance of returning, but for the time, I will relish in that 60 per cent that says it will not. I will take the 60 per cent. It has been a real leap of faith.

My heart has been given a moment.

My soul has been given the unimaginable.

My girlfriend is now on the stage. I had just been too blind with my own pain to see her shining up there.

And I am truly drinking the moment in.

I have been given the gift of Ingrid. I have been given the gift of having my friend for more memories together, more secrets of the soul, more giggles, more hugs and more love of the past, while embracing the future.

We have time.

And I have a restored faith and validation for her being with me for a little while longer.

And maybe, this course, this time, has restored a bit of my faith. Maybe it has been given to me as a gift through the universe. As really how else can I look at it? It is such a gift that has been granted, to me, to her family, to her friends, to her children and to all who are blessed to know her. But most importantly, it is a gift to my dearest Ingrid, a gift, so utterly deserved. And she is, and has seized the day, the moment and her life back. Does not matter what the stage looks like and how big the crowd.

And may I add? The day after Robert played, on the front page of every newspaper in my city the headlines read 'Bob Dylan Plays for 50 people... Once in a Lifetime Concert...' And even though I had already 'known' it was Dylan, the validation was certainly great to read.

But it does have me thinking of back then to now...

And as I listen to my new Dylan CD while writing this,maybe I should pull out my ole copy of the Razor's Edge. And revisit, my adventure with Larry Durrell. It would be interesting to see him again after twenty years.

Maybe sometimes we need to go back before we can move forward.

Maybe sometimes we need blind faith in times when answers are not forthcoming.

Maybe sometimes we need validation for all the ne'er sayers .

Maybe sometimes we must take the leap into the abyss of uncertainty when there is truly no drop net to catch us when we fall.

But I know in my heart, what I will always need; maybe what we all need; is a bit of love, to see us through.

And through love, it gives us the validation of our hopes and fears, through its fierce, passionate, faithful, embrace, so that we may continue to see true stars, in ourselves and of each other .