This week, a dear friend shared the story about how two separate conversations have shaped who she has become. Maybe even defined her as the woman she is today. I know her well and give thanks to the people who spoke those words to her.

They helped create an inspiring human being.

The catalyst in this telling story; my friend listened. She saw a path, deemed it correct, and then stepped forward. She acted with determination and passion.

We should all follow her lead.

Too often we discount those life-markers. Or maybe don’t even notice them. Did we miss out? Fail to step up? What if something else caught our attention at that crucial moment? Who knows…who knows?

Two times in my life, a frail moment has changed the course of what has happened to me and who I have become. I call them frail because they could have slipped by so easily. But didn’t. Instead, everything changed. Changed where I stood, changed where I faced, changed where I stepped. Both times the message came in a song.

One happened two years and two days ago. The other, with consequences far more reaching, was in 2002. Bruce Guthro told me he had joined a Scottish rock band and gave me a copy of this new music. The next day, I sat staring at the stereo as the first notes played the beginning of Runrig’s “Book of Golden Stories.” My heart heard the sound and recognized a beat it had not followed before. Nothing has been the same since.

And there started my quest to discover “why.” Each time I listened to Bruce and Runrig it seemed they were sending a map of where I should look. The path led me all the way to Aberdeen, Scotland. It led me home. A home I didn’t even know existed.

Everything in my life that relates to my Scottish roots can be traced back to Bruce handing me that CD.

And all because I listened, really listened, to a few notes in a song. And then listened to my heart.

As for my friend, her life has changed because she listened to a few words in a crowd.

Has destiny ever met up with you? Did it come with a whisper from a mysterious man you would never see again? Or like me, was it carried in on the melody and lyrics of a song… or would it only take the first strummed notes of a guitar. Has a truth ever caught you by surprise?

And more important…did you listen?

the CD that changed it all

It’s on these big, important days when I miss the kids the most. When asked why it happens, I just shrug. But in the weeks leading up to this birthday every image seems to trigger a memory of what used to be.

For twelve years we gathered for a group shot on my birthday. There will be no picture this year. There will be no celebration without them.

I’ve been told I’m being ridiculous. Living in the past. Being overly sentimental. My lack of response gives a hint as to the devastation. From my open wound I am unable to defend my sorrow.

So I bask in the tears.

And on these days I live with my memories.

A few people will tell me I should be happy for what was. With all due respect, I say, “fuck off.” Don’t spout that wisdom today. Of course I know I should count my blessings. It has become my mantra. But not today, please, not today.

Right now my only solace is learning empathy for those that have also lost the ones they love.

How do you carry on?

Especially on these big, important days.

My last few blogs have been serious and I was determined to have a lighthearted subject this week. Sure…

Maybe it would help if I stopped listening to the radio.

The last story in the newscast was about a child porn internet site being busted. Two of the sexually abused children are from BC. They are very, very young.

The memorial service of the six dogs dying in a hot van got more press time.

How is this possible? What have we become?

So a person was able to watch little kids being sexually abused. Then this same person can post the video and pictures for all to see. Thank God the police caught them. Or to be more exact… forget God… thank the police.

I heard no media follow-up.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg. There was no public cheer or out-cry. We are more interested in strikes and pipelines and precious pets.

Next day there wasn’t a story about how a group of people are setting up a walk/run to raise money for the counseling those innocent children will need for the rest of their lives. There was no story because we didn’t step up. There was nothing to report. Everyone is too busy at the dog’s memorial service. Or at least watching the news about the dog’s service.

The porn arrest was just the last story of a newscast. Only a short mention. I bet most people were more interested in finding out about the weekend’s weather.

No wonder I get angry. No wonder I seem jaded to yet another rally for belugas or bike lanes or our sacred earth.

I don’t want to live in a place where our first priority is not our children.

What is wrong with this world?

Maybe it’s just filled with grown up children that no one helped when they were young and in harm’s way.

Let’s do better.

You should follow me. And, no, I don’t mean on Twitter or Instagram, even though new followers do make me smile. No, you should follow me in-person during a normal, walking around day. I come across some very interesting people.

I’m kinda lucky that way.

Yesterday I was reminded of this when I booked my room at the Sheraton Guildford for the Surrey International Writers conference. Maryam from the front desk took my reservation. We know each other well. If you had been with me two years ago, you would have witnessed her pulling a stunt that gained enough attention to have her named Tourism Employee of the Year. She saved my butt and located my lost Visa. Saved my hotel stay by stepping up and helping out. She impressed us all.

And then there was Ally, the young man who went above and beyond in helping me set up my new mobile phone. Even the top brass at Rogers took note of what he did. You would have loved watching that! He did the impossible and got me trained on a smart phone. He also did it with great style and patience.

Just normal days and some incredible people.

What about the two motorcycle policemen I crossed paths with? I caused an accident and they not only cleared the road, made everyone safe, and got traffic moving but they took the time to sit on the curb beside me while I cried, comforted me by saying “it was just an accident”, and then got me headed home in the cab with a wave and a “take care of yourself.”

These are the types of people you would get to meet if you followed me.

And guess what, I meet helpful, kind, fascinating people all day long. They are everywhere I go.

Like Sean at the local Safeway, or Frank on the bench up in Kerrisdale, or the lady giving a wave when I let her car merge into my lane this morning.

They are everywhere.

I bet if I followed you I would meet the same type.

How annoyed would you be if the Bay, or the Gap, or Target, sewed a tag onto the clothes you buy? A little ad saying where you bought this shirt or pair of pants. And what if the patch was front and center, visible to all. How would you like “bought at Target” written on the seat of your new pants?

I bet the moment you got home you would remove the label. Or better still, you would demand the store never did it in the first place. Who would stand for this?

No one wants to be a walking billboard? And yes, you may show off a Hugo Boss shirt and logo, but would you promote that you bought it at Oakridge Shopping Centre? Probably not.

But we do it all the time. On our cars.

Drive around and see how many people have license plate holders that advertise the car dealership where they bought the vehicle. Its standard practice for the auto dealer to add this to your car when they offer to put your plates on. How helpful. How kind. How conniving.

It is the easiest way to transform customers into moving billboards to promote a business. Brilliant.

People balk at ads on their Facebook pages, get annoyed at the endless commercials on tv, but don’t even notice the barrage of marketing on almost every auto you see on the road. Drive around and take a look. You will be shocked.

And next time you go to your own car, take a screwdriver and remove the advertising from your own transportation. Or better yet, send an invoice to the car dealer asking for payment for carrying his “message” and promoting his business each and every day.

I love brilliant marketing schemes. But I hate sheep.