Thursday, October 15, 2015

Action Rathore

We met in 1999
It was the time
you said i was eating chicken
and the cats were trying to get it
and i was yelling at them
to get the fuck
outta there
We were in different film schools
Johnny had introduced us
he went to your school
you both shared the intense love of film
that one gets when they go to film school
for all that time you are there
you talk about Aronofsky, Truffault and Coppola
or even Tarantino
but we know, or we knew
that we would make a dent in the wall
those nights spent painting the blue screen on the porch
or the white walls 
of the Brit Skitz Sci-Fi
and of course, the pizza years
and the spawn of the script that never got made

Next thing you know
we both find love!
What. The. Fuck.
Pretty sweet though, huh?
You weren't my official best man, but you kind of were
I wasn't your official best man, but I kinda was
we stayed late the night before, futzing with the lighting
like no others, we set those lights tight
nobody noticed but us

And then came these Little Creatures
And taught us to be teachers

What does it mean to be a Dad instead of a Mom?
It's the gaps that are filled and make one
One side of the equation is equal to the other
One is teaching
One is survival
and the two overlap sometimes
When the music starts to play we all sing along 
and nothing is wrong
or ever could be

We'll just keep doing what we are doing, my friend, I guess
It's been a while
let's keep givin' er.  


Behold! The great and sanctimonious, election time is upon us again! Soldiers fought and died for our right to not pay attention to what is going on with anything other than the Blue Jays. It seems to me that we could build libraries of stupidity and catalog it all for days, weeks, years, maybe forever. The library of Babel already exists, it's in magazines and in ads on bus shelters and even mirrors. 
This time isn't much different from the last, really, it still seems like a bunch of rich-white, out of touch assholes that want to captain the ship right into an Italian coast. And just like the captain, they wouldn't be going down with the ship, they would be the first ones off in the life boat. If they're not hiding in a closet, they are hiding from eggs aimed at the motorcade. 
This election looms near and all we are talking about is a piece of clothing on some woman's face. Truly, this is what we have now been reduced to. You, as a nation, a nation that once stood up on Vimy Ridge and on the beaches of Normandy. 
All of these so-called leaders, standing at their podiums, no answers to questions and a penchant for the theatrical, but only in the most banal way possible, seething with umbrage or outrage or offense. Oh great leader, what could be more powerful than being offended? Some find a foothold in being offended, it gives them their bully pulpit upon which to stand and lambaste and raise their voices and take what you want when nobody is looking. Trouble at the henhouse?
The lifetime politician slurps from the breast all his life and then talks about spending and how it needs to be cut. Smaller government, he says. I suppose he means smaller than him, people who are expendable, others who have deserved less, liberals, perhaps. Those taxing, greedy liberals. 

All I see on television; sex, lies and videotape, it has become a soap opera, blood sport, a fresh, low blow that has dropped us further down the evolutionary scale, a step back to a time when we were less free, a time when we placed restrictions on women's bodies, when children were property and either could be shit kicked by the man of the house if he were drunk and in a bad mood. 
That's the kind of hillbilly bullshit that this country is slipping back to if it isn't careful. We don't need militias of weak, shopping mall buffet eating, camo wearing, Dodge driving xenophobes with AR-15s and a bad relationship with their Dad, making all the decisions up here, okay?

Don't take yer guns to town, son.
Stop letting stupid people run shit.

Get out and vote, Canada, for Christ's sake. October 19th

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

New works by Durko...

"Lose the Flags, Keep the Guns"
29" x 13" x 1.75"
Oil on carved cedar block

"The Love you Make is Equal to the Love you Take"
24" x 24" x 2
Mixed media on carved wood.

"Weathertrafficrime- The Death Knell of the CBC"
26" x 20"
Oil on carved wood.

"Birth Growth Life Death"
23" x 5" x 4.
Oil on carved cedar block.

"And all the King's Men (for Kabul)"
16.5" x 15"
Oil on carved wood.

12.5" x 8.5" x 1"
Oil on carved wood.

Friday, September 25, 2015

Chameleon number 1.

Shapeless wonder radio lover masquerading marauding discovery
Sending chills down my spine of all the earthly pleasures I like mine
I cannot deny the feeling I get from soda
No Maharishi yogi yoga only Yoda

Star Wars was once entertainment
and shit was once excrement
how excellent, how fantastically fraudulent.

Isn't it obvious? How could I be so obnoxious? 

Drop this wash a dish or eat a fish this is bliss

Friday beer told me I was old and cold 
Sunday son, too bright for the gold I sold 
Three ring fantasy, creepy, crawling back to me
how exhausting it is to think sometimes

It can amazing you, make you cry because you realize you're happy and everything is fine.

Are you a gambler? Use your cards. Pick a car that will go far
in case you didn't know where you were going 
you know now, the skin on your face is showing 
the time in your lack of an explanation
you always make appearances conspicuous 
school has taught you well 
only a fool can tell 
you want the world and the water from the well 
the color of light is changing all around you  
you were finding it disagreeable 
laughing at jokes by the late-night talkshow host, 
the coastal house with the most smoke 
I can see you blowing it into the wind.

You know I have always loved you because you're the future you are the strength that comes to take the lead and you didn't have to say anything they heard you in the understood you

Der Straat
Satellites are bright tonight

the buses are overflowing 
filtered air, it filters indigestion and the smoke from cigarettes 
the bicycles are many 
the guests they are all friendly 
trains only traveling tracks 
the alleyways are filled with alley cats 
sign says watch for pickpockets 
cafĂ© sold coffee and rockets 
a requiem for asylum museum 
van Gogh painted some flowers and himself
Red light reflected off the road sign 
water led the reason for design 
cobblestone street, too narrow for the lorry
filled with bottles and boxes and chocolate 
Godliness and cleanliness are virtues celebrated, 
long-ago these were created 
by orchestrations of understanding reality 
and a penchant for pleasurosity
Hear the music of exile generations 
see the sun, see the excellent reflections 
ghosts of yesterday and tomorrow 
serenade the people with sorrow 
nuclear news paper image cut from the finest of cloth 
the clock it helps you to remember 
all those places you once forgot.

Lamb, the elder
Pretending never-ending escaping and faking 

precision decision illusion mistaken 
cut up fantasy, that shiny thing distracted me 
like a crow there's a quarter in the snow...
And now you're going to show me the way? 

Education hypocrisy got lost in me 
information retention slows the 24 frames per second 
New World, new nuclear real-time focus to rebuild the earth 
from scratching yourself where it hurts 
it hurts less and less now, you're finding. 
Have you heard? Someone put this down in words 
the potential for a teen idol is absurd
Is there a mirror they can look into for the last time 
because long-distance conversations cost more than a dime 
this isn't poetry, this is fucking truth 
you say I wasted my time and my youth?
you tried, you only lied about crying
and now my thoughts are on the rocks, frying. 
Most of my time is spent breathing and eating and sleeping 
and thinking of how I will entertain myself 
and how I will escape and berate myself
I can't thank you enough for your precious patients 

with my lock and my preoccupations 
which our life and death situations.

Some folks.
They kneel to pray to an empty God 
while trees fall for coupons and coffee 
baby Gap billboard sells denim diapers
To generations of debt laden lifers
oxidized rock sized space junk 
landfill is full of trends and drunks 
oceans of potions and lotions solutions 
the most fence posts and ghosts and toast and bones m
akes this house seem like home sweet home.

Distant bell sounds for the fallen soldiers fallen glory 
once held proud to the heart, 
everyone spake of freedom 
but in the dismal abysmal urinal of truth and consequence 
we forge ahead with the same old order of affluence 
the new, new world order I do not want to believe it 
you cry for reprieve 
but you have not yet even fought the fight yet 
it will become interesting when there is nothing to lose
Only when you realize something is wrong can you begin to make it right 
destiny of billionaire boys club's
strange home on the range 
box shaped heart, 
hemmed in with a headache 
it is crying for hydrogen, or something 
so the jets flying to the sky
higher than having a high price to be paid for freedom 
laughable, lamentable 
Learning to live with less 
less freedom and more fries.

The way things oughta be.
Like a giant hand of spades or monopoly, 

more like a game of life 
moves to game over 
making up for it
you rushed to push someone over 
in your haste to cut the paste t
he bad taste you left in my mouth 
with that speech about the way things ought to be
free and such ad nauseum  
make a change and make it stick 
instead of showing us your new tricks 
I've already seen things disappear 
like fear and the eternal quest for answers to my stupid questions 
I thought about faint, painless, beige cage that you made 
doubtless, you told yourself as you changed everything 
but still nothing.
The answer isn't right but you can guess 
like the time you left that mess 
and left
your opinion is burned into everyone, 
even the Sun 
and the one 
who saves the rest of the best for last 
your specialty spews from you like a chemical spill 
or a thrill seeking beekeepers honey 
desperate to tell everybody the reason for your rhyme 
is that determination to find the time 
to keep the people off the grass 
and on the street 
to feed the monks and the birds and the drunks is absurd
when all you need to do is hear the words.

We sought refuge in a cool place 

Hiked bamboo path, trees of stone 
I saw village in the valley you saw it also, we descended 
Reached the Hamlet, there were faces 
warm faces, smiling faces, by light by flame, by candlelight 
in passing doorways and spirits 
in time, we found a lost to lay our heads
You heard the chimes 

wind ruffles prayer flags 
there are children somewhere
morning finds us dreamy, lazy, 
then awake 
smoke smelled fire kitchen, tumeric, incense, blind bodhissatva rocks back-and-forth
prayer wheel turns 
everything is nothingness
bid farewell, into the morning air 
thick with sunshine and with hearts of peace and with the spirit, traveled
for all is as it is.

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

The way we were could no longer be sustained
sometimes deranged and ready to quit
Our words as weapons made everyone call a truce
between the truth and fiction

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Dr. Laura gets schooled but doesn't learn a thing because dogma is the fuel of fools and the fools will never change

Dear Dr. Laura:
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God’s Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination… end of debate.
I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God’s Laws and how to follow them.
  1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighbouring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can’t I own Canadians?
  1. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?
  1. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual unseemliness – Lev. 15: 19-24. The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offence.
  1. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord – Lev. 1:9. The problem is my neighbours. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?
  1. I have a neighbour who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2. clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?
  1. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination – Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don’t agree. Can you settle this? Are there ‘degrees’ of abomination?
  1. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle-room here?
  1. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?
  1. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
  1. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? Lev. 24:10-16. Couldn’t we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I am confident you can help.
Thank you again for reminding us that God’s word is eternal and unchanging.
Your adoring fan,
James M. Kauffman, Ed. D. 
Professor Emeritus Dept. of Curriculum, Instruction, and Special Education 
University of Virginia

Sunday, August 9, 2015

My copy of The Beatles Self Titled (The White Album) was completely worn out, skipping and scratched, so I bought a brand new one this weekend at Fascinating Rhythms in Nanaimo.


The music is one of the most beautiful things about humanity
Much of our culture has revolved around music
and scientists are learning that music opens new neural pathways in the child mind
making mathematics easier
How can you argue with that?
Music is really the basis upon which entertainment rests,
no matter the medium
To introduce the foetus to singing and playing and then continue when the baby comes out
can make for a fulfilled life
moving through, understanding our lexicon through the emotion of music
the familiarity of the feelings we all share as a species
put to 3 chords or a symphony, it's up to you

Monday, July 6, 2015

I've got to admit, it's getting better, a little better, all the time

"On June 26, 2015, the United States became the twenty-first and most populous country to legalize same-sex marriage,[1]as a result of the U.S. Supreme Court's decision in Obergefell v. Hodges.[2][3] The court ruled that the denial of marriage licenses and recognition to same-sex couples violates the Due Process and the Equal Protection clauses of the Fourteenth Amendment of the United States Constitution. The ruling overturned a precedent, Baker v. Nelson.
Starting in 2003, various lower court decisions, state legislation, and popular referendums had already legalized same-sex marriage to some degree in thirty-seven out of fifty U.S. states, in one U.S. territory, and in the District of Columbia. Following the Supreme Court's June 2013 decision in United States v. Windsor, the federal government recognized same-sex marriage, with federal benefits for married couples connected to either the state of residence or the state in which the marriage was solemnized. Following the decision in Obergefell, same-sex married couples were accorded the same recognition as opposite-sex couples at the federal and state levels."

So we cross another hurdle. I am happy for us for this. You can joke all you want about divorce or how same sex couples don't know what they're getting into.
The fact is, they now have the choice and the right to do so. Like everybody else. Even in Alabama. And Ireland!

The Thirty-fourth Amendment of the Constitution (Marriage Equality) Bill 2015 (bill no.5 of 2015) is a proposed amendment to the constitution of Ireland which requires the state to provide for same-sex marriage. It was approved at a referendum on 22 May 2015 by 62% of voters on a turnout of 61%.[2][1] This was the first time a country has legalised same-sex marriage in a nationwide popular vote.[3][4] The bill cannot be signed into law by the President until after two petitions challenging the conduct of the referendum have been considered by the Court of Appeal on 30 July 2015.[

Life is beautiful but beauty is a dyin' art

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Every day you wake up
and watch the cars and the buses and the people
pass by
Jesus Christ, we take it for granted
Our time
We waste so much of it
The shortness of it
The emergency of it disappearing
You start to notice
Things like that
As you go about your days with no sense of immediacy 

The Sun rises and sets
and the rain falls and the tide ebbs and floods, taking it easy
as we spin through space at sixty five thousand kilometres an hour
its amazing we can even hold on
if you think about it

And what do we do with all of this?
24 hour drive through windows and comic book entertainment is what
Everywhere you look
no story, only spectacle
a feast for the eyes and everything else is left to starve

Our self predicting prophecies are dark because I think we see darkness up ahead

That may be so but we still have our cars and our football teams
so we find a way

Monday, June 15, 2015

Some of the Old Days...

It's June, halfway through, already. The birds are singing and the Sun is in the sky all the time these days.
It has been quite a time, with you dying.
I mean, it's been devastating. Even, surprisingly so.

When I first got the call, telling me of your passing, I did not know how to feel. People say this all the time and you think they are stunted but then you find yourself there and you are shocked that you simply cannot react. I guess you are reacting by not reacting.

I immediately thought about how you would have reacted if you had received the same phone call. Who knows? You were always more demonstrative than I was. Except anger. That always comes easy for me. In fact, I almost reacted in anger that day, when Ian called me to give me the news. I thought you would go on living forever, you seemed to always have more than 9 lives. I think you used up your 9th life when you were like, 12. Probably before I even met you.

Shayne and me, circa 1994, at 1667 Brooke Crescent.

We probably used up a few lives together, whether it was the time we rolled my truck end over end, climbed 3 stories up the exterior walls of the Chateau lake Louise, nose dived the Grumman Goose into that wave trying to leave Scott Cove, the trip that turned into a terrifying storm aboard the MV Texada, going from Princess Royal Island to Port Hardy. The 110 foot old girl was just pounding her way across the Sound that night. And the two Russians, Oleg and Slava, who, we were convinced, were Mobsters of some sort, were just standing in the galley, watching all the pots and pans spread on the floor, bash into each other on every dive the boat took. It was like a scene out of a Kubrick film.

There are many, many more, my friend, the Dodge Colt 100 km/h e-brakes, all the motorcycle close calls, getting lost in the fog in the 206 from Call Inlet and having to find a place to touch down, all those insane trips down the mountain in the blue crummy, with the amphetamine fuelled Fleet at the wheel, ending with me kicking in the window with my caulk boots.

The following summer we had our own contract, where we took over the camp and wreaked havoc with our playing and singing and drinking and carrying on. The loggers thought we were hippies and we thought they were assholes and that's the way it was.

Dave, from Echo Bay, Shayne, Dorian, at Gilford Island.

Everything was a "Hal-sel", which is what you named after Hal, the company forester that was on the job. We rolled that huge boulder down the mountain, it was the size of a van, it just crushed a massive swath all the way down the hill. We could hear it busting trees like 1000 feet down. We thought that Hal must have heard it or discovered it because he didn't really talk to us after that. That and our nightly partying and general misbehaving drove a wedge. The John Henry birthday volleyball game may have been one of the last straws, too.

You will remember that when that contract was done, on the way home the crummy broke down in Woss and Iain came and picked us up in the big Ford orange van. We then went to the J-Bar and closed it down somewhere.

The 206 taking off from camp in Call Inlet

I think the thing that makes me so sad is that, besides my wife, you knew me better than anyone else in the world. We went through puberty together and discovered the world in a curious way, climbing water towers and riding dirt bikes on logging roads. And man, did we miss a lot of school together.
The Courtenay days at Vanier, driving Rob's Civic up to Mt. Washington and skiing for free. You could get away with it in those days and we did.
Or we would just hike up and build jumps.
That time when I lost my keys and we got into the car with a ski pole, through the back window, as I had a spare key in the ashtray for some reason? The keys were mailed to me with the Spring thaw, when some employee found them and saw that they had one of those TB Vets tags on them.

Chris Morgan, Shayne, Me, John Henry, aboard the ill-fated Texada, during the storm.

It's funny how we just go through the memories when someone we love dies. I guess they are all we have, it's all so fucking final. If you believe in an afterlife, you can have peace in knowing that you will see them again. But, even if we do believe in something other than this, this is all we have for now and it just hurts that they are gone.

Besides the memories, lies what was instilled in you, implanted in you, by them. By you.
And that is the thing that is the legacy. More than the memories.

The reason I try to take in all of my surroundings and be present in the moment, is because of you. when we were young, you always had a way of slowing things down and making me enjoy things more holistically. That sounds like a lot and it is. But those years we spent hitch hiking up and down the island, and hanging out on boats and wharfs, smoking, talking and watching the Sun go down or come up, taught me to see the beauty in the World, to not be so negative and judgemental.
You treated every person you met with the same reverance and trust.

The picture of you playing the harmonica on the dock at Deep Cove, is a favourite of mine. It really captures your essence, in a way that you were. That was September 19,1992 and I cannot believe it was that long ago. Those are the places now, that will have a magic and a sadness, the kind of place one pulls up to years from now and the son says, "Dad, why are you crying?"
And how does one explain the sheer madness, the power of friendship and the memories? Well, it can't be done. But you don't need to. It exists anyway.

Of course, I have regrets and guilt, like any normal person would. Like, why didn't I call more? Actually, that's really the only one. But it rests heavy upon me. You were always the better friend at staying in touch and I thank you for that. Because of you, there are many more memories. Like the Alberta trip in '96. I didn't want to go but you talked me into it. And we both got our criminal records there on that trip.

Pat Smith and Shayne on the beach at Tsawwassen, returning from the Alberta debacle 

It started as a trip to Oregon but they wouldn't let us across the border. You had no proper ID and there was another issue and it ended up us driving to Calgary instead. While there, we crashed that hotel, bought the room next door, and threw a party in both rooms! It was crazy. This is where we met Chris, the Scottish dude from the RAF, who coined "Cheers, there, ya little Beech Nut!"
Later the police came and you tried to bribe them and this was almost comic in its ridiculousness. You were in a cast and on crutches at the time, which made it all the more surreal.
When the Judge asked us if we had anything to say for ourselves, you pointed at your crutches, so I got up and apologised for being such delinquent little assholes. Our punishment was a $100 fine, which you paid before we left. You had a lot of money in your pocket, from a halibut trip you had just returned from.

Money never meant much to you, it seemed to slip through your hands. It's okay, it slips through mine, too. I think it does for most people.

You left me with a sense of wonder, a quest for knowledge and a thirst for life. I'll try to keep it top of mind and pass it on to my child.

Shayne, at Ian and Brandi's house, 2013.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

A celebration of the life of the magnanimous and curious Shayne Becherer

What do you say about a guy who was larger than life? A guy who leapt from cliffs, bridges and even a waterfall that left him breathless and needing CPR?
A guy who mined for gold, worked on boats from here to Alaska and back, did mineral exploration in the mountains by foot and by helicopter?
A guy who danced in the flames of many a fire, crashed his motorcycles into many a thing, including a deer. A guy who dressed in bones and bird feathers, this is not a man who words themselves seem worthy of.

I met Shayne in 1987. Of course, I had already heard of him and seen him in passing, I had a paper route that included his house, which was intriguing already because they had a flock of pigeons that Eric and Steve kept. They would fly in circles around the house.

Shayne was definitely the class clown, never really shutting up, ever, if I remember correctly. I worked at the Mohawk in Cambellton and he worked at the brake and muffler place next door. He would come over to the Mohawk on his lunch break and I’d get in trouble for talking to him while I was supposed to be working. We became fast friends from then on and got in a few automobile accidents together.

He wore his fucking heart on his sleeve and he had a thirst for life that I had never seen. He had such immense knowledge, even at that age, of many aspects of nature. Rocks and minerals were always a passion, his father, Mike was a geologist and Shayne picked that up at a young age. Shayne always had a display of his latest geological formations, wherever he was calling home.
There were always gold flecks and bits of crystal or rock coring that he would lick to show the rock in all its splendour.
Many of the rocks were just kept in plastic bags, labels on the outside, and could only be taken out on very special occasions.

Animals were another love. He knew every species of local animal and its habits and habitat. Hunting was always a passion of Shayne’s from childhood. Whether it was the time he bagged his first deer, when he was a boy, to the time he somehow shot a deer that was grazing in a yard, late at night.
He dragged the deer into the cab of his pick-up because the box was filled with firewood or something, and drove off.
Down the road, the deer came back to life and started kicking Shayne while he was trying to drive.
He ended up fighting off the deer somehow and he got it home and dressed it.
The moose hunts up north, with his brothers and his Dad, were epic and Shayne had some incredible tales that I’m sure most of you have heard.
There was, of course, the time he slipped the truck off the bank and high centred it.
It was 20 below and he had to walk out 2 days to the nearest road. He abandoned the truck there, with hopes of picking it up with the spring thaw.
I think that truck might still be there.
He always had great respect for the animals he hunted and he always expressed that. His room was like a taxidermist’s paradise, with all the skulls, furs, feathers, bones, talons, etc.

Speaking of hunting, I gotta tell you about the time that he visited me on the return trip from a hunt in the interior. I was living in the West End, right downtown and Shayne drops by in his pick-up. I go out and meet him.
He’s pulling all his stuff out of the truck that he’ll need for the night, along with cigarettes, pieces of paper, feathers, shells, bandanas, rocks, a pay-as-you-go cellphone, near-beers, harmonicas, and a fairly protracted story with each item.
Then he goes behind the seat, reaches down and starts pulling his rifles out.
I’m like, “What the hell are you doing?”
He’s like,” My window is broken, I can’t leave them in the truck.”
I notice there are some people right behind us in a car and they are wide eyed. I went up to the window and told them, he’s on a hunting trip, you know, he’s from a small town, and all that, please don’t dial 911.
I told Shayne we should wrap them up for the walk back to my place.

Shayne was a great lover of the sea. It was in his bones. In February 93, I talked him into coming up to Port Hardy to give it a go as a deckhand on a live cod boat. He had not yet tried his hand as a seafarer. He obviously liked it because he kept doing it on and off for the next 20 years.
The first night on the boat, as we baited the hooks, Shayne was smoking pipe tobacco out of a huge, old man pipe, like an old sea dog. It was like he belonged there. And he kind of did.

In the summer of that year, we worked aboard different boats and we crossed paths in Robson Bight in August. By crazy coincidence, both of our boats ended up tied to the wharf in Alert Bay that night and we met Shayne and my brother, Ian, in the local watering hole.
Shayne was in great pain because earlier that day, he had ripped a tooth out with vice grips on the boat. The tooth had been bothering him forever and that was the final outcome.
I don’t know if he had a distrust of the medical system but he never sought medical help when he should have.
There were a few years there when he always seemed be in a cast or on crutches, or his ribs were bruised or broken or some kind of physical ailment brought on by a fight with gravity. It was like being friends with a clumsy stuntman.

Shayne was a Dad. A good Dad. And you can see by Ember, that she has inherited Shayne’s smarts and empathy and love of life. Ember was always talked about in incredibly high regards by Shayne, even when she was a baby. He loved talking about her. And he talked about her like someone talks about their best friend, not just their kid. There’s a difference.
I saw him and Denise up in Vernon, shortly after Ember was born and he looked like a natural with the baby in his arms. Denise did, too but women are better with babies. Men are just sometimes, not that good. Some are good. Shayne was good.
I am glad that Shayne became a parent because he got to share his love unconditionally with his child and there’s nothing in this life better than that. It was just too short.

Shayne would say that he crammed 80 years into 40 and he would be right. Some people take up a book club. Shayne took up skydiving. And cliff jumping. And diving naked into McIvor Lake when other people are just standing on the shore, trying to have a beer and hang out.

To stand here and try to put into words, try to tell everyone in this room about all the incredible things Shayne did in his life, all the people he touched along the way, all the people he inspired, all the fucking insane memories that he left us all with, seems almost trivial. But the fact that all of us are here, all of us have travelled from wherever we were, to be here today to say that we cared about Shayne and he moved each and every one of us, that means a lot. That means everything. I would even go so far as to say that is the meaning of life. Which, I think we all know, is Love.

I told myself I wasn’t going to take too much time talking about Shayne, I didn’t want to ramble, I am sure there are many people who have many things to say about Shayne, so I just want to close by thanking Shayne for being the best friend I could have ever had, as a teenager and as an adult. We shared some incredible memories that I will hold onto forever.
In almost 30 years of friendship, he and I never had a falling out. There were long periods of time when we didn’t speak but when we did, it was like a day had hardly passed.

I wanted to speak to all of you about Shayne because I wanted to make sure it was known that Shayne wasn’t just the Beach Nut, the crazy guy that danced in fires and played his harmonica. Shayne was a highly intelligent, complex, deeply caring person, who was a son, a father, a brother and a friend.

I will miss him for the rest of my life.

"Who we really are, does not come and go, is not born and will never 
die.  Who we really are is Truth itself, love of the highest form, 
unlimited and unending joy, supreme bliss that is the knowledge of our 
ultimate existence.

Your friends have given you happiness and fond memories and now these 
dear souls, through their departure from this world, give you the 
opportunity to find real peace, the source from where they, we and all 
forms come.  Cherish this last gift they can offer to you."