A Couple, Three Pints with : Clifford Brewing

  We go to a taproom/bar/pub with thoughts of enjoying a respite from the world. We want to sit, enjoy a couple pints and then make our way home again, six pack in hand and some of our troubles left behind. I endeavour to do this more often in the coming year and I'm gonna take you along with me as I pull up a chair and grab a beer.

   'A Couple, Three Pints With :' will be my ongoing series of exploring different places to enjoy a beer or three while talking about atmosphere, quality, experience and whatever else happens when I settle in for an evening or afternoon at leisure, because life is for livin' and beer is for drinkin'.

Up first is the closest brewery to my home, a ten minute drive and we pull up to Clifford Brewing, a large interior that somehow feels like an East-end Hammer pub...seriously. The long bar and high top tables are accentuated by the additional picnic tables and odds and end tables and chairs that fill up fast on music nights, which prior to the pandemic was what Clifford was becoming known for. As a live music venue, the acoustics are quite wonderful and a mix of musical styles certainly lends to the atmosphere when the amps appear. 

 My usual stop in is on the way home from work, picking up something for the fridge at home and engaging in a pint or two of self-care...especially if Danny, Brad or Matt happen to be hanging around the bar. I'm not much of one for small talk, but a beer in hand and solid conversation is something I do enjoy and that is part of what brings me back again and again. 

  The huge variety of styles is another big reason I love it here, not overloaded with too many IPAs or sours, balanced and with an eye to making sure there truly is something on tap for every kind of beer drinker. The simple flavour profile of The Crusher (4% Light Lager) and easy going crushability of East Hamilton (5% Lager) open the palate for a little more adventure, although I will say that the 24's of each of these two beers must flow pretty well out the door when this blue collar town strides in at the end of the work week. Beer is for drinking for most of us and these two fit that bill of beer that tastes like a damn beer. If you're wanting to step things up a little bit, explore the next level as it were, you then could easily get into Chainlink (5% Vienna Lager) or Dark Streets of London (5.2% ESB). These two will change the game for some people, they bring a little more malt character forward and edge up the flavour complexity without getting too big or bitter. The journey continues with the flagship Porter (5.9%) and the latest stout, albeit a white one, Spider Palace (4.8%), challenging the everyday lagers with rich and robust dark roasted malt flavours. The classic Pinball (5.7% Pale Ale) and Devil's Punchbowl (4.8% India Session Lager) bring the senses up with more hops and bitterness, citrus and malt backbones give more zip to the proceedings. There are two IPAs on tap, usually only two and with an eye to not allowing an overwhelming list of this style to dominate the room, it ensures freshness of consumption and an appreciation for what each delivers. Currently it is the tropical citrus pineapple forward Valhalla (6.2% Kveik IPA) and the smooth, mango pineapple and orange All Roads (8% Double IPA, a collab with Grain & Grit). Both are very fresh and top of the game when they hit your glass\. I have and do enjoy them both, although All Roads has been really hitting the mark and may be one of the best beers I've had in 2021. By not having five or six IPAs on tap, it makes sure we get fresh product and don't see a style of beer that is best experienced fresh sit and fade because there are simply too many of them. A sour and seltzer round out the options and while Clifford does not currently have a kitchen, food trucks often are brought in on weekends to serve the hungry patrons. Bring your own food or have something delivered, it's all the same to the brewery, that is what makes it feel a little more like it belongs in my end of town.

  As for atmosphere or ambiance, it is decidedly laid back, laconic and easy going. Brad Clifford has a Big Lebowski-esque demeanor of cool that permeates throughout his like named brewery and that translates down to the staff and beer drinkers alike. You feel like the stress of your day disappears when you walk through the doors, it dissipates more after your first sip and you can feel the mellow vibe settle over you as you chat with fellow drinkers and those behind the bar. It is beer in an unrushed state, a congenial place that feels like what bars used to be, a meeting place to gather and enjoy the company for friends with some seriously good libations. There is a jovial feel to every conversation, no doubt a beer helps ease the anxious moments of the day, but it is something that radiates outward while you settle in for a spell. I am often struck by how easy it all feels to be part of the gang who call this their regular spot even if you're here for the first time. The people who make up the team at Clifford also offer knowledgeable directions to each beer to those who need them. Recognizing that there are a lot of people who don't know what each style has to offer and bringing them the information and finding something they can enjoy is a big part of making patrons feel comfortable and coming back again and again. It isn't about being flashy, this brewery has more than enough accolades and awards to showcase what they can do with beer, including the 2019 Canadian Brewery of the Year, but they do it with a sense of pride and commitment to delivering beer that is what it says it is and that is the kind of bottom line stuff that impresses me most. 

  It's not hyperbole to say that I enjoy my visits to Clifford immensely. The last two years have seen my ability to travel and sit down in a taproom curtailed by safety concerns and personal trepidation about the world gone mad. It has affected me in ways I couldn't have imagined, but I will do what I have done for the past 6 years and use beer and my love of writing about beer to bring myself back to the world. Starting this trip all over again, it seems right to begin at Clifford, where you'll find me coming back again because it feels like home.

 For more about Clifford or to order beer for delivery, check them out here : https://cliffordbrewing.com/

Frankie & Cat Stevens - When I was a Drunk in a Bar

 

Order another round Young Polk.

I used to frequent a local hole in the wall bar near my house when I was in my early 20's called Shuffles. The food was outstanding, homemade perogies and cabbage rolls with so many more amazing dishes I get hungry remembering them; it was a fine but simple place with the usual macro beers on tap and some decent but not pricey liquor. The proprietors were friendly people who remembered your name and were a part of why you stopped in as the cold beer you craved. Much like Cheers, it was indeed a place that felt like home and I would drop in almost every day after work to read the paper, have a little conversation and a $5 mini pitcher or 3 of whatever was on tap, more often than not Canadian or Coors light. It was when you could smoke in bars and the blue haze along with a juke box filled with classic rock, country and the odd 90's hit made it feel like a basement hangout, just with a motley crew of East End Hamilton's finest degenerates.
  Becoming a regular in a bar after my divorce caused me to move back home again at 23 wasn't what I had envisioned my life being but I quickly grew to love that feeling when I walked through the doors every day. A couple of my Uncles had long been patrons and many a night I spent at their sides, drinking a few pints and shots, listening to old tales and feeling like I had found my place. I was hurting bad inside from the break up but hadn't really been into drinking for so many years that I didn't see the slide begin. And when I did, not only was it too late, I didn't care any more.
  Many times we made last call and after the door was locked, dimmed the lights, pulled the shades and kept right on drinking. Like I said, we were degenerates but we gave a shit about each other and didn't want the party to end.
  One guy in particular still stands out in my memory and I am certain I am being nostalgic and seeing it with beer covered glasses but he was one of those people you don't forget. His name was Frankie and he was the most regular of the regulars, there when they opened, home for a meal and back again. Slumped against the bar in a legendary pose, smoke in one hand, beer or shot in the other, he would opine about any subject and I often spent my time listening to his glorious drunk talk about loves won and lost and life lived on the outside of normal. We would head deep into that zone only real drunks know where you think you're figuring it all out and wake the next day with the feeling that everything you said was bullshit but that didn't matter because we were getting close. Searching for answers at the bottom of the bottle and not finding them didn't mean we would give up, it meant we would get another bottle and look again. But what I remember most is the music he would pick as his time at the bar wound down, almost every day. 'Father and Son' and 'Wild World' from Cat Stevens are burned into my memory for life as both sides of the same coin. Struggling with the end of what was supposed to be the grand love story of my life, not knowing where to turn next and having little in the way of direction, I felt the loneliness and longing in each note he played. Drunk is no way to try to process life's big questions, but what did I know then. Looking back now with a lifetime of beautiful and sad memories I can feel a tear and a smile at the same time because I know it turned out okay even if I had no way of knowing it would.  
 

Still on rotation in my house.
All the feels.

These two songs always get me no matter what I am doing or feeling, they make me want to remember the times I forgot because I was so deep in the well of depression and self loathing but medicated by booze and beer to the point of pure inebriation. There exist no pictures from these "legendary" times as it was the mid nineties, long before digital cameras and smart phones had us documenting our entire existences. Part of me is grateful for that but there is a longing for a snapshot or two of those times just so I can prove they really happened.
  Frankie was probably a lonely man with lots of friends and I'd be lying if part of me doesn't wonder if I will ultimately end up on that same path. Searching for answers that I don't even know the questions to while drinking myself into oblivion has some pull, even now after the last 3 years of trying to calm that beast inside me. I've worked hard to leave that guy behind me but when the stress of everything life throws at you points you to the bottle and you know it will make you feel good, even temporarily, that's hard to say no to. Even knowing the problems don't go away and in fact could be made worse by drowning them in drink doesn't faze the dark Polk that I know lurks down inside me.
  Choosing life and knowing I don't want to go back to being that guy again has to be a conscious decision. I ponder every beer I drink and try to enjoy what it brings to the glass without pounding it in search of the darkness again. I miss my bar fly days but only in that way we all look back on the simpler times when a beer was a beer and we drank because that was what you did, feelings were for wimps and smokes were cheap. It wasn't better, but it just was who we were and what we knew. Things are different now but part of me does long for a time when I didn't care because it was so much easier to just let go and get bombed.
  I'm not looking to recreate my youth, just ruminating about the times I was so close to just letting my life slide into the haze because it is floating in the ether of my mind and won't let go until it is written. I don't hide behind the booze or drugs, I bring that beast into the open and expose it to the light to kill it and take back my power over what leaves me powerless. It's a good day when I stay in control and the more of them I have, the more I want. Moderation is my watchword now and with a little luck and some attention to the triggers that drive me to over consume I may not end up that old guy at the end of the bar playing songs to bring back the memories only to drown them in my glass.


Cheers.


Polk

Beer Time in The Hammer - Hamilton's Craft Beer Scene

My Hometown

The rise of craft beer in Hamilton took a little longer than I would have liked, but damn if 2017 didn't take off like a rocket. The 3 year old Collective Arts was joined in the west end of the city first by Merit, then Fairweather, Grain & Grit and finally in early 2018 by Clifford Brewing on the east end to bookend a very busy 12 months for this beer fan. I have moments of joy at each brewery and now that we've reached that critical mass of making Hamilton a beer destination, it's time to take a snapshot look at this city's growing craft beer scene. No doubt I will revisit each of them more in depth as the year goes on, but my weekend spent hanging out at all 5 inspires me to spread the gospel of my hometown today!

First pint at Clifford January 2018

Clifford Brewing
Location -  398 Nash Road North
Website - http://www.cliffordbrewing.com/
Hours - Monday to Thursday - Closed/Friday & Saturday 12-9/Sunday 12-5
Personal Favourite Beer - Clifford Porter
  The newest Hammer brewer is led by one of the most liked people in Ontario Craft beer, Brad Clifford and is the culmination of many years hard work and persistence. The Clifford Porter and Pinball Wizard APA are well known and LCBO available beers that helped build the brand while Brad worked to make his dream happen. The space itself is a huge 10,000 square foot former Mattress factory located in the city's east end and is now home to the closest brewery to my house...that's pretty awesome right there. With 5 beers on tap, a Dry hopped session lager, English ale and East Hamilton Lager in addition to the more well known Clifford beers, it has the laid back feeling of a neighbourhood gathering spot that should gain more character as they fill out the large tap room to reflect the personality of the people who work there. Friendly and ready to show off the open concept brew space, its easy to see why a quick visit to Clifford turns into a few hours talking all things beer and then some. Look for a variety of excellent beers as Brad gets into a groove and no doubt there will be barrels and one offs for even the most discerning of drinkers to go along with easy drinking beers to help bring those new to the community of craft beer drinkers into the fold.

First Flight at Grain & Grit October 2017

Grain & Grit Brewing Company
Location - 11 Ewen Road
Website - http://www.grainandgritbeer.com/
Hours - Tuesday to Saturday - 12-9/Sunday 12-6/Monday Closed
Personal fave beer - Bob's Best Bitter
  Opening in October of 2017, this former garage turned cozy and inviting brewery was first visited by us months earlier and we couldn't believe the hard work to transform it so beautifully. The team of Joe and Lindsey Mrav along with Head Brewer Alex Sporn have brought a fine example of taking your dream and running with it till it comes true. The beers are in constant rotation as they bring different styles to the fore and let the consumer decide what is possible when hops and barley meet. From Pineapple Rye to the Candy cane White stout, they have a unique take on traditional styles that will serve them well going forward. The natural light from the big garage doors serves to heighten the bright white and clean lines of the brewery with the tanks so close you can rest your hand on them and give a little prayer to the beer gods for bringing these good beer folks to Hamilton. Upwards of 8 different beers on tap and a fridge stocked for you to take home, Grain & Grit is ready for you anytime.

First pint at Fairweather May 2017

Fairweather Brewing Company
Location - 5 Olfield Road
Website - http://fairweatherbrewing.com/
Hours - 11-9 Every day
Personal fave Beer - Dream Pop
  A May opening led to a summer of amazing releases that just kept hitting the mark every time. Fairweather brewing caught the city and the Ontario Craft beer scene at just the right moment with a combination of big hoppy IPAs, deliciously roasty porters and more and more, sour beers that are transforming peoples perception of the style. A family friendly place that feels like its been there forever and welcomes you back like a long lost friend, it fits the city and its community like a glove. Founded by Ram McAllister, Brent Milcz and Dan Ryan, this cozy taproom belies the enormous production facility in the back. A place that was made for lots of expansion, the early success of their initial offerings bodes well for the future and a growing fan base that makes there trek to Hamilton's west end for stops here and at G&G are becoming more frequent. Available in 500 ml bottles with just 3 words used perfectly to describe each beer, growlers and on tap, Fairweather has made a statement and it behooves you to listen, taste and join in the fun.

First Pint at Merit May 2017

Merit Brewing Company
Location - 107 James Street North
Website - http://www.meritbrewing.ca/
Hours - Monday to Wednesday 4-Midnight/Thursday Noon-Midnight/Friday and Saturday Noon-2 a.m./Sunday Noon-10
Personal Fave Beer - California Never Felt Like Home IPA
  May of 2017 saw Merit accelerate the craft beer revolution in The Hammer when they finally opened the doors to their location on a James Street that was in the beginnings of a serious revitalization. Located in the downtown core, the city has been working to transform this gritty urban landscape into a haven for art, good food and now great beer. The addition of not only the brewery but a proper kitchen that was full of delicious sausage and fries to die for help Merit stand out right from day 1. Communal seating encourages conversation and when we stop in at anytime, someone is sipping, eating and enjoying this gem on James Street. Tej Sandhu, Aaron Spinney and the group here make guests feel like family and the combination of a love of great beer from all over the world and the passion to brew it make this a must stop for lunch, dinner or a quick pint. The bottle shop is full of great 500 ml bottles and growlers for further home enjoyment.

First Growler fill Collective Arts September 2015

Collective Arts Brewing
Location - 207 Burlington Street East
Website - http://collectiveartsbrewing.com/
Hours - Every Day 11-9
Personal Fave Beer - Ransack the Universe IPA
  The OG Hamilton craft brewery that brought back our proud heritage as a beer making town when they took over the former Lakeport Brewery in the city's industrial North End in 2014, Collective Arts has since become a leader in the Craft beer scene for their innovative and constant new releases. Core beers took off almost immediately after opening and I was among those getting multiple growler fills every week as we started to experience what really good beer could be. Matt Johnson and Bob Russell along with Brewmaster Ryan Morrow have created lineup worthy beer that has people buzzing about every release, rivalling some American markets or even Bellwoods for their anticipation. Expanding their distribution to 7 U.S. states and even overseas, the sky is the limit for my first Hometown Heroes and their amazing beer. The taproom is filled with art and a buzz of people most of the time with a Biergarden for the summer and a hopeful expansion with a kitchen to come in the near future. Someone had to take the lead and Collective has been a partner to create the ripple that turned into a wave when it comes to craft beer in my hometown. Online ordering makes it easy to get CA beer anywhere in Ontario and the tap room is fully stocked with every offering as well as growlers and pints.


  Wrapping up this quick look at Hamilton's burgeoning scene makes me thirsty and anxious to make another road trip around the city to visit and hang out with the friends I've made along the way. It is now a whole day trip and worth making a drive to my hometown to explore the vibrant cultural scene that has been helped in part by the great craft beer being made at these locations. All seem to have a social connection to local charities and events and their support of those causes gives rise to a pride this town needs. The restaurants and bars are becoming more in tune to what beer drinkers want and you can find many fine establishments with either taps or cans and bottles from1or even all 5 of our Steeltown brewers.
  This is just the beginning, new and exciting beers and brewers to come as the year goes on I am sure. Hamilton has been my home almost my entire life and now I can proudly show off it's beer with a smile and a wink. See you all soon!
Cheers!


Polk

The Front Porch

When I was a kid, we played outside, a lot. My mom would shoo us out on warm summer days, cool fall or snowing winter ones and we'd head off on adventures not possible today. We wandered all over the neighbourhood, climbed trees and played in places we thought only we knew about. Riding our bikes everywhere with lunches tucked into our back packs, we would return home dirty and tired but oh so happy with stories and excitement from a day of freedom. We had the life but little did we know that there were always eyes on us and our parents knew where we were more than we thought.
 Growing up in the late 70's and early 80's was a time when people still sat on their front porches and neighbours looked out for each other and their own with the same care. We didn't hide in our yards like today, closed off and independent of the world. We were connected to those around us by a network of phones, open doors and hellos. The people who lived next to you were an extension of your parents and you were respectful of them just because. We would feel like we ruled the neighbourhood and felt safe without even knowing it.
  I think back to those days and wonder if that transition from sitting out front to the secluded fenced-in back yard has done some real harm to how we live our lives. I feel less connected to my current town and I've lived here longer than anywhere else in my life. When we first moved in I tried to emulate the memories of my youth and sat on the front porch most days after work, trying to connect with the people around me. I'd say hello to the neighbours as they hurried from their cars to the front doors of their homes, busy with their lives and routines. I found the street empty most days, despite the presence of young families, most stayed in their yards or at structured play at an indoor play place. Kids don't wander free despite the fact that the world around us, at least theoretically, has never been safer. Connected by cell phone, we should be encouraging more outside time not less. As the years went on, I would spend fewer nights out front and the ubiquitous back deck was built. I love what my Grotto has become, the refuge from the world and a place of great happiness for me, but I still lament the passing of that community feeling the front porch gave us.
  We didn't know that as we rode around the streets of East Hamilton the network of Mom's, Granny's and others at home was at work. Looking for fun, we would spin around the school yard, creek and fields, having fun and creating our own worlds wherever we went. From building forts to racing down dangerously steep hills, we didn't think anyone was watching and were thrilled to be so free. But the reality is that we were always just one door away from help if trouble arose, you knew who you could run to when you needed it. It's probably a bit of nostalgia but a whole lot of reality as we see the elaborate yards people have built, hiding and cocooning away from the world. We don't reach out like we used to, no one would dare dream discipline or yell at kids today like was done when I was young. You knew if you did something wrong and got caught by the neighbour, your parents would come down on you with a vengeance. We had a connection that belied anything but giving a shit about where you lived. They did it because it was right and made the world a better place.
  I'm not sure when it all went south, but I know in my heart that part of the transformation was the building of monster houses with tiny backyards that were almost all deck. High fences to keep out prying eyes, we turned inward at the expense of community and we are poorer for it. I wish I could say if we had kids I would be different but I am probably kidding myself because that infection of perceived danger has made its' way into my life as well. I have become the guy who comes home, gets comfy and lives for the routine life lived in the yard. Devoid of a connection, our world has shrunk and we are poorer for it.
 I am sure there are great neighbourhoods out there, awesome neighbours who hang out and have fun, but in the larger picture, this is becoming an anomaly. I observe how people interact and see the closed doors and fences becoming more prevalent not less. We trust fewer people and hold closer the small nuclear family, leaving the world to others. Scared by the media and perceived threats, the leash of childhood freedom has been choked back to the yard and other supervised places, never to return. It makes me sad and I don't know what to do about it.
  Can we ever go back? Am I just pining for "the Good Old days"? Or am I really seeing the future as it is. Have we retreated to our castles, drawn the bridge and filled the moat. Protecting kids from harm is what we say, but are we depriving them of experiences that would help them grow as people by hiding from the world and not being part of the larger community. I wave to everyone I meet and say hello, I have long been taught to make the small talk required to build friendship and that came from how I was raised. We wanted to know our neighbours because they were part of our lives, celebrating the highs and coming together for support when things weren't so good. Is it different now? Ithink it is and I know we are lessened because of it. Maybe it's time I start sitting on the front stoop again, at least then I'm trying to do something positive and maybe I'll make a new friend or two. See you out there, stop in for a coffee, I've got the time.


Polk

An Odd Morning

Driving home from work and I was looking forward, as is usual for me, to a few pints in the Grotto with the next day being my first off in a week. I had missed many dinners with the late nights and overtime but since we don't have kids, it didn't really impact us that much. Kat and I spend a few hours together and then she heads to bed while I stay up a little later for some quality time alone with a beer to settle my mind. I started thinking about how different our life would be with kids, how the hell people afford them and what I would be doing if we did have them. I pretty sure I'd be different too and chances are I would but I also started to wonder about what I want to do with the back half of my life.
  Life without kids isn't really something people like to talk about. Some give their time to charitable and community organisations. Others concentrate on their extended families, becoming integral to nieces and nephews and involved in their lives to contribute something. I thought about some of these things, but my work schedule sees me home long after most everything that would like my help or on the weekends when I almost never am off. It crossed my mind to go back to coaching but in reality, with my schedule I would miss almost every game and practice, rendering me at best an ineffective assistant who would be missing 80 percent of the time.
  So where does that leave me? I ponder what I am doing, working so hard and despite the financial rewards, do I need to pursue money for the sake of money? When you have children, your focus obviously shifts to making sure they have a better life than you did. You strive to give them the best you can and  sacrifice to ensure that happens. I don't have to do that, the only people I have to worry about is Kathryn and myself if you get right down to it. I love my extended and immediate family but through the combination of lifestyle, work and just plain neglect, I have become a peripheral member at best. I wish them only the best things, but I am not involved enough to be considered anything but a member in name only it feels sometime. Perhaps as we get older, things will change with a little more effort on both sides.
  I used to be involved in all sorts of family events, hosting and planning them because I wanted to ensure a strong bond and a history of family traditions for my future children. Not having them means that any tradition becomes moot after I die, perhaps the memory of what I did carried for a generation but then I become a picture in an album that eventually finds its way to that dusty attic. A little dark but not untrue. I can tell stories of long ago relatives, but do the children of my cousins and brothers know them? How long before they are left to the past and a world that goes on regardless? Its a weird way to look at life I will agree, but it's where I am right now.  The best thing about writing down my thoughts is to help me see what is bothering me and when I am finished, they tend to recede to the past.
 With holiday season approaching, I become more introspective about what they mean and how I want to deal with them. Thanksgiving has long been avoided, along with easter, because they never felt like fun. Having to choose which side to go to makes it a minefield and I am not even going to get into Christmas, that mess isn't made better by hosting. I see nothing of value in forced bonhomie with anyone and since we really don't celebrate any of them with the verve of those around us, I am always left with nothing to say when we get together. We don't exchange gifts or have anything near a traditional holiday. It isn't necessary to perpetuate the myths of the santa or the rush of presents and family time when it is just two people, we buy the stuff we need and occasionally what we want when we can afford it. Just because it's December doesn't mean we suddenly have more money for things we don't need. So not being part of that and stepping out of the larger family gift giving takes us further afield. It's not the season of my youth obviously and while I do enjoy the trappings of the season, the specials on TV, the beer and the food, I cannot get excited about something I no longer participate in. I don't hate Christmas or anything like that, it's just different for me now and I don't know if I like that or not.
 It's not a "pity party" as one wonderful member of my family said of my work last week, I just write what I am thinking to help me understand it. None of this is ever intended to ask for sympathy, it is and has always been a way for me to convey my feelings, work out the problems I am having and maybe help someone who is suffering in silence to realise that they are not alone. I don't want anyone to think I hate my life or how it has turned out. I write because it works for me, no one has to read it if it bothers them, I would never want that. My social life has shrunk but thanks to my online friends I can always find someone to talk to and that has added value to my life that I can't measure. Do I want to go out more? Sure I do and I hope we will as my work life returns to a more normal pace.
  It is easy to become inward looking when you don't have to look outward and you see the march of time ending with your own demise. I get a little maudlin when I realise all this comes to an end when I go and no one carries on the lessons I would teach. But it isn't all doom and gloom, I intend to squeeze every moment of enjoyment I can out of whatever time I have left. I will do what I want to and make decisions about my life that enhance it wherever I can. It's been a weird way to arrive at this conclusion, but that is what this process has always been for me. Write and understand my own mind, it's taken me far and I don't want to stop now. The depression and low feelings are a thing of the past and it is though this medium that I have found peace with who I am. I'll be as surprised as you where this all ends up,

The Move

1987 Rob was a better dresser than 2016 Rob.

 Few events stand as life changing to me as much as our 1985 move from the gritty East End Hamilton neighbourhood to a relatively suburban Stoney Creek mountain one.  Growing up in the shadow of the steel plants shaped much of my character with its blue collar values, front porch sitting neighbours and the feeling that the whole community was looking out for you. The Move came at a time when our family was settling into its happiest time, yet it shook my life to the core.

As with any 12 year old, news that we were leaving all my friends and familiar landmarks behind was not greeted with enthusiasm. Who wants to leave their life and start over? Especially when you are like me and crave the simplicity and normalcy of routine. My best friend, Kevin, lived 4 houses away and we spent our free time on our bikes exploring the streets of the surrounding area. Adventure awaited every day and we felt safe no matter where we went. All that changed with a single move that led to some of my biggest triumphs and loves of my life, as well as some of my worst decisions.

We arrived in that semi detached house on Fuller Court soon after school finished and began to settle into our new lives. I had discovered a passion for hockey the previous few years and it was here that it blew up into a full blown obsession. The history, stories and numbers of the NHL gave me a foundation for stability and I grew attached to everything about the sport. I would spend hours in my room researching statistics and memorizing the players. With only 21 NHL teams, it was a simpler time and I immersed myself in everything hockey. Strapping on skates for the first time and taking to the net still remains a vivid memory and while my brief 5 year foray into actually playing hockey was filled with more defeat than victory, it stays with me as one of my happiest times. My talent never matched my heart but I soon found that those who cannot execute as a player drift towards coaching and that is where I found my calling, for a brief time at least. Our family became a Hockey one and we had a blast being part of that community for many years. This was my safe place, my refuge and these memories will always be close to my heart.

Old School Goalie!

My parents tried to ease the transition from our old neighbourhood, often bringing Kevin to stay overnight. But as any kid will tell you, when you are removed from the daily routine of hanging out, there comes a distance that cannot be filled. Not being part of the pulse of the old neighbourhood means you lose touch with the shared experiences. Drifting, I began to cut myself off from the world and live more inside my own head. I had a fantastic ability to create vivid imaginary worlds and inhibit them. With my love of books, I was never at a loss for material. The school year loomed and while I was in love with learning, the thought of being the new kid terrified me. This was a long time before any sort of anti bullying campaign and I knew what happened to the new kids. The larger problem occurred when it came to the actual school work. Several false starts and miscommunications about what I was actually supposed to be accelerated in led to a wasted few months and despite my best efforts, I started to struggle and that was new to me. I had been part of an advanced curriculum at my old school and remained so at my new one, but something had shifted in the transition. My grades remained high and my expectations hadn't changed, but the thrill of getting an A+ started to fade a bit.

I found out years later that my parents had discussed letting me return to the old neighbourhood to live with my grandparents because my depression was so deep. My struggles felt so huge and I was unsure what to do. I still get that feeling of sadness in my chest when I think of how lonely I was. But, as with most things when you're young, life changed. I met a kid from the next court over and slowly made friends at school. It was in trying to fit in that I first used humour, especially the self deprecating kind, to make myself part of the majority and it was then that I began a sideways drift towards what would be a lifelong battle with my self image. But in the meantime, I was finally happy. Our family was becoming part of the new community, especially at the arena, and life was once again appearing normal.

That time we met Gordie Howe!

The last two years of grade school present no real stand out memories. I functioned well as part of the leadership group in class and I remember mostly joyful experiences. We played road hockey, explored the ever expanding growth in our area and enjoyed many happy family times. But part of me never felt wholly present living there and despite everyone's best efforts, I yearned for a past that didn't exist anymore. Graduating from Grade 8, I tried and won a scholarship to a prestigious private high school in Hamilton and rather than continue with the friends I had made in the last two years, I decided to once again be the new kid. Looking back, I have no doubt that I was engaging in what has become a real theme of my life, Starting over. The feeling that if I just change everything about my circumstances, my life would be better. I lasted a year in that school before transferring to the local public high school because I couldn't fit in with the wealthy crowd that ran Hillfield. It was becoming obvious that I had no idea what I was doing and my grades began to drop. I started seeing school as an interference in my life rather than a help and even starting skipping class. My social network started anew, but with less than the best kind of results. No one knew what to do and while many tried to help, I was no longer listening. A theme that will present itself again in my life, many times, with the same results.

It's been almost 30 years since these events and most of reminiscing is of the happy kind, but that notion of changing everything and fresh starts remains. The next part of my life shaped the direction I would take for close to a quarter century. One decision took me off the path that most people, including me, thought I was on. One choice and I descended into over two decades of self medication and poor choices. It was a future wholly of my own volition and it started with The Party...but that tale is for another time.  

Growing Up Happy - Part 1

My Childhood

That hair!

My childhood was wholly unremearkable. Please don't try to misconstrue that in any way other than positive. I was lucky and privileged enough to be born in a time when one parent could stay home and manage the household on a single salary. My father worked at Stelco, the local steel mill, and my mother was the one who stayed with us, being on call for 4 kids whenever we needed her. Not wealthy, but decidedly middle class, we grew up never wanting for the basics and occasionally splurging on luxuries. Growing up in a large family and being the oldest meant I knew responsibility early and was always on the lookout for my brothers and sister.



So young and over 40 years later, still beautiful.

My earliest memories play around the edges of real or nostalgia. All day bike rides with our only connection to home being that it was our neighbourhood and the people who lived there looked out for one another. We had to be home for dinner, but lunch would often be some sandwiches and a precious can of pop tucked into your backpack. Out again as soon as the dishes were done, we would pause only when the streetlights came on and begrudgingly head home, with promises to meet up with our friends the next day.

Pictures were a luxury, as you had no idea if they turned out and getting the film produced cost money that would be better spent on groceries or the ever growing kids in our family. Yet we have album after album of smiling faces, family events and road trips that brought so much joy to our lives. We may have thousands of pictures on our computers now, but none of them compare to those dusty photos of 4 kids and their parents having fun. Smiling faces and happy eyes make me see just how much my parents gave us.

That time we met Gordie Howe!

Summer meant vacation and for my mom, that meant no rest from the demands of 4 busy kids. She always kept us moving, taking us on day trips, making sure we ate and engaging our obsessions, which would change from day to day as we found new and exciting things happening in the world. Our house was often the focal point for all of our friends as its joyful demeanour was a respite from their own chaotic lives. The pool was always full and one of the first outdoor responsibilities that we learned after gardening was if you wanted to have your friends over, you had to vacuum the pool. It prepared me for the many parties I would host over the decades. Always make the house ready and you can enjoy your time with friends. No one was ever turned away from that house on Glassco, the door swung open at all hours and even though I was a kid, I knew my parents were constantly helping those who needed it.

Still cute together and always up for an adventure

Occasionally and with great anticipation, we would go away for a vacation. I can't even begin to imagine the logistics of packing 4 kids, sometimes a dog and all their perceived needs into a car and either going camping or in later years to my Aunt Jennette's cottage in Wasaga Beach. These trips were extra special because it meant that Dad didn't have to work and we could spend some time with him away from the stress of his job. Like most kids whose mother stayed home and father worked, I didn't understand how hard they both worked and it is only with the wisdom of age that I see what they did. A vacation for us kids meant beaches, swimming and other sunny adventures. For my mom, it meant taking care of the 5 of us in another place with more dirt and less amenities. But we never knew or felt that. She always smiled and made sure we were taken care of first. I don't think she ate a hot meal for most of our trips and always put our enjoyment first. It was selfless then and I can't help but marvel at how we never knew she was working so hard to make our lives so much fun. 

Dad always manned the BBQ and of course the Pie - Irons (essentially a cast iron sandwich maker that you use in the hot coals of the fire). Perhaps a beer in hand, he loved to grill up whatever mom had brought and if you were lucky, he'd let you have a little taste of what was cooking. I know now how hard he worked to provide us with everything we needed and the skills he taught me have made me the man I am today. While I inherited his quick temper, I also heeded his wisdom on how to contain it. We were always the focus of his attention, the jokes, stories and he was an involved presence at everything we did. Being a father in the late 70's and early 80's was far different than it is now and his very attentive and sympathetic way of listening and offering advice was years ahead of its time.Our later conflicts brought on more by our similarities than our differences, but the bond forged in my childhood never let me doubt his love.

The boys are forever best friends.
We may not see each other often, but the love is always there.

 All of these memories come from that warm place inside my heart. I can feel the love I was given and the safe embrace of home still resonates today. The things we did as a family and the happiness it created are what saved me when I was at my lowest years later. I always joke that any mistakes I made in life are no ones fault but my own because I had such an easy going childhood and a set of parents who supported me even when I didn't deserve it. All of this happened in a simple house, on a suburban street with two people who gave everything they had to make sure their kids grew up with a sense of family and joy at being part of something bigger than yourself.

Thank you Mom and Dad for always making us your priority, then and now.

 Your dedication to your family is a big part of why I smile when I think back to those days on Glassco and the glory of my youth.

 

The family has grown and the love has multiplied.

 

In Defense of The Hammer

I was out and about on Tuesday and when I was coming home from Toronto, crossing the Skyway bridge, I started to think about all the times I hear and see people slamming my hometown, Hamilton, Ontario. So many times, especially on social media, I will see people posting about how they can't wait to get out of this city, how all the people here are losers and so on. I am struck by how they feel. I am not sure if they realise that it isn't Hamilton that does