Polk and Pooh - Friends Forever

 

This tattered and much loved Pooh bear has been with me for more than 4 decades. Through a mostly idyllic childhood to the troubled teen years, marriages, divorce, drugs and alcohol abuse and my recent redemption to this very moment, he has been there always. I experience life as it happens, but often wax nostalgic for a time when it wasn't about bills, problems and work. When life was about playing, imagining the impossible and thinking of a future where life continued at a dream like state long into adulthood.

  Why carry a stuffed bear from house to house, life to life? How did this little fellow manage to never get lost amongst my drunken stumbles and wanderings? I guess it's just my dumb luck that this one touchstone to where I came from and who I always thought I could be still remains by my side every day.
  Or maybe he's here because I need him.

  I had imaginary friends as a kid and while they have faded into memory and tales better told by those who found them amusing, I know Winnie was there. Troubled as a kid meant internalizing the monologue and talking to myself to figure out what was going on, something I continue to do as an adult, only now we call it Twitter.
  I had many conversations that seemed all too real with this tiny stuffed bear and as I moved through life, he came along for each ride. Sometimes stuffed in a box and not seeing the light of day for months, more often on a shelf somewhere close by so I could see him for reassurance when I got low, Pooh just sort of exists in my mind as the one thing I have that holds all those secrets, dreams and hopes in his fading plush stuffiness.

  Seeing the new Christopher Robin movie last week brought all of this back to the forefront of my mind as I sat in a darkened theatre, tears welling and laughter spilling forth at all my favourite characters coming to life once more. The achingly hard scene where Pooh wonders if Christopher Robin had forgotten him too nearly did me in as I remembered leaving behind the things of childhood and rushing headlong into work and being a Woozle. At times a touch sugary, it nevertheless captured what the pressure of what our focus becomes as we chase the dream of more things while missing the really important stuff we keep putting off to make a buck. Tigger's frantic bouncing and exuberance, Piglet's worrying and my other favourite A.A. Milne character, Eeyore giving voice to those days we don't feel so good all exist in this universe as they did in my mind and for that I am grateful. 
  That I cried at so many points in this movie has everything to do with what this little bear brought to me in his many different forms over the years. I will long carry the lessons of friendship, the value of doing nothing and staying true to who you are with me as I continue to try and find my own Hundred Acre Woods to hang out with my pal Pooh and all my other friends.

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

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.