Sometimes we worry. It’s human nature.
Like these days, I’m wondering about work; about how I can please all my masters, from the internal ones (AKA The Boss) as well as the external ones like the producer who needs me to lock down filming dates ASAP but I still don’t have my cast and the script is still too loose. Or there’s the printer who has fiscal year end billing cut off deadlines and we don’t have our project to them yet. Or there’s the web development company that should’ve gotten back to me by now about my website glitch, but they haven’t.
Sometimes we worry. It’s human nature. Like these days, I’m wondering about the kids, about Sacha’s foot, upon which he ‘landed funny’ jumping off a chair this past weekend which prompted a visit to the ER and now Sacha may or may not have a wee crack in a growth plate. Or, I wonder about Heidi and how now that our almost-one year old is eating all sorts of solids, are we feeding her enough? The way she knocks back her meals and snacks, you’d think not!
Sometimes we worry. It’s human nature. Like these days, I’m wondering about house stuff. Like that DAMN skunk living under our porch and why we can’t get rid of it no matter what we try, and will it spray our dog again and if we should just kill it somehow and be done with it, or will I actually feel bad about killing off a creature of that size? But if I don’t kill it and we successfully get it to leave, then it will just become someone else’s problem. As for the porch it’s living under, I wonder if it’ll make it another year without caving in on us. Our house is 100 years old in 2011, and beautiful as it is, it shows its age here and here.
And I wonder and I wonder and I worry and I wonder.
And then I open the freezer. And there, tucked in to the right corner of the bottom shelf, is a half-full Ziploc bag of homemade snack mix. It’s been there since we moved in. Chex, cheesy bites, cherios, etc. And before it was in this freezer, it was in the freezer at my last house. And in the freezer at the place I rented before that. And before that, it was in my freezer when I lived in Edmonton.
And now you’re worrying about my mental health, and why I have an ancient bag of homemade snack mix in my freezer all that time.
It’s part of the last batch of snack mix that my friend Colin Cooper ever made, a week or so before he died in his sleep, his various health issues catching up to him when he was barely into his 20’s. March 8th is the anniversary of his passing. I keep that bag of snack mix in the freezer for…well, a lot of days only God knows why. But days like March 8th, I know why. It’s to remind me that I’m so lucky to be 31 and have all those worries on my mind.
Colin knew well enough about worry, and several years ago I noted on this blog that he survived a cancer that took his leg at the age of 13, and in his late teen years, he contracted a rare disease that I can’t even hope to pronounce that reduced his vision, hearing, robbed him of his voice and forced him to walk with a cane much of the time. But Colin rarely if ever complained about his lot in life, saying often that there was always someone worse off than he was.
2003 was a while back now, so I’m not about to crack into that bag of snack mix in my freezer. But I’m glad its there. A lot people miss you, Colin, and we’re thinking of you. On March 8th and often otherwise. Thanks for reminding me about the good life. I'm sure you'd be tickled at the thought of being memorialized in the existence of your snack mix ;)
You can donate to the Colin Cooper Award, which was established at the University of Alberta by friends and family, and is now handed out annually. you can contact the awards office by emailing firstname.lastname@example.org or calling them at Phone: (780) 492-3221