“Really?” Sid asks. “Consumer advertising you mean?”
“The billboards you see. Look at them close. They always show you chilled out at the beach.” Ryan says. “They never show you stressed out at work.”
“So you don’t buy lotto tickets anymore?”
“Uncle Nick showed me how they aren’t real at all.” Ryan speaks in a voice so hard to recognize from five years back. “Ever since I cut up my credit cards, I haven’t bought another lotto ticket. No way.”
“So what’s the Uncle Nick lottery?” Sid asks, intrigued. “What did you win?”
“The life on the billboards I tell you. Like they show you living if you win a million. Relaxed. Laid back. Tell him, Yoli.”
“We buy a house.” Yoli smiles broadly. “We bought a house.” She corrects herself. “A very nice house.”
“A life like on the billboard.” Sid muses. “How can that be?”
“We have a house right at the beach. Victoire is right on a little lake. You gotta come see it.”
“Victoire is that little place by Debden.” Sid says. “How did you buy it?”
“Small town houses are real cheap. Everyone’s moving to the city. Big lot too. We have a big garden growing; we have chickens, just like Grandpa did. We hardly ever go to the grocery store.” Ryan’s face oozes happy camper satisfaction. “And I got a moose last fall, and a couple deer too, so the freezer’s full. Made a lot of sausage last fall.”
“Wow, sounds cool.” Sid says. “You must be working for Franco now.”
“No, Franco’s got his own kind of business. My business is me. I’m look at myself as a contractor. My time for what they pay each hour. Every hour I work, I want to spend the pay on something worthwhile for me and Yoli.” This sounds distinctly like a newly rehearsed Ryan.
Franco stands at the wheel, looking off into the distance. If he’s listening, he’s ignoring it all.
“I got seasonal contract work in Prince Albert. I drive in and out, but hey, the roads are good in the summer. Four days a week. Yoli does the garden when I’m working in town. She loves gardening. We go fishing together every Monday, right out the front door.” Ryan gives Sid a pursed lips affirmative look. “’Cause no one should work on a Monday I figure.”
“How long of a drive to work?” Sid challenges. There has to be something wrong with this picture.
“Oh, an hour each way. It’s like being a part time delivery driver, but I deliver myself to work. I love the feel of the highway, and it’s summer driving only.”
“Really. You know, there’re people in Calgary who spend at least that much time getting to work.” Sid says. “Cursing their way extra on the winter ice.”
“Two hours for some in LA.” Andy puts in.
“Wow, sounds good Ryan. Like you really did win the lottery. What about the winters, though, if you only do seasonal work?” Sid still doesn’t believe it can be all good.
“Hey, that’s the Pepe lottery. We go to Costa Rica.” Ryan’s level of contented excitement ratchets up a couple notches. “I can trade any old Canadian winter day of ice fishing for a day at the river with Pepe.”
Sid looks at Yoli. “Winter is cold.” She shivers.
“We’re gonna go right after Christmas this year, then come back in April to get the garden ready. We rent a part of Yoli’s uncle’s place down there. We know Uncle Nick’s aquarium business guys if we want to go to the ocean.” Ryan goes on.
“Wow. Hey, how is that aquarium business?”
“Uncle Nick’s out of it. He turned it over to those guys. He just wanted to get things going for them. Some investment he was making, in time something or other … equity … or whatever. He’s a smart guy.”
“So you guys can live that way?” Sid asks. “Like work seasonal in Canada, grow your own food, go hunting and fishing, have a cheap house in a small town on a lake and fly south every winter. Can you do that?”
“Why not?” Ryan looks straight at Sid. “Uncle Nick says there’s lots of ways to live. You know Pepe lives his own way, and he’s such a happy guy.”
“It must cost a fortune for the plane tickets.” Sid knows he’s running low on arguments.
“Yah, well I work all summer. That covers the tickets easy.” Ryan yanks back on his rod, setting the hook in a fish that pulls hard. “Hey, finally.”
Ryan hasn’t lost interest in fish at all, yet he seems to have rewrapped his life and his favourite activity with new packaging. Still a carefree life, just without credit card debts or lottery ticket dreams. Following Grandpa Pawlo’s principle of not being a borrower, yet somehow working his way around the consumer advertisements, and still capturing the life they idealize. His wealth comes from a completely different source now, his lottery dream fulfilled by more or less following the path of a little old man in a shack who goes fishing when he wants to and an uncle who’s explored the options.
Ryan pulls the fish in close, a walleye of several pounds. Andy picks it out of the water for him, holding it up for everyone to see.
“Told you this was the spot. We used to catch those all the time from old man Chichowski’s tub.” Uncle Harry boasts.
If Uncle Harry did it from an old tub, a boat like Franco’s doesn’t add to fishing luck at all. A softer seat, what one could easily have with a foam cushion. And a faster ride to the spot, but the billboards show tranquility to be the ideal, a calm, slow boat ride.
“How come you don’t catch a fish?” Yoli challenges Uncle Harry.
“Len Thompson. It’s the only hook to use.” Uncle Harry’s gives a hollow answer.
“We talked about getting rich last time we went fishing, Uncle Harry. How about you, you getting rich at all?” Sid prods on.
“Yah, OK I was listening. My biggest winning is just being alive. Then it’s the way I live differently now, that’s a win too.” He looks at Sid with squinted eyes. “You know that.” He looks around at everyone. “You guys know the stories about me; I used to be a drunk. Now I’m not. Now I go fishing with my nephews, and help out at reunions and hang out with my daughter. I have a job too. Those are my riches. My chances were poor but the winnings keep rolling my way.”
“So you feel rich?”
“Today, I feel like a million dollars … even more.”
“Hey, we talked about that million last time. How about you Franco?” Sid looks at his business cousin. Franco looks back with empty eyes.
“Sometimes business is good and sometimes it’s slow. You just have to stick it out, stick to your goals.”
The fog dissipates as the morning wears on. The wind comes to life, bringing its daily influence to bear on forest and lake alike. They float alone, untroubled by the worries of the world except for those they each carry in their own minds.
“How ‘bout you, Andy. Any thoughts on the million?”
“Hey, I’m happy for you guys.” Andy turns first to Ryan and Yoli. “You guys have it made. I knew there was something missing for me, so I think my own new riches are just like yours.” He turns to Sid. “For me, I win by losing the million.” He grins, almost realizing the truth in what he now voices. “I’m starting to feel a real freedom to start a new life, a better life.” His voice raises a couple octaves. “Because of you guys. When you don’t have a million dollars, you feel like you fit in with everyone else again. And that’s what I wanted all along.”
“Wow, so losing a million can actually make you feel rich, you’re saying.” Sid exclaims. He shakes his head … what an epiphany.
“Losing it all can set you free.” Andy affirms. “That’s my lottery win.”
Bigger wavelets start to lap up against the boat. The day gives birth to a new tranquility, a turning point in the cycle of seasons after the hubbub of summer. A gust comes churning though the trees on shore, picking up a handful of yellowing leaves, carrying them high, and dropping them in a flurry around the boat.
“We have time to eat that lunker?” Uncle Harry asks Ryan.
?
??Yah, for sure. How ‘bout on that beach over there?” Ryan looks at Franco, pointing to a beach across from the island. Franco shrugs indifferently, and starts the engine.
They beach the boat, getting the fire going while Ryan slices the walleye into steaks. He and Yoli are completely prepared. Lemons, basil, and tin foil to wrap the fish appear out of nowhere. Yoli pulls out some paper plates, plastic forks, paper towels and a loaf of fresh bread.
Franco stays in the boat, while the rest of them wander around the fire chatting enthusiastically about fish and family.
Sid asks Ryan about Uncle Nick.
“We kinda copied him. He’s got a small house in Turtleford with a big garden. He doesn’t even have a car.” Ryan describes their uncle’s latest lifestyle, as he moves the foil wrapped fish around in the orange coals.
“What’s with the no car?” Sid asks. “Why not?”
“He’s gone green. He writes articles for these environmental magazines. He has a girlfriend from the city, so she drives out to visit. He just rents a car for trips.” Ryan tells Sid.
“Wow, I gotta talk to the guy again.” Sid muses.
They pass the food from one to the other, eating huge chunks of the seasoned fresh-from-the-lake walleye chased with glasses of ice cold kool-aid from Yoli’s pack. Stirring Franco from his daze when they push the boat from the beach, they request a ride home. Franco complies, bringing the boat slowly up to full speed this time as they cruise back across the shimmering waters of Sahiya.
###
Back at the hall, the noise level escalates as members of the family come awake for the day, coming to life for the second reunion. Yet a thin eerie slice of tension seems to hover over the hall, rift with secrets hidden in past closets troubling the air.
A Kaiser game reaches a critical point at a table, where four uncles slap their knees in frustration and intensity with the chaos and ecstasy of the game. Lola sits at another table with her two older sisters, each of them sipping a cup of late morning tea. The children raise a racket along the stage with an endless day of play before them.
The fishermen wander in to find a place for themselves among the relatives. Harry zeros in on his sisters, looking for a reunion status report. But not for long, as Uncle Francis dashes over seeking new challengers for the next card game.
“Come on, Sid. You get a chance to play with Harry.” Uncle Francis grabs Sid’s arm as he walks briskly by. “Come on, Harry. Kaiser game.”
Frank and Uncle Pete get up from the table, leaving cards displaying their decisive final count. Sid wanders over to Uncle Nick, who still sits.
“Hi Uncle Nick. You should have come fishing.” Sid sits beside him.
“Sid. I needed some extra sleep this morning. Been writing too much I guess. Yah, out on the lake early in the morning, that would be a nice place to be.” Uncle Nick shivers. “How’s the inquiry into the meaning of wealth?”
“The search continues … I was gonna ask you for an update. Have you found your way to the place past happiness? You know, the one you were talking of ...”
“Well that makes me think. The best answer I can give says I haven’t really found a complete answer … but maybe a piece of one.”
“OK … is it something to do with helping other people? Your time equity idea? Just help others and you’ll feel more than happy.”
“You know Sid, that really is part of it, but not the whole thing. Not for me. I tried that myself you know, giving other people a hand directly. That probably works for some people as I believe that’s what some people were meant to do. But for me, it was just a stepping stone, getting me further along my own path.”
“So what’s your path then? Where do you get extra happiness now?”
“I kind of have an idea.” Uncle Nick looks a Sid with deep eyes. “I think each of us has a different path to be on, and it’s sort of a gut feeling, a guiding dream that gets us really going. When we’re on the path we know we should be on, happiness doesn’t really matter that much anymore. Even if we’re not happy, you know, in the traditional sense, we know there’s a purpose to what we do, how we live, and the level of satisfaction coming from knowing that supersedes any need for frivolous happiness.”
His smile reflects the inner thoughts. A smile that might just fall down the shaft of an empty well to its very bottom and start the flow necessary to one day fill it bottom up, to the very top, maybe to overflow.
The opposing team shuffles into their chairs. What a site, to see Harry and Nick sitting together. Sid’s two uncles, each who has followed a path so far that a nephew or any relative could learn from. Part of the Akashic records, yet to be keyed in.
“Cut for deal.” Uncle Francis grins playfully.
Sid wonders at that happy farmer grin, the peaceful faces of long term members of AA, the extra tranquility he himself found living in the campervan, the happy lifestyle of his artist sister and of Pepe who owns not a thing but touches the hearts of the people around him. What if …
“What’s your bid, Sid?”
He focuses on his cards.
Chapter 20
“Yah, sure. OK, then, I just want to thank you all for being here …” Uncle Harry’s high octane burners put him on stage as MC this time. “… and especially for allowing me be here.” His voice drops with his eyes. “I know most of you were at the first reunion, but some of you weren’t.” He looks up shyly, grinning gently. “Including me.
“So tonight, we’ve decided to forego the stage show, and instead spend a little extra time just getting to know each other. There’s a few of you who have decided to come up and tell a bit about yourselves to the rest of us. So if you want to join in, or if you want to just listen, that’s fine too …”
Uncle Harry paces, swinging the microphone cord like a dance partner, and all falls silent but for the buzz running through the P.A. speakers, mixed with the rustle of relatives fidgeting in their chairs. He looks up, up high, up the wall for support, then back at his family.
“Ahh, what the hell. How ‘bout if I go first.” The rustling stops. “If you guys don’t mind.” Uncle Harry looks out at each of them. His political charade tones down, now more like a child caught in the act. “So I wasn’t at the first reunion and I want to try to explain. I’ve been a bad guy, a nasty fellow, so I’m sorry about that ...” He takes a deep breath. “… but I know saying sorry really isn’t enough. So I want to make amends in a way that isn’t just talk, I have to change...
“I am the prodigal son,” He looks at Anna and Teresa. “And now I’ve come home.”
He looks back at everyone. “I’ve been Harry the drunk. But now Harry the drunk is down for the count, well I hope so – but I truly want to keep him down. And for that to happen, he has to be replaced by a new me. So whatever change you guys might notice in me, whatever you can see in me as a new guy, that is my apology to you. If I say something and don’t do it, that’s bullshit, doesn’t count at all.”
A grandiose way to do a Step 9, AA old timers would say, up on stage in front of a crowd, but others might add, it’s better than not doing one at all.
“One of the best things in my new life is you guys – my family. And one of my favourites is my daughter … Marlene do you want to come up?” Uncle Harry’s face shines, like a father attending the birth of a child, as he passes the mike to Marti.
Marti shows all the potential of a natural stage character. She steps lightly up the stairs, a mirrored reflection of her father’s passion.
“Hi guys, thanks Dad.” She beams. “So glad to be meeting you all – yes, the other part of my family.”
She tells her story, of her first and then second adopted mothers, the second one who became her ‘real’ mother, and she mentions the family she hopes to have with her soon to be husband, one who wasn’t able to come. Marti leaves the stage with a flourish, slipping the mike elegantly back to her father.
“OK, thanks Marti.” Harry’s eyes glisten with wetness. “Now let’s pass it on t
o Andy.” Harry motions to where his nephew sits with Lola. “Andy came all the way from California, again …”
Andy hops up the stairs. “Well, yes, this is my second trip to the northern land of the free … at least my friends now know Saskatchewan isn’t somewhere in Asia. I just want to tell you guys my life is changing a bit. I’m planning a new career … my first one, actually.” He pauses for a moment. “And you guys are having an influence … a good one.” He hesitates. “So I had a really good time today. And you know … I want to apologize for some of my nasty behaviour at the last reunion.” He lets it hang. “Anyways, I hope to follow Uncle Harry to a new way of having a good time.” Andy’s word repertoire runs empty. “So a big yahoo to reunion number two.”
Andy calmly passes the mike back to Harry, and they grip each other’s shoulder on passing. Uncle Harry looks briefly up the wall again, then back at the little crowd. He looks from Lola sitting with stiff back to where Uncle Nick slouches, his head lolling sideways in silent vigilance.
This once drunk uncle is now ballistic, on a mission of glasnost. Openness, in a purer sense, seems pervasive in catching family spirit. Uncle Harry’s face reeks of satisfaction, maybe a little overboard, as an AA expression puts it; When you think you’ve got it, you’ve had it.
“My brother Nick now has some tales to tell about his most interesting life …” Harry walks to the stairs as Uncle Nick pulls himself up from his chair. Missing his typical aura of peace, this uncle of many optional lifestyles looks now bent on some kind of surprise mission of his own …
“Harry, I am so happy to see you here and to see you so alive ...” Uncle Nick hesitates now. “And everyone else here.”
“You know, I did want to go with you guys fishing this morning … but I still can’t get myself out in a boat. There’s still something holding me back … “He looks around. “Just to let you all know, the last time I was in a boat was long ago, well, it was me and Harry out there on Sahiya looking for our cousin Ksandra. We found her on the second day, well, it was her body we found ...”
Nick starts his own moment of pacing, then stops.
“Anyway we seem to be telling the truth this evening. So I hope the truth will come out of all of us tonight … I really want to know what happened to Ksandra.” Nick looks directly at Lola. “Maybe then I could get back in a boat ... have some peace, you know?”