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I
t’s 3 a.m. on the first of December and— naturally—I’m driving up Airport Road in a blizzard. Tunnel vision develops as I steer our faithful truck and trailer around what I’m hoping is a left curve. Mary and the girls are drifting in and out of sleep and my mind notices itself, as if bemusedly looking in a mirror, saying “my... aren’t we self-satisfied!” Because the thing is, I feel completely at ease and confident that I will get us home safely. We’ve just driven roughly 10,000 miles in 11 weeks, over mountain passes, down one-lane coastal cliff roads, through busy cities and herds of wild bison. Heck, I even reversed this rig two long narrow blocks, in the dark, between parked cars and around a corner, to remedy a dead-end situation and get us to Mary’s cousin’s house in northern California. So I figure at my age, it’s normal to attain a feeling of “expertise” in something. My most effective education has always been through experience and now it’s clear that when I’m in motion, I’m in my element. I flash to my real estate motto—A Moving Experience— and then realize it’s no coincidence that my greatest business satisfaction is in helping others make transitions and get moving, too. I think back to some of my more inspirational clients and one person comes to mind this snowy night: “Thank you, Wing.” I wonder, if I hadn’t known Wing Wong, would I have envisioned this
epic family road trip? Wing, just 37, died suddenly in the summer of 2006, leaving a huge hole in the world for his wife Su and their three young daughters. His life—and Su’s willingness to share his memory—has given me more than a pause for thought. The tragic timing of his death and the stressful work life that preceded it has been my chief inspiration for slowing down. Indeed, I think of him often when I see my daughters look at me with tenderness or when they laugh at my antics. It was late last summer when I sensed they were starting to see me as that guy who was always rushing off to work...or on the computer... or on the phone—instead of playing with them. I got it that their worldview was being sculpted by what we were modeling for them: the importance of working, endless home maintenance and turning the lights off when not in use. Ugh! How could they see that the true nature of their parents was one of movement, exploration and awe? We sensed the school years’ impending limitations, with evenings mostly scheduled and routines held sacred for Holly, 6, and Joss, 3. So this was their chance to venture out with Mom and Dad and see the big wide world. As we drove off in September we had no idea that our girls would soon be 130 ft. beneath the surface of the Pacific Ocean in a submarine, become “Junior Rangers” in five National Parks, witness a volcanic-summit (cont’d. on the flip side)
Winter 2007/2008
Keeping It Real
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rom an environmental point of view, you may think buying an artificial Christmas tree would be the way to go—why not spare a carbon-absorbing tree from premature demise? The thing is, plastic trees are made from petroleum products, are mass produced in overseas factories and take tons of fossil fuels just to get here. They will never, ever decompose, so if you have one already, keep using it and enjoy its beauty, tidiness and convenience! Real trees provide local jobs and are biodegradable, providing oxygen along with that festive aroma. In Wasaga Beach, discarded Christmas trees are shredded into mulch and returned to the soil by local gardeners. Call 705-735-6901 for more info on curbside tree pickup. I like the idea of filling a galvanized bucket with some sand and pushing in a few sculpturally-pleasing branches and pine boughs. Simple, green and clean. That’s keeping it real! —Bruce