The Line between the Two

There's a Mark Harris song that I find really inspirational as it shuffles onto my ipod and takes my mind off whatever miles/terrain I'm running. It's called "The Line between the Two" and it pretty much advocates that because we've only got one life to live, it's up to us to make of it what we will...and be a good person while we're at it. (There's a"beginning and an ending," but "the moment in the middle is how we will be known.")

I write this not to be maudlin, but as a tribute to some friends who came to their "endings" recently, yet left the world a better place during their times here. I was at a memorial this afternoon for Nancy Holden, the publisher and editor of Homestyles Magazine. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful setting on Cannery Row and the place was packed with not only her family and friends, but also business associates like me. And the thing that sticks in my mind is that during a video montage of her life and times there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Now, that would be expected from friends and families, but it's a real tribute to her character that she so positively effected the people who knew her only professionally. She was just a good person, as they say.

When Jerry Smith passed away in November, his memorial at Carmel Mission Basilica was packed to the gills...I only made it as far as the courtyard in front of the church. Again, his loss was mourned by more than just his family and friends. He was well-known in our area as a County Supervisor and former Mayor of Seaside, but I knew him from being a fellow "model" at several fundraising fashion shows. And dang it if the guy didn't always show up in his own street clothes already looking better than I did even with the fancy duds they'd drape on me to parade in front of the masses. A gentleman through and through, nice as he could be and with a smile that could win over even the staunchest of political opponents.

And Carol Seres. A dear, dear friend to so many people here. Who never forgot a birthday, always handmade her hundreds of Christmas cards and threw an annual Holiday party for all the employees she'd worked with when she managed I. Magnins...even though I. Magnins had been closed for YEARS. I miss her emails with the "Coffee?" subject line and the "Hey T." salutation.

When I think of these people, it really does impress upon me the importance each and every one of us brings to this life, provided we try our best to be good people who look out for more than just ourselves.

As the song says:

And the years go by, how they seem to fly
They'll all be over soon
When our life is done, did we live and love
The way we wanted to
'Cause everyday that we leave behind
Goes on to tell the truth
Of how we lived in the line between the two

O Can-ah-do it?

Puns, dont ya love 'em? No, I know, NOBODY does and yet I persist. I'm up in Canada for the weekend for the Vancouver Marathon and in a true sign of geezerdom, on Thursday morning I had to go to the chiropractor right before boarding the plane. My back totally locked up. While I was packing.

Man I'm old, tired and beaten down. Can't even pack underwear without risking a debilitating injury.

Still, the frequent flier miles were cashed in and gone and the condo I'd rented was non-refundable, so I came on up to beautiful Vancouver to see the sights even if I couldn't run the race.

I stayed in Yaletown, an old commercial area that's been revamped into a restaurant-row. It meant I didn't have far to hobble to fill my gullet. Plus, if I lived in Vancouver, I'd definitely want to find myself a loft in this neighborhood.


It's seems like every building is getting a rooftop addition around here so I guess Yaletown is a hot-spot. There certainly were a lot of people filling the outdoor areas of the restaurants that are set up on the old loading docks. Actually, it was kind of funny. I was shooting some video of the area and a woman actually asked me to erase my footage because I had panned across where she was sitting. I guess she was a "somebody" or at least thought she was (she was wearing sunglasses, after all, and it was a really cloudy day). Anyway, she may not have the ability to erase her image from all the security cameras that trace our every move, but she was perfectly within her rights to have me delete her from my video memories. So "poof."

I took it easy on Friday and Saturday and went to see the sights around town. I went up and watched the sea-planes take off and land for their Victoria round-trips. Ahh, memories. Victoria was the first place in Canada I ever visited when I was up here in 1980 with the UCLA Men's Glee Club singing the Eleanor Rigby solo REALLY REALLY badly. (Then a dweeb, still a dweeb, always a dweeb.)

Quick sidebar: Victoria was the first place where I ever succumbed to the evils of al-kee-HOL. I was a ridiculously "goody two shoes" raised as a Mormon (please don't hold it against me) who somehow lived in the hippy-central Big Sur region without ever having been "bad" even ONCE during High School. Poor me. Anyway, aside from the requisite porcelain bowl ending, the only thing I remember about that night at the Empress Hotel...other than playing poker and drinking Tom Collins' ('cause I was a HE-man, clearly)....was the running down a hallway until I couldn't run any further. And not knowing why until someone made me realize I was lying face-first on the carpet. By picking me up off said carpet.

But back to this present, non-young, non-Glee Club, non-Mormon visit to Canada (and in my defense about the Mormon thing...at seven years old I SWEAR at Sunday School I said OUT LOUD: "Golden Tablets in NEW YORK???"), I also went to the uber-touristy Gastown district to have lunch and watch the steam-clock blow it's top. It's funny about being from a tourist town myself...you'd think I'd HATE touristy things. But I get a kick out of 'em for some twisted reason.


I spent most of the day on Saturday over at Granville Island Market. It, too, has it's toursity parts, but it has real shops and artist's studios too, so it's worth the time. Got me some pie for later. Love me the pie.


Anyway, by laying low and playing tourist I was able to pull it together and make it through the marathon on Sunday. And actually I didn't do TOO bad considering my decrepitude. I'd prepared myself pretty well before the back-pull I guess. Besides, the most important strategy for a good race is in the last few minutes before the gun goes off. And that worked out as well.