Don

Tomorrow may never come
For you or me
Life is not promised
Tomorrow may never show up
For you and me
This life is not promised

- Mos Def from "Umi Says"

A cool breeze races through the open window at breakneck speed, whirling by only to smack against the wall beyond me and the computer. This aggressive gust is welcomed as I tap away to the latin rhythms on the second floor of our apt, which feels like an oven pre-heated to a temperature suitable for cooking a roast. Yet despite the intense summer heat (which one never seems to get used to - much like its cousin in Canada the winter cold), strong winds such as these are usually a sign that typhoon is on its way. At the very least, bad weather is on its way. Typhoons, so long as they aren't too destructive, can be a blessing because the winds clear out the smog and the pollutants in the air. It is only after typhoon powered winds that we can see the mountains and the sea from our gargantuan rooftop.

The forecast for my life also indicates that a major typhoon is sure to hit for the entire month of June. Potentially, there will be lots of: attempts to pin down and make stable, things flying through the air that will come out from out of nowhere, as well as some roots being torn out. And of course, what's a typhoon without a bit of flooding.

But first, the sad news.

Dave's father, Don McMaster, passed away in his sleep a few weeks ago. Like Dave, I have known him since I have had any recollection of memory whatsoever. The McMaster's are fellow Don Millions as well, still residing at 102 Cottonwood Drive long after our move out of the ageing community known to most Canadians as Don Mills.

I used to meet up frequently with Mr. McMaster on the sidewalk which ran parallel to Don Mills road. Either I would be returning home and he would be off into the direction of the Mall or the arena ot the other way around. Always the polite boy, as well as an extremely shy one, I used to stop and make small talk with Mr. McMaster. I usually considered small talk with adults a tedious and frightful business but for some reason, it didn't seem like the chore it was with other adults when I encountered Don. He never pressed me or forced me to say what he wanted to hear by asking the loaded questions adults love to ask. Somehow, he always made me feel relaxed, at ease; to a shy person, that sense of security is crucial in order to appease the social fear.

Only really knowing him during the latter stage of his life, I can only remember him as being quite gaunt. I was surprised when Dave told me he had been quite a bit beefier in his younger days. I now wonder what thoughts ran through his mind during my stages of development (wish I could say evolution), from timid boy into awkward man. If he was ever contemplating why my hair was so long and always so annoyingly in my face during high school, or how I didn't notice him until the very last minute because I was lost on my own planet during my solo walks home from elementary school- he never let on. Rather he was consistently kind in character and demeanor. One thing I've learned in this life is that this consistency of character is no ordinary human trait. So I salute Don McMaster - whom I wasn't really close to yet lived in close proximity to - as his soul moves on through the cycle of its evolution.

I feel for Dave because he never got to say goodbye in person. He had been planning to leave in the fall and yet it is the end of May and we have already said our goodbyes. In fact, an email from North American suburbia told me he was wearing a tuque recently! (Hard to say which is the lesser of two evils: profuse sweating in Tainan or resentful shivering in Don Mills. At least it's supposed to be hot here now!) His father actually surpassed all living expectations by an amazing sum. He had been diagnosed with a few months to live - four years ago! I know doctors prefer to be on the cautious side but come on.... The thing is, to be fair to the men in white, there is just no way of telling how the zillions of factors that alter life will conduct themselves. Furthermore, there is no scientific accounting of the will of the spirit. If one's will is strong enough, the logic of science will be defied. Such examples are countless throughout history.

Anyway, news that "the old man" - as Dave coined him most of the time - was sick and in the hospital came while Dan and I were in Japan on a musical shopping spree/holiday. Upon return a few days later, arrangements were made for Dave to fly out on the Sunday. News of his father's passing came on the Thursday before departure, just minutes prior to Dave's going away dinner. He simply texted me "HE"S GONE". I could only stare at the words blankly, thinking of Dave while picturing his Dad as gone. Thankfully, as you always hope when hearing of a death, he went in his sleep. The lull didn't last long though as I was snapped back to reality when Caspar, the precious three year old I teach French, came barging back in the classroom thirsty for attention and play. Caspar's presence was an instant comfort for it symbolized renewal, rebirth and life at its most vibrant and enthusiastic; it reminded of the natural cycle. It is something that is all too easy to forget in the modern age.

A half hour later, at dinner, a classic Tainan feast complete with sashimi, three cups chicken, fish, veggies loaded with sizeable chunks of garlic and more all being washed down with gnarly but forcefully accepted Taiwan Beer (all for under 10$ mind you), Dave confided that he had some time alone before dinner to digest the emotional news. I think the dinner was a welcome distraction (the attached "Codfather" photo is one of them). The sheer number of friends who turned up was a testament to the impact "Jolly Dave" had on the community here.

The nickname Jolly Dave stuck to Dave as quickly as the humidity when he first arrived. He admitted to me that he wasn't crazy for the moniker. I can't blame him. I mean, think of the pressure? "Hey, what the hell does Jolly Dave have up his ass today?" just doesn't ring quite true now does it? He preffered Matteo's nickname for him: Dangerous Dave (as most geezers would, init?). Still, there is reason that Jolly Dave stuck. He possesses a joie de vivre that is infectious when in his presence. His laugh is hearty. He loves people and he likes to talk to them. Alot. He's a jolly bugger who loves life and can make others love it too when he's around them.

Before Dave came to Tainan, I had spent the most time with him during my childhood. He really was like a second big brother to me, coming outside to hang with the sporty little kid next door. I was the perfect subject for his little game strategies. I involuntarily have to chuckle when I mentally rewind back to those days. He loved to use the palm of his hand to design the patterns I should run while playing American football on our shared front yard witht he Hunters. He'd say things like "run to the baby spruce, circle it twice, then run to the road, turn around, fake the catch, then go for the bomb. I'll hit you at the lamp post!" Poor Mark Hunter, awkward and a bit uncoordinated, never had a chance! I'll always be grateful to Dave for volunteering his time to hang out with a couple of little creeps like us. I've never told him how much it meant to me till now. That's why Dave is like family.

Of course, growing up sent us on different paths until they somehow meandered back together in our adult lives. I saw him sporadically because he's friends with Craig and the Lower East Side crew. After graduation, he got me a job at Templeton, helping me confirm in my mind that the office is as far from my ideal working environment as can be. I did enjoy the social aspect though. I am grateful for the experience though as I wouldn't have enjoyed watching The Office tv series half as much (the British version of course).

Then, on a visit to Toronto my first year in Tainan, we met up. He was already having thoughts of living abroad and teaching English. I merely told him that I was really enjoying myself in Tainan without putting any kind of sell whatsoever and next thing I knew I was doubling his sizeable frame on the back of my motorcycle (that was a test of balance I tell ya). I love the way the non-sell often sells the salespeople. Dave has been a part of our exceptional Tainan social fabric for two and half years, half of which we were roommates. Though I still consider him a big brother figure (I mean that in a positive light), after spending so much time with him I now also consider him a close friend as well.

At last Monday night's belotte* session, we joked that someone would have to step in and act as anecdote teller to replace Dave. However, part and parcel with that role would require telling the same story a few times over! (sorry Dave, you couldn't expect me to resist that one). Though long, and sometimes inapprorpiately timed in terms of flow to the game, I declare that I will miss Dave's stories immensely. Tuesday night footy, Friday night hip hop nights at his and Dan's velevety apt and forever the knowlegable resource when we wanted to know the score of the footy game, Dave "McAlmanacmaster" is already missed by many here in Tainan.

It's the first of several goodbyes to come in the near future. Tainan is a transcient place. People come and go. I've now lived in several countries where I have had to make friends knowing full well a future seperation is unavoidable. It's never easy but it does get easier.
You come to a point where you realize fate brought you together in the first place and if
you are meant to cross paths again, it will happen. If not, you have shared a bond and thereby remain part of one another for the length of your existence. I view my friendships as wealth and as cheesy as this sounds, I consider myself a rich man - despite the scoffs of the materialistic and narrow-minded. We certainly don't live in a world that recognizes this type of wealth. In any case, goodbyes are an opportunity to appreciate and to move on. And the more it hurts by the way, the more evidence of camaderie, of spiritual kinship there is.

I alluded to cycles earlier on and nothing exemplifies the natural cycle more than having a dear friend's father pass on while our friends Launa and Jonathan are on the verge of having a baby. We are so attached to these lives we lead, and yet all of it - family, friends, cherished things materialistic or not - will all be gone one day. What is built will be destroyed. I'm still amazed at how well our mental defenses manage to have us avoid
this very real truth. And things can disappear sooner than we realize or when we least
expect, too. And yet we stubbornly go on leading lives, taking our precious time for granted, in denial of our attachment to living.

It wasn't only the news of Dave's father which has spawned all these thoughts within me. Another bit of shocking news greeted me when I returned home, concerning with, funny enough, my home. It looks like we're being tossed out of it like yesterday's leftovers. And no, Michele isn't leaving me for some younger football hunk, but rather the landlord - whom we have never even met - has decided to sell the apt. Michele and I have now been here together living here for a little over a year. Michele has resided here for 6 years. Significantly, she has never lived in any other place for that long. Not surpisingly then, she was slightly traumatized by the news. Ironically, it comes just after hearing from Dan that he will be moving directly across the street. And just hours prior, while waiting for a flight to Tainan in the Taipei airport, Dan and I had been making musical plans and bragging of the convenience of living across the street. Then, all of a sudden, things were turned upside down again only hours later when I saw Michele. I have no qualms about admitting that I have become attached to this apartmnent. It's a macking pad (see Movin' On Up) that is sought after by a few friends. Over the last half year or so we have gutted it out slowly to the point where it has just about reached our vision of how we want it to be. Even the roof top is almost cleared.

After the initial shock that necessarily comes with news of sudden change, I realize this move could a blessing. As mentioned earlier, the forecast for June predicts typhoon. Searching for a new place, then moving, a heavier teaching schedule, the World Cup (come on!) will combine into a whirlwind of a month. However, a sea of calm awaits us in the month of July in the form a return to Tibet for a month. After seeing a decent place last night, though still more expensive and not as nice as this place, we had a bit of a chat with our stern-faced security guard. After a lengthy talk, he convinced us to let him call our landlord so he can convince her to let us stay. Even if they sell it, the new people will already have tenants. I was kind of hoping to stay here, especially considering we are planning a move back to Montreal next April or so. Either way, things will work out fine and it's a good opportunity to downsize (speaking for Michele here as I ain't got shit!)

First priority as requirement for our provisonal new abode is Flea. I disagree with one friend who coined this requirement as constraint. Flea is a daily joy and I revere as much in one of our daily walks as she does. Therefore, it is simply unthinkable that we don't find a place close to a park. Ideally, we will try to stay in this neighbourhood to be able to continue walking around the Sports Park, which also is home to a picturesque temple and the football pitch I often huff and puff at on Sundays.

We also need a place with reasonable rent as we prepare to enter save mode, given our intention to move back to Montreal sometime next spring. Which reminds me, only a year remains for any of you to visit the unique island of Taiwan. Don't worry, we'll sort out accomodation no matter what. Taiwan will not only touch your heart as their tourist slogan goes, but it will touch many other parts of you too.

Tainan is full little steals when it comes to housing so I'm confident we'll find something to our liking. As a last resort, we have the option of moving out to a mansion directly across from the shore of the South China Sea. Things could be worse as the imminent storm drifts nearer and nearer.

oj

P.S. Also, I am skypified so if anyone uses Skype, my user name is chrispady.