There is no one perfect route to making new friends. Something works best for others that may not work for you. The beauty of making new friends in the city is that you are likely not the only new person there, and you also have multiple methods to try and test when meeting new people. In this blog post, we will discuss some of the most favoured ways of making friends when moving to a new environment that will likely help you on your journey of finding a network of people you love to spend time with.

Be open to new friendship groups

First things first, if you are coming from a small town where everyone knows each other, you need to open yourself up to new people and experiences. For some, this is very easy. Others find it extremely difficult to expand and be open to new friendship groups. This doesn’t mean to say you have to detach from your previous friendships but understand no two people are the same and you will not find the exact types of people you would expect to be friends with. Be open to new friendships and the rest will follow.

Join Facebook groups

You will be surprised at how many Facebook groups exist for the sole purpose of meeting new people as a new-be in a new city. Join Facebook groups that are specific to the area you are living in. This can be as simple as joining a football fan group for the area you are living in, or even joining a group of like-minded people who wish to meet up for group runs in your area. There are so many groups to explore. Step out of your comfort zone and join groups such as specific hobbies you are looking to take part in, or ones you are interested in getting started in.

Go to language classes in the area

This is mainly for people who have moved to a new city in which the language spoken is not their first language. If you have moved to a completely new city which differs in language and culture, it might feel even harder to make connections. The best place to find like-minded and same-language-speaking people is at local language-speaking classes. Finding people who are also foreigners like you in this new city will appreciate meeting new people as much as you. Even if you don’t meet people you connect with, the language classes will give you the leverage to connect with people who speak the language you have learnt!

Connect with friends of friends

Meeting with friends of friends is a great way to create new friendships through your existing contacts. If your friends have connections that are likewise living in the new environment you have moved to, consider meeting up with them. You already have a shared interest in the person you are connected to and there are likely similarities in your interests and what you appreciate in a good friend. Ask your close friends and family if they know anyone who lives in the city you are moving to, and make the effort to connect with them and see if they would like to meet up.

Follow your hobbies and friends will follow

When moving to a new city, it is important to not lose sight of yourself. As much as it is important to meet new people, you should also prioritise doing things that you loved when you lived back home. This can be anything from sports activities to book clubs which you used to attend. Find new groups and activities for the thing you love in your city, and you will likely meet friends just by doing this. Not only will you be doing what you love which can ultimately make you feel more comfortable, you will meet like-minded people who share the same interests as you.

Join hiking groups

Living in a city can sometimes feel like you are living in a concrete jungle. If you are the type of person to love being outdoors and going for hikes, you might consider joining a hiking group. This group of people will arrange for different activities outdoors, and you will all commute to the destination together. This is also a safer way to get in exercise instead of being outdoors alone, so check online for any hiking groups in your local area.

Try out a speed-friend meeting event

Much like speed dating, friendship speed dating is just as effective at introducing you to new people. These are organised events and their sole purpose is for people to make new connections and find communities for them to be a part of. They are a great way to combat loneliness when living in a new city, and there are multiple events taking place in most cities. Search for your local speed friendship dating events to find the group you have been looking for.

Become a regular at a local cafe

Local cafes are a hub for friendly interactions and discussions. People meet all the time in cafes, and being a regular at a specific location is great if you want to subtly become friends with the other regulars. Visit your local cafe every day at the same time and enjoy sitting alone in peace. Approach someone who is likewise sitting alone and spark conversation based on what they are doing or how much you likewise love the cafe you are in.

Things to keep in mind

So, now you have some inspiration as to how to put yourself out there, you need to keep a few things in mind. Remember that not all meet ups will be “successful”. It’s okay to meet with a group and not find someone to click with. The search can continue, and you will find your tribe. Also, keep safety at the forefront of your mind. When meeting up with strangers make sure that you are meeting in brightly lit, monitored locations. Ensure someone is aware of your location. If driving to a new area, be sure to park somewhere safe such as a city centre car park.

Bottom line

Overall, making new friends in a new city can be easy as long as you put yourself out there. Step out of your comfort zone and join new groups and communities to establish friendships that will last a lifetime.

Photo Credit

Photo is from Pexels

Guest Author Bio
Cathy Fletcher

Cathy Fletcher is a retired physiotherapist based in Manchester, UK, with a rich 40-year career in the NHS. After navigating the challenges of divorce and retirement, Cathy discovered a new purpose: empowering individuals over 50 to live their best lives and uncover new passions. Her personal journey through these significant life changes has fuelled her commitment to sharing insights and experiences with others in similar stages.

Additionally, thank you cards are also a great way to foster connection. They are so much more than just a simple “thanks.” You can use them as a way to reconnect with someone, start a conversation, or truly let that person know what they mean to you.

Of course, that means you should show a bit of vulnerability as you create your thank you cards. By including heartfelt messages in various situations, you can feel good about your attitude of gratitude, and you can strengthen your relationship with the people you’re writing to.

Bridging the Gap

There’s no question that we’re living in a tech-forward world. Technology continues to advance and make everyday tasks more convenient. It can also help significantly with staying connected to people you care about. At the same time, however, technology can only go so far (no pun intended). Things like phone calls, texting, and even video chats are great. But, there can be something impersonal about them, especially when you’re talking to someone on the go or fitting them into small increments of your life.

Make no mistake, that kind of connection is important and technology is wonderful for making it happen. But, things like thank you cards can help to bridge the gap that technology sometimes struggles with. A handwritten thank you note is incredibly personal. When you take the time to find a card, write a heartfelt note, and send it out in the mail, the recipient is more likely to pay attention to what it has to say and feel good about the time you took to send it.

They can also help people feel seen during major life moments that might be masked by tech. For example, live-streamed weddings have become more popular since the COVID-19 pandemic. It’s a great way to get everyone involved in the big day and allow more people to attend, even if it’s virtually. But, sending all of your virtual guests hand-written thank you notes will really show your gratitude and help them know their attendance – even online – was important to you.

Why Do Thank You Notes Really Matter?

Still not quite convinced that a heartfelt thank you card can boost connection and show your gratitude? Thank you notes are more than a formality after someone gives you a gift or does something for you. They can actually open the door to future communication and they can let someone know how you really feel.

That’s great for family members and friends you want to stay close with. But, thank you notes can also be used in career settings to help strike a positive first impression. If you’re going to send a heartfelt thank you note to someone you’ve been networking with, keep these tips in mind to make the most of it:

• Send it within 48 hours
• Keep it short and sweet
• Take the time to write it by hand
• Address your recipient the right way
• Be respectful, courteous, and thankful

Thank you notes can help you stand out from others because they’re not as common as they used to be. They also demonstrate your communication skills and show the recipient that you don’t take things for granted.

How to Create a Thank You Card

One of the easiest ways to put together a thank you card is to purchase a pack to keep at home. You never know when you might need one, and even if they’re all the same, your handwritten message can be personal and different for every situation. The card design itself doesn’t really matter — what you say inside is what counts.

There are no hard and fast rules when it comes to what you should share in a thank you card, as long as you adequately show your gratitude. But, if you’re unsure where to start, keep these tips in mind:

• Start with a positive greeting
• Express specific gratitude
• Explain how the recipient’s kindness has impacted you
• Tell them you’re looking forward to seeing them or connecting soon

Go beyond simply saying “thank you.” Let the recipient know why their gesture meant so much, and why it was so important for you to reach out to them with gratitude. Your words could make that person’s day and foster a relationship that might not otherwise grow.

Being consciously grateful can also benefit you. An attitude of gratitude can boost your mental health, reduce depression and anxiety, and change your perspective on things. So, whether it’s a holiday, birthday, wedding, or just because someone showed you an act of kindness, consider bringing this lost art back into practice. You might be surprised by the relationships it develops and the way it makes you feel.

Photo Credit

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Guest Author Bio
Luke Smith

Luke Smith is a writer and researcher turned blogger. He enjoys writing on a variety of topics but business, technology, and digital marketing topics are his favorite. When he isn’t writing you can find him traveling, hiking, or getting into the latest tech.

It’s celebrating 20 years in our community and has seen more than 5,000 souls pass through the home, including my own father’s in 2007. He had lung cancer and was living at home, becoming increasingly ill. He came from a time where you don’t ask anything of anyone, including your own children, and managed for a long time on his own. However, it was getting more and more obvious that he couldn’t do it for much longer. My older sister, who worked in the community and knew a lot of people, managed to get him into the centre. He was so relieved. I remember he woke up one morning while there, and a nurse was standing over him. He looked up at her and said, “Oh, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.” He was happy there, in a place where he had his own room with a patio and a big bathroom. He had refused to go to the hospital, so this was so much better for him. Family and friends came to visit. After 3 days, my Dad passed away. He was at peace; no more suffering. He died a graceful death without beeps and wires and people screaming or running around in the hallways. It was a place of quiet and calm and it made the process easier for us too.

And so, many years later, my friends and I joined countless others and walked to raise money for this amazing place. Our team is called On The Wings of Angels. By 8:15 am we were warming up with others who were running, walking or riding bikes. There were children as young as 3 or 4 who walked and young men and women who were no doubt running for their loved ones, grandmas, grandpas, aunts or uncles. So many people have been touched by cancer and so many have had their lives turned upside down by the illness. But today in the crowd you could feel the love. There was, to me anyway, just this vibe, a very heart-warming presence. Perhaps it was the spirits of all those souls. They were with us. I hope my father was watching as the ladies and I started on our walk.

I didn’t finish the 10k but managed to do 5k, which was pretty good. And that included a hill! So I was happy I at least finished that. There were three of my friends who did the 10k and that was awesome! We managed to raise $3,700 of our $5,000 goal. Teresa Burnatowski was our star fundraiser and brought in $2,700, but we all worked at getting the cash in. And we all donated as well to this cause that is so dear to my heart and to so many other families. Helping to raise this money felt good! And maybe that, too, was what made this event so important. We all felt we were doing what we could to keep this organization running.

With my friends and family along with me, walking by my side, I could not be more grateful or happy! It brings such joy to be with those you love. Raising money for such a wonderful organization is just a bonus.

Photo Credit

Photo courtesy of Martha Farley – all rights reserved

When people die, their deaths haunt me. I think about them all the time, especially those who died young, or whose lives were taken by disease or accident. When I see a blue sky on a crisp, fall day, my mind wanders to those who have died and I always think to myself, Oh, you are missing the most gorgeous day today. It saddens me that they are unable to witness the beauty of that perfect blue sky, or of the bright orange, yellow and red leaves on the trees.

I suppose some people would call me sensitive. I would have said that about myself years ago. Today, I’d call it conscious. I’m very conscious of my life, of myself and of the world. I see it for what it is, and have given up the rose-colored glasses. Things don’t really shock me anymore. People’s situations don’t send me running the other way. But it doesn’t mean I don’t question their situations in my mind or feel upset by their decisions. I just know I’m more conscious of the elements of emotion. 

As a young adult I was driven by the works of The Beat Generation, the poets and writers who wrote, lived and breathed life and made it bigger than it was; those writers who burned with life. I, too, wanted to go, go, go. And I did, until I burned out. That kind of lifestyle can get you killed.

Each of us has a different philosophy of life. I used to get hooked on different gurus, people that I admired, people I thought were smarter and more talented than I was. I read books by the dozens about all kinds of interesting people and their lives. Now, as I get older, I realize my life is just as interesting, just as complicated and just as creative as anyone else’s. I see that I’m the creator, the visionary of my own life. All of those writers and scientists and creative people brought me here, to this place, where I can now rightfully claim a piece of my own heart’s desire.

My passion for life has seen me through many ups and downs. Always by my side are my friends and loved ones, urging me on. They are my soldiers, the ones who push me forward. And through our connections and our passions, whatever they may be, we carry on this journey of life, thrilled to have compatriots to negotiate the dark side of life with and to help us into the light.

Life is so sweet. There is so much to do and, it seems, so little time. As I age, time slips by so quickly; it’s almost frightening. Will I ever get to do the things I want to do before I die? Will I see my grandchildren and watch them grow? Will I see the parts of the world I have always wanted to see? Will I always be surrounded by friends and loved ones alike?

I have passion for being in the world, being in the fight, being in love, or just being. I want to continue to discover new and wonderful things every single day! Like today, for instance. I learned a new word: sate. It was a word my daughter used in an essay. I thought it was a spelling mistake, but no, she quickly pointed out it was a word. I was thrilled!

So, the journey never ends. It changes constantly. Life would be pretty dull if it didn’t. I can only be thankful for those small things that help us grow, like trees in the fall, shedding their leaves, awaiting rebirth in spring. Like I do. Every day I hope and pray that each day will be a rebirth of my heart’s desires.

Photo Credit

Photo by Martha Farley – all rights reserved

“What’s my starting note again?” he asked.

I hummed it for him and he nodded thoughtfully. After a brief pause, his rich, baritone voice filled the room. I added harmonies as he neared the end of the first verse, and before long, our version of “Country Roads” was in full swing. 

Singing was just one of the ways a co-worker and I used to amuse ourselves on slow nights at work. I left that job two years ago, putting an end to our workplace shenanigans, but I cherish the memories from the few years we worked together. I can’t help but smile as I think back to the first time we met.

I knew instantly he was different. I admired the fact he wasn’t afraid to show his emotions, and that he valued his interactions with strangers. He often told colorful stories about people who’d crossed his path over the years, and spoke fondly of the friendships that had grown through several of those exchanges.

It was his quirks that drew me to him. He had a unique way of looking at things, and was comfortable vocalizing his perspective. He chose to take the bus everywhere he went, something he’d been doing for the last ten years. Most of the time, he’d walk wherever he needed to go. “It’s safer this way,” he would say. “I like to have my feet on the ground.” He didn’t own a cell phone or a computer, and he never felt the need to apologize for it.

When I needed to rely on transit after my vehicle broke down, he was the one I turned to. I’d never ridden the bus before, and I listened intently as he explained everything carefully and answered all my questions. He was unfailingly supportive. “Don’t worry,” he would assure me, “you’ll get the hang of it. One day, you’ll be teaching someone how to take the bus.” At the time, I couldn’t envision such mastery. As it turned out, he was right.

During a conversation across the staff room table, we discovered we both wrote poetry. I printed a few of mine out and, days later, read them to him as he ate his lunch. He recited his flawlessly from memory, even though several of them were written years ago. It still baffles me.

He made a birthday card for me one year that was filled with brightly-colored artwork and had a white feather glued inside. Once in a while, we’d buy a lottery ticket together, just so we could dream. “This is the one,” we’d always say with playful conviction. We enjoyed coffee, and would take turns loading a Tim Horton’s card we both had easy access to in my locker. On the days we worked together, we always checked with one another to see if we needed a mid-day pick-me-up.

We used to phone each other now and then, just to say hi, if our work schedules differed and we hadn’t seen each other for several weeks. I would phone his land line, but he’d never pick up. Instead, he’d listen to my voicemail message and immediately call me back. Over time, I fell into the same routine; it became a thing we did. After every voicemail message he left, he’d say, “Okay, talk to me soon”, his own special version of ‘talk to you soon’.

On my last day of work, he insisted on helping me out to a car I’d borrowed from a friend. He gave me a long, tight hug. We talked a little. Then he said, “Here, I want to give you this.” He handed me something wrapped in paper towel from the dispenser in our staff room. That in itself made me smile. I thanked him and tucked it in one of my bags before I drove away. Later, I discovered it was a cassette tape. It didn’t surprise me it wasn’t a CD, nor that it was Enya. It made sense he would love the emotive music, and I was touched by his gift. But he’d also unknowingly brought to light one more thing we had in common: I’d been an Enya fan for years.

We agreed to call each other early on Christmas morning, four months later, so we could sing a Christmas Carol together. After we sang and laughed and wished each other a Merry Christmas, we vowed to make it an annual thing. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to pick up this last Christmas, but that didn’t deter him. He sang an entire Christmas Carol on my voicemail. I listened to his rich, baritone voice right to the end. 

I have so many wonderful memories of my friend, but there’s one thing I remember the most. It was something he said during one of our conversations on a particularly quiet night at work. As usual, we were talking about whatever random subjects came up, and I told him about a dream of mine: I wanted to learn french and travel to France before I died. I asked him if there was anything he wanted to do before he died. 

He looked me in the eye and without skipping a beat, said, “I want to fall in love again.”

Photo Credit

Photo by Carol Good – all rights reserved

This is an article I wrote that was printed in The Gazette in 2011 (now the Montreal Gazette), and turned out to be a fitting follow-up to one I’d previously written, which they printed eight years earlier in 2003.

It’s about how a friend and I became teenagers again for one magical night, how we managed to have the best time ever, and how it all came together.

(This article was originally printed in The Gazette in 2011 and has been edited for online publication at Life As A Human.)

* * *

Back in the spring of 2003, I wrote an article for The Gazette in the ‘Life Stories’ section called “What if I Wear Black and Sing in a Rock Band?” It was a story about hitting my forties and being cool. Now that I’m in my fifties, I still want to be cool and, well, when an opportunity arises, you gotta reach for that brass ring, as Holden Caufield would say. So when I heard that Fucked Up was the backup band for a Foo Fighters show on August 10th, I called my friend Alison. Her nephew, Damian Abraham, is the frontman for Fucked Up, a hardcore punk rock band from the Toronto area that has risen to success after many years of playing countless venues, including the washroom of MTV. You could say they’ve paid their dues.

Several months after asking Al about the upcoming show, she emailed me to say she had talked to Damian and we were going! I was ecstatic; how cool is that? She wasn’t sure where the seats were and I told her I didn’t care, as long as we were going. Now, I have to tell you, my friend Al has been a music aficionado for as long as I’ve known her; we grew up in Pointe Claire, and became friends when we were kids.

A couple of days before the show, Al messaged me on Facebook to tell me we were going backstage. I just about fell out of my chair! That was huge – these things don’t happen to the likes of moi! Not to mention, both my kids are huge fans of Fucked Up and Foo Fighters.

Alison picked me up the day of the concert and I felt like we were teenagers again. It had been a while since just the two of us had been out partying together. Al is a shameless groupie. She travels everywhere in her SUV and has met so many people. I could make a list here but let’s just say, when Alison gets something in her head, she does it.

I’ll use the movie Almost Famous to illustrate our night at the Bell Center: Alison is Penny Lane (played by Kate Hudson in the movie) and I’m William (played by Patrick Fugit), the inexperienced fifteen-year-old journalist trying to write the best rock and roll piece ever. Following Al around that arena was exhausting. I have to tell you, too, she’s in much better shape than I am. I fell down about three times during the entire walkabout backstage, mostly falling down stairs (okay, the wine might have had something to do with it but we won’t discuss that here.) It was like being in boot camp for old rockers, trying to keep up with her. And just like Penny Lane in the movie, Al seemed to know her way around the place.

After we watched Fucked Up do their set, we went backstage to meet them. They were very gracious and signed a shirt for my son and Damian signed the new CD they just released called David Comes Alive (which is brilliant, by the way). While we were talking to the band, Damian said, “Okay, I have to go see Foo Fighters, Sandra (from Fucked Up) hasn’t met them yet.” So Al said to me, “Come on, Marth” and she just followed Damian. I lagged behind with Al, who was prompting me to hurry up. I was just hoping I wouldn’t fall again, break a leg and miss the rest of the night. On the way to Foo Fighters’ dressing room, we bumped into one of the band members from Doughboys who Al later told me was the uncle of a friend of her son’s. The music world, I surmised, is smaller than we realize.

At this point, Foo Fighters were just preparing to go onstage. I was like William – completely baffled at the fact I was in Foo Fighters’ dressing room with Fucked Up! I thought for a minute there would be a phone call from my mother telling me not to do drugs. Yes, I felt like a kid. But how cool is that? It was pretty cool! I got to meet Dave Grohl, Nate and Taylor. Because the band was just heading onstage, they didn’t have a lot of time, but they were kind enough to take pictures with us and of course I told Dave that I loved him. He said, “I love you too”.

I think meeting a rock band was just as cool as singing in one, even when you’re fifty-something years old. Maybe even better – there’s no pressure. Just pinch me! Even two days later, I’m still on a high from it all!

Thanks Penny (aka Al) for the chance to be William and live out my Almost Famous fantasy. And thanks to those amazing and clearly-generous bands for entertaining us with some of the best rock and roll I’ve heard in a long while.

You made this old rocker feel fifteen again!

Photo Credits

Photos courtesy of Martha Farley – all rights reserved

How is it now
in a moment, so carefree
I would feel your pain
as if for the first time
and know you more fully

It was there      
woven in the laughter
a glimpse
of a mother’s loss
a woman’s courage

As I listen
I am humbled
grateful for the friendship
the opportunity to be
in the presence
of goodness and love
bearing witness to a choice
made long ago
to keep living
finding reasons to smile
while asking
nothing of the world

Photo Credit

Photo courtesy of Carol Good – all rights reserved

That was the response from a fellow musician upon learning that Vaughn, my friend and former bandmate from the ‘60s, had passed away.

The ‘60s? Say what!?

Musically, for those of us who were teenagers, it was the time of our lives… everything was possible! Led by the Beatles’ music, the British Invasion was a-happening; clothing and hair fashions changed; radio DJ’s were treated like gods; hundreds of thousands attended “Woodstock” – the infamous outdoor rock concert.

Plus, Bob Dylan (Nobel Prize winner in Literature), Janice Joplin, James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, The Beach Boys, The Supremes, CCR, The Band, Stevie Wonder, Joni Mitchell, Peter, Paul & Mary, The Doors, Aretha Franklin, Joan Baez, Simon & Garfunkel were reflective of the phenomenal variety and musical talent of the non-British 60’s superstars.

But, eventually, reality stepped in. The 60s were over and we had life decisions to make… post-secondary education, finding a job, marriage and starting a family. Before we knew it, stardom became a fading dream in life’s rear-view mirror.

Regardless, we were forever changed. We approached our future with the same optimism for life that we had with our music.

At the Celebration of Life service for Vaughn, many moving tributes were given by his family. The minister then asked if any guest wanted to add something. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, I decided to share some of my feelings about him.

It wasn’t easy. Just saying his name brought an instant tear to my eye. So pausing a bit, I said, “I loved him, you know… all of his band-mates did.” To his wife Karen, I added that she wasn’t the only one who shared a special bond with him: she had lots of competition from all his “brothers and sisters” in attendance. We were all fans of our soul man! It was all I could offer… still, it seemed enough.

Finally, Rob, our other great guitarist from back then, played and sang Vaughn’s favourite song – fulfilling a request from his wife.

“I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do?
They’re really saying, I love you”
~ What a Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong

Yet, Vaughn was a man of the present. One grandchild recounting how he encouraged her despite her lack of confidence – saying how proud he was of her achievements and values. Despite his sickness, he cared less about his own legacy and more about her self-image.

“I hear babies crying, I watch them grow, They’ll learn much more than I’ll never know”

Leaving, I felt the awesome power of joy and love that defined his life – with none of the transitory, smoky mirrors of “stardom.” Suddenly, the gift he was giving us hit home: all things must pass; but, we’re still here. If there’s any good we can do, let it be now. Keep the music going!

“I see trees of green, red roses too,
I see them bloom for me and you”

What a wonderful world? Oh yeah… the best of times!

Photo Credits

Photo is pixabay creative commons

First posted at fredparry.ca

Guest Author Bio
Fred Parry

Fred Parry lives in Southern Ontario. He is a lover of people and a collector of stories, music, wisdom, and grandchildren. His newspaper column, Music in Me, can be found in ‘The New Hamburg Independent’ Metroland Media. His book, ‘The Music In Me’ (2013) Friesen Press is Available from Amazon and Indigo / Chapters.

Blog / Website: www.fredparry.ca

There is no preparing
for the facts
admittedly cold
and so very, very hard

The mind argues
we just had yesterday
sobered by the irony
of knowing
the one thing
that is, by its very existence
the most real
has us floating in the numbness
of disbelief and denial

We will survive the ache
we will learn to fill the space
we will remember
and tell stories with laughter
that will end
with soft, distant looks
we will find happiness
through the doubt
and we will do this
for Mike

But first we will feel
and make room
for grief
knowing
that in love’s time
we will go forward
greater than we were
better
for having known
another

Photo Credit

Photo by Carol Good – all rights reserved

Lebby was my bohemian. Her large, gold-hoop earrings dangled loosely around her thin neck. Her printed dress oozed many colors, each one bleeding into the other, her cigarette held in her long fingers, nails painted. Just like in the fashion magazines, Lebby exuded exotic; the epitome of sophistication; an Andy Warhol wanna-be. She was a sixties beauty with her dark hair cut short, much like Twiggy’s, and big sunglasses on, the ones that covered most of her face. She took long hauls of her cigarette when she would look out into the street from her chair in the living room.

She was my bohemian; a rhapsody in color. She was older than I was by eleven years and I yearned to be like her. I wanted to spend time with her, this mysterious young woman named Lebby who lived in our house. She had arrived years before as an infant, my mother’s sister’s child. And she had stayed, here in Montreal. As time went by, though, she decided to leave us for good and move back to Toronto with her mother. When she would come back to Montreal to visit I would show her my wardrobe, new clothes handed down to me from various friends of my mother’s. I would stand on the bed singing “Second Hand Rose”, modeling my latest outfits, and she would laugh and clap and tell me I looked fabulous.

She would talk to me about her adventures in Rio de Janeiro. She lived there for a year with her husband at the time. Their relationship didn’t last long and before I knew it she was living in Scotland and sending me fabulous makeup from London, England, the top fashion haven of the world. Not to mention it was the home of the Beatles.

“I’m never getting married,” I would tell her on our visits. This, after listening to her and her girlfriend ruminate over their love lives. “Oh, and I am never, ever having kids,” I would add. She would laugh and light another smoke. “Sure you will,” she would tell me. “Don’t listen to us,” pointing to her girlfriend, “we are very bad examples.” But I didn’t think so at all. I thought Lebby was the bee’s knees, the bomb, the crème de la crème. She just had this very provincial air about her. She was also very sweet and never made fun of me or thought I was too young or too naive. She made me feel grown up and smart.

When I would visit her when she lived in Ottawa she would take me to parties – parties in restaurants. I felt like a celebrity, because for me it was only celebrities that partied in restaurants. The people at these parties were different, too, with foreign-sounding names and they all talked with accents – German and British. My bohemian, that was Lebby. She could sit with the well-to-do Ivy League crowd or the hip and wild crowd.

She introduced me to the symphony, I might have been twelve at the time. I was sure I was going to be bored but I wasn’t. I had never been to a concert before. The music was overwhelming to me. It was just so powerful and loud and it jumped out at me. These small lessons in life with Lebby were delivered with love as gifts. They were tokens of joy for me that continued into adulthood.

As we grew older, our lives moved in directions neither one of us could have probably imagined. Yet the connection we had, deepened as we aged. As it turned out, we both became as traditional and ‘white bread’ as the next person. We both married and had children. But although our lives were mired in tradition and mediocrity, there was still that bohemian living within us that would emerge and transform us both.

Living with an alcoholic for several years certainly sent me down a path I would never have imagined going down. A path where light was muted and the shades were drawn. Without Lebby’s support, that path would have been more treacherous than I could have handled. Yet we muddled through the mire and dirt and ghostly skeletons in our closets. And we were transformed, emerging from that path, our spirits whole.

“What should we do for our ritual, Maaaa?” Lebby would ask over the phone. She and I had taken this journey together. It was a journey of discovery. Our rituals helped us see things more clearly and grounded us as we tried to find meaning in our lives. Having given up on her corporate job, Lebby now embarked on her passion – she started to paint. Using different techniques and mediums, the color was no longer printed on her gorgeous dresses but appeared now on canvases.

The two of us were sitting in her living room one night, the heat spilling into the room even with the air conditioning on. It was hot. The humidity and heat just seemed to bring out a ritual for us that night. I grabbed a huge stainless steel bowl, cold and lovely to the touch, and on that hot night I started to sing. I didn’t sing anything in particular, words just came out in that kind of sing-song sort of way. The bowl seemed to sing too, beneath my touch. Slowly, the sound from the bowl and my singing grew louder and louder. Lebby joined in, grabbing a pot as well. Before we knew it the two of us were caught up in a sort of ritualistic drumming session with stainless steel. It didn’t matter what we were singing, what mattered was the pounding of the bowls, the irresistible desire to smack the hell out of them as loudly and as powerfully as we could. We became the music. Like the symphony of years gone by, we were the music. The jazz of life.

Lebby is still my bohemian, and the music of life continues to play on. Her hair has changed to grey but I would prefer to say it’s silver. She stands at her easel and studies her work; immerses herself in it. Her studio is filled with light as the sun shines through the glass windows. A paintbrush is now in her long fingers rather than a cigarette. The smell of garlic is in the air, as there is always something cooking in the kitchen. Music is playing quietly on the CD player in the background, the sound of Neil Diamond, or is it Paul Simon? Art books are piled in every corner of her studio. Gold hoops have been replaced with delicate studs. Each day I am thankful that I have this lovely woman in my life, a woman who watched me grow up and who connected me to things that I would not have otherwise known about. 

Lebby looks at her canvas and splashes orange across it. “Isn’t that just the most scrumptious color Maaaaa?” she says out loud. “It sure is,” I reply.

Photo Credit

Photo courtesy of Martha Farley – all rights reserved