Well, spring has finally come to the Yukon. It lasted for one day. That was yesterday. Today, I am pretty sure it is fall, and tomorrow I am certain will be winter. Okay, maybe I am being dramatic. Though, four days ago it did snow. Yesterday was nice though and I am sure that it will be nice again. Everyone keeps saying; “Oh no, this weather is not normal for this time of year.” I, do not believe them. Though, again, I am just being dramatic.

Now that I have sufficiently complained about the weather I will talk about something else.

A few weeks ago I had the day off from work. It was getting late in the afternoon and I was jonesing for a sports drink. I know that seems weird. I must have been dehydrated or something, I don’t know. I just wanted a sports drink. Stop judging me. So there I was, walking down the street one sports drink in each hand (one for me, one for Suze). I was just minding my own business. I wasn’t bugging anyone. I wasn’t talking to anyone. I was just getting a drink for myself and my lady. But the universe had other plans.

As I turned the corner on my way back home what should appear out of nowhere? Well, if I hadn’t captured it with my camera you would never believe me. It was something I had been dreaming about and fantasizing about since I was a small child. It was something beyond belief, something that I knew deep in my heart could not be true, but I assure you it was. As they say,” a picture says a thousand words” so here friends, is what I saw…

pics from time 257 pics from time 250 pics from time 251

For those of you that don’t know, that is the delorean, you know, from Back to the future fame. It is pretty awesome and yes, that is me standing right beside it. Now, to be fair this is not “THE” delorean. This is a delorean made to look like “THE” delorean. No Doc Roberts or Marty or anything like that just a gimmick to raise money for Parkinson’s research which is still pretty awesome. In fact, the flux-capacitor is where donations go. Pretty sweet I know.

Anyway, that is just one of the many cool and exciting things that I have gotten to see since coming to Whitehorse. There are many more stories to tell and to live. So, until next time.

“Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads.”

“The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
      But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
      I cremated Sam McGee.” Robert W. Service

 

I have been wanting to quote Robert W. Service since the first post I wrote about the Yukon, but until today I have had no right to. Now, I feel I do have that right. The night before last I saw, for the first time in my life, the northern lights. I didn’t see them for very long, but I did see them.

For the past four or five days Suzanne and I have been house sitting for a rather eccentric older hippie about twenty minutes outside of Whitehorse. The house itself is beautiful, in fact, I have never really seen anything quite like it. Any attempts to describe it would not do it justice so I will leave it at this, it is really cool. Where we are staying, as I said is about twenty minutes outside of Whitehorse. Now, twenty minutes outside of Montreal, or Halifax, or Vancouver is pretty much the same as being right in one of those cities. Twenty minutes outside of Whitehorse is woods.

Where we are staying is surrounded by nothing but nature. Looking out the large front window as I write this all I can see is trees and a snow-covered lake. To get here you have to drive down two dirt roads, walk up a driveway still to snow-covered to drive, and walk through a path in the woods. Secluded is an understatement.

Though I said that describing this house would not do it justice there is one feature that is important to the story which I am about to tell you. On the roof of this house is a large three level patio complete with gazebo and an atrium/greenhouse. Like I said, this place is really cool.

As you can likely imagine, it gets dark here as there no street lights, no lights from neighbors, nothing like that. Of course, being that it is the Yukon, and it is now May, it doesn’t get dark until very late. When it gets dark though, it is very dark.

Okay, now that you have a pretty good image in your mind let’s get started.

It was two nights ago. I was out on the patio having one last cigarette before bed. It was a fairly cloudy night with just one clear strip of sky right above me. As I stood staring off into the great vastness of space, contemplating the cosmos, I noticed an odd green streak in the sky. I, having no experience with the northern lights simply saw but did not see. After some deep contemplation and the last few drags of my cigarette I carefully walked down the winding, snow-covered stairs content and headed for a sound sleep. Once safely down the stairs and back inside I found Suzanne reading in bed and crawled in beside her. Nonchalantly I told her about the green streak in the sky. She went outside to check.

As I lay there, halfway between sleep and being awake I heard Suzanne call to me. “Ben!” she said. “Come quick!” I was up in a flash. I knew that I was about to see something I had been longing to see for a very long time. I was about to see the northern lights. I put on my boots and quickly made my way back up the treacherous stairs to the summit of the house. With an excitement I can only describe as a child waking on Christmas morning I threw back my head and with eyes wide beheld nothing. As quickly as they had come, they had gone. I looked at Suzanne with a look I can only describe as a child who had been promised a bike for Christmas receiving only socks. I was hurt, I was angry, I was confused. Why would someone whom I love play such a cruel trick on me? Why would she disturb me from my impending slumber to see nothing? What cruel joke was this? According to Suzanne the lights had been out. They had been splendid. The clouds had separated and the stars had alined just long enough for the lights of the north to shine. And shine they did, according to Suzanne, just long enough for me to get excited, but not long enough for me to actually see them.

Despite my frustration I believed Suzanne. She insisted that we stay outside for a few minutes longer in hopes that the mystical dancing lights would return and once more grace the skies with their presence. I was unconvinced but agreed to stay out a bit longer. So there we stood, the two of us. Straining our necks, looking up at the sky, cursing the northern lights as they had cursed us, losing faith and interest with every passing moment. Then it was there. A green streak in the sky like the one I had seen earlier that night, taunting us, challenging us to see how long we would wait and fight off sleep all in the hopes that they, the lights, may once again shine down on us.

Wait we did. We waited until all hope was gone and then we waited some more. We waited for the seasons to change and the earth to crumble beneath us. We waited for an eternity. We waited, we waited, and we waited. We waited, for at least ten minutes. Still nothing was happening. At this point I was determined to die on the roof. I would starve, I would freeze, I would dehydrate, but the one thing I wouldn’t do was let those damn lights get the better of me. I swore to myself in that moment of frustration and hostility that I would see those lights, and so, I waited some more.

I think that the lights sensed my outrage and determination. Between you and me I am pretty sure I scared them as I cursed to the heavens. Whatever the reason, just before I was about to fall from what could only have been due to the lack of nourishment I had received during the now fifteen minutes I had been waiting for the stupid lights they decided I was worthy. With a sore neck and sleep hanging about my eyes like a thick fog I once again, and for what I swore would be the last time, threw my head back and looked to the skies. There, in that fleeting moment, for literally less than forty-five seconds, I saw the northern lights.

I saw the remarkable dance as the lights twisted this way and that on the stage set by the stars and the ever passing clouds. I saw the green lights that I had read so much about, and that people had been looking up at for thousands of years. I saw, in that brief moment, something so beautiful it made all my anger and frustration melt away. Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, they were gone. It was simply a tease, a taste, a “Hey how ya doing?”. It was incredible.

As the seasons are changing and the days grow longer opportunities to see the northern lights grow less and less. It is very possible that I will not have another chance to see them while I am here unless I decide to stay for the winter. Though this thought is not a pleasant one I am ecstatic that I got to see the fabled northern lights if even for such a short time.

I will finish this post with a line again borrowed from Robert W. Service

The northern lights have seen queer sights,
but the queerest they ever did see
was the night on the roof I screamed and I swore
Damn lights! Show yourself to me.

Until next time.

As I stood outside last night a light snow falling around me, smoking my last cigarette of the day, I pondered not only life’s little mysteries, but also life itself. Whilst lost within my own mind I began to walk. I wasn’t walking far, or to any place in particular, just a few steps beyond the doorstep. As my feet pressed effortlessly into the freshly fallen powder there was a slight, muted crunch beneath my boot. I looked down and there, where my boot had just been, unsurprisingly, was my footprint  Well, my boot print to be more precise. As I was already in a ponderous mood, this too did I begin to ponder.

I have seen my footprint countless times over the course of my life, but something about this footprint in particular stood out to me. It wasn’t an odd shape, there was nothing alarming about, and there was nothing overly special about. It was simply my footprint in the snow. What stood out to me however, was the realization that many people had likely stepped in that exact same spot before. This got me thinking. What came to me was an idea that I have passingly thought of before but, which stuck with me last night. To the best of my knowledge I have never, in my entire twenty-eight years on this earth, stepped foot on a piece of ground that I could reasonably think no one before me had ever stepped. This, in turn, got me thinking that I have more than likely never laid eyes on something that no one had ever laid eyes on before. This idea did not depress me, nor did it upset me. I had become inspired.

The inspiration I felt last night and continue to feel now is not limited to the writing of this blog. What that footprint in the snow showed me last night is that at least once in my lifetime  I would like to have a truly unique experience. It could be argued that there are no unique experiences left on this planet. That with the over six billion people currently alive and the billions before it is simply impossible. It could also be argued that due to the way I view the world, based on my specific past experiences that everything I see and do, though it may have been done before, is in fact, completely unique to me. Be that as it may, I would still very much like to be the first to truly do or see something.

Perhaps the image this idea conjures within you is one of me, or yourself, slashing and hacking through a far away jungle, new flora and fauna at every turn. Perhaps you see the depths of the ocean, or the outer limits of space. In all honesty, I don’t know really know what truly unique experience I would like to have, or, like I said, if it is even truly possible. What I do know, is that I will before I die, make an attempt to see or do something that no one has seen or done before me. If I am able to accomplish this I do not need the world to know, I do not need medals and praise. Knowing that I was the first will be enough for me.

I don’t have much more to say for today. I just wanted to share this thought with you all in hopes that maybe someday you will not only be able to have a truly unique experience for yourslef, but that you recognize the importance and the significance of it if you do. I fear that as time goes on and we progress as a society, and our population grows we loose the ability to have a truly unique experience. I challenge you all to prove me wrong.

If you believe that you have had a really unique experience I would love to hear about it. Seriously, I would.

Thank you everyone for reading.
Until next time.

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, faithful readers, and interested stumblers, it is time for another blog post! I know that you are all just as excited as I am. So, what has been new with me? Well, I’m going to tell you. Sit back, put on your glasses, grab a glass of wine, and lets go on a trip together.

I recently started a new job. This, more so than most jobs I have started is very exciting for me because it is a brand new restaurant. In fact tonight is opening night. We did a soft open on Sunday which went very well, tonight however, is the real test. For those of you that don’t know what a soft open is, it is a test night done by invitation only. Usually, it is only friends and family of the owner and managers. The point of this is to try everything out and work out the kinks. The idea being that if your friends and family are the ones filling the dinning room they will hopefully be a little lenient if the food or service is a bit slow. Also, they don’t usually pay full price.

The restaurant itself is beautiful. The dinning room is elegant, understated, and beautiful. It is a theme restaurant without being hokey or cheesy. The food is high end. Everything is made in house from scratch and the flavors are incredible. I am very excited to work there. Oh, yeah, also, it is not just a new restaurant, it is a brand new building. This means that every piece of equipment from the walk-in fridge to the spoons is all brand new (except the antique water bottles which are over 100 years old). No hand-me-downs. I cannot express how exciting this is for me. I have never worked in a brand new place before. It is going to be a good summer!

Now, some of my more dedicated readers may remember me mentioning that I had a part time job at a local breakfast/lunch place. Well, that didn’t go so well. I have left jobs for a lot of different reasons. Some after only a few months. I have never, until now, left a job after the first day. Why, you may be asking yourself, did I leave after the first day? Well, frankly, it was the dirtiest kitchen I have ever seen. I’m not going to name any names (although a quick glance at a previous post would quickly yield the name) but, it was pretty terrible. Needless to say, I don’t work there anymore and I am very happy with where I am working.

What else… Well, I am still really liking being in the Yukon. It is only late April and already the sun is out until eleven. When I say the sun is out, I mean the sun is out. It is sunny. It is actually really nice. Maybe in a month when it is sunny until two or three in the morning it will be a different story but for now I am really enjoying it.

Other than that there really isn’t too much going on. Suzanne and I have both been working quite a bit so there hasn’t been a lot of time to go places in the last little while. Although, we did get a chance to go to the Yukon Wildlife Preserve which was pretty cool. Unfortunately, when we went it was pretty late in the day and most of the animals were resting.

I think that is about it for now. I have to start getting ready for work. I realize that I haven’t posted any pictures of Whitehorse yet. Fear not, I’m on it. Oh yeah! If you like this blog and would like to read more about food and food related things check out my new blog, protofood.

Until next time.

At 3:50pm on Friday April 5, I was picked up outside my grandmothers building in Victoria by a pre-arranged airport shuttle. Destination Whitehorse, Yukon Territory. After a bit of worry based on a late meeting of two airport shuttles I arrived at the Victoria Airport just in the nick of time. Well, it would have been just in the nick of time had my flight not been delayed by an hour. Fortunately, I was due to have a four hour layover in Vancouver before heading towards my final destination. After an hour and a half in the Victoria airport followed by a fourteen minute flight, three hours in the Vancouver airport then a two hour flight, I had arrived in Whitehorse. It was around 12:30am Saturday morning.

Now, as some of you may know from earlier posts or, just from knowing me, my birthday is on April 5. As is my girlfriend Suzanne’s. As it was both our birthdays, Suzanne’s mother, through the help of a hotel employee and friend booked us a hotel room. This I knew. What myself and Suzanne did not know was that the room which had been booked for us was the Presidential Suit. Yup! My first night in Whitehorse was spent in the luxury of the Presidential Suit. I’m talking jacuzzi tub, fireplace, big comfy bed, champagne, the whole nine yards. It was pretty amazing!

After a long late morning soak in the ridiculously large jacuzzi we headed out for breakfast to a little place around the corner called Burnt Toast. Evidently I work there part time now. Breakfast was good. We spent the rest of that day catching up on sleep and seeing the sights in Whitehorse which included a very interesting visit to the Klondike museum.

Sunday was a very special day to me for a few different reasons. First, Suzanne and I spent the whole day driving around which was a lot of fun. Secondly, it marked my first visit to a foreign country. We drove to Alaska. Thirdly, I saw some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen in my life. I have added some pictures just below but I assure they do not do the place justice.

Alaska April 7 059Alaska April 7 081

While in Alaska we visited a place just on the other side of the border called Skagway. It is a tiny little town exuding the brilliance and mystery one would expect to find in a small northern. town from the gold rush era. Though, it is still a living, breathing town, most of the buildings are originals. It is really a cool little place. One of the places we visited in Skagway was a tavern called the Red Onion Saloon. This place used to be a brothel which the pictures on the wall have no intent of hiding. Apparently, in the summer they do tours of the upstairs which has been transformed into a whore house museum of sorts. Unfortunately, the museum wasn’t open yet so we satisfied ourselves with a cold beer and internal décor of the place which included amongst the pictures of infamous prostitutes from back in the day, many different types of bedpans and chamber pots strung along where the wall meets the ceiling.

Once we finished our beers we headed out into the wilderness via an ever narrowing dirt road which clung to the side of a mountain like a baby orangutang clinging to it’s mothers back. It was a little nerve racking to say the least but Suzanne handled it expertly. As we drove along the narrow dirt road towards some tidal flats where a town once stood, we were caught by a bit a scenery the likes of which I had never seen before. As the picture below shows, we were looking over the pacific ocean. Mountains in front, beside, and behind us. The turquoise water shimmering in the warm sunlight. As we bathed in the warmth and the beauty, accepting the likely fact that nothing would ever compare to the moment and place we had unknowingly found ourselves in, it some how became better. In that instant, somewhere between bliss and total sensory overload, as we stood looking, taking it all in, less than thirty feet in front of us, set to a postcard-Esq backdrop, a bald eagle flew. Right there, in an instant we had seen the truth behind all the Alaskan tourism commercials and brochures. It was perfection. We sat there, eating smoked sausage, Tillamook cheddar, and bread taking in the pristine beauty that will remain with me for as long as a live.

 Alaska April 7 149 Alaska April 7 155

There was much more to that day. Lots of other incredible things seen and done. But, after writing the description that I just wrote I feel it is pointless to say anymore today. Anything else I could possibly tell you about that day will seem mundane and boring. So, I will stop here. I will tell more about that day some other time, or, maybe I won’t I don’t know. What I do know is that I am so incredibly happy to be here in the Yukon, and I am so thankful for the things I have had the opportunity to see and do in the short while I have been here. I look forward to all the things the great white north has to offer me that I have yet to experience. And of course, I look forward to sharing them all with you.

Thanks for reading. Until next time.

After eleven hours of waiting and flying, flying and waiting. I arrived from the cold, grey, depressing east coast, to the beautiful, sunny, warm, west coast. I am in Victoria. There are flowers, birds (other than pigeons, crows, and seagulls), the trees are budding, and most importantly, it is warm. Okay, it was warm the first few days I was here. Now, and for the rest of my time here it will be overcast and rainy. It is still much nicer than home. You maybe be saying to yourself, that is if you read my last post, what are you doing in Victoria Ben? I thought you were going to the Yukon dude. What have you been doing man? Yup, those, I’m sure, are the exact thoughts going through your mind right now. Calm down. I’m going to fill you in. I’ll tell you all about it. Okay?

So, Victoria, BC. Why? How? What? Lots and lots of questions. I know you are all on the edge of your seat. I am here, in Victoria, British Columbia, visiting my grandmother. Wow, blew your mind I know. And yes, I am still going to the Yukon. On Friday in fact. Okay, okay, maybe the payoff didn’t warrant the build up but screw you. I’m happy to be here. I haven’t seen my grandmother in a long time and it’s good to be somewhere relatively warm for a while. Especially since I am going to the land of minus twenty in a few days.

What have I been up to in Victoria you ask yourself. Don’t deny it, I know it is driving you crazy. Well, I haven’t been up to too much. The first day I was here my grandmother and I walked around for quite a while. We went to the Oak Bay marina and saw some seals. It was actually quite beautiful. We were sitting on a park bench, looking out over the bay. Seals dancing in the water. Sun shinning. A cool breeze blowing. The mountains in the background. It was really very beautiful. I would have taken a photo but I feared what I was seeing wouldn’t translate. From there, we hopped a bus and headed to downtown Victoria. Again, sun shinning, cool breeze, people in shorts and t-shirts everywhere. My grandmother and I walked around together for a while until she decided she had had enough and left me to wander alone.

I walked down to the Victoria water front which in itself is really quite something. As I walked along the boardwalk I came across a man playing the blues. Well, that is a bit of an understatement. This old guy was simultaneously playing a steel guitar with a slide, a snare drum with one foot, a high hat with the other, and of course a harmonica. This guy was not your average street musician. To say he was good does not do this man justice. He was really, really good. I sat and listened. Watched against the backdrop of the water, boats, sunshine, and people. I sat for a long time and just listened. For the first time in a while, I truly felt like everything was going to be okay.

I have spent a lot of my time here just hanging out with my grandmother. It has been pretty nice. Her mobility isn’t great so there have been some things I have been able to do for here that she hasn’t been able to get done for some time. I also showed her how to use her laptop which hasn’t been turned on for two years which is the last time my mom was here. I showed her how to use the stereo she has for burning records on to CD. I made a big batch of carrot ginger soup and froze it for her so she can thaw it and have it whenever she likes. Today, I am going to make a big batch of chicken and vegetable soup for her. I am pretty excited.

You may be saying to yourself, Ben, you are in a great city, it is sunny and beautiful, there are a lot of new things to discover. Why, oh why, are you just spending all your time inside with your grandmother? Well, honestly, because that is what I want to do. As my grandmother has lived in Victoria for fifteen years, and I, for the most part live in Halifax, I really don’t get to see her very often. So, since I have the opportunity to see her now I am going to make the most of it. Yes, Victoria is a beautiful city and there are a lot of interesting things to see and do. The thing is though, Victoria will always be here. My grandmother won’t be. If the last few months have taught me anything it’s that you shouldn’t take for granted the time you have with people. So, I’m not going to.

I think that’s about it. Oh, of course! The butcher/smoke shop. Actually, I will write a post about that later. Yes, it gets its own post. You will understand why some other day. For now, I am happy with what I have. I am happy to be here with my grandmother, and I am really looking forward to going to the Yukon in a few days.

So, I guess that’s it. That is where I will leave it for today. Have a good one. Until next time.

It has been a long time since my last post. There has been a lot going on lately which has prevented me from taking the time to sit down and write. I’m back at it now though, and I’ll fill you all in about the last month and a half and about the future.

As I talked about in my last post my mother was very ill and I was having a rough time being in Montreal while my family was going through such a hard time back in Nova Scotia. I needed to go home. I booked a train from Montreal to the East coast, said my goodbyes to the people I had grown to call friends, goodbye to my dream job, and goodbye to my apartment and creepy landlord. I needed to be with my family. If you have never taken the train in Canada, I don’t recommend it. What was supposed to be a scenic twenty-three hour ride through the back country of Canada’s east turned into twenty-seven hours of standstills, going backwards (literally), and cramped legs the likes of which I had never experienced. None the less, a little worse for ware, I made it home. I was met at the train station by tears from my sister Casandra and that set the mood for my entire time here.

I arrived late Saturday night and first thing Sunday headed into the hospital to see my mom. It was hard. She had already been in this hospital for eight or nine days and was not feeling well at all. Despite the difficulty of seeing my mother lying in a hospital bed hardly able to get up, I was glad to be there. I am not going to go into all the details of the next few weeks simply because it will be too painful for me and I don’t think my mom would want me to. What I will say is that I got to spend a lot of time with her and that she and I had the chance to really talk which meant a lot to me.

What started as a trip to the hospital with a lung infection turned out to be bladder and breast cancer, the latter of which my mother had previously survived. Unfortunately, my mother never left that hospital. On Saturday March 16th at 3:59:45pm she passed away. My sisters, stepfather, and myself were with here when it happened which I am thankful for. She was terrified that she would die alone and she didn’t. Despite how hard it was to be there that day, I am glad I was there. I am glad we were all there.

When we were kids mom used to say two things about her death. One, she wanted a party not a funeral. And two, she wanted to be cremated. Once the initial shock of my mom’s passing had left us we dove head first into planning. This too was a blessing as we all needed something to occupy our time so that we weren’t just sitting at home crying ourselves to sleep. Though, I have no shame in admitting that did happen. One week and one day after my mothers death we held a celebration of her life at the farmers market building she had been selling her soap at for years. We insisted that no one wear mourning colours and that it was a celebration not a funeral. We had spent the week digging through old family photos which in itself was difficult, we prepared a small cook book of some of our favorite recipes of mom’s dotted with old photos of her and stories about each recipe. All of us choosing a recipe that meant the most to us and making it to have on display and for sampling at the celebration. We collected different crafts that she had made over the years. And we planned. By Sunday we had amassed two photo albums, one specifically mom, the other family photos. Numerous cross stitch, toll paintings, knitting projects, and other crafts my mother had done. We had made six or seven of our favorite deserts of hers and put pictures of her all around the market building. We had even made a slide show of old photos displayed on a screen in the back of the room. We had a puzzle set up in the middle of the room for the guests to put together as my mother loved puzzles. We were as ready as we were going to be.

My mom lived in a small community and was very involved with the farmers market and the community in general. The support we received was unbelievable. Many vendors from the market brought food, tea and coffee, framed pictures, even played music. Despite the out pouring of support from the community were not sure at all what to expect when the doors to that building opened. By the end of the day well over three hundred people had come to help us celebrate our mothers life. I can’t describe what it meant to all of us to see how many people were there. Though, it was a hard day, and an emotionally draining one, the mood never fell to somber. We had fulfilled our mothers wishes and thrown a party not a funeral. I know that other than the pictures of her everywhere she would have liked it a lot.

Now it’s all over. The over nights in the hospital, the sense of horror I felt when the phone would ring and I was sure that it was the final call, and all the planning. It’s over. So, what now? I have thought long and hard about this. About what I should do next. Should I stay in Nova Scotia despite it being nearly impossible to find a good job. Should I go back to Montreal? Or, should I go somewhere new? After much consideration and the realization that I need something new, something different, I have decided to go to the Yukon for the summer. Why the Yukon? I will tell you. As a child when we spent Christmas at my dad’s he would always read us “The Cremation of Sam Mcgee” by Robert W. Service which is based on the ghostly trails of the Yukon. Since then I have always wanted to go there. As I have no job, and no place to call home, I am free to go anywhere. As Suzanne is in the Yukon and there are jobs, and I have always wanted to go there, it seems logical. So, that is my next move. In fact, I leave in two days. I will be spending a week in Victoria with my grandmother who was unable to make it down when my mom was sick and then off to the land of mystery in the north.

Though, the last few months have been some of the hardest of my life and I have had to deal with things that every child dreads, I look forward not backwards as my mother would have wanted. Despite the fact that I miss my her more than I can say, I am glad she is no longer in pain. So, I go. I go in the direction of my future. I move forward with hope and the promise that tomorrow is a new day, and knowing that I take a part of her everywhere I go.

I am sure there will be many an adventure in the Yukon so please stay tuned. Until next time.

Rest in peace Mom. You were a teacher, a mentor, a warden, a friend, and the best mother I could have hoped for. I love you always.