For some strange reason, today appears to be a time of self-reflection.
Recently I happened upon an occasion where I had to think outside the box. Yes, outside the walls of my desk!! Anyone who has worked in a call centre, knows exactly what I mean. For so many years my working hours have been spent in front of a monitor, or two. Always following protocol, abiding by call times and following a very strict schedule. In this environment, it is oftentimes hard to think any other way but what you have been conditioned to.
Considering that short of a 12 month stint at an Amherstview apartment complex in 1980, I have always lived at the same postal code. My address always been the same 6 digits: k0h1g0. In fact, Canadian postal codes weren't implemented till I was 11! (cripes, I am older than postal codes) I marred a man who grew up less than 2 miles from my childhood residence. Looking back, I am somewhat embarrassed to say I still spend every weekend with the people I have known since childhood. I did not roam far from home.
Many times I am tempted to start writing about the unique bond I have with these people. It would take ages to organize, and I am unsure if anyone would be interested in reading about our lives, besides ourselves. Keep that thought for the mental bucket list I guess.
Getting back to the original subject of this blog, thinking outside of the box. Why do I find this so hard? My father’s family have constantly steered from the norm by creating jobs that suited their personalities. My great-grandfather, on my fathers side was a gardener. He was paid for working in the gardens at Casa Loma. How sweet is that? His son, my Grandfather Les Beazer lived at Casa Loma with his family between 1941-1948. They had the good fortune of becoming the care-takers there. Imagine growing up in a castle in the middle of the city of Toronto in the 1940’s? My grandparents later started up a flower stall at the St Lawrence Market in Toronto. My father and my aunt Bella also followed into the flower-peddler path of life. They were paid for doing what they loved. Life has changed.
And I digress …
Being a child of the 60’s, I was raised in the catholic school system and spent my teen aged years being educated in the fine art of politics. That last sentence makes it sound so much more refined than it was. My parents both believed in volunteering all their free time to work for local candidates in both federal and provincial elections. Both spent years as councilors of the local municipal government of the Village of Bath. I followed along. Abiding by the rules of the almighty Roman Catholic Church, rubbing elbows with the Premier of Ontario and local members of parliament on many social occasions, my life fit into the ‘box’ that my parents created.
Fast forward: I go to college, get a job in my field & get married all in less than two years. The child comes one year & one month after marriage. (for those counting) Then we buy our first house. Still following the life path expected of me. My friends do the same. We work, we raise our children, we exist in the community our parents have helped create for us. Many of us join volunteer organizations and carry on the *good* things our parents have shown us to be worthy of our extra time.
Now at the age of 51 I have been asked to think outside the box that I have lived in. Why do I find this so tough? Is it that I am afraid to veer of the path I believe that I was destined to follow? Is it possible for me to be anything more than a mother/wife/phone-answerer?
Time will tell.
