Cash General Store - by Tricia Cassidy

Growing up in a refurbished 1950’s store could have been as awesome as it sounds, had “refurbished” meant more than a few added walls and carpets. In 1968, my father bought the abandoned property just east of Hwy 97 in Kelowna. The land was originally owned by an Italian couple who built the massive, white stucco, square structure to start a business; a store in the front, a bakery and home in the back, and a makeshift wine distillery in the basement. Large, stencil-like words stretched across the top width of the building which read, “Cash General Store.” My father had hopes of renting out the four dumpy suites built on the side. However, he did not have the means to upgrade the low quality facilities, so, with that came unreliable tenants, and more hassle than my father was willing to handle.

Our family eventually moved into The Cash General Store, in 1980, after my parents started to feel the squeeze that only four young children living in a small rented house could give. The store needed plenty of work. More work than my father was willing to finance. The original walls remained insulated with both wood chips and faulty wiring. The pipes never knew hot water, and the dugout basement had holes large enough to let in all of God’s wild and unwanted creatures -- mice, pregnant cats, and the occasional bird.

We were always embarrassed when friends found out where we lived. “You live in the big white house on Hwy 33? That’s so cool!” They had no idea how cool. It was cool in the summers, and freezing cold in the winters. We hated winter. We did our best to keep warm -- plastic on windows, blankets over doorframes, and layers of sweaters and socks. Extension cords ran like snakes from a few working outlets to the lucky rooms that got heaters. In the mornings we would huddle around the opened oven in the kitchen. The smell of cotton and rubber wafted up from the racks in the oven where our socks, gloves, and father’s work boots warmed. We fought over who got the next boiling pots of water on the stove, just so we could have a warm bath.

Our father had a decent job working at a packinghouse and my mother was a hairdresser, so it wasn’t like we were poverty stricken. Whenever we would complain and plead our case to move to another house, our father was quick to reply, “You should be content with what you have, there are people living on the street without a home.”

The best few winters were when our wood furnace in the basement worked. Heat would rise up, unthawing the old house. Nothing like a basic human need being met to warm one’s dignity.

*** This was a piece I submitted for a Canada writes contest.

My camera took me on a walk today to see what we could see...

Summer abandons yet again; leaving only memories to warm the soul. Long summer nights. Marshmallow roasts. Turning domestic into Hollywood's finest movie sets. Scripts and roles divvied among the kids. Nana spoils. Papa’s eyes swell. Giggles, tears, love, and frustrations intertwine our time together. Mission Creek walk is over; our voices have stopped echoing through the trees. What remains are pictures. Shapes and shades. But more are memories. Memories made alive and active in our hearts. It's what sustains us until we are blessed to make more.

Back in the Saddle Again

         I'm back in the blogging saddle again! Getting back at it is not like riding a bike, and I’ll tell you why. For starters, there are no pedals on saddles - I've looked. (Pause for dramatic effect.) And anyway, I wouldn’t call my previous blog posts “successful bike rides”. (Why do I keep using metaphors; first a train, then a horse, and now a wobbly bike? Possibly it’s because I view my blog as a journey, so I figure, who the heck wants to just walk though it? Not me.) Anywho, like I said, I’m back, and in the words of Tim Gunn, I’m going to “make it work.”

         For future posts, I’d like to vary things up. Share my photography; share a thought here and there, rather than a whole essay – although, I will do those from time to time. This is the future of this blog.

         So, what have I been doing these last couple of months? Well, thank you for asking. I’ve been a busy girl. I completed my very first short story, and submitted it in the CBC Literary Contest. The whole process was eye-opening for me. In my naivety, I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to express my thoughts and ideas on paper, and it embarrassed me to discover the level at which I wrote. But as it turns out, hard work really does pay off, and time spent improving was never a waste. Not to insinuate that I think my story is at a prize-winning level, but simply that I worked and reworked it to a place that I felt good about.

         Completing this story is a personal milestone. The last time I tried writing one, it had left me with the conclusion that I could never be a writer. Mind you, I was only 12 years old at the time, but the feeling had stuck with me all these years nonetheless.

         In the process, I also found that no matter how frustrated or stuck I got, I continued to feel passionate and excited about writing. This combination of feeling passionate and frustrated is new for me – and I rather quite like it.

          What else have I been doing? I’ve been working on an essay for my writing course. Since we were given the freedom to choose our own topic, I decided to write about the "Tortured Artist". Let's just say, I’ve been feeling tortured myself having to find evidence to support my thesis. Academic papers are not my forte, but luckily I have an informative and supportive teacher.

         I think I’ve rambled and shared enough for one day. I hope you keep coming back, checking out my blog, and hopefully I can keep you entertained from time to time.

         TTFN, ta ta for now! 

To Emoticon or Not to Emoticon, that is the More Relevant Question

      For a certain demographic, I could see how the question "to be or not to be," would be a relevant one (the list including murderers and suicidal individuals alike). For the rest of us however, it would not be a question we'd ever have to wrestle with. Easy; to be, please and thank you! I would have to argue that the greater question plaguing mankind today is, to emoticon or not to emoticon? You know what I'm talking about, those textual emotions aiding in expressing our mood or tone without words (e.g.  :)  :'(  :p , and so forth).


      I admit, there are individuals who wouldn't wrestle with whether to emoticon or not. Those who readily and frequently add emoticons, and those who strongly oppose using any ever. I split them into two categories, those who own kitten posters that state, "You're pawfect just the way you are, " and those who don't.


      For the majority of us, the inner battle wages on. Should a winking face be added to our text, so whoever reads it knows we're joking but risk looking like a 13 y/o girl who likes to dot her 'I's' with hearts, or, should it not be added, risking being misunderstood but coming away with our dignity and self respect intact?


       I'm a fairly sarcastic person. Alright, a very sarcastic person, so there was no opinion on the matter, emoticons would have to become my fast friend. Over time I've become more comfortable using them, but from time to time, I'll run across an "emoticon hater" and suddenly feel ashamed, questioning myself "Who am I and what have I become?" Once my self indulgent meltdown was over, my heart would extend to the e-hater, questioning them, were you not hugged as a child?! Do you secretly wuv kitten posters, but aren't ready to face the water works once the door to your heart is opened?


      Here are things to think about; emoticons show no partiality to race, language or gender. They help translate our intent with just a wink or a tongue extension. They are wonderful tools when used moderately and appropriately, but used too much and their purpose loses it's meaning. Remember, with great power comes great responsibility, so, emoticon responsibly!


      
    Oh, and with the matter of Hamlet, Shakespeare could have lightened the mood up a whole lot with just a few emoticons. Doom and gloom, doom and gloom get's old pretty quick. ;-)


     

Surprisingly Normal-ish

      Has anyone ever struggled with their identity? The, "who am I" or "who am I going to be?" Sure, who hasn't, but has anyone struggled with the identity others have placed on them? Well, this just happens to be the story of my life. Now, hold on, before you let your eyes make a complete roll, let me set the record straight, this isn't a "poor little old me" post. It's a "watch-me-pat-myself-on-the-back-I-turned-out-surprisingly-OK-considering-all-the-hardship-my-childhood-withstood" post (OK, now you can finish rolling your eyes). I'll share my story with you and let you decide if I should be worse for wear.


      It was the happiest day of my mothers life. She found out that she was pregnant, again, with her fourth child (Enter, me). Her picture perfect family with two kids had blurred over the years into double vision. She must have been feeling twice as lucky. However, my brother, on the other hand, was ticked. Another sister?! Life was indeed cruel, but it wasn't unkind, for his brand new baby sister turned out to be simply adorable! Me being born, would not have been my mother's or brother's first choice. They probably would've rather eaten a ketchup popsicle while wearing white gloves (oh, the horror!), but they weren't given that option and instead were stuck with me, but boy did I win them over! I don't know how, but I'm sure I did. My sisters, well, they were just glad to have me to look up to them. Oh, we got along great, and we have scars to prove it.


      From around ages four to eight (and for many of my teenage years) I sported a very short bowl cut, confusing the elderly and school photographers alike as to the true identity of my gender. "I am not a boy", I would always add after my, "hello." That was the beginning of a trend in my life, adding an amendment to my perceived identity. "Hello, I didn't fail a grade, my parents just happened to put me into grade one, at the age of 8, because any sooner would've been considered child abuse", and "Hello, I'm not searching for my identity by dying my hair a different colour every month, it's just fun. And the chemicals in the dye help me telepathically communicate with Santa Claus", and "Hello, I'm not a snob, I'm just socially awkward from time to time", and "Hello, I'm not a lesbian just because I have short hair and won't date guys in my grade" (.....wait, I'm not?! It is a pretty convincing case, I admit, except for the part where I was extremely boy crazy), and "Hello, I'm not mentally challenged, God just happened to make me very special", and, finally, the one I shall never live down. It will be the bane of my existence, robbing me of my God given right to have my own identity, "Hello, I'm not who you think I am, no, I'm not Tania. She's my sister. No, we're not twins. Yes, we talk the same. Yes, you're right, I am the prettier one". 


      There you have it. These misconceptions may not be who I am, but they've shaped me into the person I am today, slightly insecure and neurotic, but mostly all right with people perceiving me differently than I do. From this point on (with much counseling), I'm sure I'll be able to coast into my golden years mostly unscathed, or at least I'll die trying! What's that? You never pegged me as the fighting to the death kind of gal? Well, I'm not here to try and change your mind, you'll have to think what you will! But you might just wanna watch your back.

Is Selflessness Possible?

      I've been coining around this idea of altruism, in my mind for a while now and feel it's time to cash in. Keep your pennies, because these thoughts are for free! (So selfless of me.) 

      You've heard it said, "It is better to give than to receive", and have been told that for true peace and happiness we should think of others first. I'm not here to disagree with this philosophy. In fact, I think it's true. Thinking of others does make us feel pretty darn good and makes this world a better place to live in. Now, I know I'm not the first to think this up, neither will I be the last, but is there truly such a thing as a selfless act? Some of us have the ability to put others first more than others, but does that make the “least selfish” persons motives selfless? 

      There are different motivating factors behind why we do the things we do. Some are motivated by obligation, by love, or by personal gain, but does it matter the motivation or intent? Is it not still for selfish reasons? Before, you jump all over me, let me explain myself, hopefully a little better.

      We’ve been taught morally that it’s not right to think of ourselves, that we should put the needs of others first, doing it without praise or reward. But in the same breath, if you were raised in a Christian home, like I was, our selfish nature is still appeased by the thought of an ultimate reward from God. We were taught we should not do it for those reasons, but in the back of our minds we knew our martyrdom wouldn’t be for not. Also, we were taught that loving others reaps rewards for everyone, thus giving us fuzzy feelings of having done the right thing. I would say that’s fairly selfish.

      You may say, but what about the selfless act of a mother dying in place of her child, or an officer jumping on a grenade to save his platoon from certain death? Very noble and an act that most of us would not be willing to do. I politely and respectfully say, (keeping in mind that these types of acts should be honored and no slander to anyone who has sacrificed their lives for others are intended) I don’t think it is entirely selfless. Depending on your definition of selfish. Is it selfish to do something to fulfill a personal desire or ideal? To be able to live with ourselves knowing we did the right thing? I may be stretching it a bit here, I realize. I’m not saying there’s any evil intent involved in these types of acts or a desire of praise, just that maybe we are unable to separate ourselves from the motives of our actions, it always relates back to a selfish desire to fulfilling the needs of obligation or devotion.

      I don’t have an ultimate answer here, just the willingness to throw the thought around and see where it lands. What are your thoughts on the matter?