Flight of the Bumblebee

 

It's been said that a bumblebee should not be able to fly.  The span of it's little wings, is too small to actually allow the insect to gain flight, yet every spring and throughout the summer months, the bumblebee can be seen flying all about, gathering nectar from the flowers and trees and spreading it's seed throughout the neighbourhood.  The insect should not, by scientific terms, be able to fly, yet it does, the reason sloughed off, citing "It flies because it doesn't know any better."

Growing up, I had all kinds of dreams of what I wanted to be when I grew up.  At a young age, I had a million ideas running through my head as to what a young Jeff could become in the world.  Dreams at such a young age, can be priceless.  Many people, wanna be a police officer or a cowboy or even an astronaut.  I never had any dreams like those.  Mine were more, I don't know, for the age bracket, they were dreams that were a little outside the norm, but if endorsed or guidance would have been provided by a parent at such an age, who knows the prominence one might achieve in life.

At a young age, I remember drawing a lot.  I was always drawing up buildings and alike.  I can remember receiving compliments from people, my mom included, encouraging me to make more pictures.  One friend of the family even mentioned "You're going to make a fine architect one day."  I'd never heard that word, architect, before and began telling everyone that I was going to grow up to be an architect.  Until another family member, likely my father, but my mom had an equal hand in discouraging me from some things, like this.  Until about twenty minutes ago, I thought their intensions were malicious, but it may have just been their way of protecting me from disappointment in life.  Either way, we'll never know.

I remember wanting to be an architect, but was told there was too much science involved and I wouldn't be good at it.  I wanted to be an actor (not a movie star, like so many kids say), but I was told that I had a face for radio, not a TV screen.  I may have even mentioned that I wanted to try out for football (real football 🏈, not that soccer bullshit), but I was told I was too small and would probably be killed.  That last one sounds legitimate, actually.  I would not fair too well against those mastodons.

At one point, I actually went off to collage to study Film History and Production.  I was one of the first first year students to get into that film production class, as it was usually held over for second year students, at the University of Regina.  A terrible school for studying the artform as their equipment was obsolete, even then.  After applying to many schools, the University of Regina was the only school I could get into.  It was a wasted year, to say the least.  What I do recall from that era, was my dad introducing me to one of his friends or family members, including the fact that "Jeff is in university for..." he paused, glancing over at me, "I don't know.  Some kind of bullshit." He rolled his eyes with true embarrassment and I turned away, heartbroken.

I never returned to school the following year.  The University of Regina was a lost cause.  I knew that, but lacked the resources to go to a better school, but a year of neglect and shitty grades, would've prevented that, anyway.

I often wonder about the road not taken.🤔What if this? What if that? What if? What if? What if?

What if my parents had embraced my ideas as a young pup?  Steer me in the direction of honing my skills to help shape me and better prepare me for the disappointments that were sure to follow me in my quest for betterment.

What would be different?  Everything.  Would I be in a better place?  Who the f*ck knows?  Chances are I wouldn't have the great friends and acquaintances that I do.  While not the picturesque friendships that movies and TV would have, but they're awesome people, all the same.  I definitely wouldn't have my boy, Monkey.  I can't imagine a life without that furry little face staring up at me.

Nature versus Nurture is a common debate.  Nature dictates that a being is already wired for a certain behavior.  That it's a natural instinct to follow a certain path in life, without any outside influence.  Nurture suggests that if a being is influenced by an outside factor or it's environment, that it can be coerced or guided into a life path.

I don't recall receiving much praise or support from my family growing up.  I was an accidental pregnancy, while my sister was not and boy, was I reminded of that fact much throughout my young life.

My dad was an alcoholic.  Later in life, after he had passed, I came to peace with the whole ordeal.  I call it "Jeckyll and Hyde".  When my dad was sober, he was the best.  When he was drunk..., look the f*ck out.  Maybe, and I'm just surmising here, but perhaps because I was an accidental pregnancy and viewed as "the reason his life was shit", is the reason, subconsciously, that my life was somewhat sabotaged as an infant.  That's just being passive aggressive.  Blaming others for my own shortcomings, but wouldn't the same be suggested of his motivations?

I could have taken control of my own horse and carriage and steered myself in whatever direction I deemed best, just as he (my father) could have done anything to follow his dreams, as well.

By all accounts, the bumblebee should not be able to fly, but it does.  Does it do so, because it isn't aware that it should not be able to?  Or did the bumblebee receive more hugs as a larva?

Just look at that face! No matter what bad decisions I've made in my shitty life, I don't regret ever bringing this little dude into my life.  My little angel, Monkey. 🥰 

Dedicated to my little boy,
Monkey.

Unbearable

For the life of me, I can't understand why people enjoy camping.  My father loved it and I remember every summer vacation, being lead out to some remote lake, to live out of the trunk of our car and sleep under the stars in a leaky tent.  "Back to the basics." he'd say with a deep inhale of fresh air.  Early to bed, as there's very little to do at night, but stare into the flickering of the campfire and very early to rise as the early dawn brought about the screeching birds, and that was if we were lucky enough to not be rained on during the night.

To this day, I find it extremely difficult to recall a single time that our camping excursions never resulted in some kind of disastrous outcome.  Whether it be a misty rain bleeding through the sheer material of our tent, often resulting in the saturation of our sleeping bags; or the least of our troubles, the rocky terrain and stubble protruding through the tent floor and into our backs.  It wasn't until later that air mattresses were introduced into the camping experience.  The mattresses provided a more comfortable sleep, but never saved us from the flooding.

The tenting experience can be avoided with the advent of camper trailers, which if I were foolish enough to go camping, is the only way you'd ever find me out in the wilderness.  Bringing the creature comforts of home, out to the wild yonder.  Although this practice defeats the whole "getting back to the basics" that my late father enjoyed, it sure beats having to shit in the woods.  Cooking over an open fire is replaced with a propane cooking stove.  The shitty polystyrene cooler that always flaked off at the corner, littering the camp site with tiny balls of foam plastic, now replaced with a mini fridge secured safely under the faux oak cupboard in the RV.  The sole entertainment of watching the orange glow of logs slowly crumbling under the extreme heat of the campfire is now replaced by a mini plasma TV and DVD player, complete with surround sound.  Best of all though, is sleeping on (more) comfortable foam bedding, with real blankets and comforters, protected from the elements by a hardened shell of aluminum and fiberglass.

I remember as a kid, many times arriving at our destination well after the sun had gone down then being forced to listen to the barrage of cursing from my father as he fought with the problems of hammering tents pegs into the rocky ground.  Often times, the ground was too hard and the cheap ass metal spikes would bend violently as he'd attempt to hammer them into the ground.  Thinking back, I recall searching through the surrounding foliage for the hammer my dad was using.  Upon striking the hand holding the peg in place, the hammer would be flung into the darkness followed by expertly-voiced curses.  One of my fondest memories of my father, whether it be camping or just working around the yard, if he lost his cool, the string of curse words could link together was nothing short of poetry to my ears.  While I can intertwine a lovely collection of curses, I can only aspire to one day equal the skill level of my late father's degree of swearology.

Whatever the mode of the camping experience, people are inexplicably drawn to the wilderness.  Mine was vicarious through my father's desire.  From what I've been able to compile from Google, is a combination of the feeling of accomplishment; man over the wild; the sense of community as they visit with other camping enthusiasts.  Others feel it gives them an opportunity to reflect on their lives; and even bring themselves closer to God.  Personally, I don't understand what that aspect has to do with sleeping under the stars.  Homeless people do that year round and I'd imagine they feel more spited by God, than spiritually closer to "him".  None of the remarks that I was able to find, mentioned that it brought people closer to nature.  This poses a problem for me.

Friday afternoon, I was privy to a conversation people were engaging in the lunchroom at work.  There was talk of an upcoming camping trip by one of the folks, which soon moved to past encounters with bears.  Camping encroaches on the bear's territory.  Moose, elk, deer, wolves and bears are among the many creatures one may encounter out in the wild.  Every provincial and national park post instructions on how to enjoy the nature walks and avoid being attacked by the indigenous wildlife.  That being said, the fact that people wish harm to the bears that may wander into the camp sites, bothers me.

In the conversation, it was mentioned that if the same bear wanders into a populated camp site more than twice, it is immediately terminated as a nuisance.  Imagine that!  Killed for simply being a bear living in a forest.  The people around me couldn't understand my disdain for this practice, replying that the bear had no right to be in the camp sites. I shook my head with disbelief.  "That's like if someone came into my house and the police coming and taking ME away.  If I return to my house twice more, the police then take me out and shoot me."  I said.  

Man put these camp sites in the forest homes of bears and alike.  Not the other way around.  The bears didn't suddenly one day decide they needed to visit the city more often.  It's our inherent need to return to the wild, stupid as that is.  It's like swimming in shark infested waters for the adventure and excitement, then getting upset when we lose a f*cking leg.  People need to know the risks before they enter into these situations and accept them.  Realize that they're entering a dangerous environment.  That if they don't exercise some care and caution, they might be mauled by a f*ckin' bear.  It's a reasonable expectation.  Don't fault the bear for your own foolishness and stupidity.