Monday 30 January 2012

My dad on conflict resolution...and moving mountains


Hello readers...so after last week's post on my dad's buried treasure, my mom commented to me on how ridiculous that story was, and that my father was insane for having dug that trench. Well you know what? She's right. That was absolutley insane. But on the crazy barometer of things my dad has said and done over the years, digging a six foot deep, twenty foot long trench around the house does not even come close to the inspiration for this week's post.   

First let me give you a little background about where I grew up (trust me, it will all make sense in the end). So as I was saying, I grew up in the Montreal neighborhood of NDG. NDG is a great place to live, and some of my fondest memories as a kid were of playing in the snow covered backyard. Conversely, some of the worst memories are of the backyard being flooded in the spring-time months by the melting snow, and turning it into a Louisiana style swamp-land. Well, as I mentioned in my previous post, my dad is quite the do-it yourselfer, and over the years has developed a truly ingenious syphon system to drain our backyard of melting snow. As it happens, our backyard was actually the lowest in the neighborhood, so naturally our neighbors were more then thrilled when my dad's syphon would inevitably drain their backyards, leaving ours flooded for the longest period of time. Well my dad is a good sport, and really didn't mind. But as those people who know him best will tell you, my father does not mind doing favors for people, but absolutely hates being taken advantage of. Well this brings me to the topic of this week's post, how my dad deals with conflict resolution, and how he decided to move a mountain.  

Remember our neighbor Roger? He's the guy my dad convinced to help him dig for buried treasure...if you haven't read it already, please read my previous post on my dad's buried treasure...trust me, it is a great story! As I saying, when Roger first moved in, the real-estate agent informed him that the only draw-back to the neighborhood was the fact that the gardens always got flooded in the spring time. Well, seeing as how it was a great house, and NDG is a wonderful place to live, this was seen as a minor inconvenience, and something that could easily be overcome. Well upon moving in, Roger thought he was quite clever, and decided to raise his backyard by a few inches, thus making his higher then ours. My father was naturally displeased by this act, and promptly headed over to introduce himself to his new neighbor, and secondly ask what the hell he thought he was doing, raising his backyard. 

Dad: Hi. 
Roger: Hello. 
Dad: Are you out of your mind? 
Roger: I'm sorry...what do you mean? (naturally a little taken back by my father's forwardness) 
Dad: You raised your backyard over mine! 
Roger: Well yeah, I don't want it to get flooded in the spring. 
Dad: What about my backyard? That means mine will stay flooded the longest! 
Roger: Well that's too bad. I guess you should have thought of raising your backyard too (he thought this was quite funny, given the very difficult nature of the task). 

Those of you who know my dad will tell you one thing...don't taunt the man! He will go to any lengths to prove a point, including moving mountains (you'll see, it all makes sense in a little bit). 

Dad: Is that so? 
Roger: Yes it is. 
Dad: Okay then, we'll see what's what. 

And they promptly parted ways. As luck would have it (and as my mom will tell you, my father is probably the luckiest person on earth) the heavens conspired to help my dad prove his point, and make my brother and mine's life a living nightmare. My father happened to be walking Simba and Paula (the family dogs) by a construction site, and saw the mechanical shovels pulling out tons of black earth. Well my dad, always being on the look-out for a good deal, approached the foreman and asked him how much he wanted for the earth. The foreman was a little taken back by this question, as I'm sure it was the first time someone had approached him to buy earth he was hauling out of a job site. He thought about it for a while, and answered fifty dollars. He then asked my father how much earth he wanted. My father asked him how much a dump truck could hold. The foreman replied, about forty tons or so. Well that was perfect, my father replied, and proceeded to give him the money and delivery address. 

Imagine my mother's surprise as this enormous dump truck pulls up to the house, and my father jumps out of the cab with a yellow construction helmet, happy as can be. Now imagine that surprise turning to shear horror as the dump truck proceeds to back into the driveway and dump forty tons of earth. My mother, being cool-headed as ever, told my dad that she did not want to know what sort of hair-brained scheme he was up to, but that she wanted no part of it. 

So as you've probably figured out by now, my dad had every intention of taking Roger up on his taunt and raising our backyard with forty tons of black earth. When Roger came home that afternoon and saw my father with a wheel-barrow, a shovel and a forty ton mountain of earth on our half of the driveway, he naturally 'inquired' as to what my dad was up to.  

Dad: Just a little light gardening project (with a sly smile on the corner of his face) 
Roger: Okay...(I can only imagine what was going through his mind at the time) 
Dad: I really think it's going to 'raise' the value of the houses around here.  

You see Roger still had no idea what was going on here. But believe me, he sure received an education. What followed next is nothing short of a herculean feat of strength and will. Armed only with three shovels, two wheel barrows, and a make-shift wooden ramp, my dad, my brother and I hauled forty tons of black earth into our backyard over the course of four weekends. He watched in horror as shovel by shovel, barrow by-barrow we raised that backyard over twelve inches, and effectively became the highest backyard on the block. Guess who's backyard doesn't flood in the spring anymore? And guess who's backyard now consistently gets flooded? Oh yeah, it was worth it! 

To this day, it was the most back-breaking labor I have ever done. That experience has taught me, that armed with a little ingenuity, and a whole lot of will power you can do just about anything. So before you go out and taunt my dad with something ridiculous, remember, he does not get mad, he gets even, and nothing is beyond him, not even moving mountains! 

Stay tuned for more. 

Daniel. 

Monday 23 January 2012

My dad's buried treasure

So, since I've started writing about my dad, a number of people have been messaging me and questioning the genuineness of my posts...I assure you, these are the real deal, and I could not be making them up, even if I tried. Well those who know me, will tell you that I, like my father, am a bit of joker who enjoys a good story. But see, I thought of that, and decided to provide a little visual proof for this post, entitled  "My dad's buried treasure".

This story goes back a few years: after a particularly harsh Canadian winter, my father discovered some cracks in the foundation of the house and decided to call in a professional to assess the damage (keep in mind that this is a big move for him, as he is quite the do-it yourself-er). The contractor informed him that the work could be done, but that a giant access trench would have to be dug around the outside of the house to access the bedrock and seal the foundation cracks form the outside. Upon being handed a quote for over ten thousand dollars, the majority of which was for digging the trench, my dad simply replied to the contractor, "be here in a week with your sealing equipment. The trench will be ready and dug for you". The contractor naturally looked at my dad with curiosity and asked him to repeat that. My father calmly replied that he would dig the trench himself. Naturally, the contractor replied in mocking tone, "how?". My dad replied "with a shovel, naturally. Now be here in a week, before I change my mind and do all the work myself!" So the contractor left (probably thinking that same thing I was thinking at the time and you probably are too right now...this guy is out of his mind...safe assumption given the circumstances) and my dad got to work.

Well believe it or not, but armed simply with a wheel-barrow, shovel and a pick, my dad dug that trench (a true testament to his character) around the house in just under a week. remember how I mentioned I had proof for you? Well the picture below was taken on the fourth day of digging. 

That trench is over 6ft deep, and over 20 ft long!

So this brings me to the title of this post, "My dad's buried treasure". On the fifth day of digging, our neighbor curiously walks over to the dig site and asks my dad what he is doing. My dad believing the nature of his work was fairly self-explanatory, decided to have a little fun with Roger (our neighbor).

Roger: Sooooooo...what are you doing?
Dad: well I don't really want to talk about it...
Roger: Why? (growing evermore curious)
Dad: Well...can you keep a secret?
Roger: Absolutely! (now he's really got him on the line)
Dad: Okay so here goes...but don't even tell your wife. Promise? Okay. So I was digging around in the old furnace room, and found an old rusty box full of paper hidden in a heating vent.
Roger: What did they say?
Dad: Well, the former owner of the house was an elderly eastern-European Jewish woman  who was quite wealthy. The documents, which look like some sort map of this house, and a will. Well when she died, her estate was empty, and this map has strange markings on it, so I'm thinking she may have buried her money somewhere on the land. You know, we Europeans like to bury things...
Roger: Are you joking?
Dad: Does it look like I am joking? I just dug a six foot deep trench for the fun of it...come on...so listen, if you help me, I'll give you half when we find it (as he desperately tries not to break out laughing).
Roger: Really?
Dad: Oh yeah! Just go get a shovel and help me!
Roger: Okay, I'll be right back!

Sure enough, Roger rushed home to get a shovel to help my dad find his buried treasure.

A day later, as my dad was still digging his trench, Roger's wife came over to speak to my dad. She was clearly not amused that my father had been teasing her husband, and that the latter was had been looking for his shovel to help dig for the buried treasure. Apparently it took her arguing with him all night to convince him it was a fib.

In the end, everybody had a good laugh about it, and according to my dad, seeing my neighbor believe such a ridiculous story was more than enough buried treasure for him, and completely worthwhile.

My dad digging for his treasure!

The lesson here: if it sounds too ridiculous to be true, then it problably is...then again, you never know with my dad...

Stay tuned for more.

Daniel

Saturday 21 January 2012

My dad on relativity...and possibly meal presentation

Hello readers...so after my first post, I got some really great feedback from friends and family, who all said they enjoyed reading my dad's original take on the world. I hope you'll enjoy more of the ridiculousness he was imparted onto me over the years, and maybe learn a thing or two by accident.

For those of you who don't know my dad, he has worked in the restaurant industry around the world for over 30 years, and knows a few things about food. When you find him in a kitchen, he'll usually tell you that the most important ingredient in a recipe is love...it's pretty hard to take him seriously when he throws in everything except the kitchen sink into a meal and then has you play the "guess what I put in the dish game" (something that will really have you thinking about what's still in your fridge...but that will be for another story).

So what was I talking about again? Oh right, love...more often then not he is right, and if the meal is not made with affection, this will be quite evident in the lack of flavor. But my dad also correctly believes that presentation is half the battle when cooking. As he so often tells my mother, if you don't plate the meal with love, then you didn't make it with love, thus you don't love me. My poor mother...she has been putting up with his antics for over 30 years of happy marriage, and in her defense, it's pretty hard to keep up with some of his presentations (i.e: Christmas dinner...tell you all about that some other time).

So this brings me to the topic of this post, my father's take on relativity...and possibly meal presentation. The other day as I as over or dinner, my mother was serving dinner, and for some reason my dad simply replies to her:

Dad: You serve dinner like a Greek person. (keep in my mind my mom is Mexican)
Mom: What does that mean? (with a rightfully so confused look on her face) 
Dad: I don't know....but it seems appropriate...

Which of course made me laugh, by the very random and ridiculous nature of the comment...but it got me thinking...like he always says to me "Daniel, everything in life is relative to your perspective. Take it as you will" pretty good advice right? It is. And I think that's how my mom took it. It could be that my dad was making a comment (good or bad...who knows) on my mom's presentation skills...but it's also a safer bet to assume he was just trying to get a rile out of her by saying something random.

Like any old couple will tell, you learn to tune out most of the non-sense and just laugh at the good times. So it could be that my dad was making a statement on meal presentation skills, or simply trying to teach me about the relativity of life...either or, we all had a good about it.

Stay tuned for more.

Daniel


Friday 20 January 2012

My first foray into blogging

I suppose the first thing I should do as I begin my blogging career is to tell you a little about myself...well here goes the elevator pitch:


Name: Daniel
Age: 20 something
City: Montreal
Additional info: I love hockey, exploring new restaurants, movies and teasing my sister in-law...anything else important, I guess you'll find out as we go. 


As part of a school assignment, our professor, let's call him Mr.T, because by his own admission his last name is ridiculously hard to pronounce (come to think of it, professors with last names that are impossible to pronounce is becoming a bit of a pattern for me lately...Mr.G...)...so where was I again? Oh right, Mr.T had asked us to start our own blogs and write about things that interested us. The only condition was that our first post had to be about  the class (Internet Business and Social Technology)... sounds easy enough right? But I thought to myself, what on earth am I going to write about after I've written my first post? the solution came to me in the most curious of fashions...as is customary for me, I usually go home to visit my parents about twice a week, Sunday and Tuesday nights. These are the nights the whole family gets together to discuss their week, and have a nice family dinner together...this is also when my dad decides to argue and debate with my brother about anything and everything, ranging from economics to the color of the sky...the problem is that he is now semi-retired and receives about 7 different kinds of news publications.


You do the math on this one: 7 publications with on average 30 different articles...close to 210 different stories per day...that makes 1470 different topics and stories he has had a chance to brush up on during the week. Granted he only reads about half that, but that still gives him sufficient ammunition to drive  my brother and I sufficiently crazy on Sunday nights when he decides to quiz us on the various topics of the week, and his take on them.


So as I was saying, my dad like to read...a lot! So this past Sunday, my dad had been reading an article on the upcoming SOPA legislation vote, and decided to ask me a few questions on the topic. The one question that really stuck with me  was when he asked me about Google. I suppose he had misread the word, but imagine my dad, serious as he can be, with a very thick Spanish accent, asking me if I knew anything about this "GOOOOOGGGLESSS" thing. I suppose it was not the nature of the question that made me laugh, but rather the way he asked it. My dad did not understand why I was laughing at him, and despite my having corrected him multiple times on the proper pronunciation of Google, he still stubbornly believes that Gooooogggglesss is the proper way to say it. Experience has taught me, that sometimes, no matter how hard I try, I will never convince my dad of my point of view...and you know what? That's okay with me, because I always have a good time arguing with him, and it makes for some pretty darn good stories to tell my friends.


So back to my original point: I have decided to dedicate this blog to my mom and dad (because after all, my mother puts up with most of his craziness), and all the ridiculous things that he says. I know he sure makes me laugh on a regular basis, so I thought why not share his humorous view of the world with you.  


Stay tuned, as my dad discovers social media and gives me a migraine.


Daniel