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Good day to all.
Three things happened Thursday that made me feel friggin’ old.
Can I say friggin’? That probably reinforces just how old I am. The kids would just slam down an F-bomb, but I work for a family newspaper, and this is a family newsletter.
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Back to the trifecta of occurrences that had me feeling like all my best days had passed me by.
The first thing: I received my second shingles vaccine before I’d even had breakfast – not exactly a fantastic start to my day. I still loathe needles, even after getting poked countless times for vaccinations and boosters, blood work and IVs.
I’ve never passed out but feel like I’ve come awfully close.
My needle routine used to begin with me lying down. That was more for the person administering the shot, who really didn’t need the aggravation of hauling me off the floor if I went unconscious.
Once settled on the table, I’d stare at a spot on the wall. The person preparing to poke me was instructed not speak to me. My focus was entirely on that spot on the wall.
In the last 10 years, I have progressed to sitting in a chair and I rarely feel woozy, either before, during or after being jabbed.
Now, I’m getting vaccinations for shingles, what I had always perceived (wrongly) to be a virus only seniors can get. I don’t want it. So, hopefully, I’m covered.
The second thing: I read with keen interest about the cyberattack on the University of Winnipeg in late March, however, news Thursday that decades’ worth of personal and financial information from students had been stolen sent a jolt through me.
I enrolled at U of W in 1984 – FORTY YEARS AGO – and went on to receive by my Bachelor of Arts degree in 1987 before heading to Red River College to focus on a journalism diploma. I say “enrolled” because to say I “attended classes” would be a misrepresentation of how I managed my time at – or near – the Portage Avenue campus.
I rarely left Lockhart Hall, a tremendous hangout spot inside U of W with a small cafeteria and picture windows overlooking Ellice Avenue.
University of Winnipeg’s Lockhart building – a favourite hangout spot for future sports editors. (Mike Deal / Free Press Files)
Some days were spent entirely at the now-Millennium Library, or at the pool hall on Vaughn Street.
We ate a lot of lunches at the Paddlewheel Restaurant – gone but not forgotten – at The Bay.
But I graduated. In three years. As I had promised my parents and then-girlfriend, now-wife Allyson. To do so, I needed to pass Intro to Astronomy – the ‘science’ requirement of my Arts degree. Despite attending that class with the frequency of Halley’s Comet, I managed a hard-earned a D.
There’s no chance I’ll divulge my university cumulative grade-point average here. But with the recent hack at my alma mater, could that humiliating number somehow leak out to the masses?
The third thing: There’s been a lot of planning happening in our family the last few months for the wedding social for my son, Scott, and his fiancée, Justine.
They’re having the event at Gateway, a community centre in northeast Winnipeg, the very same venue where Allyson and I had our social 34 years ago.
I watched some video Thursday that had been taken of the room, just to get a sense of where the bar is situated, where the silent-auction tables and prizes will be set up, the dance floor, and the size and location of the stage for the live band.
That’s my band, by the way. Yep, a non-paying gig. (I’ll leave my fledgling music career for another newsletter.)
I gotta tell you, I had a flood of emotions as I watched the short clip. I remember a lot about that cold February night in 1990. Allie looking stunning. Purple dress. All our friends. All our family. So much fun.
If memory serves, we had two slow dances, with just us on the floor. When I’m With You by Sheriff, and Don’t Know Much by Linda Ronstadt and Aaron Neville.
What can I say? I’m a romantic.
I’m not even sure Scott and Justine are planning to waltz at their social. The band has no slow songs planned.
I might have to hijack the music they’re playing between sets and cue something up. Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis.
Just for us old folks.
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