Who's watching...

I've been writing in this blog for close to two years now. Many of my cyberspace friends and many people I actually know read it.

I know that some of my employees, customers and suppliers read it. Which is a little weird because I can't imaging what they think when they read it, and quite frankly, it doesn't matter to me. I write this blog for me first (to read when I get older), my mom, my kids and my future grand children. But truth be told, more so, I write it for my grand children.

My grandfather, Neil Payne, died when I was in grade 2 and I would have loved to know more about him. He was my hero. As strange as it sounds, in such as short period of time, he and I had an incredible bond and he had a major impact on my life, and I idolized him.

To me, he was Jesus, I thought he was PERFECT. When he died at 57 years old, I remember sitting at my desk and telling myself that I was going to be bad from now on. Screw God, if he was going to take away my grandfather, I was going going to be bad from now on. I can remember that day like it was yesterday.

He was an interesting guy. After his death my grandmother never once came close to remarrying, heck, see didn't even date once as far as I know, and my dad and his older brother never stopped toasting him on special occasions. Growing up it was a really special, because even though he was dead, he was never gone. I was told that at his funeral the church was packed, and he would often tell my grandmother that "no one would show up at his funeral". If he only knew.

He was a paradox. Serious yet immature. I remember hearing that he only had a grade 6 education. His first job was at the Winnipeg Tribune, and that in the middle of the winter before he left to work in - 20 C weather, his mother would sit on his bike seat and warm it up for him. I could see Alice doing that for our kids.

He worked for the newspaper as a compositor. It was the hot metal lead days and he would set the type. I got into the Printing industry many years later, and as I was entering the industry, the last of the old timers who worked with him were leaving and told me about him.

They all said he was "tough but fair" as a Production Manager. Albert, who was a prima-donna typesetter, told me a story of when he was setting type that my grandfather walked by and told him that he did it wrong based on the sound that the keys were making on the machine. Albert argued with him and in the end my grandfather was right. When Albert told me that story, it was like he wanted to tell me that my grandfather was even better than him.

Gord Burr told me another story about my grandfather. Gord said he worked for him as a young person and wasn't showing up on time and my grandfather fired him. It devastated Gord and he couldn't find another job. Then one day my grandfather showed up to his parents house, knocked on the door, and asked him if he was ready to work and he said yes. Gord told me that he never missed a day of work since then, which was over 30 years at the time.

Everyone held my grandfather in the same regard. Heck, my uncles name is Neil, my son Reid's middle name is Neil, my brother Bob's middle name is Neil, and my brother Barret's son's name is Neil. I think that says it all about what our family thought of him.

Although my grandfather could be a task master and perfectionist, it didn't hold him back from having fun. He liked his beer. My grandmother used to tell me he would never want to go out to a party, she'd have to drag him, but when he got there he'd become the life of the party.

My dad also told me stories of him and my grandfather going to midnight mass at Christmas and my grandfather being drunk and telling my father to act sick so they could leave. Or him partying at his parents house on New Years and walking home in the middle of winter with his shirt off in -20C weather.

Yet he could be as serious as a heart attack and was highly responsible and respectable. He was tough on his kids and made sure they worked hard in school, were truthful, had manners and were respectful. You could trust him with anything and he hated people who lied. He also became a partner is a printing business and was a Past President of the Winnipeg Printing House Craftsman. Hence the paradox.

When my grandmother died and we were emptying the house, I got all his downstairs bar stuff and my greatest treasure is "the Captains Hat". I've often wondered what he would have thought of me doing Ironman's. My grandmother thought it was crazy, but she'd come to watch anyways.

I miss him. And like to think his crazy nature lives on in me. The picture above is of my brother Bob, me and my Grandfather. From the date stamp on the side of the image, this pictures was taken exactly 40 years ago to this month.

Yesterday was a crazy day. All day and evening I worked on a new business plan, which is a spin off company for our yearbook division. I was in the zone and as I thought and wrote on my computer, I sat at the kitchen table and drank beer. By the time I got to bed it was 1 or 2 am and lots of beers later. I was in the zone and putting the plan together was fun.

I decided to do my long ride and brick run in the morning. I still couldn't stop thinking about the business plan and the time flew by. In the afternoon I had to take my bike to the shop to get a new chain put on and then dropped Alyssa off at the Airport. She was excited going back to Winnipeg to stay with my parents and hang out with her old friends. After that I was so tired from last night business plan beer fest that I postponed my swim and fell asleep on the couch.

Long Bike - 2:34:47 / 81.96 km /31.7 kph / 131 avg hr

Brick Run - 35:41 / 4.37 miles / 8:09 pace / 135 avg hr