I was talking to my girlfriend the other day about those old WWF wrestling stickers you'd get in hostess chip bags. I was telling her that I was really into Dill Pickle chips during that time, even though my allegiance was to ketchup, it was a small exploration phase before going back to the red dust kingdom. While telling her about this pointless memory, I realized that the year of those stickers was 1987: 22 years ago.
The realization kind of punched me in the gut. Those moments happen to me somewhat often and I hate them but enjoy them at the same time.
I found out yesterday that my dad has throat cancer. I'm not real close to the old man. But it is still weird to find out. Sometimes with aging, and the people around me aging I compare it to Agatha Christie's novel "And Then There Were None". A mysterious killer is running around knocking everyone off in creative ways.
My dad looks old. His lifestyle is a testament to how not to live and his looks show it.
He was telling me about how when I was 5 he took me to a car show in Toronto or London and they had the Knightrider car there. He said one of the car models left her leather jacket in the front seat of "Kit" and I asked him "is that Michael Knight's jacket?", he said he told me "yeah it is" and I instantly became mesmorized. I stood in one spot staring at the jacket for a half hour. I do remember seeing that car, but it's a flash memory, blurry and the colours are all wrong. I was probably standing there waiting for Mr. Knight to come back and do a burnout and bust through the wall.
Hearing the story gave me the same feeling as the WWF stickers. There are so many experiences in my life that are blurs. I recall them but there is no clarity. I would give all my belongings away to be able to go back and see myself at 5, my mannerisms and to see how I looked at things. See myself before I figured out what was lame, or had embarassments that roped me in and killed the unaware piglet that I was.
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