by Julie Weir
My father, “Pops” as he is known to my children, has recently completed a transformation of sorts that has some people a bit unnerved.
It may appear to be a classic reinvention due to his newly acquired retirement lifestyle (a nice way of saying mid-life crisis)…those who know him better will say they saw this coming a long ways off and it was only a matter of time before he stumbled upon his tinkering, elf-like persona (complete with pony tail and soul patch).
After 30 years working in informatics with the Federal Government, Correctional Services (loosely translated to running the computer systems for Canada’s prison systems) my father is happily pursuing his other interests...the part that is amazing is we didn’t know he was interested and I don’t even know if HE knew. If he had taken up fish farming people would not have blinked (he had actually graduated with a degree in Marine Biology - how he got from there to informatics and corrections is actually a funny story, too). They would have probably giggled, but not been surprised, if he had put on a yellow rain slicker and headed far out to sea (he did actually purchase a 30 foot sail boat however, and does own a full yellow rain suit and a Tilley hat, so this may be an adventure yet unlived).
But my father, in true Lazenby-fashion (which you will doubtless begin recognizing in my writing), took the “path less traveled” and has turned his garage into a woodworking studio. Actually, I take that back. Lazenby’s do not take the path less traveled, they jump off the path and walk backwards to create a new path, without ever turning to look where they are going! That way the path is ever-winding, may end up crossing back over itself at some points, and may hit a few large bumps along the way. They drag their heels, so that they will always be able to see where they have been, and so others can follow. It can’t really be considered meandering, because they walk with purpose and conviction, nor do they stroll because at some points Lazenbys will stop and linger, and other times the momentum of the landscape (the hills and valleys if you will, and cliffs for that matter) will have them caterwauling through life. [Read more...]