GARE!!
So there's this guy named Garry. To begin a post of this magnitude
is somewhat of an overwhelming chore. Garry and I have about
25 plus years of history together. Once, while my best friend Bri
and I were watching 'The Ref' (a incredibly terse but good comedy
with Denis Leary), we noticed that one of the main characters of the
film was named Gary (probably with one R - not very unique). We
also noticed that as these two bumbling policemen in the film keep
wanting their mutual friend Gary to show up, and when he finally
does (into the house that Denis Leary is robbing...sort of...you gotta
see the film), the two idiotic policemen see him, shouting in obnxious
unison "GAAARE!" Bri and I thought that THIS was the way Garry
should be greeted from that day forward. That was probably 1995.
I still say it when I see him today.
Garry grew up in Calgary and was a fan of Calgary Flames. When
he was 6 or so, that all changed as Garry and his fam moved to
Camp IAWAH in the golden lands of Godfrey, Ontario (right next
door to Fermoy). We kinda grew up together there as my parents
came up to volunteer in the summers and his parents pretty much
ran the IAWAH show. Everyone at Camp IAWAH gets a camp
name (a nickname so that crazy kids who come on site can't
find your real information if they don't like you) - Garry's was
'Dufour'. It was the name of the windsurfing board that he learned
to windsurf upon. Years later, he cut the end of that windsurfing board
off, where the moulded plastic read the word 'DUFOUR', and
still has it as a mantle-piece to this day.
One time, Garry picked me up at the Kingston Bus station at 3 am
with our mutual friend Jason Oldendorp. Apparently, when I called
them to let them know I had arrived in Ktown (as they were staying at
another Jason's place also called 'The Geneva House'), Garry
and Olden were sleeping on a large throw rug. When they heard the
noise of the answering machine, Garry sat bolt upright causing Olden
to spout jibberish. They were both sweating buckets. They barely
made it to the station. I don't remember much more of that weekend.
I just know that it was good.
Garry, at that time, drove a brown Nissan boxmobile that had a
reputation for showing constant dash lights, spewing a variety of
smells through the vents and barely cracking 100 k/hr on
the highway when it was floored. We made many a memory
traversing within that automobile. Once, we drove from Ottawa to
Almonte and played hockey with Brad Huskins, (older brother of
last night's Stanley Cup Champion Kent Huskins) Paul Godin,
Jay Oldendorp and a few others. It was a really sloppy game of
shinny.
When Garry worked at IAWAH for a year after his graduation
from Queens, I once came to visit him and we spent a few days
together when the usually busy Camp was pretty much emptied
out. We played a floor hockey game together where the two of
us would shoot rubber pucks at each other, using the span of the
entire empty gymnasium. The point of the game was to try and
score on each other's nets but you could only come to the halfway
line to rip a shot. We ended up hitting each other a lot. I probably
swore at him. On that same visit, we decided that talking in
"Yodaspeak" was the best way to converse with each other. When
taking stock of what was in Garry's personal fridge, I spouted the
classic line 'Correct you are. Only a Brita remains.' We made a
lot of blue juice and milkshakes during that 2 man retreat.
On that same 2 man retreat, I had a dream about:
a. Dave Grohl, of the Foo Fighters, and how I had to set up a
massive 'sink demonstration' for his birthday - the demonstration
involved a massive line of sinks, about 18 all in a row, and when
I cued the sinks to...do whatever they were supposed to do...they
did nothing. It was at this point that 18 plumbers all dove under the
sinks to find out 'what had gone wrong'. Dave was watching
nearby in a chair and was unimpressed.
b. Tony the Tiger flying in the sky - I looked up from my side
yard in Ottawa and saw him almost swimming through the clouds.
I told Garry about these dreams. He looked puzzled.
Speaking of dreams...
Garry has had, over the years, some incredible nightmares that
have usually involved animals of some kind either chasing or
wrestling with him. Once, while in his room at IAWAH, he was
having a dream about a deer that was chasing him through the
woods, snorting at him and looking mean. While in the dream,
Garry thought it would be a good idea to hide behind a tree, jump
out and scare the deer. As he did this in the dream, he also did it
in real life, jumping out of his bed, yelling as loud as he could and
stretching out both of his arms as far as he could. He knocked a
whole row of cds off of his bookshelf. In the midst of another
crazy animal dream, Garry was being chased by an angry, hissing
platypus (that's right - I said 'platypus') and decided to punch the
platypus on its beak. While doing so, Garry also performed this task in
real life and punched the side of his wooden frame bed, waking
himself up in severe pain.
Garry has been known to like strutting his stuff in front of a crowd.
I can't say that I haven't encouraged him to do so - the results were
always excellent. One time, without any encouragement, Garry was
driving one his many inherited/found bicycles around Queens
campus and decided to 'hop' the curb in front of some girls.
Unfortunately, the bike was not very 'high quality' and while he
attempted to pull up the handlebars to 'hop' the curb, the front
wheel came clear off the bike. Garry landed on the front forks
and went 'ass over tea-kettle' on to the sidewalk. The girls were
unimpressed...and Garry was in pain. I'm pretty sure Garry bent
or trashed that bike beyond recognition, out of fury and
disappointment, after that incident.
Gare and I worked together for many summer and spring seasons at
Camp IAWAH. We definitely had some disagreements and at
one point, it looked as if we would not be friends anymore. I can
even remember saying to Sarah, on a late night drive, that I could
honestly see the end of our friendship coming.
Thank God that didn't happen.
I have never been through as much agony and struggle in any other
friendship than I have with Gare. The struggle, however, has only
managed to strengthen the bond we have. Gare has been through
a lot of intense shit in his life...and I'm sure I contributed to that at
times...but I'm glad I know him.
I'm glad to call him my amigo.
There was much more I could have written about Gare - I could
honestly publish a book of our adventures. (I think I would call
it 'The Idiotball Dingler' in memory of an incident that occurred
while Garry was goaltending, during a massive game of mens-only
idiotball at Camp IAWAH. Let's just say all the guys were
only wearing boxers and he went down into the splits to make a
save and...yeah.)
Now he has a great wife and a lovely child. He lives in Kingston.
He's the pastor of a church.
We're going to brew some beer together this summer. I can't
wait.
