Pour Me A Story, Vol. 51
the comeback edition feat. one of my oldest friends
well well well, look who’s back!
I gotta say folks, it’s nice to be writing under the pink Pour Me A Story banner once again. not a week goes by where I don’t think about picking up the proverbial pen, but life blah blah blah.
as I floated in an email a few weeks ago, I’m getting the gang back together and changing it up just a tiny bit this year in an effort to be more consistent for both my readership and myself. in case you missed it, I’m democratizing the interview process so that literally anyone can throw their hat in the ring to be a featured guest. it takes the hard work out of both ends of the process.
wanna be a part of it? you can do the interview here!
Anyway, We Have Company
somewhat upsettingly, sometime in late January marked 25 years (!!!!!!!) since I started high school. I have a handful of extremely vivid memories of eighth grade, the first year of high school in Australia, and one character in particular looms large.
Wayne Taylor and I were the very definition of polar opposites in 1998. he lived in a small town about 20 miles from our high school, while I lived in the burbs, and I was the bookish, indoorsy “don’t wanna get dirty” Yin to his rough-and-tumble, getting into mischief Yang.
my first real distinct memory of our friendship was when our eighth grade mathematics teacher, already frustrated by Wayne’s antics in class after a couple of short weeks, assigned him to sit next to me where he “might learn something.” I could already tell we were an unlikely pairing, but he had me cracking up with laughter within minutes and we became fast friends.
this solidified when, as he will allude to shortly, I got mugged by the school bullies at the train station on the way home one afternoon. I was carrying a case of chocolate bars intended for basketball team fundraising and, as a 90-pound weakling, I was simply not built to stop a bunch of bigger, more fierce kids from taking the whole box from me.
when I got home, my dad asked where the chocolates were, and he eventually dragged out of me the names of the kids that took them. I might not have known the expression yet, but I was still aware of the concept of “snitches get stitches,” and I was horrified when he called the school and told the vice-principal who had jacked me up. one of the three, the smallest one of the group but the one with the biggest mouth, confronted me on the schoolyard the next day and told me what he thought of the aforementioned phone call, and then I was really concerned for my 12-year-old life.
since catching the train home (and risking running into those guys) was no longer an option, my dad offered to pick me up from school for a while. but even walking to my dad’s car seemed like a real dice-roll, until Wayne (built like a brick house even in eighth grade) volunteered to walk me there like a bodyguard. I remember him shaking my old man’s hand in introduction with a grip that impressed my dad, and we were friends ever since.
anyway enough preamble. here's Wayne to tell you all about himself.
AC: this year marks 25 years — a quarter century! — since we met. this is going to be embarrassing for me to publish to the world of course, but what do you remember about our earliest encounters?
WT: The earliest memory of you was our first day of grade 8 at high school and both getting lost for or English class. As it turned out we ended up being in almost all the same classes in those early years of high school. People wouldn’t believe me if said you were the little, scrawny kid with a disproportionate head to body ratio that the bullies of the school took advantage of. Stealing your fundraising chocolates from you on your way home. Luckily your body caught up to your head and you are the giant of man you are today.
We came from different childhoods and I remember you teaching me how to look up adult content on the computer on my first sleepover and me teaching you how to pee outside but something about or sense of humour, personality and morals made us the best of mates through high school.
AC: obviously life takes a lot of twists and turns over the course of two and a half decades. what has yours looked like (for the benefit of our readers) and do you reckon it played out the way you had expected?
WT: Well for the most of it my life has turned out the way i wanted to and I wouldn’t change too much at all. I chased my love of the outdoors and physical work after school, finished my greenkeeper apprenticeship l, bought a mowing business that I ran for the next 13 years. I met and married the cliche “girl of my dreams” at 21 and we celebrate 12 years of happy marriage this May. I became a full time firefighter at 24 (continued my mowing business on the side) and that is the part that in the end hasn’t worked out how I planned. Unfortunately 18 months ago the demons from incidents I had attended caught up with me and I was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder. I have had to rebuild my whole person and restart my dreams for a different future. I have enrolled at University to chase my love of the outdoors from a corporate perspective and am studying environmental science, that I absolutely love.
AC: you became a dad a few years before I did. what would you say was the biggest lesson you learned when you became a parent?
WT: Being a parent is very hard to put into words. It is the most amazing thing in the world and my boys Noah 10 and Riley 8 are my absolute best mates. It is also the hardest thing in the world. One of the biggest lesson I learnt when the boys were born is how little sleep you actually need to survive. Lol. On serious note the biggest piece of advice I could give a new parent. Is it doesn’t matter how much you read or try to prepare for it, you are still going to have no idea what your doing. There is no right or wrong way to do things, there is only the way that works for you and gets you through the days and sleepless nights.
AC: I started this newsletter during what was definitely the weirdest year of most of our lives. what did that look like for you and the family, and how’d you manage to get through it in one piece?
WT: Covid in Queensland (Australia) was very tame to a lot of the world. We weren’t overly restricted or controlled for the most part. Kate and myself were deemed essential workers so life continued reasonably unchanged. I home schooled the boys when we went in to lock down and I actually loved it. We live on 5 acres and I got to spend most days with the boys hanging out. We were super lucky on that front.
AC: total change of direction: what’s the best sandwich you ever ate?
WT: The best sandwich for me was a regular treat for me. It was from a corner store at Indooroopilly owned by an Asian family. During my fortnightly mowing run I’d stop in and get a chicken and salad roll on this crunchy bread roll (I still don’t know if it was crunchy on purpose or it was stale) with mayonnaise, salt and pepper. If you judge a man by his sandwich then I guess I’m a simple man.
AC: each edition's guest gets to choose the song of the week (or whatever the publishing interval is). is there a tune that's been on repeat for you recently, or has particular significance to you?
WT: Music is definitely not my thing and I just listen to the radio. Noah is the music man in our house and the song we listen to nearly every trip to and from school is best of 2014 mash up by go stereo.
AC: the second special guest privilege is the Free Plug -- you can plug something meaningful or important to you or something infinitely less consequential. sky's the limit!
WT: My plug is going to be for men’s mental health and the importance of understanding and educating yourself about how your mind works. For the last 18 months I have been seeing a psychologist fortnightly to try and unravel the damage that has been done from my workplace. I have learnt so much about myself and how I operate that I wish I had done this when I was 20. Hindsight is a bitch and if I had of been aware and recognised the signs and symptoms, I probably wouldn’t be in the position I am in know. I’m sure most of us want to be the best person we can be and I feel that finding a therapist who you gel with and can be 100% truthful, and honest with and be honest with yourself, you will get something out of it that will benefit you and the loved ones around you.
editor’s note: a reminder that the plan for the newsletter the year is to streamline the interview process and let you nominate yourself for 15 minutes of internet fame. hit the button below, fill out the google form (be as wordy as you like!) and that’s that!
Freud Would Love This Shit
almost nine years ago, on valentine’s day 2014, I posted something about my battles with brand-new weather conditions on the absolute time capsule of a blog I used to maintain as a new immigrant.
my first apartment in Maine was a studio at the back of a three-story house, and I had a little path from the sidewalk to my doorstep. as far as I know, there were no rules in the lease or city ordinances that required me to clear the snow, but something in my brain definitely insisted that I get my ass out there and clear even a quarter-inch off the pavement:
[I]t turns out I’m a little overzealous with my snow clearing. Because I don’t know exactly how a car behaves in snow, I don’t know how much is enough to shovel out before I leave in the morning. This means I’m basically clearing the entire street behind me just in case I can’t get over an inch and a half of powder.
I also spend too much time brushing snow off the exterior of the car. I know it doesn’t matter if there’s an inch on the rear bumper, or on top of the wing mirrors, or in the little cavity below my wipers. None or those affect my visibility on the road, but I still clear that shit off like it’s my life’s mission.
Even as early as my first couple of weeks I realized there’s probably something deeply psychological about this. When shovelling my front path, instead of just digging out a walkway wide enough to edge down when my ride to work arrived, I was determined to clear the whole thing, three-day back discomfort be damned.
What I think I’m getting at is, bare dry pavement (or, more recently, a clear and snow-free car) seems to be symbolic of me trying to maintain some semblance of control over conditions that are very, very far from my wheelhouse.
Everyone else’s car may have the bare minimum of powder removed so that they can safely make it to work, but me clearing the Outback from roof rack to side skirts multiple times a day feels like it’s me conquering nature, or at least what parts I can.
as the old saying goes, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” since the last edition of Pour Me A Story, winter has returned to Denver in full force. I’m not sure whether it’s because we’re having a heavier winter than the past few years or just because I notice snow accumulation more now that I have a driveway to clear, but it definitely feels like the former.
after shoveling the hell out of the driveway three or four times in December, I started to worry about my still-recovering-from-surgery back, and started idly exploring the cost of snowblowers. I managed to find one for less than $250 and, thanks to a generous Christmas cash infusion, I decided to pull the trigger.
and now, in true dad form, I’m obsessed with “my lines” — or, as normal people might call it, how clean and straight the driveway edges have been cleared after a snowfall. we live next door to a retired guy who’s obviously very skilled in the art of lawn maintenance, and so now we have a snow-clearing competition (in my head) every time it falls. it feels like a victory over the elements and over George every time I clear that driveway before he does.
I wonder what Freud would say.
Worthy Consumables
since the last time I wrote in these pages, I was tasked with writing a lifestyle-focused, non-commerce newsletter at work. regular readers of Pour Me A Story would find it very familiar, because I based the whole thing on this very newsletter.
that one’s called The Good Oil, taking its name from some Australian slang for “true facts or information” and playing on the main product we sell (CBD oil). anyway, that’s not the worthy consumable in question, but I’m going to lift my “product I’m most excited about” directly from my January edition.
back in 2020, I picked up my PlayStation 4 controller for the first time in years as a way of unwinding after the baby (then an actual baby) went to bed. but the game I selected — The Last of Us — was way too stressful to continue with, considering it was based on a father figure protecting a young girl during the aftermath of a respiratory pandemic. sound familiar?
anyway I dived back into it in December, set it to Easy mode and pushed through a couple hours a time at night. I was absolutely enthralled, and when I got the sequel in a Secret Santa exchange for Christmas I consumed Part II with even greater fervor. I was especially excited to finish it because the HBO adaptation for TV premiered in January.
The Last of Us is a direct adaptation of the video game series that centers around the aftermath of an infection that takes over the world and leaves the human race in tatters. While I know this sounds like your average zombie show, this is by no means The Walking Dead. Pedro Pascal (The Mandalorian) and Bella Ramsay (Game of Thrones) star as Joel and Ellie, an unlikely pair tasked with traversing a post-apocalyptic United States searching for a cure and more. It’s tense, thrilling, a little scary and absolutely beautiful to behold. Don’t miss it.
three episodes have released so far, and the third is an absolutely perfect hour of storytelling. if you haven’t already watched it, I can’t recommend it highly enough (to the point where I’m fuckin’ evangelizing about it to anybody I talk to. here’s the trailer, in case you need any further convincing.
Parting Note
when the son of one of my oldest friends makes a request, you gotta put it in there. I’ll probably even listen to it!
well folks, I hope the 27th comeback edition has satiated your burning and yearning for more Pour Me A Story. I think I’m in a good place to be more consistent this year, so when I say “see you soon,” I promise it’ll be this calendar year.
until next time, stay well!
— adrian ✌🏻