She is the bravest, sweetest, strongest, person I know. She meets the challenges of life head-on, takes the high road, plays by the rules, and, win or lose, manages a smile, embraces her life, her children, and her friends, and continues to travel forward on her path, turning her experiences into energy and knowledge, and maintaining her ongoing love of life, her family, and her friends.
This is her story so far ….
I have always tried to live my life according to a number of tenets. Some are arguably limited in scope. For example, I view beer drinking as a perishable skill. Others are much more “pigeon-holed”, such as, despite what many of my military aviation buddies may think, I truly believe that a McDonnell Douglas F-4E Phantom II in “Europe One” camouflage is a thing of beauty indeed.
Others are more universal in application, however. One of my nearest and dearest is that I have always tried to have strong women in my life, even if only on the periphery. Today’s column is about one of those women, my late sister Mary.
As you read this I’m either on or about to go on stage for what is most certainly my 1,000th live musical appearance as the final act on the final night of David Bash’s long-running Toronto International Pop Overthrow Festival (this is year #10). I’ve been humiliating myself and faking musical talent in public since September 1980. Thirty-six years of looking for affirmation in all the wrong places.
The weeks are just flying by. As a matter of fact, I think I missed a few just by blinking. This summer was one of the best ever in terms of music, mayhem and marvelous people. I have met countless new faces, made some brilliant new friends and reconnected with numerous folks, long thought fallen through the many cracks of life. It’s been a unending discovery, a wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights discovery, of going places and doing things that never, not even in my wildest neurons, would I have even remotely considered. It’s been a mind-bending, life altering, rollercoaster ride and I don’t want to ever get off. It’s called living!
I can’t thank you enough, Dear Readers. For your continued support, your visits to check out our wonderful writers (and Me) and for making my 69th year on this mudball a joy from start to finish (with a lot of Not Joy mixed in there, but that wasn’t your fault, so don’t worry about it). Today is the beginning of my 70th year, not as much fun as 69, but then, what is? My regular column will be up late next week, but this 2 parter is for you today and will conclude on Monday. most of this column is from my Facebook Timeline, but the biggest piece is brand new exclusive to this column. Now then, I have to get ready to go to my Birthday Party, so…without further ado….
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It’s 4am on Sunday morning, March 8, and I’ve just arrived home from a long day and night of music hopping….and the damn Queen streetcar short-turned again….and the clocks went forward one hour (OMG it’s really 5am!!)….and I’ve decided to change my tune (so to speak)….and tell you about my “day in the life of….” rather than have our esteemed editor post the article I’ve already filed.
A Reader Writes: Regarding your blog of September 9th, 2014 Mr. Segarini. Except for mentioning Saturday Night Live and Amazing Race, you said nothing about the shows that were nominated for an Emmy at this year’s event, nor who won or who lost. Further, you made no mention of any of the nominees, actors, actresses, or even the names of the shows. Most disturbing of all, you failed to write one single word about the great Robin Williams.
What do you have to say for yourself?
Billy in Banff
Dear Billy, Not much, really…
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Tuesday marks the 147th birthday of this great Dominion known as Canada. Though we’re not quite as old as our brother to the south, our European lineage dates back to May 2, 1670 when the Dread Pirate Ernie Hudson got his ship stranded in the northern waters of the arctic looking for a direct passage to Santa’s Workshop. He and the crew survived on nothing but Her Queen’s Own Biscuits, Tea 
Candles and striped blankets knitted from the wool of extinct mammoths. The native population had already been here 11,000 years longer and resented the idea that you now had to trade 10 beaver pelts to get a birch bark canoe. We’ve come a long way since then but still pride ourselves on our cultural diversity, beavers, hockey and fornicating while watching hockey. Oh, and we seem to be able to write a mean ditty (not “diddy” you internet meme idiots).
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 