It wasn’t long before I let my held breath out regarding Mom’s residency at Somerset House – “the resort” – on Dallas Road. Without going into too much detail, and there was a lot of it, it was decided for me that she needed more attention that they could provide her under their Independent Living licensing limitations, and we were “asked” to find somewhere else for her to live. That was a blow, but there was nothing I could do about it. Part of me understood that this road we were on was getting shorter and, despite my wanting it to be otherwise, more attention was required and I was back on the hunt for what was, painfully, an “Assisted Living” facility. It took a couple of weeks trekking about to find another home for her, and somehow I arrived at a spectacular place called “Sunrise Senior Living”. I got Mom in for an interview which went surprisingly well. I was amazed at how animated and vocal she was in the conversation with the Administration folks. Their questions were designed to assess how much help she would need in their care structure and Mom dazzled them (and me) by responding to what I thought would be difficult recalls for her. When they asked her when she was born, the answer tumbled out of her mouth without a moment’s hesitation. I was stunned! It was the same with most of the other questions. Who was this person??

            Long story short, she moved in a few weeks later and the settling-in was fast and, happily, uncomplicated. The only down side was the expense, but I figured it was worth it in that she would be getting the kind of attention she had needed all along – a devoted staff who were up for just about anything. And it would certainly come to that as time went on.

            Gradually, over the following months, I relinquished the structure and order of my Spreadsheets Life – my budgets and payrolls – as Music Services International closed down for good. It was an easy let-go, but I found myself at sixes and sevens for want of something to take the place of those organized numbers, something that I could look at and experience that pleasure I found in organization and control. Then, unbidden and unexpectedly, the drawing I’d done months earlier made its way into my head and settled in to the point where I couldn’t ignore it. How should I respond to this vague idea of spending some real time with what I now decided could be another aspect of that part of me that needed fulfilling? Never one to do things by halves, I went out and bought as many books as I could find on drawing and, adjacently, the world of Coloured Pencils. I felt that painting with water colours or oils or acrylics would be much too messy for tidy me, not to mention a set-up that would require a lot of preparation and, worse, a clean-up afterward. A pencil could be picked up on a moment’s notice, anywhere, on a whim, and I could start drawing.

I devoured the books I bought, starting with the “Drawing On The Right Side of the Brain” Workbook. It was a “guided practice” book and at the first page, I was hooked, deeply and fully. I did every exercise over and over again – negative space, contour, perspective, proportion, and on and on – and combined with the other books, I found myself thinking about the lessons and practice sessions even when I wasn’t actually doing them and wondering what my next step should be. One phrase repeated over and over again in every single book I read was “draw what you see”. It was a simple sentence to read or say out loud , but it wasn’t until I fully understood what it actually meant that this new world opened up for me. It came down to trust, trusting my eye to “see” beyond “looking” and trusting my hand to reproduce what was really there. Even the challenge of the concept thrilled me, that difference between “looking” and “seeing”.

But I had a problem. I discovered it was very difficult for me not be “perfect”! That might sound somewhat pretentious, but I found it hard to leave something only part way done. “Sketching” was impossible for my mind. If it wasn’t completed to my persnickety visual satisfaction, I had to keep going until it was. It was a chore to work just one element of an image and leave it. It’s probably a flaw from an artistic point of view but if you looked through my sketch books, they are all full images, nothing half finished, nothing part way, nothing “sketchy”. It was a blessing and a curse and limited my full understanding of an aspect of drawing at the same time. I decided that I would have to learn as I went, that each project I tackled would have to be a learning experience in and of itself. And once that had settled in (and it took a long time), I sailed! It was confining to a degree, but I knew that the only way I was going to get any satisfaction – and that’s what I was looking for – was to finish whatever I started.

While there were some small experiments out of my imagination to gauge shadings and structures in my sketch books, most of what I drew was from photos I’d taken or found on-line. The first major effort was to draw a pair of my socks. Pictured on the left is the photo I took of the socks and below, the drawing of the socks. It shocked me as I drew. I could see the image come into being as I coordinated my eye and hand and I was incredulous that it could happen this way. This was the “photorealism” I found myself going for and the result actually gave me a great sense of accomplishment and the courage to go forward. The time ahead now had some definition.

I touched base with the UVic folks to follow-up on the possibility of another Musical Theatre class, but this time, despite all the positive response we’d had, there was no way through the budget cutbacks that had now been imposed on the Department and I had to let that go. However, where one door closed, another opened and it was the Canadian College Of Performing Arts that provided another opportunity for work. Their Administration had changed and two folks from Alberta had been installed as GM and AD and I set up an appointment with Derold Roles, the new AD, to see if there were any positions that needed filling. Derold was an extremely affable fellow who was still finding his sea legs in his new position but intimated that with so much on his plate he might have to give up some of his teaching duties. We basically taught the same curriculum with the same approach, and he suggested that there might be a class-sharing opportunity down the road and he would get back to me as soon as things settled down. I left feeling positive and upbeat about the prognosis.

I was now into my second year volunteering at the Royal BC Museum. Somehow, I’d been chosen by the Museum as a go-to spokesperson for the Tours Program. I think their choice had to do with my theatre, on-camera and voice-over experience, and I ended up doing a few local promos that had turned out well. They were easy for Museum Staff to organize and easy for me to put together on a moment’s notice. So I was somewhat taken aback when that small facet of my volunteer position got a lot bigger. I was now being asked for by Management when they’d been approached by international tourism organizations and found myself the center of attention a number of times, the largest of which was for the Japanese National Television Production Company. I was to present my entire Tour live and it would be filmed by the visiting production crew. By now, my tour – the Insect (Entomology) Tour – was fully in my mouth and I had no trouble delivering it at the drop of a hat. I’d been doing it for months and it was just like being on stage. So on a Saturday afternoon, surrounded by all the Company’s equipment, technicians and assistants, only one of whom spoke English, we took my usual tour route and I did my thing – in English, of course. The only difference was that I was speaking to a camera rather than a bunch of tourists. We stopped at all the usual exhibits and “backstage” areas on my tour. I’d do my spiel, they’d film it and we’d move on. With crew chattering away to each other in Japanese I was in the dark most of the time about how it was going, but the young lady who was translating back and forth assured me that I was doing exactly what they needed. We finished the tour, which had taken a couple of hours, they all bowed at me over and over again saying “thankyouthankyou!” – all one word – and that was it! I smiled and bowed back over and over again as they packed up all their gear, and, with a lot more bowing, disappeared through the Museum’s big front doors, leaving me standing in the middle of the Lobby wondering what had just happened! It was all rather surreal. I never did find out if I’d made it on to Japanese television, but was told later that the TV production company had been very pleased with the results. A strange day, to say the least.

I’d again been in touch with Ken at Rainbow and asked if there was anything on the horizon. He quickly responded with a “definitely”. The up-coming summer would see “Footloose” and “Annie” on stage. From my point of view, directing “Footloose” would be the only way I could be involved. I was now much too old to play ‘Shaw’ again and I couldn’t spend more than one show away from Mom. So we left it, again, in the air. Then, out of nowhere, just before Christmas, news came that Ken had died suddenly of a heart attack. To say I was shocked and massively saddened would be an understatement. It was the same helpless sense of loss I felt when Sam passed, no words or thoughts to make sense of it, no way to ease the pain and only an emptiness that surrounded me. He was 66, same age as me. He had been a huge part of my life both personally and professionally for most of my time in Winnipeg and his death left a huge hole in the Community. The prognosis for the Company was anyone’s guess and I wondered what they would do. There was no successor in the wings and they would probably have a difficult time getting past this. I was thousands of kilometers away and felt helpless once more.

Then the calls started coming in. I found myself at the two ends of an emotional spectrum – being careful of what I wished for, and waiting for a call that never comes. That was all in my head of course, but the fact that my association with Rainbow had been long and somewhat prolific fueled speculation from the outset. My dear friends, Robbie and Teresa, always on my side, brought the realities to the fore. Would I consider taking over the reins there if they asked me? They told me that other folks had asked them the same question. Apparently, for some it seemed a no-brainer. The potential got me very excited, but the personal ramifications were enormous. To my mind, they were going to need someone in place relatively fast as auditions for the upcoming season were quickly approaching. I’d heard there had been talk about splitting Ken’s job into two positions – a GM and a Producer/AD – but that would mean hiring two folks to run the organization and it was going to be hard enough to find one. I tried to remove myself from it all, but those thoughts kept intruding into each hour of each day one way or another. This all brought back vivid memories of being in the same situation years earlier when Jack Timlock had been let go from Rainbow and the Board had splintered into two warring groups regarding the Company’s direction. One faction had called me while I was working down in Portland and actually offered me the job. The other had decided on a different approach and, a few days later, they rescinded the initial offer. The “careful what you wish for” end of the spectrum was hard to ignore, but I knew that I was being unrealistic. Mind-bending chaos comes easily to me when I face something over which I have no control, and the angst I generated for myself was debilitating. It was, seemingly, just a matter of time before something would happen … one way or another.

There was a routine that I’d established with Mom while she was at Somerset House and which I now continued at Sunrise – two visits every day, one in the morning, the other in the afternoon, just to touch base and make sure that things were in order. There were some adjustments, no two ways about it, and I still had to thwart her occasional insistence that she was going to move back to Toronto and get a job! That was a head shaker for me and I combatted the thought by saying “Well, we’ll have to look into that” … and five minutes later it was forgotten. There were some “off” days for her – the “wobbles” as she called them – but as the weather warmed up and the flowers started to bloom,  the new place began to gradually register with her and she settled down, even to the point of making some friends, one in particular, Betty Maud. They were constant companions and entertained each other.

I was in constant communication with her Caregivers, and the Staff with their input were encouraging and incredibly compassionate. At the six-month point, I had a meeting with the “Care Heads” who told me they were very pleased with Mom’s involvement. They said that she would take “leadership” positions now and then and that it was a good sign of acclimatization and what they referred to as “diminishment of elopement” … her attempts to leave the residence. She did that for a bit after they’d tried reducing the dosage of one of her medications, but once back on the normal dose the escape attempts stopped happening. In fact, the Staff told me, she would caution others about going out by themselves when they wanted to leave. I know this sounds (at this point in time) like unimportant details to be putting in these writings, but it was (at that point in time) a goodly part of my life. Everything centered about Mom’s condition, and while I understood all the ramifications and the down-the-road picture, I could not come up with any alternatives that would result in any other options for me. This was where I had to be and, deep inside, I loved doing it. It was a purpose, a mission, and, while not being on stage or directing shows, it was another kind of commitment, and deeply rewarding. There were times when I’d look a her and have to fight off a great depression about the difference between who she used to be and who she had become. The only merciful thing is that the disease only permits a Life “in the moment”. There was no “then” and “now” for her, no comparisons … and I took heart in that.

            I applied for a “Drama Teacher” job at St. Michael’s University School here, a private, high-end school, but never heard anything back. This spurred me into putting some thoughts and observations about Rainbow down on paper and sending them off to Cam McIntyre who was still on the Board there. He got back to me indicating that it was going to be some time before any decisions were made and we left it at that.

            Visitors kept me busy. Robbie and Heather came out to see their daughter, Tara, off to the Philippines for a bit. A dear friend from Portland days, my Musical Director, Vera Long came in for a day with her husband prior to an Alaska cruise. The Museum began a new program called the “Street Team” which put some of us Tour Guides out on the streets of the Inner Harbour to drum up business for the exhibits in our Galleries. Unfortunately, that didn’t last more than a couple of weeks. Popped down to Portland to touch base with Greg Tamblyn who tried to entice me to do “La Cage Aux Folles” again for him, this time as ‘The Senator’ rather than in my “old role” as ‘Zaza’ for which I was much too old now. It was nice to be asked.

             As part of my delving into drawing, I had taken out a subscription to a publication called Ann Kulberg’s “Colored Pencil Magazine’ and had accompanied my order with a couple of my drawings, a series I’d been working on called “Shirts”, asking for some input if she had a moment. I was pleasantly surprised when she wrote back requesting permission to publish one of them in the magazine (July 2012). It seemed she was impressed, writing … “as to your art … Wow! Loving this concept and execution as well. I hope you’ll enter one of these in our Member Show. They are really very interesting, unique and technically beautiful. So glad you shared them, Richard”.  It was just the boost I needed and started me thinking that maybe this whatever-it-was-I-was-doing was something more than just “exercises”.

            Those last few paragraphs sum up the comparatively regular things which, according to my Journals, occupied my days. The flux I was experiencing with Rainbow, my concerns about Mom, and my day-to-day existence were taking up a lot of space in my head, and it’s only been by way of my Journals that I have any clear picture of what I was going through at the time, my brain having gradually erased most of those long-ago memories if only out of self-preservation. Reading back the very sporadic entries paints a rather dire set of circumstances I was facing. I think it was only by writing that I managed to purge what was festering and needed to be exorcised somehow. I found that “handing over” my turmoil to my subconscious when I went to bed and letting whatever happened way down deep happen seemed to work. In fact, it was astonishing. Somehow, from somewhere, a kind of physical release gave me the opportunity to take deeper breaths during the daylight hours, and while my life seemed to be getting smaller and more compact, I managed to keep an even keel and plough through … thankfully.

            I continued to nag Cam McIntyre for a bit but with few concrete results. Then, one morning, I got a message via Facebook from a lady named Julie Eccles. I didn’t know who she was but in her post she wrote that “a little birdy” had told her I was going to be in Winnipeg in late September (something about which I had told almost no one) and “could we have a meeting with regard to your affiliation with Rainbow Stage?”  I wrote back asking who she was, who the “little birdy” was and what “an affiliation” meant. I didn’t hear anything back so I wrote Cam asking him what was going on. He wrote back saying that I should “take the meeting” and, as he was texting on his phone, it was “too complicated to explain further using two thumbs”.

            As it turned out, Julie was the General Manager at Rainbow (since March of 2010 apparently, something that was news to me) and she had been charged with the task of “determining what the AD job could be”. I wrote her back and we ended up setting September 29^th as the meeting date. I was indeed going back to the Peg for that weekend to surprise Doreen Brownstone at her ninetieth birthday celebration. How Julie had come by that information was a mystery as it was also going to be a total surprise for all my friends who had organized the event. I had told them that I wouldn’t be able to attend. In any case, in my post back to Julie, I wrote that I was perplexed that there wasn’t a job description created by past Producers. She responded by writing “Hi Richard, I have a very loose plan of action established, however, I need to discuss the plan with someone of your calibre as it pertains to an Artistic Director. I hope you are still interested in discussing it with me. Thanks, Julie”. Cam had already intimated that they were thinking about splitting the “Producer” job and this was their first gambit.

            What a weekend that was!