Tunesday : Stand

Up the Calgary Tower during the '88 Olympics

Stand

(Berry, B/ Buck, P/ Mills, M/ Stipe, M) Performed by REM

Stand in the place where you live
Now face North
Think about direction, wonder why you haven't before
Now stand in the place where you work
Now face West, think about the place where you live
Wonder why you haven't before

If you are confused, check with the sun
Carry a compass to help you along
Your feet are going to be on the ground
Your head is there to move you around

So, stand in the place where you live
Now face North
Think about direction, wonder why you haven't before
Now stand in the place where you work
Now face West, think about the place where you live
Wonder why you haven't before

Your feet are going to be on the ground
Your head is there to move you around
If wishes were trees the trees would be falling
Listen to reason
Season is calling

Stand in the place where you live
Now face North
Think about direction, wonder why you haven't before
Now stand in the place where you work
Now face West, think about the place where you live
Wonder why you haven't before

If wishes were trees the trees would be falling
Listen to reason
Reason is calling
Your feet are going to be on the ground
Your head is there to move you around

So stand (stand)
Now face North
Think about direction, wonder why you haven't before
Now stand (stand)
Now face West
Think about the place where you live
Wonder why you haven't

Stand in the place where you live
Now face North
Think about direction, wonder why you haven't before
Now stand in the place where you work
Now face West, think about the place where you live
Wonder why you haven't before

Stand in the place where you are (now face North)
Stand in the place where you are (now face West)
Your feet are going to be on the ground (stand in the place where you are)
Your head is there to move you around, so stand (stand in the place where you are)

To recap where I ended last week in my life story: in the spring of 1988, my first great love made a "career move" and left both me and his sick brother (whom he was supposed to be taking care of) in order to move down to the States and become a regional manager of a pyramid scheme (same old story, I know). As one might imagine, I was feeling partly vulnerable and partly fed up: I needed to do something to put a full stop at the end of that relationship. Meanwhile, in my group of friends, one of the Robs (because there were two) had recently started dating a girl named Hillary (making her one of two by that name in our circle), and this was the first girl that Rob (the cloistered Mormon) had ever dated, and tragically, within a few weeks of her first date with Rob, Hillary and her mother were killed in a car crash by a drunk driver. Rob and I were both feeling needy and depressed and we just kind of fell together.

After the raw machismo that had so attracted me to Glen, Rob's storklike frame and unconventional features were reassuring: I knew that I wouldn't lose myself to animal attraction; that Rob wouldn't try to impose himself on me. Once again, as was true when I was in high school, I was in total control of myself and my relationship, and mentally, that's exactly where I needed to be. Rob was sweet, and funny, and one of the quickest wits I've ever known. He was also smart and philosophical and we had wonderful conversations. I knew that if I was with someone new, I could never go back to Glen if he somehow showed up again (because for sure he wouldn't want me, so I needed to taint myself), and after Rob's loss, I thought that we were pretty much just using each other: I never introduced him as or thought of him as my boyfriend; this was both something more and something less. I didn't know that this was something much more to Rob.

Random memories: Sometimes, a few of us would drive the two hours up to Calgary on a Friday night to go to the cool bars there (especially to The Republik; an unintimidating punk club), and after drinking and dancing, turn around and drive the two hours back home. One night it was just me and Rob, and as we made our way north along the highway in the dark, I caught sight of a dead deer laying across my lane at the last second. We were jarred and jounced by the thump-thump of my little Honda Civic bouncing over the hump of its solid body and we were frightened and shocked that neither the car or either of us had been hurt. As we never bothered telling anyone (especially my parents) about these Calgary trips, we talked about how devastating it would have been if we had been the ones to hit the deer when it first leapt onto the road: my car definitely couldn't have gone through that without incident, and especially in these pre-cellphone years, we couldn't imagine the hassle of contacting my parents or a towtruck or the police. We wondered if there was anyone we should contact about that deer, but what did we know about such things? We assured and reassured each other that it was, indeed, a deer and not a person on the road: we both saw the actual deer before contact, but once the initial shock was over, all the grimmest of possibilities were suddenly plausible and needed to be explored. We made it to Calgary without incident and returned home with an exciting story.

One time (and I'm not proud of this), Rob and I were drinking cheap beers at the university pub, but since it was a dull night, we somehow got a few unopened cans and drove to the river valley to drink them. There we were, sitting in the front seats of my car, just talking and laughing, when suddenly red and blue lights started flashing through my back window. Dammit. The cops were always patrolling the park at the river bottom -- looking for bush parties, knocking on the windows of makeout cars -- but since we (other than the beer) weren't breaking any rules by just sitting there, I hadn't really expected to get caught (and I was probably mostly naive about this because it was the first and only time I ever had open alcohol in a car; I had sat in that park innocently talking with friends dozens of times without the cops' attention). I panicked and thrust my beercan at Rob -- Do something, I hissed -- and he propped both of the beers under his seat. The police officer knocked on my window, and when I rolled it down, he asked what we were up to and I replied, "Just talking". He stuck his head in the window and said, "I smell alcohol. Both of you, out of the car." We got out -- I'm sure my knees were knocking -- and he asked if we had open liquor. I looked him right in the eye and said, "No sir. We're students at the university and had a beer there about an hour ago. That must be what you're smelling." He assured me that the smell was coming from inside the car and he beamed his flashlight all over the interior, including under the front seats, and when he couldn't find anything, he apologised for the misunderstanding and went on his way. We didn't know if this was to give us a false sense of security -- if he was trying to get us to start drinking again so we could get caught in the act -- but after staring at each other wide-eyed with disbelief at our lucky break for several minutes, Rob retrieved the beer, threw them in the nearby trashcan, and we hightailed it out of there. I want to note: I understand how awful this story sounds, especially after Rob's first girlfriend had been killed by a drunk driver, but things really were different then. Today that cop would give me a Breathalyzer if he thought I smelled of alcohol, but back then, he was more interested in busting me for the bigger charge of open liquor. I drove many times after drinking too much and it was stupid and shameful and I am eternally grateful that I never hurt anyone.

During Reading Week of 1988, most of our group wanted to go to Edmonton again (as we all had two years before), but since the Winter Olympics were happening in Calgary, Rob and I went there instead for a couple of days. We weren't able to get event tickets, but we were very impressed with the international vibe that the Olympics had brought to Cowtown; loved going up and down elevators with other young people who were all speaking foreign tongues. I have a few pictures from this trip (*as above) but it's funny how few details I remember; I don't even recall where we stayed.

That same spring, my parents announced that "we" were being transferred back to Ontario. I was twenty, in my third year of university, had been dragged ever west across the country by my parents all my life, and the last thing I wanted to do was start (socially, educationally, culturally) all over again from scratch just because my constantly-fighting parents had "ambitions". They made several trips to Ontario over the next few months (this was also when they started buying up forest lots in Nova Scotia for their eventual retirement plan), and when they closed a deal on a big, beautiful house in Burlington, Mum was excited to show me how lovely my new bedroom would be; me silently screaming, I don't want to go with you. They made their plans, I never spoke up, and never spoke up, and just a month before they moved I told Mum that I was going to Edmonton instead. Kyler refers to this, still, as me "running away from home". 

Stand in the place where you live
Now face North
Think about direction, wonder why you haven't before

Curtis had already moved up to Edmonton over the summer, and when I started thinking out loud about what my options might be, that was the obvious place to go. When Rob said that he would come with me, I thought that he was also looking to escape the crappy small-town vibe of Lethbridge, and I never really considered that he was doing it all for me: his parents had expected him to spend this academic year on a Mission for their church, and it was incredibly hard for him to disappoint them and they were hurt but supportive; this was all vaguely on my radar, but I was selfishly working through my own issues; figuring out how to tell my own parents that I wasn't going to follow their script. In the end, we worked out the details and moved up to Edmonton and Curtis gave us a place to crash.

Soon enough, Curtis said we needed to get our own place -- understandable, lol -- and we rented a two bedroom apartment: Rob was not my boyfriend, and although he had given everything up for me (a fact I still wasn't really appreciating), I was feeling stronger -- totally over Glen; deliriously happy that he didn't even know where I was -- and I no longer needed Rob as a crutch. I thought he was going through a similar growth and detachment. We couldn't really afford this apartment (I don't know why we thought we could), and when some friends of ours said that they were going to rent a house and needed a couple extra roommates, Rob and I abandoned the apartment and moved into the house (yes, that came back on me later, but when Dave wondered why I didn't track down Rob to make him pay half the penalty for breaking the lease, I knew that this was the least I could do for Rob because of what came next).

Not long after moving into the house, I got a job at the Mayfair Hotel as a hostess in the restaurant, and that's where I met Dave, and we started dating. Rob was not my boyfriend, but I think he thought he might become my boyfriend if he waited patiently enough. When Dave started coming around the house, Rob would kind of lose his mind -- muttering and stomping and running off to his room, crying -- and one time when I was at Dave's place late at night, Rob walked halfway across the city to stand on the sidewalk outside his apartment building and moan my name. Dave yelled at him from the balcony to leave, and then Rob started pushing the buzzer at the entrance, and Dave threatened to come down, and Rob yelled that he just wanted to talk to me, and Dave said he was coming down and Rob left. At home, Rob told me that he thought he was having a nervous breakdown and I was sympathetic and let him vent, but it wasn't going to change anything: Rob had never been my boyfriend in my mind -- he was a rebound, a transition -- and by now making his declarations, a part of me hardened against him; Rob was breaking the rules of whatever it was we had between us, and unfairly, I started feeling less for him. Rob decided to move back home.

I was home the day Rob left, watching silently as his old friend Chad carried his few boxes and bags out to his truck; glaring at me the whole time. I remember the hate in Chad's eyes but can't remember anything specific about saying goodbye to Rob; I felt totally ashamed about the whole sorry situation; where I had spent a year and a half thinking that we were using each other to get over our personal demons, it turned out that I had only been using him. I can still call up that shame, knowing that I had done a terrible thing to a very good person.

As for the song choice: Rob liked a lot of really out there music (The Jesus and Mary Chain, Echo & the Bunnymen), and even though REM was still considered alternative at the time, they were the most accessible to my pop-trained ears, and Rob was a big fan. This one's for Rob.

If you are confused, check with the sun
Carry a compass to help you along
Your feet are going to be on the ground
Your head is there to move you around