I think I’m going to take my ex’s dad to India. First, I want to paint you a picture of who he is. James was born into a wealthy family and attended an upper-class private school. In his teens, you could say he rebelled against the lifestyle and went full-fledged Woodstock hippie. He was in the original movie; you can spot him with the afro, leather pants, prayer beads, and big blue octagonal glasses during the scene where they are doing a mudslide in the rain. Cue Sir. James: “I took a fair bit of LSD. I think over 300 times. Oh wahoo! I had a great time.” You get the idea. James took a campervan through Mexico, met my ex’s mom, had a baby in the van, taught himself Spanish by reading the newspaper, and eventually returned to Canada where he fell into divorce and moved to a tiny island 6 hours north of the city.
The island is as remote as it gets. He is the only one on it, and the only way to reach it is by an old pontoon boat. Most people who own cottages in that area are there for the summer. James, however, was mad enough to live there year-round, chopping firewood, stocking the cabin with food, and making sure he had enough supplies to get through winter. The cabin runs on solar and a small generator, water that’s pumped up from the lake, and a woodburning stove. One year, he almost died when the lake froze over, and bad weather prevented him from leaving. The only cellphone service was a single bar from the corner of the composting toilet, if you were lucky. He had no satellite internet, and he ran out of cigarettes, beer, and food. From what I hear, he was more concerned about the cigarettes and beer. How does he shower? Historically, either in the lake or in a small children’s pool set up in his living room—a setup a friend of his once had the misfortune of walking in on.
Many people would ask why someone would want to live so far from civilization. Is he a misfit, bitter to society, or does he dislike people? After knowing him for over six years, I think none of the above. Although if I am honest, he is a little weird. But in the best way. He isn’t someone who values material things or affluence in any way. His socks often have holes in them, he will wear his shoes until they fall apart, and he probably wouldn’t have a new pair of pants unless you bought them for him. He is a man that fixes things when they are broken, values hard work, a sense of humour, and family. To James, family isn’t about blood—it’s about the people you choose to care for. He is quirky, outlandish, as individual as they come, and kind-hearted. I have concluded that people who retreat into isolation might just value the time for introspection and the peace that comes with being alone in nature. From my experience, the people who retreat into solitude are some of the most intelligent, self-reflective, and growth-focused people. James, for instance, always has a wall full of books and one in his hand, which brings me to Shantaram.
A few years ago, I shared one of my favourite books called Shantaram with James. It follows the story about an Australian man that moves to India and works as an unofficial medic in the slums of Mumbai. He read it and we talked a bit about India, the culture, the societal differences including the caste system, and women’s issues. James and I talk a lot about these things. I think we both like to learn. And we value experiences and how they shape our thinking and ways of being in the world. James and I often get into discussions (and sometimes debates) about world issues. We are equally stubborn, strong headed, and enjoy these types of discussions. I think that’s something which makes our relationship unique. We can pick up a topic and talk for hours about its impact on society, especially marginalized communities. Having been to India twice and it being one of my favourite countries to visit, it was exciting to learn that James shared an interest in seeing it for himself. It stuck in my mind that it would be nice for us to go someday.
In April 2023, I was working for the UN in a family duty station which quickly turned into an emergency evacuation due to armed conflict. I evacuated with bullets through my walls and was forever changed by the experience. I think when you come so close to death, you start to home in on what matters. Perhaps with James being 76 and reflecting a lot on his life, he is doing the same. Recently, James and I were texting. He said “Hun, I think I’ve hit third base, and I am on my way home in the next 10 years” (referring to his eventual passing). I responded back to stop talking like that, knowing however that he was probably right. Tearing up, it made me realize once again how finite all of this is. How we only get so many years here to spend with the people we love and to do the things we dream about. So, I just said “we should go to India.” He replied, “why not Nepal too?” After sending the unconventional idea over to my ex, I got the response of “have a good time, just be sure to document the heck out of it!” And the search for the comfiest running shoes for seniors began.
Sometimes I think James is more than just a pseudo father-figure to me. He is a friend. And I can’t wait to see him happy, adventuring, laughing, and making memories while he has the energy and mobility for it. I will probably miss his yapping, opinions, and wacky ideas one day. So, I’ll enjoy it while I can. And if we are driving each other nuts by week two, I’ve always got my noise-cancelling headphones. And he always has his book.
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Please note: the views and opinions expressed on this blog are that of my own and do not represent the opinions of any agency mentioned.