Well, this is it. A beginning to something I hope you all grow to appreciate, a view into the inner-workings of me - Dr. Peter Gary Wightman (a.k.a. PeaceKeeper on the internet). Oh, where to begin? At the beginning perhaps? My birth and childhood. No, that’s all too dull and ordinary. Perhaps start with what I feel are the funniest and most entertaining parts of my life? No, you’d have no reason to tune back in if I did that! lol

I guess I’ll start with a short explanation of why I’m doing this and what I hope you and I can get out of it … then a bit on the particular musing that started me along this trail this evening. I guess I’m writing the blog in hopes of letting the world know and understand me better, and perhaps figure out why I do the things I do. Hopefully, in so doing, I’ll grow to learn more of myself, put some troubles behind me, and move on to better things. :) It’s all very enlightened ya know.

Ok. On this day, October 2nd, 7 years ago, I received a phone call that would set my life along a course that I had not anticipated. I’m a thoughtful, planning kind of person btw, and I find abrupt events like this one to be very unsettling. At the time I was just starting my Ph.D. at the University of Notre Dame, Indiana - an endeavour that was sure to catapult me into a great and successful life, fuelled by some internal desire to better myself and mankind. (ya right!). Anyway, back to the phone call. Actually, now that I think of it, it was a phone message. One of many that were left that day, all from my Sister asking me to call back immediately. I called home only to have the phone answered by my Aunt Sheila, who quickly passed the phone to my sister after I asked what was going on. My sister, weeping uncontrollably, then told me that our father, George Gary Wightman had died at the age of 52. :( Whoa. This was not supposed to happen. My Dad was young, he didn’t lead the best or healthiest of lives, but he was still full of life (or piss and vinegar as he would say). He died of a heart attack while he was at home, his second in his short life. Why did he not heed the warnings of his doctors and family after the first heart attack? Was he not strong enough to stop drinking and smoking? Not exactly. Anyone who knew my father, or any other member of the Wightman family will tell you, without a doubt, that we are strong and determined people! This is a man, who worked hard his whole life - Working at the family business (Wightman & Sons) as a mechanic, gas station attendant, DIY carpenter and builder, garden supply salesman, home heating repair technician, heating fuel delivery, and (eventually) running the entire business mostly by himself. (In case you aren’t impressed by that list of jobs, consider that they were not done in succession, but at the same time!) A man who once ate a beer bottle to win a bet at a bar (and many other similar insane activities). A man who ran for federal office in 1993, not because he really thought he could win, but because people told him he couldn’t do it. No, my father was a strong man and a good man. But, now this is the interesting and insightful bit, he was also stubborn and full of worry most of his days. Yes, he was strong in mind and body. But his strength was fuelled by the people around him, of being needed and wanted. Not unlike many people I guess, but it just seemed to be more extreme with him … and now that I think about it, with me as well. Yes, he could have stopped smoking and drinking after his first heart attack. That is what my grandfather did the second he was diagnosed with thyroid (throat) cancer. My grandfather is a tale for another day perhaps, but what is important here is that when he was faced with cancer, his job was not yet finished and he fought a long hard battle against cancer because he had too. He was the pillar and centre piece for our entire family and even the extended family. My father was also very important, especially to my sister and myself, but for the most part, he had drifted off by himself in life. A marriage that ended 12 years before. All his brothers and sisters had moved far away and were leading decent, happy lives of their own. I was at University, finishing my 3rd advanced degree. My sister, living with her long term boyfriend of 10+ years and 2 young children. His father passed away 5 years prior and his mother, my grandmother, a very long time before that. So I think in his mind, he was not needed - he was living for himself now, and you know what? He’s going to live life like he wanted to, like he had lived it the rest of his life. Why? Because that is all we can do in this world, live and be what we are, do right by the people around you as best you can, and try and be happy. And god damn it, that’s what he did! It wasn’t always happy, but it was always eventful! Many good stories to share of my Dad and his foibles. Perhaps you’ll hear some of them in future blogs. Here’s a picture of my good old dad and his faithful dog, Rambo.

For a long time, I have wrestled with my fathers passing and I still find this day to be a difficult one. Besides the event itself, I didn’t really understand why it had happened. I had thought that perhaps he had simply given up on life, in some selfish fit, and I was pretty angry about that. But that’s not the whole story, it’s not the important part of the ordeal, the important thing is that he lived his life like he wanted too and had accomplished all he needed to do in this world. And I think that is enough. I wish all of us at least that much.

This whole revelation about the stubbornness, and strength, and the need to draw strength from those around us in our family … it all came to light after a recent event at my aunt and uncles home in Georgetown, Ontario. My Aunt Jeannie at the piano, her husband Mel with his 6-string guitar, and my Uncle Darryl on vocals, wine and spirits flowing freely … entertaining me, their guest for the evening, as they always do. :) They had worked their way through 2-3 songbooks when they found one particular song that seemed to hit a very strong chord in all of us. What was the song? My Way, written by Frank Sinatra following Paul Anka’s original song written in french. I encourage you to listen to the song and read the lyrics, I think it will give you your first glimpse into where I’m coming from a lot of the time. I’ve adopted this song as the Official Wightman’s Song and if nothing else, it’s a fitting tribute to my father on this day. :)

This entry was posted on Saturday, October 2nd, 2004 at 11:50 pm and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.