Tenacity and determination--there is nothing that can beat it

I have long lamented Connor's intellect and how over the years it has challenged me over and over again. In truth, at times, I felt like we grew up together. He dragged me kicking and screaming along his learning path, forcing me to  at least keep up. My lack of grammar and writing skills had become somewhat of a chuckle between friends and family, until he decided that we would both learn the use of proper punctuation and grammar rules--some of which were long forgotten. up until then, I believe I had never used a semi-colon in a sentence. now I use them regularly.
When he was 4 he became aware that Cerebral Palsy was caused by a brain injury, mostly because we were always open and forthright about his condition. He in turn asked what a brain looked like, so I drew a picture for him. Needless to say, this was not sufficient for him. since this was before Dr. Google had entered our lives, he was not satisfied until I dug out my nursing anatomy text book and showed him an actual photograph of a brain with a full explanation of each part, including the motor cortex where the cause of his disability could be found.
Remembering that he was only four, this level of tenacity should have served as a warning of things to come. this child would not give up despite any and all protestations on my part! (since Max's major philosophy is its "No big deal" he rarely said no to Connor and left that to me!)
Throughout his childhood, the teenage years and university career, he has continued this trend: ignoring obstacles that life seems to throw in his path. In grade 2 he was diagnosed with a severe visual learning disability. the prognosis was that it was doubtful that he would EVER read past a grade 7 level. at that time he was not keeping up with his peers in reading and we had to make a decision to drop his French in order to concentrate more effort on English. The rationale that we were given was that the level of his learning impairment was so great that it was doubtful he would be able to finish the English curriculum let alone the French. He still cannot speak or read French; however, he has achieved an A+ average in Latin, Greek, Hebrew and has a Minor in English. Needless to say he was determined to prove them wrong.
it was not just in academics that Connor thought he should expand our knowledge. everything was under scrutiny and up for review: style, food choices, political affiliations and prejudices all fell under his tenacious determination.
when he realized he was gay and had an extremely homophobic father, he started watching Will and Grace. Since he and Max spent many hours together, the show was watched by both of them. Soon Max's erroneous stereotypes began to fall. while he was still shocked when Connor came out; he did not have only the negative reactions that might have been the case before the television show. to this day Max refers to Will and Grace when looking for positive gay role models (and still remains flabbergasted that Connor planned it all.)
In high school, Connor's appetite for literature was voracious. one book did not suffice, nor would an abridged audio copy of a novel satisfy. Audiobooks, digital downloads and Kindle readers had not become popular, so I spent much of Connor's high school years scanning texts and novels and scouring the Internet for unabridged copies of audiobooks on cd's. One Christmas, when he was desperate to read War and Peace I spent more on the MP3 version of the book than I did on the portable CD player to go with it.
although obtaining digital copies of texts has gotten easier with 100's more choices, Connor's appetite for knowledge has grown larger still. Luckily, the scanners have gotten faster, yet there are still days that I spend hours turning pages of an obscure tome so that he can read it and include it in an overly detailed essay. Some days tenacious is not a big enough word.
Since I now have his old computer with his word to text program and google has a wonderful skydrive option, Connor has discovered that he can now mark quotes and upload an entire book onto the skydrive, in order to have me extract the quotes and organize them for his thesis. also thanks to modern technology, he can dictate his work to me and others over Skype to ease the strain on his vocal chords that dictating into an ever uncooperative and creative voice recognition software program. O joy o bliss, I should be given my honary degree soon.
Recently, Connor moved into his own apartment into community care. For me this was a dream come try and a moment I was never totally sure was ever going to happen in my lifetime. I always assumed for Connor to live on his own, I would have to be with him. It has been a rather difficult transition from living in Rez as a young student, to a grown adult man with his own apartment. His schedule, experienced medical care givers, and suburban lifestyle leave little to challenge his intellect. I think he imagined having dinner parties and entertaining his friends but reality has a tendency to bite. However, he was well situated in a 3bdrm apt almost as big as our house. seeing how he had so much space and was planning on having people over, many of whom were musicians, I decided to take him my electronic keyboard, in the event that one of his friends wanted to play. I had no more set up the keyboard when he wheeled up and started plucking out notes. Since he had never taken any music lessons and had such a severe learning (not to mention physical) disability, I assumed he would not be able to grasp the basic musical concepts. I could not have been more wrong. I had no more stepped back from the keyboard when Connor started firing questions about advanced musical theory. Apparently, one of his friends had tutored him a few months before. Connor had internalised it and waited for an opportunity to apply his new found knowledge--I did mention tenacious and determined. Many of his questions were well beyond the scope of my 30 year old my musical theory knowledge and my music for dummies book was well packed away. but like I have said--determined. He did not give up trying to play. By the end of the weekend he had mastered a few scales and an easy version of Ode to Joy; my more than I myself could have ever done in that time frame. Here he was barely able to use one finger, plucking away longer and more patiently than some trained musicians, in pursuit of a scale. On the grad scheme of musicality, a couple of scales and an easy play version of a song, may not be much; but considering his aptitude, understanding and determination it took to achieve that much, would be comparable to me sitting down and playing a Beethoven piano Concerto.

Tenacity and determination: it is what allows us to accomplish the near impossible and Connor has an over abundance of both.

Roughing it Cabin Style

It started when I went to bible camp; I was 14 and a friend invited me along. thus began my lifelong love of camping. Now that I am in my 50's I have downgraded to semi-roughing it. Not the wilderness in the fall with nothing but a tent, a backpack and a fire to cook over. Still, I love to be at my 2 acre wilderness with its 8x12 cabin and outhouse.
I suppose since I have a bed that is off the ground, a table to eat at and a naphtha stove, it qualifies more as an episode of pioneer days than camping; after all, we have an outhouse that is built of hardwood no less with a padded toilet seat; a water jug with a hand pump, so the water runs if you work at it a little (not warm mind you, but running nonetheless) and we have lights: Coleman naphtha and my beloved kerosene lanterns.(I put one in the outhouse just to bug Jarrett!)
Still I am sure that a long weekend at our cabin in October would be more or less torture for anyone else but like minded ancient throw backs like ourselves. My mother never understood my passion for the outdoors; she went as far as to say that "she had no idea where I came from!" (conveniently forgetting that she was raised in rural Newfoundland in the 1930's") My father liked camping, especially bluegrass campouts, but given his propensity toward cleanliness, he needed a trailer with at least a warm shower. my sisters idea of camping included an outlet for a curling iron. So when I found out that Max shared my love of the outdoors and shedding the comforts of modern life--at least for awhile--I was ecstatic. when the boys were young we camped in tents. indeed, 3 weeks after having a Caesarian birth for Connor we went tenting at Max's sisters property. it rained all weekend and Connor echoed the rain by crying all night. I suppose I should have taken that as an omen and a comment on Connor's future opinion of camping! I asked Max to leave in the mornings torrential rainstorm and my brother in law asked me if I was a fair weather camper! No not fair weather  camper; just a fresh post operative one!
I am not sure if there is one particular part of camping or being at our property that draws me to it or that I like more than others. Part of is that it was a manageable and inexpensive way to travel with young children in the beginning. once we realised that tenting with Connor and a wheelchair was problematic at best, we were blessed by the best Christmas present ever: a small Boler trailer given to our by Max's dad one Christmas. these fibreglass eggs were manufactured to be towed by small cars. the flyer for them tells you that they sleep 4. I will tell you that it technically does; practically, you have to be very small people, and small is a word that is rarely used to describe us. But, as always, we were happy with what we had and loaded that little trailer up to its ceiling sometimes. by the time Jarrett was 10 he had opted for his own tent, having fallen out of the top bunk in the trailer one too many times.
we started camping in Nipissing at a friends campground when Connor was 7. the first time we went, we were meeting up with my dad for a bluegrass campout. as soon as I arrived, I felt like I had come home. I began a quest to find a piece of property that we could afford, that was on some kind of water and that was suitable for Connor. 5 years later we had it. "The Property" I suppose that I should have come up with some kind of fanciful name like Linda's lucky valley or Steele's shaingrala, but some how, "the property" fit and stuck. it was 2 acres of former farm land with 150 frontage on a year round road. it backed onto a large creek that fed into a river. there was a wheelchair accessible government dock on the river, with a level driveway and boat launch, perfect for driving a boat or wheelchair right to the water and therefore perfect for Connor. Since it was originally a farm, for the most part it was level and an easy drive in for him; only the valley to the creek was steep but since we could access the water from the dock it was perfect! at least that is how it seemed to me.
by the time we got it, my father had passed away and never got to see it, but I like to think he might of approved. My mother was sure that I had lost my mind and told me as much and as often as she could. although we offered to take her up many times to see it, she always had excuses and would not come. Probably because her idea of camping involved room service at the Holiday inn.
I did manage to get my mother in law and sister in laws up for a visit once. we rented a housekeeping cottage down the road from the property and took them over for a visit. My Mother in law raised her eyebrows, which said her opinion loud and clear. One sister in law was concerned how steep it was--luckily I had made sure there was a level government dock at the end of our road with a boat launch--so steepness was not an issue.
Ironically, it was Max's dad that loved ti the best and spent weekends camping with us; but then again, he has always been the roughest of the bunch. My best friend Diana, shook her head and said she thought it would be way too much work and she was afraid that we would regret it. (I reminded her of this when we had our 10th anniversary campout there!)
those 10 years involved family holidays, weekends with the Youdelis' and time with just Max and I on our own.
Jarrett was in heaven and lets just say, as with the bluegrass festivals, Connor was a good sport. When the kids were teenagers, camping definitely had a more urban flavor. Diana and Grant docked their boat there and days involved volleyball, margaritas , fondue dinners and late night trivial pursuit games. Grant and Diana traveled with a 5000 watt generator that Grant commented had only ever been fired up for toasters and blenders in 5 years. Definitely not pioneer style. one of the most memorable trips was just before Connor

moved to Ottawa for school. this was one of the last times that Connor camped with us. even with our cabin, camping is still problematic for him; oh well, one Steele has to be Urban!
So now, once again it is the two of us. we try to come up as often as possible but it is never enough for me. I truly believe I would live in the wilderness if it was possible. I cannot say what appeals to me the most. i love the privacy and the feeling that we are the only people in the world. could be my xenophobia coming out. I like how there are few distractions to take me away from the important things that I want to do. I like that there is no rushed feeling; that I should be moving or accomplishing something more important. but mostly, i like how hard I have to work and plan for the simplest things like doing dishes: get the water from the spring, get the stove going, heat the water and pour it over the dishes and wash. you have to plan, think and work just to get dishes done. (don't even get me  started on how I cooked a thanksgiving dinner!) I appreciate those clean dishes and even the hot water ten times more than I do at home just turning on a tap or a knob on the dishwasher.
Perhaps what I love most about the property is that it helps me recognize all the reasons that I am OK with being a square peg in a round hole of today's world. I cognitively acknowledge that without today's modern technology Connor's world would be ridiculously difficult and his successes would be nearly impossible. but that comes at a high price tag such as a panic attack when the rogers wireless network crashed. our instant, disposable effortless world has yielded us a life that results in less time together, more work hours and less play time. I would not want to return to a time of famine, disease and poverty nor would I trade my rights as a women and be someones work horse or piece of chattel. However, when those pressures of today's world become too much for this less than modern girl, I know where my retreat is: The Property and camping.