Why I quit my life in retail and bought magic beans instead (part 1)

Have a look at what I almost built... I call it "The Beast":

And I say "almost" built, because it's not quite finished. It'll be a DIY propagation bench. When complete, it'll have a poly cover to keep in humidity, bottom heat, a nifty controller for the heater and humidifier, and I'll probably put on some car decals and racing stripes to make it look like it can go real fast.

The project has pushed the boundaries of my building skills (it's 8 feet long exactly so that I didn't have to cut the boards, if that gives you any idea). It's also stretched the budget a bit, so the controller will have to wait a paycheck or two. Inside, you can see my collection of assorted trays and humidity domes, which were spread all over the room before. The goal is to eliminate them... and their darned height limits... so that I can take taller cuttings in a more controlled environment. Cross your fingers for me!

My wife has been understanding, or at least tolerant, of this project. She's done that a lot for me this year. We rang in the new year knowing that I'd quit my well-paid longtime career in retail. On Jan 2nd, I'd start a new job as an entry-level supervisor for a wholesale nursery. It was another decision that would stretch the budget (or rather, shrink it), and there was no assurance of success.

So, why did I do it?

Why did I quit my comfortable (indoor) job in retail, and buy magic beans instead?

Please allow me to start from the end, and work my way back to the beginning. The beginning, of course, is that retail wasn't right for me. Or, I wasn't right for retail. Or both. I'll cover that territory in my next posting (which I'm quite excited about, actually... you'll have to see how I integrate a picture of Alfred E. Neuman into my rant about retail).

That realization, however, took place a few years ago, and while important to the topic, it isn't really what made my decision. I could have spent the other half of my working life comfortably dissatisfied with retail. So what changed? Why now?

Four funerals.

Last year, I attended the funerals of four family members, and what I learned about them changed my outlook on life. Now, normally, in my self-deprecating sort of way, I'd give you an excuse to exit my blog right now, before you get squicked by all my icky introspection. Not this time. In fact, I forbid you to stop reading. These people were worth knowing. I couldn't possibly do them justice in the short length of this blog posting, but trust me when I say that the lessons I took from them are worth hearing about.

It was the first funeral of last year that kicked my butt. It was for my niece, Ashley. The other three funerals were for older relatives, who had lived long enough to see grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And I'll miss them, of course... I've spent a lot of time thinking about them... but Ashley's death spun me off balance, and a fair bit more than that.

Even now, I have difficulty putting my thoughts into writing. I feel self-conscious, in a way, because I don't feel like it's my story to tell. But I will write about the place she has in my life, and if you haven't done so already, please read through her mother's blog. It's a but gut-wrenching at times, I'll admit, but wholly worth reading.

When I met my wife, Lisa (who wasn't my wife at the time, of course), the first event I attended with her family was Ashley's fifth birthday party. Lisa had been living with her sister's family when Ashley was born, and I could see instantly how close a relationship there was between niece and aunt. On later visits with my soon-to-be in laws, I have to admit that I would often sidestep my awkwardness in social situations (what... me, socially awkward? ) by hanging out with the kids - inventling little games to play with them, and just goofing around. Adult relationships are more difficult. Kids have a way of cutting through all the bull.

Just like that, Ashley and her sisters made me into an instant uncle. For that, even if she hadn't matured to be such an exceptional person, she would always have held a special place for me.

I was transferred to Ontario, and I took Lisa along with me. It was one of those things I did for the sake of my retail career. I have good memories of Ontario, don't get me wrong. But being away from the family was really hard, and it eventually became the deciding factor in quitting that job and coming back west.

Ashley matured to have characteristics I probably wouldn't have predicted. She loved animals and nature, and not just as a passing interest. I had managed a large pet store for several years after returning to BC, and I can't tell you how many young people came to work (or to volunteer, in the adoption centre) with a "love for animals" but quickly changed their tunes when they had to clip the nails on an American Eskimo, or spent a day changing litter boxes. With Ashley, her conviction grew steadily over the years I knew her, without any kind of fanfare about it. It was something she felt strongly about, and no amount of discomfort could dissuade her from a good trip into the wilderness, or from taking care of animals.

I'm not sure anyone would have predicted her spirituality, either. It's not like the adults in the family pushed her in this direction... least of all myself. Until recently, I'd have called myself chronically undecided. If I'm reading it right, I'd say her immediate family was along the lines of supportive of Ashley's move towards faith, but that it was her leadership that really tied the family into the church.

It was that kind of leadership that I've heard about from people who knew Ashley in all parts of her life. In friendships. In school. In sports. Ashley seemed, over time, to develop a toughness and resolve that I think is rare to find in people, particularly people her age.

She carried that toughness into her fight with cancer, as I'm told the medical staff at Children's Hospital can attest to. In fact, all of her qualities - leadership, kindness, resilience, faith - seemed to be exactly what was required every step along the way of her struggle. That "preparedness" is a tough thing to address, really. I would never begrudge anyone of religious faith who loved Ashley (and there were many) to pose the question to God: why? Why would she be meant for this? I'd never begrudge them the right to be dissatisfied with any answer delivered from the pulpit.

For me, it was vey different, and maybe had the opposite effect. I haven't had any real faith for years. I still struggle, I suppose. But for me, this apparent "preparedness" seemed to speak to a purpose - a purpose unknown to me, for sure, but a purpose nonetheless. If Ashley had not become such an exceptional leader, and developed her character and convictions as young as she did, she would never have had the opportunity to have the impact she did. She died at sixteen years old, having spent over a year battling cancer.

This is the lesson I learned from Ashely (of several) that had most impact on my own decision to finally take the leap and move on from my comfortable life in retail. Ashley didn't have much time, but she accomplished a great deal, it seems to me. I've had plenty of time, but I've been reluctant to commit to a new direction. Enough of that! It had to change.

The other three funerals, although quite different because they were held in honour of older relatives, led to some surprisingly similar conclusions.

Mike Fitzgerald was my wife's stepfather. He was extremely bright, by way of his undying curiosity about the world, and his meticulous attention to detail, which he carried through to every topic he chose to learn. I met him later in his life - one of many great people I've known only by virtue of having shacked up with the right girl. Everyone who knew him in his younger years described for me a man who was driven and committed to his work as a geologist... not only for a living (he lived quite modestly for a man of his eventual means), but because he loved it. It was undoubtedly what he was meant to do.

That's impressive, really. From a young age, he studied hard, worked hard, even played hard. I'm not saying he didn't make mistakes, or have failures in his life, but on the day of his funeral, the picture I took from the people who knew him best was of a man who was unafraid. He wasn't afraid to love the people around him, and to tell them so. He wasn't afraid to learn new things, travel, and take risks. There are a lot of qualities I'd like to emulate from Mike, but his commitment and lack of fear stand out for me as a lesson worth learning.

The second elderly relative to pass last year was my wife's grandmother, Violet Carswell. Her life is interesting to me because at a certain point, she just decided to do it her own way. I don't know much about her early life, but I know that at a certain time, she was trying hard to raise her children, but was in a marriage that wasn't working. In an era where being a single mom was not as accepted an option, she took the hard choice, and ended the marriage. Tough lady.

I learned that she later took up other new challenges. She became an author of poetry, a competitive dancer, took up travel... all these new endeavors that could have easily never happened if she had just kept living in a relationship that wasn't working, and if she hadn't taken matters into her own hand. This was the Violet Carswell I met in her later years. She came across as tough and independent, and always seemed to have some new project or challenge to attend to. I guess the lesson I took is that it's never too late for a change. It's okay to start over... as many times as you need to get it right.

The last of the four funerals I attended last year was for Willi Kaufmann, my grandfather. This man was a risk taker. He was born and raised in Switzerland. As an adult, he became convinced that the life mapped out for him in Switzerland would be unrewarding, so he left. Why Canada? Why not? I can't imagine what kind of a leap that must have been, to come to a country where he didn't speak the language, and didn't have a job or family waiting for him. He struck out on his own, in a big way.

And strike out he did... a few times in fact. Willi tried a number of business ventures, and some were outright failures. But Willi was a hard worker, and there was no quit in him. His successes came later. He opened a billiard hall - named, of all things, "Willi's Billiards". Here, his tenacious character was rewarded, but not without sacrifices. He told me about a stretch in his business where he worked 20 hour days on his own, because he couldn't afford to hire staff. To my good fortune, another of his successes was his late-in-life marriage to my grandmother. He became a grandfather many more times in my family, and a great-grandfather as well. I had the benefit of his association and wisdom for more than twenty years. The lesson he taught me came straight from his lips... not just in viewing his life in retrospect. He encouraged me a number of times to take risks, and not to be afraid of failure.

So there you have it. Aside from having my ass handed to me a few times last year, I was convinced to take some time and reflect on these exceptional lives. My respect for these people was never dimished by the things they failed at, but was enhanced by their strength, convictions, fearlessness. There was Ashley, who shook my agnosticism, and made me marvel at the amount she was able to accomplish, and the leadership she showed in her short life. Mike demonstrated what could be accomplished in a life with commitment, and without fear. Violet, in her firece independence, showed that it wasn't too late to change directions and start something new. Willi taught me the value of taking big risks, even if they ended in some failures.

(Despite which, I hope my current risks aren't headed in the direction of failure)

Okay, I asked you to give me some time to tell you about these people, and thank you for doing so. Next blog post, I'll amuse you with a few anectodes from the world of retail management, and maybe even dish a bit on some of my previous employers. We'll see... I'll leave you with a picture (non-gardening related, I'm afraid) from my summer. My girls at Hayward lake. Yes, weekends off with the family does have its advantages.