ON THE ROAD AGAIN, THIS TIME PHILADELPHIA 1992

I departed for Philadelphia right at the end of 1991 and landed smack in the middle of another project. Again with my employer of many years. Basically since our days in Edmonton in the early 1980’s (with a small break in South Africa). I will deal with the Project up front and then probably not again. Over time, I had become used to our employer’s modus operandi. So, understood before arrival that we were probably behind schedule, over budget, on the brink of disaster and our client hated us. As it turned out I was pretty much on the nuts.

I may sound a little “trite”, however, each and every project, I was on, started pretty much in the same manner (except Japan where we were able to maintain schedule). It had no bearing on how hard your Site Manager worked or how much of his life he poured into it. This, unrelenting pressure from above, was perpetuated by our company to ensure that on arrival you did not have any expectations of relaxing, enjoying your work, expecting more money, time off or any form of significant reward for a job well done. It was well ingrained in each participant on each project that they were partly responsible for the company’s impending doom.

In the meantime this company was growing and expanding each year and was by far, the largest EPC company in the world. An amazing task based on each and every job being a disaster, hhhmmmmmm. The Project was in the City of Philadelphia, on the south side, close to the convergence of the Schuylkill and Delaware Rivers and easy access from the “burbs” to the south, using the I95 freeway. Anyway, I had a good job, a good location, some form of security, a good boss, good friends, reasonably good pay, and my family at my side. Everything was aligned in the universe. Now all I had to do was get out my list of things to accomplish here, before going back to Canada and retrieving my family.

My list started with; “don’t you dare have any fun, you hear me!” Big surprise, right. Ol’ Bubbaloo, by now, thought that all I did was fly around, party, talk shit and keep her slaving away at home. She had only missed one thing. In the midst of all this revelry, I somehow had to find time to work 12 hour days under significant stress, then commute back to where I was sleeping, find food so I could be ready for the “partying”, try to sleep a bit, spend at least 1 hour with her on the phone (daily), admitting to my sins and failings and receiving my orders for the next day. I still don’t know where she fit the partying in, in her mind.

Oh well, ……….. I have drifted a little bit away from the memory that I am trying to dredge up, but this is what happens more often now as I age. The next item on the list was a biggy. Never before or since have I been trusted with such responsibility. I was tasked with finding a house to purchase, suitable for her and the little princesses. Her instructions were that it had to be in the best area, near the best schools, with unparalleled shopping and not a long commute so she had access to her car when I had to take it to work (luckily I had a company car so it never became an issue). On first thought, I could clearly see that there was no “upside” for me in this situation. No matter what I found, it was not going to be deemed suitable for royalty.

Ah ha, but this time I had a plan.It just so happened that our friends from Japan, San Fransisco and NZ had moved onto the same project, months earlier with their own little “prince” and had laid the groundwork for me. Ol Bubbaloo’s friend, we’ll call her The Kiwi, had scoured every inch of the area surrounding our work and had determined that Wallingford, PA., was the only place to reside. She had looked deeply into the schools, checked out the hood, interviewed teachers, realtors, and locals to a degree far far past where I would ever get to, left on my own. I quickly determined after picking the Kiwi’s brain, that I had also (after great analysis) decided that we would also like to live here.

I called Ol’ Bubbaloo and told her the results of my search, thus far. She was impressed with the depth of my knowledge and the extent to which I had gone into detail. She allowed that “it seems good, but buddy you had better not screw this one up!” A chill went down my spine, I now had my future happiness, completely, based on the Kiwi’s judgement. It was a thing of beauty, she already had a realtor vetted and rode hard. So I’ll just select her I figured. So far this house hunting is not proving to be that tough of a job. I don’t know what all the whining was about each time we moved. The realtor had 14 houses to show me and I had a few hours off work.

So accompanied by the Kiwi, we set out to look. I might say that after about 4 houses, they all pretty much looked the same. I had no idea of location, relative to anything else. So I just kept bobbing my head and oohing and aahing and the viewings all melted into one. We are getting near the end of a long afternoon when the Realtor says I have one home left to show you. The problem is that it has a pool and pools are not real popular in this area. OH YAH, I think, trying telling that one to the girls. Ringing in my head were Ange’s and Ron’s last requests. “Dad a pool please, please Dad”.

Before I looked at this home I knew I was going to buy it, if it even bore a slight resemblance to a house and if the pool held water. We arrived at the house and it was spectacular. By far the best of the previous dozen we had looked at. I was so excited, I liked to have wet my pants. I could hardly stifle myself from shouting out “I’ll take it”. It was magnificent! I knew at least the girls would back my pick. I made a call home and gushing with excitement, and telling her how long and hard I had looked. Then, I steam rolled Ol’ Bubbaloo into agreeing my selection. If you believe that! We made an offer, the seller accepted and we had a house.

This all happened very quickly. There was no time to second guess myself or sink into the abyss of “buyer’s remorse”. I was only there a very short time when our house was packed in Calgary and the girls were ready to rock and roll. I hopped a flight home, spent a couple of days helping with last minute organizing. The movers came and went, and in what seemed like a heartbeat, the house was bare, no evidence remained of our presence and there was nothing left, but to load the car to the gunwales and head for Philadelphia.

I will never cease to be amazed at my partner’s ability to take an overwhelming task and boil it down into small pieces which she devoured with ease. One move like that and I would have taken my rope and climbed up into the nearest tree. Bags, snacks, games, books and all of the necessities loaded, we embarked. This in mid January 1992. We headed south from Calgary, crossed into Montana and made a sharp left and then pointed our car east and drove. We spent some long days in the car, but it was so much fun.

Everyone was excited, a new adventure was starting and our long days passed in utter happiness. These times on the road were some of my best memories of our early life together. We made plans, discussed adventures, made promises of impending excitement and couldn’t wait to arrive in our new home. During this trip we didn’t take time to stop in many places, but we did get to see Mount Rushmore and the Black Hills (of Custer fame), along with glimpses of Kansas City, St. Louis, Indianapolis, Columbus and then into Philadelphia. We completed this drive in 4 long days. Were we tired? You think? But finally we were home.