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It was while working at a Nuclear Generating Station in Ontario, Canada that the author met many American contractors who specialized in nuclear contract work within North America.

These men and women jokingly called themselves Nuclear Whores and the website in which they found work was called http://www.roadwhore.com/.

According to the online ‘Urban Dictionary’, a Road Whore is defined as: “A temporary worker from out of town. In engineering and construction, road whores seek out and find massive bonuses, high pay rates, hazardous duty pay, per diem, housing allowances and any form of premium remuneration”.

These new friends taught him the ways of the contractor and he soon began a life as a nuclear contract engineer, moving from project to project around Ontario.

Soon after beginning his life as a nuclear contract worker, the author met and fell in love with a news journalist while doing improvisation at Second City in Toronto.

Three years later they got married. A year after that they gave birth to a son.

Unfortunately their love was short-lived. It ended two years into their marriage while living in Kincardine, Ontario while working under contract at the Bruce Nuclear Facility and she was home with their son.

One day, she packed everything including their son and moved to Oakville leaving the author in Kincardine, all alone.


Like many parents who suddenly find themselves inthis position, the author was surprised when told he was not an equal parent of his 1 year old son, but was what his divorce lawyer referred to as a “Secondary Parent”.

As such, he was not allowed to talk to his son whenever he wanted or to see him whenever he wanted. He had to fight to see his own son, and this took time.Without his boy in his daily life, he couldn’t eat, sleep or work. He was absolutely devastated.

After a few days, he went to his family physician who was immediately concerned for the author’s well‑being. This country doctor suggested a personal remedy of his for overcoming difficult times; he told him to concentrate all his thoughts away from the negativity of the present to the funny, happy stories of his past. He suggested trying to relive these memories, by recollecting them through painting, writing, songs, etc...

So, he wrote.

Each day, he concentrated on one funny, true story from his past. He would think about it for hours at a time, sometimes all day, and then would write it down. It took 42 days for the author’s lawyer to get visitation permission to visit his son in Oakville and in that time he wrote the stories that compile this blog.






Port Perry Wedding



Nothing is better than Port Perry in the summertime. Not only is there fishing, hunting, and boating during this time, but there are fairs, dances and other social events; and of course with summer, comes weddings....and wedding stories.

My favourite wedding memory, is not my own, but rather one that took place in the Port Perry area. It was such a classic example of a small town wedding that I will forever use it as a benchmark in which to gauge all other small town weddings.

The groom's speech was 20 seconds or so. Instead of trying to interpret the meaning of his words I thought I would just write down exactly what I remember him saying and you can contemplate your own interpretation.

"Hey. What's goin' on? Listen. I just want to say a few things about my three groomsmen here and my best man. We've all known each other a long time and we've been through a lot together. They know what I'm talkin' about. I don't need to say anything more about that.

"I wrote some words for each guy up here that I'd like to say now. To Cornwall, what's up? Seriously Cornhole, we've been through a lot together. We've lived beside each other since I was 5. I don't need to say anything more about that.

"To Hamm, what's up buddy? We've known each other since we first played hockey together. We've been through a lot. I don't think I need to say anything more about that.

"To Lester, seriously, what's up? This guy likes to drink. We've partied a lot over the years and he always got me home somehow, even when he was way too wasted to be driving. Thanks man. I don't need to say anything more about that.

"And finally to Lester, my best man" (yes, they both had the same last name...and so one was called Lesty and the other Lester). The groom continued, "Lester. What's up? I know you've been through a lot. You know I've been through a lot. Seriously man. Anyway, I don't think I need to say anything more about that."

The interesting part about the groom's speech was the fact that I think I was the only one who wasn't moved to tears by his words. I guess you just had to be there but seriously, every time he said, "I don't think I need to say anything more about that"…women would look at each other and quietly nod as if they completely understood the hidden meaning.

The men in attendance just sat staring down at their dinner plates trying desperately to control this emotional rollercoaster the groom was taking us on.

I shouldn't say that I was the only one in the room not moved to tears for there was a young lady that didn't seem to be listening to the speech. Her table was at the very back of the room....you know the table that is always at the back of every wedding and is filled with the friends of friends from work and the local parole officer.

I don't believe this young lady was touched by the groom's speech. The only reason I suggest this is because she kept saying in a very loud, very drunken voice directed at her date; "This is f*ckin ridiculous. I shouldn't even be here; you're not even my boss today. You hear me? You're not my f*ckin' boss, not today you're not. It's Saturday...so you can kiss my *ss." The little princess didn't get a chance to say much more than this as she passed out on her dinner plate.

I did see her date and his friend grab her, one by the legs and the other by the hands, and carry her out the door. What I heard later was that once they got out to his pickup truck they tossed her like a bag of potatoes into the back of his truck and then came back in, sat down and resumed dinner like nothing had happened.

During dinner, someone at my table noticed a penny under her plate. We quickly assumed this meant that the woman had won a prize of some sort, perhaps the floral centrepiece. She seemed very excited when the MC got onto the mic and said, "Everyone check under your plate. Now at each table there is one person who has a penny under their plate. Does each table have their selected person?"

The woman at our table jumped up and held her penny high in the air as did each winner in the room.

"Okay", the MC continued, "now y'all have been selected to clear the dishes from the table. Can you please take the dishes to the large garbage bin out back beside the porta-potty and clean them off and stick'em in the boxes in the back of Lesty's truck. He's gotta get these back to his old lady's restaurant before her boss comes in tomorrow."

Needless to say, the lucky woman at our table wasn't entirely impressed with her prize.

The one part of the night that stands out more than anything else took place while I was talking to a young woman named Ashley who is the first cousin of the groom.

Ashley's husband had left the party early as he had to work and she was mingling and saying hello to everyone.

Her Uncle Ted, the groom's father staggers by us in a drunken haze, sees Ashley and stops to say hi. "How are you doin?" He then leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Now, as he leaned in and got close he must have simply forgotten that this was his young niece. I only say this as he decided against the cheek kiss and made a half-hearted attempt to stick his tongue down her throat.

During this entire time I was lucky enough to have front row seats to this event. As Ashley pushed him away, he noticed me and said with glazed eyes, "She's my niece, isn't she great?" As her Uncle Ted staggered outside to throw up, Ashley left to go rinse her mouth out with soap and a few shots of single malt scotch. As she walked away I could hear her muttering something along the lines of him being f*cking gross and lucky that this was his son's wedding.

But the true icing on this Port Perry cake was, after Ashley left I was still in such a state of shock that I went to Ashley’s cousin Darren and told him what had just transpired. He replied with, "Well. It's not like they're blood relatives. He's only her uncle cause he married her aunt". This seemed to make perfect sense to Darren and after he finished speaking a look of accomplishment came across his face. I believe he felt like he had saved the family's reputation through his quick thinking. Then he left to go find his first cousin Ashley. I only assume his intention was to provide her with the same family attention and care that his uncle had.

I don't think I need to say anything more about that.

3 comments:

Stephen Rossi said...

I'm not one to over-exaggerate, but that was the funniest story in the history of the entire world, ever.

Anonymous said...

at least they are not blood relatives!

Unknown said...

I wish I had been there to see that! I would have paid full price at the bar to watch that whole thing go down. I thought I was going to wake up the whole house, I was laughing so hard. Alot of names in that wedding party I recognize. But, anonymity is a wonderful thing!