Archive for Childhood

O Captain My Captain

Posted in Activist, Beauty, Faith, Gratitude, History, Humour, LGBT Community, Love, Nostalgia, Passion, Poetry, Spirituality, Wisdom, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 12, 2014 by TaijituMartini


“You’re only given one little spark of madness. You musn’t lose it.”
-Robin Williams

So true My Captain. Can I call you that? I hope you don’t mind. I never knew you, but I always felt like I did.
I felt connected to you. Perhaps it was your small stature. I happen to be wee myself. Maybe it was your contagious laughter, your great comedic timing, your humble views on life and love. Whatever it was that connected us in this vast Universe-you enriched my life. Thank-you for that.
Your heart was big My Captain. I felt that-and I’m not the only one. It seems whoever knew you loved you.
A special soul you were.
As John Keating in Dead Poets Society you opened my eyes to the possibility of looking at life from a different perspective. Stand on your desk and shout out your mantra to the world. Booya Keating. That’s the way to do it. Life’s too short for bullshit.
You encouraged me to “carpe diem”, a motto I have leaned on throughout my adult life.
Your performance as Parry in The Fisher King swept me away to another world and turned me into a two hour human waterfall. What a movie.
Armand in The Birdcage- another classic. Showcasing LGBTQ diversity before it was cool to do it, just your style, brave and true.
One Hour Photo. You were lonely. Did you feel a similar pain? I’m sorry if you did. No one should ever feel truly alone.
Many of the characters you played over the years seemed to echo your soul. I grew up watching you, and went to see your stand-up show in person. What a night that was. Just try and tell those jokes again the next day. As if. Pure comedic genius. One of a kind. No one did it like you did. No one ever will.
Intelligent, compassionate, sharp, strong, generous, and kind. I’m not the only one who thinks so. I’m just one of millions. What a legacy.
I will miss your gift of seamless improv, your humble generosity, your ridiculous repertoire of crazy voices, your versatile talent as a top notch performer, your honest and giving nature, and most of all your unique capability to move this world with your exhuberant madness.
My Captain, I wish you the eternal peace you couldn’t find in life.
Wherever you may be, may your magical spark forever ring free.


My Purple Biography

Posted in Animals, Empath, Love, Nostalgia, Protector, Spirituality with tags , , , on October 18, 2013 by TaijituMartini


When I showed up to Thanksgiving dinner there was a personalized place card waiting for me at the table,

thanks to the artistic stylings of my 4 yr. old niece.

I’m the purple one with the wings, surrounded by a happy entourage of dog, bird, and butterfly.

Truly precious.

The Man In Black

Posted in History, Humour, Spirituality with tags , , , , on September 22, 2013 by TaijituMartini

Ph: Don Hunstein February 1959

I’ve lived 38 years. That’ll produce some mind-blowing moments.

This is the story of one of those moments, and I only found out just how mind-blowing when I discovered who the Man in Black really was.  I had a moment in time with the Man in Black himself,  Johnny Cash.

When I was five years old I went on vacation to Jamaica with my parents. Christmas 1980, and a beautiful rental house hanging over the ocean just outside of Montego Bay. The pictures are breathtaking. We were bumping around cruising in a open jeep. This part of the memory is crisp and clear, seared in my brain like a grilled cheese in a hot panini press. The jeep was mighty uncomfortable, the sun was beaming down, the road was dusty and hot, and we were whipping along at a fast clip through a lush plantation. My tanned dad was driving, having a blast and loving every minute, free as a bird in the tropical sun.

A little boy with a huge grin suddenly appeared, running beside the jeep, trying to catch us. He couldn’t have been much older than I was. My dad slowly pulled over to the side. The little boy ran up to his side of the jeep, bubbly and energized, “ Hi-Hi-Do you want to see Johnny Cash?” He could hardly breathe from all the running, and his excitement oozed from every one of his little pores. “Follow me follow me!! “ he yelled and ran up ahead of us, wildly flailing his arms to direct us. I remember it vividly. My mother wasn’t digging the situation at all, and was definitely paranoid.  “Sure, we’ll follow him and then we’ll get swarmed by a gang around the corner and killed… “

I guess my dad must have been feeling brave that day and listened to his intuition. He didn’t listen to my mother this time, put the car in drive and off we went. We followed the little boy up a few winding dirt roads and around some corners, and came to a sort of clearing in the plantation. It wasn’t the same as the dense plants we’d been travelling through, here there was a breathtaking view  and enough room to walk among the rows of plants. It was as if our experience in that very moment suddenly allowed us some breathing room.

The little boy said, “Wait here”, and ran up ahead along one of the paths and disappeared. You could see the worry on my mothers face. She thought we were all going to get attacked and killed in the bush. Could very well have been the case-but thankfully not that day.

What happened next instead would be much less traumatic than a triple homicide, and makes for a much better story.

Within minutes we saw a man slowly us approaching through the bush. He had a black cowboy hat on, and when he approached he whipped it off with a big smile, and bowed his sweaty head a little with a gesture of respect.

“How y’all doing folks, I’m Johnny Cash” he said, and on went the hat again.

A big brimmed, country-loving, tough guy number hat.  The rest of my memory is fuzzy. That’s all my brain retained. I know the Man In Black stood there for awhile, happily chatting with my parents, and I remember a few bursts of his laughter, but considering I was five at the time-finding trouble in a plantation bush was much more exciting that a friendly stranger in a black hat called Johnny.

johnny cash with hat

The exact hat he was wearing that day

Turns out Johnny’s home, Cinammon Hill, was a plantation house built by Samuel Barrett, who ran a large sugar plantation there in the mid 1700’s. According to what I’ve heard, the place has quite the history of slavery and torture. Not good. Johnny on the other hand was always very generous with anyone who worked with him there and enjoyed giving when it came to helping many of his Jamaican neighbours. I liked his energy that day, I remember that. He had a glow. When I became an adult and found out more about him, I liked what I read. I especially appreciated the fact that he was always an advocate for Native Americans, which was expressed in his songs and on his album ” Bitter Tears, Ballads of the American Indian.” He cared about his fellow man. Bravo Johnny.

One Christmas Eve he was celebrating Christmas at Cinammon Hill, when armed robbers burst through the door and robbed him of everything, all the presents under the tree, and even the turkey cooking in the oven.  He was extremely upset over the attack, understandably, and packed up and left. It’s said that he didn’t return for many, many years after that.

I hear he finally went back and made his peace with Jamaica and Cinammon Hill just before his death in 2003. He died September 12, 2003, just three short months after June. True love never dies.

It just gets postponed for a while.



Mini Digits

Posted in Love, Nostalgia, Protector, Spirituality with tags , , , , on September 17, 2013 by TaijituMartini


Those are my digits soothing some mini digits to sleep over the weekend

We all start off our lives needing to feel safe- and that never really changes

No matter how old and tough we pretend to be

An Open Letter To Ellen DeGeneres

Posted in Hope, Love, Spirituality with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 9, 2013 by TaijituMartini

Paying it Forward for Sarah. Where energy goes, attention grows…

You've Been Hooked!

Dearest Ellen,

Hello. How are you? That’s great to hear, seriously. Listen, I know you’ve got a full plate in front of you right now (Okay, maybe not literally; you don’t look like you eat that much, to be honest. However, I stand by the statement.), especially considering how many challenges you have to deal with right now.

  • Voicing animated fish is no mean feat. (How do they record your voice underwater anyway?)
  • Arranging for Sofía Vergara to be “accidentally” deported so you can be the reigning CoverGirl has to be a lot of work.
  • Teaching millions of people to dance like no one is watching while hosting a kick-butt talk show must be exhausting. And sweaty, no doubt.

Normally I use this forum to write about my life as a bellman in Niagara Falls, but today I want to write to you from my heart.

I’ve been married to…

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Seeing Spirit

Posted in Clairvoyance, Love, Spirituality with tags , , , , , , on February 23, 2013 by TaijituMartini


I remember the first time I saw Spirit. I was 7 or 8 years old. We used to go to church every Sunday at my Grandfathers house, in a grandiose mahogany inspired library with lush deep red accents and ornate furniture, something right out of an episode of Falcon Crest. Usually my two cousins and I would ignore the mass completely and attempt to make each other laugh by making farting noises in the hopes of avoiding the monotony of the service. Sitting as far back in the room and as far away from the priest as humanly possible. Occasionally we would get glares from the adults, but for the most part, the 45 minute mass was a stifled laughfest instead of a God-inspired repentance. One Sunday, very close to the end of the mass, I was staring out the window at the fallen snow, when all of a sudden an undistinguishable figure, glowing with yellow-white light, floated right past the window. I looked at my cousins to see if they had caught it too, but they were busy with each other and it seemed I was the sole witness. When the mass was over, I summoned my courage and decided my religious Aunt was the person to talk to. When everyone had left the room, I went over to her and asked, “Is it possible that I just saw an angel during the mass?” She looked at me in that condescending way only an adult looking at a small child can, and said, “ No I don’t think so. I’m sure God has better things to do than send an angel for you to see, maybe you saw something else…”

I know what what I saw that day. It has taking me almost 30 years to come to the conclusion that who I am and what I see IS real. It’s just a reality that exists on another plane. Another dimension entirely. It has so many facets of energy and continues to astonish me daily with its intelligence and grace. I learn more about it everyday. It’s a 6th Dimension where there is no pain, no suffering, and no fear. Only light and love. It is music and happiness and strength and health. When I feel its power I know everything will be fine. I wish everyone could feel it.

It is true peace and it’s wonderful.