It was a beautiful Sunday. The sun was shining and the sky was a rich
blue speckled with a few white, fluffy clouds that were passing quickly
in the breeze. Having enjoyed a few cups of a dark-roast Kenyan coffee
and was caught up on the latest events of Coronation Street, I decided
to make the most of my day off and venture off Bauer Street for any
adventure that could present itself.
I received a text from a
great friend of mine inquiring as to what my plans were for the day.
Actually, as has been a Sunday tradition for sometime, Kelley and I had
been trading texts back and forth regarding our thoughts and commentary
on the events taking place on Coronation Street.
I’ve only known
Kelley for a few years but have grown extremely fond of our friendship;
savouring treats of the confectionary persuasion, enjoying an occasional
toke and sharing a fondness for Coronation Street are just a few of the
highlights of my relationship with Kelley. Well, those are certainly
important to note however the greatest thing I share with Kelley is
laughter. Although I was introduced to Kelley a few months previous, my
first recollection of laughing hysterically with her at a New Year’s Eve
show two years ago. I had arrived just before midnight to catch the end
of the show as I was meeting up with one of the performers; Kelley was
working as bar staff but she was able to hang out with me while the show
was playing. As it was New Year’s Eve most people attending the
performance were well on their way to feeling no pain so they became
rather comical to watch. There was one man that I remember being
subjected to our ridicule’ a dapper gentleman in a classic black tuxedo,
salt & pepper hair and bearing a remarkable resemblance to Mr.
Frank Sinatra. It was apparent that the much younger woman drinking
shots like she was sailor on shore leave and was sitting beside him was
his companion for the evening. She, as Kelley and I hypothesized, was
not this gentleman’s wife. On the contrary, really. Perhaps she was his
secretary (or to be politically correct, his administrative assistant)
or his child’s school teacher. Nonetheless, we concluded that as this
woman was celebrating the arrival of a new year by getting drunk
compliments of his corporate American Express card, Mrs. Sinatra was
probably home trying to put hyperactive children to bed while waiting for her
husband to get home from his impromptu “urgent business meeting.”
As Kelley giggled, “He’s doin’ it his way, Baby!”
From that evening on, a great friendship was found and many more laughs have been shared.
Laughter
is something that I share with all of my relationships; be they
friends, family, colleagues, my mailman, the neighborhood prostitute or
anyone that I meet.
I love to laugh and I love making people
laugh. To me, it is one of the most healthy and enjoyable things to do. A
person can’t be in a bad mood or feeling down when they are laughing.
Well…maybe they can. I don’t know, really. But if it is a possibility,
I’m quite certain that it would be difficult to laugh and stay in a bad
mood.
I digress.
With no plans in mind, I suggest to Kelley that we should take the ferry
to Dartmouth and indulge ourselves with a great cup of coffee and
conversation. As it was Kelley who has been raving about this relatively
new coffee house on the “dark side” she was agreeable to the idea.
We
decided to meet at the ferry terminal and set off from there. Although
the sun seemed strong as it beamed down on to the promenade deck of the
boat, the breeze was strong in the harbour and we concluded that it
might not have been warm enough for the short pants and sleeveless tops
that both of us were sporting. Nonetheless, we focused on the
conversation at hand and stayed the course enroute to our destination;
our minds and ears focusing more as we both lamented about life rather
than venturing inside the vessel.
Following a brisk, albeit short, walk up the street we arrived at Two If By Sea Café, which as become one of my now favorite spots. Their
website hits the metaphorical nail with the hammer when it suggests that
it embraces indulgence. We were fortunate to find a table as it
appeared that many other people decided to enjoy their Sunday afternoon
with the same idea. While we were enjoying our coffee and continuing
observances of thirty something life, we were joined by a friend of
Kelley’s and local celebrity, Ms. Liz Rigny. After they took a moment to
catch up and Ms. Rigney returned to her companion at another table,
Kelley and I savoured the last drops of coffee, gathered our belongings
and headed back to the ferry.
Kelley smiled as she commented that
it was great running into Liz and she talked of stories of when they
both did dinner theatre together and they ran in the same circle of
friends. When I moved to Halifax to go to university in 1994, Liz Rigney
was just taking over as a new co-host for Breakfast Television, a
light-hearted, Atlantic Canada-based morning variety show that was
filmed locally. Perhaps it was because she was new to this show as I was
new to Halifax and I made this connection but whatever the reason, I
was intrigued by Liz Rigney. It seems funny to say, but it was true. At
least it was true enough that whenever a conversation was had where
either local celebrities were being discussed or if I heard someone
discussing something they saw on Breakfast Television, I would chime in
with some commentary of Liz Rigney.
I think it is important to note that I did not send her letters
confessing an un-dying love of her or pictures of my anatomy. I did not
drive past her house nor did I ever try to find where she lives. I have
never snooped through her garbage. In other words, I have not done
anything deemed stalker-esque; I just happened to enjoy her when I saw
her on Breakfast Television.
I digress.
A few years after I
moved to the city, I ended working for call centre where one of the
projects was to fulfill requests for people ordering Canadian folk
singer John Gracie CD’s. It seemed that Gracie was planning a
performance in Halifax and a few of us working at the call centre were
tasked with contacting anybody who had recently ordered one of his CD’s
and inform them of this upcoming show. My manager at the time must have
heard about my being somewhat star-struck by Ms. Rigney because when she
handed my list of people to contact, she smiled and said, “I think there is someone on here that you’ll enjoy calling.”
As much as I would like to build a sense of suspense, I’m sure it will
come as no surprise whose name was included in my list; for the benefit
of those who are only mildly paying attention, it was none other than
Ms. Liz Rigney. Naturally I broadcasted throughout the office that I,
indeed, had the best list to call (no offense to anybody that may have
also been contacted during that initiative) which is why a small group
gathered around my cubicle as I prepared to make the call. If memory
serves though, I don’t think there was answer on my first attempt
however I did not let that dash my opportunity. I continued to disrupt
the office for another hour before trying again. This time, I thought
success was mine when someone picked up on the end of my call.
“Hello?” a deep, gruff-sounding voice answered.
“May I please speak to Ms, Liz Rigney please, Sir?” my voice actually cracked.
“This is”
replied the now-agitated voice. It was at this point in the
conversation that I realized the difference between fantasy and reality;
I had envisioned an enthusiastic conversation peppered with amusing
antic dotes however instead I simply woke her up, insulted her and then
told her of an event for which she was probably already aware.
A few years later, I was attending some kind of luncheon at Halifax’s
World Trade & Convention Centre with my then-boss. He was I
introducing me to the who’s who of the Nova Scotia business community
when he pointed out Liz Rigney cajoling with a small group at the other
end of the room. Of course I had to regale him with the story of waking
her from a sound sleep a few years previous. By this time, Liz was
mingling throughout the room and was coming in our direction
“You gotta tell Liz this story”
he says as he affectionately nods to her when she walked by. Although I
was slightly embarrassed initially, I shared the story with her.
“I am so sorry”
she said while laughing. Of course I said that an apology was not
necessary; in fact, I thanked her for giving a slightly amusing story to
share.
Over the years, I have been introduced to Liz Rigney by a
number of different people at various places, and each time she smiles,
shakes my hand and comments that I look familiar. I always smile and
reply that I had met her a few different times. As a television
personality, actress, singer and person, Liz Rigney no doubt meets many
people so I’d never expect her to remember me. I haven’t told Liz that
story again but I think it entertained Kelley on the ferry back to
Halifax.
I love Sundays!
Originally written May 16, 2010
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