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Love is funny.

I inherited any number of things from my parents when they died.

I inherited many pieces of artwork which now hang far too cluttered on my walls. I also inherited my Mom’s jewelry, which sits in a box somewhere because jewelry really isn’t my thing. Not that I would ever part with it, it’s just that it doesn’t suit me to wear it. I also have my Dad’s watch in the same box. However, I don’t wear that because I don’t like watches and feel that knowing the time every second of the day hinders my enjoyment of it. Perhaps, that’s just me.

One of the intangible things that I have inherited from my father was his love of the ridiculous. My Dad was logical, and a very deep thinker. I think that gave him an edge when it came to creating some of the most ridiculous moments I have ever experienced.

The other day, I was reminded of one of those moments during the course of a delightfully meandering conversation. A conversation that had me laughing myself silly whilst enjoying someone else’s creation of a ridiculous moment.

I did a lot of traveling with my parents when I was young. Everywhere.

I don’t remember where this particular story takes place. It doesn’t really matter, the where of it. The where of it rarely mattered when it came to my father and his (rather odd) sense of humour.

My Mom and Dad had stopped at a mall somewhere. My Dad hated shopping in all it’s forms. He was never one to voluntarily go into a mall. However, my Mom loved to shop. And seeing as Dad loved Mom, shopping was something that he tolerated to make her happy.

Mom had found something that she wanted in some store, and the lineup for the cashier was endless. My father and I were standing there with my Mom, eyes rolling; I also inherited my Dad’s loathing of shopping. We wanted to get the hell out of the damn store.

As we inched our way to the front of the line, a slow smile started across my father’s face. I kept giving him strange looks, because there should have been no way that he was happy about being in a store. I naturally assumed that it had something to do with the fact that we were approaching our turn at the till.

I could not have been more wrong.

We got to the till, and my Mom was all smiles.
So was my Dad.

Me? I’d seen the look that was now on my Dad’s face enough to know that he was up to something.
Needless to say, I just took a step back to enjoy whatever was about to come.
Because something was.

My Dad happily handed his credit card to the cashier as she rang up my Mom’s things.

And then…
In a quiet moment…

My Dad farted.

Audibly.
By audibly, I mean VERY audibly.

As my mother turned to look at him, he turned to look at her. But before she could open her mouth, he gasped. Then, gathering the most appalled look on his face that you could possibly imagine, looked right into her eyes and said, “Darlene! How could you?!” and walked out of the store.

Leaving my mother holding the bag, literally and figuratively.

Me? I’m still laughing.
Twenty years later.

The other day, I posted an entry about a Twitter exchange that occurred between myself and Gin Blossoms.  The exchange had happened the evening prior, and I had been upset by it, for all of the reasons that I spoke to in the post.

After the post was published, I received a couple of replies from Gin Blossoms’ twitter account, and that smoothed things over for me.  In fact, they had even gone so far as to come here and read the post.  Which, I must say, was pretty damn cool of them.  I had intended on updating that particular post with the new information, and to let everyone know that I was impressed with the fact that they had taken the time to acknowledge me and my apology.

I had intended on letting everyone know that – as far as I was concerned – the matter was rested and I was pleased to know that Gin Blossoms are a good bunch of guys.

However, things sometimes happen that take priority.
Such was the case yesterday.

This morning, I was contacted by Jennifer, the Marketing Manager for Gin Blossoms, and also one terrific lady. Her letter to me is re-printed here, with her kind permission:

Hi Lori,

I want to apologize for my team calling you out on twitter for the
incorrect song name.

In addition to the Gin Blossoms manning their twitter, there is also a
team of people helping them out. It was wrong of us to make you feel
bad about an honest mistake.

As you may know, The Gin Blossoms have been around a long time and are
getting ready to launch a new record. As the marketing manager for the
project, I feel terrible for turning off a loyal fan.

Please accept our apology.

Jen, Marketing Manager – 429 Records

I have already expressed my gratitude to Jen via email, but I will say it again here.

This made my day.

And before any of you cynics out there (amongst which I would generally count myself) go off saying that it’s just a marketing thing, and that it’s just appeasing me and any other things you might be thinking, let me just stop you right now.

Not only did Jen read the post that referenced Gin Blossoms, she read more than that.  And not only did she read, but she also expressed some truly kind words with regard to my post yesterday.  That meant just as much to me as the letter itself.

I have to tell you, that if I was satisfied by the acknowledgement on Twitter, this completely blew my socks off.  It was completely unexpected, and incredibly appreciated.

This is the way you take a fan, and make a bigger fan.
This is the way you take a business, and make it human.
This is the way you make a person feel special.

And if this is the way that Gin Blossoms and their team responds to a little blogger on the internet, then they become a shining example of what to do.  Not just in business, but in life.  Boy, did they get it right.

They have simply elevated themselves from act, to CLASS ACT.

So.

Thank you Gin Blossoms.
Thank you Jen.

Oh, and by the way?

I really can’t wait to check out Gin Blossoms new CD when it’s released.
I’m guessing I’m going to love it.

Linkety Links:

Gin Blossoms on Twitter
Gin Blossoms Dot Net
Gin Blossoms at 429 Records

I’m Canadian.

I know this doesn’t really come as a shock to any of you, not if you’ve been reading here for any length of time, or if you know me on Twitter.  And if you know me in real life and you weren’t aware I’m from Canada, then I’m not sure you’ve been paying attention, eh?

I love being Canadian.  I enjoy living in Canada, and I like the fact that Canadians – for the most part – are pretty good people.

Sure, we’re a little odd.

We have an unhealthy obsession with KD.
We have a tendency to apologize too much.
And let’s not even get started on poutine, okay?

I am lucky to live in Alberta, and to be in the heart of some of the most beautiful country on the planet.  I can see the mountains no matter where I go.  I know they’re going to be there when I wake up in the morning.  I have but to look west, and if the day is clear, I can see them while I drink my first cup of coffee.

I just got back from a coffee run, and as I walked back I was once again awed at the sight of my mountains in the distance.  And once again, the lyrics to a long ago song ran through my head.

The song is called Daughter of the Rockies, and the artist is George Fox.

George Fox is an Alberta boy, born in my hometown of Calgary, and he hit it pretty big for a local dude.  More than his fair share of hits and awards.  He’s not well known outside of Canada, except for maybe a song or two.  But here, especially in Alberta, he’s famous.

The song itself is beautiful, taken simply as it is – a love song.  But if you listen just a little closer, you’ll realize that it’s not a love song to a woman, but rather to the place that he calls home.  The place that I am fortunate enough to call home as well.

A number of years ago, I tried to find the sheet music to this song.  It wasn’t really released as a single, so it wasn’t readily available anywhere.  I searched high and low, online and off, to no avail.  I was stymied.  However, I’m also slightly stubborn.  So I went online to the George Fox website, and I clicked the contact link.

My hope was that someone – publicist, agent, etc. – would be able to tell me how to find the guitar tab for this song that I loved so very much.  My email was quick and from the heart.  I just wanted to learn to play it, that’s all.

I had sent the email fairly early in my morning, while at my office.  About half an hour later, my phone rang.  I answered, not recognizing the number on the call display.

The voice on the other end?
George Fox.

He’d gotten my contact information from my email, because like an ass, I’d sent it from my work address.  That was the best accidental wrong mailing address email mistake I have ever made.

He introduced himself, and in true Alberta style, asked me how the weather was here. He was in Montana at the time, and was curious as to how his crops would be faring. I still smile at the memory of that conversation. We chatted for about half an hour, and I told him what the song meant to me, and how much I loved it.

He thanked me, and told me that there was never sheet music or tabs produced for it. I thanked him anyhow, and told him that if he ever decided to put it out, I’d certainly be buying a copy. He said he’d see what he could do.  I thought he was just being polite.  We Albertans are like that.

I sat back after the call, wondering where else in the world something like this could have happened. I sat staring out my office window at the mountains, smiling. My reverie was broken a short time later by the sound of my fax machine. I took a look at the fax I was receiving, and just shook my head.

To me, Daughter of the Rockies isn’t just a song, it’s who I am.

And being a Daughter of the Rockies has some truly unforgettable moments.

Daughter of the Rockies
Just when I thought you were mine,
Caught you dancing with the moon
enchanting every cowboy’s mind…

Daughter of the Rockies
They’ll just love you tonight
But will they recall your beauty
in the morning light…

Will they recognize your face like I do
in the morning light?

Daughter of the Rockies ~ George Fox