Memento Mori from Pompeii

As you may know, today is is Ash Wednesday today, the beginning of Lent. To mark the day, I have decided to share one very famous Memento Mori, from Pompeii. I took the picture in one of my childhood books about Greek and Roman mythology. This image has always fascinated me. It is an allegory of the transient nature of life. The skull represents death, there is the wheel of fortune, the soul is represented by the butterfly, etc. You can find more details about the moseic here. In the end, I think it's a cool image to encourage people to make the most of their life.

Avant 50 ans...

 Je ne connais rien de Jacques Higelin, mais je me console de ne pas avoir encore cinquante ans...

The Queen Is Dead...

My wife told me a few mintues ago, as I was typing another post, that Queen Elizabeth the Second is dead. At her age, it is not exactly shocking, but it is nevertheless a big event here. As an expat (and a republican at that) living in the UK, I feel like I'm in the eye of the storm. I am not a monarchist, as you know, I cannot say I am very sad, especially since she died like not many people do: in comfort, receiving the best medical care, after living a priviledged life in luxury. Nevertheless, she was loved and many will be upset about it. For me, it just shows me that however well born you are, you cannot escape your own mortality.

Grey: more or less

I bumped into the father of Blonde Tickler a few days ago and he asked me if I had done something to my hair. He said I looked less grey on the temples. I told him no, that my last haircute was a bit more than a month ago and that there was no product whatsoever on my hair. I added "If anything, being a father of a young boy, I am greyer than I was before." He laughed and he agreed. (Although I must add that even if he barely younger than me and the father of a teenage girl who is also a tomboy, he is not greying at all.) I then said, as if to give myself some kind of solace: "But I don't mind if my temples are greying, at least I still have plenty of hair." He laughed and agreed again. I think both lines deserve to be great unknown lines. I do like my grey temple, it may remind me of my own mortality, but also of the life I have. And I am really happy I have so far escaped baldness.

Question existentielle (340)

Une question existentielle, la première de l'année:

-Jusqu'à quel âge peut-on appeler quelqu'un jeune homme?

Je pose la question car on ne m'appelle plus jeune homme, hélas. Et ça me donne un coup de vieux.

A young woman at her prom

Your may remember the big sister of my godson, who last Christmas told me she had a boyfriend sharing my name, which made me feel so very old. I first met her two days after she was born. Now she is a tall, blonde and absolutely beautiful young woman (Wolfie even said "wow!" seeing the picture and no I am not making it up). Her father, who is an old friend of mine from college, sent me a picture of her right before she went to her prom night. He said time goes way too fast ("darnit" he added). I agree. Anyway, she is not dating Guillaume anymore, apparently she did have a few boyfriends since then, but his father is not too keen on the pool she takes them from (skaters). Again, I agree. Anyway, I feel old now.

Gifts for an old man?

It is my birthday soon and my wife asked for a list of suggestions for presents to give me. I generally love making a list of things I'd love to receive, I always have plenty of ideas. But this year, something irked me among the suggestions I gave her. Among other things, I asked for a new wallet, as my current one is about ten years old, if not more, and falling apart, and for a fancy traditional shaving kit, with an old fashioned razor and so on. And tonight I started wondering: are these gifts you would give an old man? I suddenly felt very old asking for them anyway. And it is not even something a man from my generation would ask for.

40

It was the birthday of a friend yesterday. She turned forty. Just like I turned forty this year. And then wishing her happy birthday it struck me: they all turn forty these days. All my friends from college and uni, the friends I kept in contact with, the friends I am still friend with. I am not merely stating the obvious here. I mean of course I will find more people I know and love getting older as I get older and obviously friends of my generation are about my age and thus the same big numbers show up on my Facebook feed the same year. But still I am conscious about our mutual age. It felt like an epiphany yesterday, seeing yet again that number. It was a bit of a memento mori too.

How to look younger (Snoopy's wisdom)

I haven't blogged about Snoopy and the Peanuts gang in a long while. I thought next time would be on the Easter Beagle, but no. It is a joke that reminds me that it is my birthday soon and that I will be forty. So anyway, this was on my Memories on Facebook today and it felt both hilarious and very relevant to my situation. I may be getting old, but Snoopy is forever young.

C'est arrivé (très) près de chez nous

Il y a des faits divers qui vous scient les jambes. Celui-ci, notamment, dès que je l'ai lu, mais plus encore lorsque j'ai reconnu l'endroit sur la photo. Un homme de 23 ans est mort alors que le taxi dans lequel il était a percuté le mur de la RBC au coin Mont-Royal et Papineau. J'ai été tellement de fois là, en taxi ou à pieds, que ça m'a donné froid dans le dos. Peut-être que je dis des banalités, mais bon, je retourne dans le coin bientôt, alors ce genre de tragédie ne m'apparait pas comme lointain.

Les nombreux anniversaires

Petites nouvelles familiales: c'est aujourd'hui la fête de mon petit frère, qui a 34 ans. Le plus jeune de la famille. Il a 34 ans. Ai-je mentionné que c'est mon petit frère? Le plus jeune de la famille. Il a donc 34 ans. Le plus jeune des frères... Enfin bref, ça donne un coup de vieux.

Ensuite, c'était il y a deux jours la fête de mon filleul. Il a maintenant dix ans. Ca aussi, ça donne un coup de vieux. Il m'appelle encore "parrain" et ça me fait fondre. Il grandit vite, mais aux dernières nouvelles, il était encore affectueux.

Being a middle aged man

If this post sounds familiar, it is because I mentioned something similar before. Here, here and here, among different times. But anyway, I saw today and it struck me like it always does when I see it: my temples are greying, so is my beard and my eyes are getting wrinkled.I recently refereed to me in a post as a middle aged man. And it kind of freaked me out seeing my face in the mirror today, knowing very well that I am one, that I have integrated this reality enough to talk about myself as a middle aged man. Scary stuff.

Un produit angoissant

Je cherchais un after-shave chez Yves Rocher à La Gacilly il y a deux ou trois jours, dans la section des produits pour hommes je suis tombé sur ça. De la crème anti-ride, enfin "anti-âge" comme ils l'appellent pudiquement. Ce n'est pas une crème de jouvence. Ca me fait toujours une sorte d'angoisse quand je vois ça dans un étalage. Parce que je sais que je suis le client potentiel à qui ils espèrent vendre ça. Enfin, au moins on ne me l'a pas offert gratuitement. Quand même, ça me fait toujours le même effet de voir de la crème anti vieillissement (comme si c'était physiquement possible) dans une boutique: maintenant je la vois, je la remarque.Horreur et fatalité: c'est ma fête bientôt et on est en train de me dire que je vieillis. Memento Mori et tout ça.

Family traits and traditions

My parents were watching pictures of me taken recently in the UK and said that I looked very much "like an Archibald" (my mother's fmaily name). We kept talking about family resemblance and after a while, my mother asked me, in a vaguely suspicious tone: "Guillaume, do you use hair coloring?" I don't and wondered why she asked me such a thing. "Because when I was your age, my hair was already very white." Ouch! Just for the shock it created, remembering me of my age, it deserves to be a great unknown line. Little anecdote: my grandfather was secretly using hair coloring to hide his greying hair. We only learned about it years after his death, when my grandmother spilled the beans. I know my mother used some, with more moderation (thus hiding less), from her thirties onward. For the record, I never did and don't intend to ever do. But I find it strange that she thought I was following a secret family tradition.

How time flies

A terrible cliché for a title, but I could not find anything better. Yesterday, the daughter of one of my best friends and the big sister of my godson joined Facebook. At 13. I remember holding her in my arms when she was a newborn. It is partially because she was so fond of me that I became the godfather of her brother. The other reason is that I have known their parents since my time in cégep, when they started dating. And now their older daughter is on Facebook. This was my moment of Memento Mori recently. Nevertheless, I am glad I can get in touch with her more often.

Age, alcohol and a great unknown line

It was the birthday of my youngest brother on Sunday, he is now 33, the age of Christ as they say. It makes me feel quite old, knowing that my youngest brother is 33. Just ponder about it for a moment. Anyway, 33 is the kind of birthday one celebrates, and he did, so he came up with this on hos Facebook wall the next day: "At 33, I am feeling old. Although it may due to to alcohol." This is a new great unknown line and thus I wanted to share it.

Being "My Age"

When I got back to work after my birthday, one of my colleagues asked me: "So, did you enjoy turning your age?" We had a bit of chit-chat and she kept on asking questions like this in the conversation, always using "your age" instead of the number. Finally, I asked why she always used the word and she answered: "Because I am going to turn your age in a few weeks." Nice way to make me feel ancient. But I have to admit, this deserves to me a great unknown line. For the record, I am 37. I guess I am getting closer to 40, something I haven't thought about much, but she did. Anyway, should I freak out to be my age, on the second half of my thirties?

A new great unknown line

From my youngest brother. A warning: it may be considered offensive. But what a great Memento Mori:

"Life is a bitch, and then you die. But I'm alive. So life is my bitch."

The way of the Dodo

I am using a lot of the pictures I took during my recent visit to the Natural History Museum. But apart from the big impression the visit had on me, circumstances sometimes make the use of them relevant. You have recognized on this picture the Dodo, a bird that is now of course extinct, maybe the most famous extinct bird. It is of course a model, not even a stuffed one. Still, seeing this them through the glass was still impressive. Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. Ash Wednesday always reminds me of this saying: "Memento homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris." (Remember, O Man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return). I always loved the honesty of its statement (a very rare thing in Catholic liturgy) and I was looking for a Memento Mori to illustrate it today, but in a secular fashion. The Dodo came to my mind immediately as it represents the mortal nature not only of us as individuals, but as a species.

Le poids des années

J'ai vu un ami hier, un que j'ai depuis l'adolescence. Nous sommes en contact via Facebook, mais je le vois très rarement et je ne l'avais pas vu depuis quelques années. La première chose qu'il m'a dite en me voyant c'est: "T'as pas changé, sauf que comme moi tu as le visage plus rond". Une autre façon de dire que j'avais pris du poids. D'où mon calembour atroce dans le titre de ce billet. tout de même, on se sent vieillir quand on entend un truc du genre. Je connais encore des amis de la même époque qui n'ont littéralement pas changé, même pas un peu grisonné.