I have been reading for over 50 years in an effort to understand the world and the human condition.

There are times I must confess that I don’t understand and I still do get surprises.

I have been writing almost as long in an effort to understand me… No more surprises there.

The rehearsal is over.

Bring on the main event!

You do not know what you do not know.

There were a few disappointments and setbacks along the way; but really with nothing to compare it with, I just carried on…

My daughter put it into perspective for me after we got her assessed and found out that she is a gifted child; she said, “They told me for so long that I had a learning disability that I thought, why bother trying? After I got the assessment and found out that I had the abilities… I decided to put in the effort.”

Life is like that especially when you’re a kid: A positive attitude will make all the difference to build and a negative attitude will also have its power to destroy.

I’m guessing life is like that for adults as well however if you’re a child you’re a victim. If you’re an adult… you’re a volunteer.

I have that luxury! I support her…

Rome wasn’t built in a day.

“I am an alcoholic and my name is Dennis…

I am 62 and it will be 17 years on September 1st since I had any alcohol, drugs or cigarettes; not that anyone is counting.

My mother was a Scottish Protestant from Cape Breton and my father was an Irish Catholic from Halifax…

That’s not as harsh as it might read… I was the only person in my neighborhood who could say for certain that he wasn’t the product of incest….

I try to find the advantage in any situation and put one foot in front of the other and do the next right thing…

I was only able to stop drinking after I asked God for help… It is important for me that I don’t forget what I am.

I am an Alcoholic…

Dennis Mantin

She said it’s now or never… and never mostly came.

Patience paid in small bills as she hung her head in shame.

I couldn’t be much clearer… Said nothing as I went.

The power felt the force and the cheque bounced with the rent.

I think of her quite often and I sometimes wonder why.

But I’m basking in the silence, in a peaceful happy sigh.

My 9 daughter years old daughter has just discovered ‘Pink Floyd’ and ‘Another Brick in the Wall’ is her favorite song.

At the chorus she asked, “What do they mean by, You’re just another brick in the wall?’

I answered, “I think it means that over time you will just be like anyone else and stop taking yourself so seriously. “

After a seconds thought she said, “Or maybe it means you can be replaced.”

I love how she thinks.

I am taught daily.

When I was in grade 2 or 3 in mid to late 1960’s in a small country school with about 25 students; someone took a class photo and each of us had an opportunity to look at the school photo…

I recognized everyone except for one boy and I couldn’t find me.

“Who is that?” I asked pointing to the boy I didn’t recognize.

After some giggling and a repeat of the question… someone said, “That’s you.”

I didn’t know what I looked like!

I have mentioned this to therapists and child Psychologists and they refer to this unusual rare experience as a ‘Coping Mechanism.’

One of these wise people told me…

“You saw yourself as invisible.”

What a gift that was…

Dennis Mantin

I never saw it coming. I just seen it sitting there.

Smoking, smiling, drinking. Looking to be somewhere.

A stranger is feeling braver. The heat hangs with the night.

He looked our Julie over. A dreadful peaceful sight.

When criminal meets civilian. Not always either or.

Sometimes there is no future. But there can be something more.

I met them at the front yard, said son you’ll have to leave.

I’m not into making new friends, it’s a goal I can achieve.

I went to a 1 room schoolhouse in grade 1, with an outhouse behind the school.

Whenever Mrs Windmill got upset at someone for whatever reasons… That person, always a boy, would be required to stand in the corner to the right of her desk at the front for whatever period of time she deemed appropriate.

My first real friend Clifton was the only person I remember being required to do this and all I remember about that was him turning pinkish/purple trying to stifle his laughter.

Attempting humiliation was in vogue during my childhood along with an absence of indoor plumbing.

The yellow bus is shaking, the steps are worn down.

The actors dreams forsaking, all except our featured clown.

There’s a a sadness to his armor and a stiffness to his smile.

He is on the yellow bus now and will be for a while.

Under makeup there’s a human; who wonders, ‘Who am I?’

No one gives an answer and the bus just drives on by.

It’s a long road if we’re lucky and a short one if we’re not.

The clown is in his mind now, where all battles now are fought.

The blonde in the black pant suit ensemble removes her stilettos for a more comfortable walk down John Street towards Wellington.

Her friends expression; wearing an orange halter bra and short skirt is suggesting an impending hangover may have already arrived.

What probably looked like a great idea under the shadows and shades of 10p.m. doesn’t look so grand at sunrise, under the harsh judgemental gaze of the Monday morning working crowd.