Great Memories
When I was young, way back in the early 70’s, the term “family BBQ” meant an enjoyable day of fun and games with family and friends at the nearby campground around a fire pit, roasting hotdogs, grilling hamburgers, finishing off with flaming marshmallows on the end of a stick.
Then in my late teens I was invited to a party in the big city. In the backyard, turning slowly on a rotisserie over charcoal, was a rib eye roast. This great smelling hunk of meat was being lovingly painted with sweet tasting BBQ sauce. Once I tasted that delicious piece of heaven, I decided right then and there that this was something I needed to create on my own. Burnt hamburgers and over-cooked steaks were going to be a thing of the past.
It was a huge learning curve, but a few cows later, I seemed to have figured something out because my BBQs were enjoyed by everyone who came. Good times and great memories were being made all summer long. And because we’re Canadian, even a heavy winter blizzard couldn’t stop us. Many roast beef sandwiches were left for Santa Claus over the years.
But then it all changed. Several years ago, I started to notice something wasn’t right. These same 8lb roasts I had been carrying out to the backyard rotisserie, seemed to be a whole lot heavier. I nearly dropped one bringing it back into the house as I tried to hold it with one hand and open the door with the other, something I had easily done hundreds of times in the past. Things seemed to be pulled down by gravity quite a bit more than I remembered.
Like so many others in the ALS community, I got the devastating news no one wants to hear, “You have ALS.” It was September 28th, 2020, the day I thought I died. The thoughts of slow paralysis were pretty much all I could think of. Losing the ability to hug my wife, my grandkids, my mom, rubbing my dog’s belly, wiping tears from wife’s eyes when she had a bad day. These thoughts and so many others would keep me awake in bed, tears silently flowing down my cheeks. All these thoughts of what I was going to slowly lose and how many things I wouldn’t be able to do was consuming me. I felt alone.
It didn’t take long, but something changed in me. I began to see how much support I have from my family and friends. Not to mention the amazing heroes I never even knew were out there. The doctors, counsellors, and all the support staff at the ALS Clinic at the South Health Campus. The ALS Society of Alberta, with all their support and equipment. I was amazed!
I felt I had to adjust and begin enjoying every minute of what was left. I wanted to continue making great memories for everyone around me, and I knew an amazing place to make those memories was in the backyard, having beers and creating a delicious meal for everyone around. But I wasn’t able to do it myself anymore. I would need to rely on my supervisory skills and “coach” someone with working arms and hands. This is where my amazing wife Julie and brother Wayne stepped in.
After a promising start, we decided that we were going to take this BBQ thing to the next level, so we bought a smoker. First it was simple cooks: meatloaf, bacon bombs, chicken wings, pork tenderloin jerky, ribs. Then, with my helpers by my side, it was time to try a 16lb brisket. After an all-night cook, several beers, and a slight hangover later, I served my first ever smoked brisket. And just like before, we were in the backyard making great memories with close friends and family. It was amazing! And proof that with some help, I could still create something tasty and bring everyone together.
I no longer think about what I can’t do or tear up thinking about old backyard BBQ memories. I am firmly planted in the here and now, and I’m making amazing new memories.
Thanks so much to my amazing wife Julie, my wonderful brother Wayne, mom, and grandkids. You have no idea what you have done for me. Love you all!