On this day of Thanksgiving, please allow me to give thanks.
Just chilling through the last few hours of the Holiday Weekend in the woods in our family hideaway; a cabin that myself and my wife built when we were still in our twenties. Like any of the great ideas in my life, she is responsible for finding this piece of land and convincing me to spend the first bit of money GBS ever made us to purchase it. I love the quiet beauty of this place and am very thankful for it. But as I look around the place, what I am most grateful for is the contributions of our friends and family who have made the place complete.
We cleared the land with buck saws and axes along with the help of my brother and few others almost 20 years ago. Firewood yielded from that day still heats the cabin, even this morning.
While the Lady and Molly the Wonderdog have a much-deserved sleep in, The Prince plays on the floor of our cabin. The floorboards the Prince launches Angry Birds on were cut by My Grandfather in Law almost 70 years ago. We salvaged and refurbished them from a church not far from here.
The floorboards run into the black slate tiles in the kitchen and porch area. These tiles were laid by myself and two of my best friends, only weeks before they got the final green light to shoot the first pilot for a TV show that still runs today and I’ve just finished working on.
My laptop is sitting on a larger farmhouse table that belonged to my brother in Law, who just left after spending the night here with my sister. It was his grandfathers work table, and three generations of Doyle’s, My Dad, The Prince and Myself resurfaced it last summer. My sister made the curtains in the back window many years ago and, just like her, they still look good and work with amazing efficiency. My Mom made many of the quilts and table cloths from a rocking chair that seems permanently reserved for her near one of the large windows in the front of the cabin. These widows provide an amazing view of Placentia Bay and thanks to my wife’s Uncle Gord, they are free from mist and fog as he constantly tweaks the seals and replaces panes of glass as required.
The rooms that are painted were painted by my other sister and my neice. I still have a board with four yellow handprints on it marking the day.
I could go on. An embarrassment of riches.
As if a morning in this beautiful place was not enough good fortune for one person, the events of the morning are worth noting as well. In the last hour, I’ve arranged several details with GBS Manager for two more legs of the XX Tour, which already has many sell outs. I have corresponded with an Australian friend about a trip from the Canadian winter to the Summer down under for some concerts with a group of people so talented that I am hardly worthy to be in their company. I’ve been scanning through photos an old friend of mine shot of me in my home town Petty Harbour, for a book to be released in the new year. I’ve been arranging some press opportunities to promote the National CMT broadcast of Boy on Bridge, on November 8th. I’ve also chatted with a Writer/Director of a Musical Film in Winnipeg about a role he has offered me in the Spring and how we should gather Tuesday in his home town to chat about it all while the Habs play the Jets.
So on this day for giving thanks, please accept this thanks from me to all of you for coming to the shows, buying the CDs’, watching the movies and TV shows and mostly for the company on the road. In truth, very little of what is described above would not be possible without you.
Happy Thanksgiving from the Luckiest Man in the World.