FATHER GEORGE

Today, I'm taking a bit of a sombre tone here on Mental Masturbation. 10 years ago on this day, I lost the man who was the greatest influence on my young life, George Carlin. He was a man of humour, heart, intellect and most importantly taught people to question.  More importantly, he taught me to question. 

I was introduced to George when I was 10 or 11 years old. A bit young, in retrospect, given a lot of his humour and comments, but for me, it was the perfect age. I spent the summer holidays reading his book Napalm and Silly Putty. I was obsessed with the book. I remember when I brought it to school-Catholic school no less and was reprimanded by the teacher and was sent to see the Head. I expected detention as I was called into Mrs D's office. She was one tough customer, and from what I hear, she still is one. She looked down her nose at me, peering through me, almost x-raying me before asking, "Where did you get that book?" I told her that it was my mum's and that I'd borrowed it from her. Then she asked me something I didn't expect. "Do you understand the book?" I was almost offended. "Yes. There were a few words that I needed to look up, but I understand the concepts. He's funny and he raises good points. You may see him as a force for evil because he says 'fuck' but he's a smart man. I like what he has to say." She leaned back. It hit me that I said fuck to her and that the boom was about to be lowered on my head, but it didn't come. "Never forget the lessons he teaches. He may be a loud-mouth and troublemaker, but he's encouraging you to read, to think, and to question. That's more than your teachers managed to do the last year you've been here." She sent me back to class with me making the promise that I wouldn't share the book with the other students and that I could read it only when I was by myself, which haha, was often because I didn't really have many friends. I had one friend, Brian, whose older brother had introduced him to George, so I was able to talk Carlin with him. Ah, if only we had iPods back then; we could have listened to his words of wisdom and his humour could have lessened the burden on us lonely kids.

The teacher kept the book for a few weeks as she read it, returning it to me only after she'd finished. I expected another verbal tongue lashing when I got it back, but she told me that if I wanted to bring his other book in to read I could do that too...but I could only read it after she finished with it. She was a fan! I did bring the other book and started to read it. I took to memorising some of the passages and recited them to a few of my classmates, some of them started to like me because of it. It stopped quite a few of the comments who were made about me. George got me through the period of my life when I was starting to really grow up. I was already mature for my age, but he was a guiding force. He was also a great comfort when I moved. New place, far away from everybody and everything I knew.  

I read his words, took comfort in humour. He inspired me to start writing. I started my own short funny stories, writing jokes. It was because of George, I met my mate Shane and he and I have been close ever since that accidental meeting. We bonded over our love of humour and George. We started writing together and wrote a short book of comic stories and one-liner jokes. I look back on my life and through the darkness, that is one of the spots of life. A spot that would not exist without George and his gift of humour.
I continued writing. Short stories, plays, all involving dirty, raunchy and blue humour. I started to like something in myself. I started to believe in my writing abilities. I'd showed a few of them to my literature teacher after weeks of writing and hiding things. She told me I had great ideas and showed me how to structure different types of writing. Plays, dialogues, paragraphs, different types of stories. I began to express my feelings in new ways. Starting with comedy was easy and gave me the push that I needed to get into more serious writing. I wouldn't have started without George's influence. 

I was lucky enough to see one of Carlin's last shows. It was for my 16th birthday, a few months before he died. He was doing a show in Vermont and at that time I was living on the Canadian border with my family and I'd heard about the show. I knew asking for a present would be a long shot, but I knew Pookie was also a fan of him, so I showed her on the computer. She agreed despite the fact I'd have to miss a day of school to drive down and over to Burlington to see the show. We printed out directions and gathered up some snacks for the trip. It rained like hell the entire trip down, the sun breaking just before sunset. We walked over to the venue after having to park a few blocks away, my heart was pounding with excitement the entire time. I couldn't believe that I was going to see my hero perform. I was going to be in the same room as the man that I idolised, looked up to and believed in for a large chunk of my life. 

I was the youngest person at the venue. There were no under 18's allowed, but since Pookie had bought the tickets, I was okay to go in with her. They asked to see my 1D and I had my school on, so I handed it over and they said as long as I stayed with an adult, due to the nature of the show, I would be allowed in. We found our seats and got a surprise. We were sat next to a prominent news anchor and his wife. I couldn't believe my luck. We made small talk and he was impressed someone so young knew of George and was a fan. 

The show was fucking incredible. I never laughed so hard my entire life. I couldn't breathe through half the show I was laughing so hard. It was a run through for his last, and from my point of view, best HBO special, "It's Bad For Ya." He gave me a lasting memory that I treasure all these years later. George was a father figure to me and his gift kept on giving.

I will never forget where I was the day he died. It was the day I was supposed to start my first paying job. Fry cook. I called in sick that day. My first day. The boss woman luckily was a family friend and when I told her why I couldn't work that day, that George had passed and I needed some time, She shut down the fried chicken and kitchen area of the store and took the day off herself. I was scared about moving to live with her for the summer, another new place, not sure how it would all work out, and George somehow managed to pull through me then. Thanks for that final act, George. Each year on this day, I look back on all the laughs, good times and inspiration he's guided me with. I'm still proud and thankful to call this man a father figure.