Meeting Justin Bourque at a Sport Card Show in Moncton

Moncton, the Hub City of the Maritimes, was recently terrorized by Justin Bourque, a resident of a local trailer park, and as I watched the story unfold from the unnervingly safe distance of Saint John, I became aware that this person was strangely familiar to me.  That’s when I remembered a conversation I had with this individual at a collectors show a few years ago.

CS (cowardly shooter seems an appropriate moniker, since I wasn’t aware of his name until recent events):  Whoa, cool!  [Pointing at a 1974 OPC hockey card of Larry Robinson] Check out the facial hair on that dude.  And that stare, that’s intense – you can see the determination in his eyes.  I wouldn’t want to run into that guy in an alley.  How much?

Me: It’s only $5, it has a couple soft corners.

CS:  Don’t we all.  These old cards crack me up.  Look at the sideburns on some of these fuckers.  And the goalies didn’t wear masks, that’s real boss.  Men were really men back then, everybody fightin’ and shit – not held back by those pansy-assed pigs in stripes.  They can’t do nothin’ these days, they’ve even added an extra pig to suppress those players even more, but who’s watchin’ them?  [He looked up, making eye contact with me for the first time]  You know what I mean?

Me:  [A little unnerved by his stare] Well, the league watches them, I would imagine.

[Thankfully, he looked back down at the cards]

CS:  Yeah, sure, a fuckin’ whole hell-of-a-lot of good that does.  They need another player in that role, maybe some bad-ass retired fighter who knows what it means to have to be out there every game tryin’ to live your life without the man getting all in-your-face about it.  Fuckers.  You got a Claude Lemieux card?  He was a cool player.

Me:  No, I didn't bring any.

[His eyes see something in my case] Oh, fuck man, now we’re talkin’ – it’s a goddam Patrick Roy rookie card!  Can I see it?

[I hand him the card]

Here’s a real man, he goes about his job quietly, while others keep trying to humiliate him, show him up, but he keeps blockin’ that little fuckin’ puck and givin’ them the finger and, when they least expect it, boom!  He fucks them up – pummels some wimpy little American goaltender that’s too cowardly to even drop his gloves.  That dude's got his shit together.  [He looks up at me again]  His son plays hockey too, did you know that?  [I nod and he looks back down to the card]  What a great father, I wish he was my dad.  I bet he doesn’t slap his kid every time the little bastard does something stupid.  Some day I hope a girl will let me have a kid with her.  I’d be a great dad.  No stupid fuckin’ rules for my kid and I’ll teach him to hunt and fish and all the important stuff you need to survive in this fucked up world.

[He pauses for a long time, seeming to look at the card, but his eyes have glossed over and it’s clear he’s not exactly present.  Then he gives his head a shake]

How much?

Me: I need $200 for that.

CS:  Yeah, I thought so.  Some day I’ll buy all the Patrick fuckin’ Roy rookie cards I want and all those fuckers will wish they were me.

[He looks up at me]

I’ll show them, I really will.

The Cardinal

You silently requested a cardinal

So many years ago, so it came.

I heard you and, as soon as you were ready, I came.

I listened.  And for as long as you recognize that,

You'll see cardinals and robins and jays.

When I was little - we're talking seven or eight - I wanted a desk.  A big, wooden desk, not unlike the one my teacher sat behind.  One day I came home from school to find one in the spare bedroom that my father had adopted from the Power Commission.  It was huge and heavy, solidly constructed of oak, just like those desks you see people giving away online or for cheap prices at used furniture stores because they weigh too much to move.  I loved it.  Not long after it was left behind because it was too big for the truck carrying our fleeing family to Halifax.  I cried for many losses that day.

My favourite colour has always been red - excepting a brief flirtation with pink when I was just learning the subtleties of childhood rebellion.  I asked my mother to make me red pants when I was little, and she did.  I coloured dinosaurs red, until I was told they should be brown or grey.  I tried to make the Montreal Canadiens my favourite team because I loved the way the uniforms popped on the hockey cards I collected - I couldn't do it though, there's no reasonable justification for liking that team, even for a six year old.

I noticed, really noticed, my first blue jay when I was a young adult and stood outside the apartment building door marveling at the colour.  It wasn't brown or grey or white.  It was spectacular.  Then I wondered why there aren't red birds.  The orange on a robin is wonderful, but they are often so haggled looking, having braved a Maritime winter and orange isn't red.  Why weren't there cardinals in Nova Scotia?  I supposed cardinals only lived in exotic locales, such as St. Louis.

In 2010 I met my soul mate, someone I've been looking for, knowing full well she existed somewhere, since I was born and it wasn't long after that I moved to Saint John.  One day, while standing at the kitchen window doing the dishes, a chore with whom I have a strange relationship, I saw red in the tree.  There was my cardinal.  He had a mate.

I hadn't seen this pair for a couple weeks, they seemed to have been replaced by robins, but this morning I noticed the missus as she coquetted shamelessly with the tiny window on our neighbour's garage, a behaviour she has become known for, as her man waited patiently nearby.  I was glad to see them.

In the animal world, I have learned, red is a dangerous colour.  It is actually a defense.  It warns predators that this is not a meal that will sit well if digested.  I wonder how this applies to my attraction to this chroma.

Now I know that if I truly want something, it will come.  When I'm ready to see that I really do want it, it will be there for me.  And, as long as I know this, it will stay for as long as I need.  I have always wanted a Canadian 1921 five cent piece, but with my newfound knowledge, I think I'll aim even higher.