I've got Springsteen in my head singing, "Son take a good look around... this is your hometown..."

Saskatoon. I left here 18 years ago and haven't returned since. I think about it often, but in a past life sort of way. I rush into town and barely see anything - the trip from Brandon took forever and I barely noticed when I crossed into Saskatchewan. I'm late and a bit frantic trying to find the place to play and where I'm staying. It doesn't help when I finally find the Spadina Freehouse and am told that they had no idea there was live music there tonight. I doublecheck my computer and am sure it's been scheduled. Tanya, the manager says she'll check with the booker, but nothing's on their calendar. In the meantime we setup the sound system - just in case. Once setup I check in with Lynn Hainsworth, one of my mom's old friends, who's putting me up for the night. She and a friend were going to come see the show, but the freehouse told her there wasn't any live music there tonight... sigh...

We still haven't heard from Crystal, the booker, but we decide I should just start to play. The Freehouse is nice, but it's a restaurant and I'm clearly background music. A nice couple at the bar clap after every song, and look incredulously at the rest of the place that assumes I'm just a radio. Don't get me wrong - I'm fine being background music - I'm getting paid and I get to practice my covers - but these nice folks seemed to think I deserved more and eventually succeeded in getting others to start clapping too.

I play for an hour and then break for dinner (a bison burger! mmmmm bison!). Tanya says that she talked to Crystal and that I may have been confused, that she wouldn't have booked it and that Crystal is very organized... but that they'll still pay me and that I'm doing a good job.

I'm tired and confused by being in my hometown and wondering if maybe I didn't book this gig after all... I go back to singing and play for another hour and a half. A girl asks if I know any Pearl Jam (I don't, but should) and a guy gives me a $20 tip (I give him a CD...).

Finally I wrap up and Tanya comes to apologize for Crystal (who later also apologizes by email). Apparently she missed one of my emails confirming... anyway, it's all good. I only sold 1 CD (sort of)... no one wants to buy CDs from a background music cover guy (although it's the same set that I play at shows when everyone wants a CD... wierd...).

I find Lynn's place and we have tea and talk for an hour or two. She's great and we get along really well - talking about our mutual lives in a ships in the night sort of way, drifting back and forth in conversation. She plays me some great local music and I get out my guitar and play her a tune. Finally, exhausted I head to bed.

The next day is disorienting to say the least. I'm off to explore my childhood [I left at 12 to live with my mom in Ottawa and haven't been back since]... it quickly becomes totally overwhelming. I feel like an amnesiac, just remembering glimpses of a life I lost. 18 years ago I saw things from a foot shorter, through the eys of a 12 year old. I pass corners and know I've been there... I pass parks and suddenly remember sack races, or fist fights, or lost loves... I burst into tears all of sudden, just overwhelmed by all these memories.

I get over it and keep going. I navigate by someone else's memories - connecting the dots of "there's that swimming pool" and "ohmygod I used to live there!" I hit intersections and have a strong feeling that "something" is to the right, so I head in that direction and find an old friend's house, or an old store that used to be an arcade I frequented.


I stop into Caswell, my old grade school. There's no one in the office, so I just wander around, explaining to the occasional teacher that I used to attend there years ago. I take a lot of pictures. Everything is intimately familiar, from the library to the boot scraping device outside. The smell of urine in the bathroom is intense but crazilly familiar (scent and memory are apparently tied together strongly... one of the reasons people go crazy when they lose their sense of smell). I take a picture to try to capture it and then wonder if a 30-year old man taking pictures in a grade-school boys washroom is appropriate. Outside in front of the school is a little girl learning how to slide down the bannister (where I learned years ago). I give her a tip and leave, sliding down the bannister and hoping I don't prompt her to fall on her head.

I keep travelling. It's amazing how strong the memories are - if you'd asked me in Toronto, I couldn't have told you half of these places. And I certainly never drove through Saskatoon by myself... and yet, I find my way across town completely moving from memory to memory and skittering from lane to lane as I suddenly see something familiar. I keep my camera on the whole time taking ridiculous photos through the windshield of intersections, burger kings, and banks that I remember. I'm frenetic in my appetite for more of these places and cover most of the town in 2-3 hours. I end up in an old comic shop, bought from the original owner by a guy my age who used to frequent it - he knows Kaare Andrews well - Kaare used to be in my school and now draws spider man. Apparently he lives in Vancouver - maybe I'll look him up.

Running late, I head back to Lynn's and frantically doublecheck with the club that the next gig is on (the Freehouse has made me paranoid). Lynn is amazing with tips and maps and helpful comments. I wish I had more time to hang out with her... and more time to explore this past life. Regrettfully, I head for Moose Jaw.