I feel it’s necessary to lay down some basic background about the Creasey side of Isaac’s family, along with a little about his Mother’s side, to understand some of the values he was instilled with and marinated in.

My childhood was idyllic. Our Magnificent Mother was ‘in actuality’ a SUPERWOMAN!

[Please bear with me.

These “Paid Subscriber Notices” are not inserted by me. It seems they are inserted automatically now. I will attempt to remove it.

I believe it is your choice regardless, so steam ahead unless you have a heavy wallet and change to spare. Payment is not required.]

On with the story and more details about my family life first.

The syrupy ebullience with which the following few paragraphs are intimated is, in my feeling, necessary for complete understanding.

No exaggeration, no second thought, no compromise, no take back.

Firstly, she was literally, breathtakingly gorgeous! I can prove that in a few objective evidence submissions below.

Now, EVERYONE who has a working healthy fear of the relationship, repercussions or consequences, will easily go on record as saying that “Yes, they love “their” Mothers!”

I am no exception to that sentiment.

Rita Creasey

(Photo taken in the waiting room of her Doctor’s office…she was a bit under the weather. I wouldn’t know it from her looks.)

My Mother was, is and will always be, “ITALIAN” . I’m always going to be enamoured of her sentimentality and thoughtfulness. Both of her parents were Italian. However, Mother was, like her four sisters, born in “dinosaur country” in Alberta Canada 🇨🇦 and was never a “hyphenated Canadian”. Canada 🇨🇦 is our home.

Southern Alberta was populated by IMMIGRANTS.

And thank the gods that it was.

As with many shiploads of skilled and experienced workers in the European workforce, as a result of war having ended, they were coming to North America for a NEW LIFE.

It almost seems welcoming and bucolic; historical from our “hyperpampered” and backwards looking view (“in the rearviews”)

Bucolic, perhaps, but “leisure time” was a concept not developed until over half a century subsequently.

And our parents were honed from the correct mettle and metal constitution, built from the toes to the crowns of their Italian/British heads!

Five beautiful Italian sisters, all fit, strong and three of them, very beautiful…like “model” beautiful 😍 (one did model for years, based in Vancouver). So, My Mom Rita, her older sister Serena, and Dana the model, the youngest sister of all, were naturally very beautiful, medium tall Italian women.

In the early twentieth century, many women of the generation who fit the description fairly closely, wound up in North America and became families. It was a growth period and these were big growth times.

Dutifully they came to Canada 🇨🇦 and married, having as many healthy children and relationships in the CHRISTIAN tradition as they could reasonably afford and handle. These were not WIMPS. THESE were sturdy, solid, BREEDING STOCK, fast paced for populating the new NORTH AMERICAN CONTINENT.

Now, my Grandfather, Mother’s Dad, and many of his ilk and community were first generation immigrants and they were the parents of our parents.

So we, the so called “BOOMERS”, are: very well educated (🤔did I say that?) trained, house trained, whipped into proverbial shape, cognitively DISCIPLINED and “abilified” (my word which a pharmaceutical firm stole, and it should be everyone’s) and forged in fire 🔥

Our generation seems to have been the last one to be able to LEARN by OBJECTIVELY examining an issue and “think” cognitively about it…the very same DAMNED FOOLS WHO RAISED THE NEXT SET OF PARENTS.

Who apparently NEVER LEARNED ANYTHING ABOUT RAISING THEIR OFFSPRING. Nay, they kinda never grew up!

Bringing this ‘fast-morphing-into-a-tirade’ diatribe about child rearing to the point…

My Maternal Grandfather was named “Sabatino” meaning “Saturdays Child(m)”

My Brother number Two, “James Frederick Sabatino Creasey” his only legacy and namesake, had no progeny and he is now gone also.

Sabatino Onofri was a “Hard Rock MINER” in the Coal Mines in the Drumheller Valley and the hills surrounding it were the “BADLANDS” of Alberta. He laboured hard and raised five beautiful healthy Daughters.

My Father and an Uncle had stories about him and his forearm strength!

Dad told us when he was first dating his Wife, my Mother, Grandpa Onofri was strong enough to bend steel rods. He could rip the phone book in half.

I believe that because I knew Grandfather, though a much older version.

My Mother and siblings (but for two) were thus born and raised in Drumheller, Alberta. From the stories it was a decent place for them to grow up, this became a corroborated story after meeting my Wonderful Wife.

As coincidental happenings tend to occur when the circumstances under which they are most logically likely to occur are all (most) in play.

Alberta has a short, essentially all-industrial, fairly complex history.

As long as I’ve been sentient, lucid and able to chew fruits 🍎, “INDUSTRY” in Calgary has been based upon all surrounding and spinoff ancillary factors and functions, related in very large, and conversely even small or short parts to the PETROLEUM AND PETROCHEMICAL INDUSTRY.

Calgary sits very strategically in a terrific location for the two main industries…1) The O&G INDUSTRY, which must be geared UP again TO THE MAXIMUM NECESSARY TO OUR COMFORTS AND NEEDS, and 2) The AGRICULTURAL and RANCHING INDUSTRY.

Everyone in my family LIVED, WORKED, BREATHED, PARTICIPATED IN SOME DIRECT MANNER, because most of us lived laughed and 🥰 loved 🥰 most of our lives in this Province (Alberta) and three others, Father excepted (B:London 19220212; D:Calgary 19990311)

Genuine Western Canadian

My Wife has extended family in Western Canada as well, particularly the Drumheller Valley.

So, where am I going with this heavy duty diversion?

Isaac grew up in a great time of existence on this planet. His adolescence was largely filled with joy and boyhood activities, frequencies and diversions.

He had a laissaiz-faire attitude towards life, the minutiae, the details of his existence. He accepted what came his way, good or bad and dealt with it as best he could. Like most of us I guess.

A wondrous time of existence. I was a busy young father trying to earn enough money to keep my young growing family in a better lifestyle than my own.

W H Y ? ! ?

A question for later on, but not to be forgotten

It’s an important question.

He was a happy boy and he was the “joker” in any gathering of three plus.

He could have a quiet room full of people impromptu, say in a waiting room sitting reading, minding their own business, whom he knew not a single whit, break into rapturous stitches, rolling on the floor pissing themselves in thirty seconds or less.

And the pissers were the males, mostly.

No exaggeration.

Ask anyone who knew him.

It’s what makes today, living without him, surreal…unacceptable and intolerable.

I pray fervently that tomorrow morning may be the day he will be sitting in the chair across from me with his beautiful face beaming and smiling ear to ear…

And at once I realize my left hand is laying comfortably in a shallow pan of lukewarm water…

That would make it real. Instantaneously.

I’m still waiting for that morning…

I’m getting very emotional…I’ll get back to you and this presently.

(P.S. Anthony Hess check this out please

It’s not yet published but I need it read by a few people first

Isaac is still strongly present! 🎁 He’s a joker so he does shit to startle me, followed by his thunderous laughter and clapping to himself!

P.P.S. You’re in my draft!)

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Isaac Alexander Creasey and mother Antoinette (Toni) Creasey

In stark contrast to my own personality, Isaac just chose to NOT be a miserable person. It’s honestly how the “best Isaac” got from day to day to day. But he didn’t get enough of those days. He didn’t get enough of any days…🥺

When he was going through his very toughest days and not before, he came to me for advice.

Most of those days when he came to me for advice??

It was to dispense it, with intensity and gusto befitting his Italian Heritage

As for anything possible to imitate about MY father was out of the reach of all but a precious few graduates of institutions of higher learning.

I am one, it’s the greatest gift that I ever gave my Fabulous Father, and have always encouraged, enticed, facilitated where possible.

I was my Father’s only Son to have earned a university degree.

And that, not in basket weaving.

This was a good step towards getting a PhD or MD or such.

This made my Father extremely happy and as “proud” as an extensively well read could possibly muster!

This is getting to be quite extensive so I will break it up into parts and try to keep the flow

Thanks for reading this Installment Number Ten 🔟!

Mr.and Mrs. Isaac and Erin Creasey on their wedding day

Isaac’s first learning watch

atop a newspaper which I have not read in many years