For those of you familiar with my Salon Tales, you know I give credit where credit is due and am grateful for inspiration. From the Ladies & Gents I meet on a daily basis, to my dear ol’ Dad, to Tabatha Coffey to darling Grandmother Leah, who I miss dearly, everyday, to name a few. Today’s tale is to share another person of inspiration, a P.O.I. if you will. Let me introduce you to my Aunt Pat.

My Dad was adopted and had been on a search for his birth parents. In the 70’s public record was unheard of, so all records were sealed. No google. No internet. Zip. Every call my Dad made left all clues covered and every question unanswered. My Dad made one more call. The powers that be made sure this would be the last call he would need to make to uncover his past. The woman on the phone let my father know that she couldn’t tell my father the information on record, but she could let him know if the information he had collected was correct. Within  minutes my Dad’s history began to come to light and I had another Aunt, Uncle and cousins.

I first met my Aunt Pat when I was 7. My parents had invited Pat and her family to dinner at our house in Kitchener. Dinner was planned, the table was set and we waited. I remember my Aunt Pat when she came in the door. She seemed to float. She had such an easy breezy vibe about her, a pretty smile and her eyes sparkled. I liked her right away. I knew my Aunt Pat was a cool cat because I knocked her kid out and she still liked me. Yep. First time meeting my Dad’s long lost family and what does Sara do? Oh, she plays Frisbee with her new cousin, hits him square in the face with said Frisbee and he goes down like a sack of potatoes while the blood pours out of this lip. Did I mention that they had been at our house maybe all of 90 minutes? Over the years, there were dinners and visits to their cottage, rides on their boat, trivial pursuit show downs and throw downs and never a word mentioned of the Frisbee massacre of 1979. …told you she is a cool cat.

Fast forward to the summer yours truly was 19. I had just graduated high school and been dumped a month before prom. I was broken hearted, pissed off that I hadn’t broken up with the boy first and in an all around “what the F*#K! am I gonna do with my life” mood.  My parents had been invited to my Aunt Pat’s cottage and I was invited along. We took the boat over to the island the cottage was on…did I say cottage? Let me clear…it was an oasis. Once the boat docked, there was my Aunt Pat waiting on the dock with her killer smile, sparkling eyes and open arms. That weekend was just what the doctor ordered. Good food, rides on the boat – laying on the front of the boat with my Aunt Pat, sunning ourselves on the way to drink some beer on the local patio’s, long, restful naps, game nights and laughter. My Aunt Pat, like my Grandma Leah, had a way of making everything seem effortless and making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room.

A little fact about my Aunt Pat- she was a teacher. Now she is an actress. Yep. An actress. On stage and on screen. A little known fact about yours truly – I think of my Aunt Pat pursuing her dreams and making them come true when I am in unfamiliar territory and feeling the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My Aunt Pat has always been my cheerleader and has followed my blog from the start. Her words of encouragement and her comments on my blog mean more to me than she will ever know. So today’s tale is dedicated to my Aunt Pat, her smile, her sparkling eyes, her awesomeness and her inspiration.