It’s been a while since I focused on this list of 25 great life experiences. I started thinking about it when it seemed that my life was effectively over and I wanted to put something out to the world that said “I was here.” My sister is still waiting for me to write about how we met in 1997 and I assure her that it’s on my list but I’ve decided to do the list chronologically instead of trying to rate them.

In 1988, I applied to several universities across Canada to pursue studies in speech-language pathology, and one university in the US. I decided to apply to the program at Purdue because one of my former classmates had been admitted there. I figured if they took her, there was no reason not to take me. Interestingly enough, the first university to formally accept me was Purdue.

They offered me a trip to visit the campus, so I flew to West Lafayette, Indiana via Chicago, where they put me up in Earhart Hall , named after the famous aviator, Amelia Earhart . She was an instructor at Purdue and the university was instrumental in supporting her remarkable aviation accomplishments .

When I heard from UBC that I had been accepted in their first round of offers, Purdue had already flown me out to the campus, given me a tour, and offered me a research assistant position that gave me a tuition waiver. Making the decision was easy as I wanted to attend a program that had an on-site clinic. As Purdue was and is consistently ranked as one of the top programs in the US, I started making plans to go right away.

I shipped some things to Indiana, and other things got packed into my brother’s car as we decided to take advantage of the opportunity to drive across the U.S. We drove down to Seattle where he ran a marathon, then proceeded on a long camping trip to Montana, then down to Wyoming, enjoying Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. We went down to Colorado and New Mexico, then drove through Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, to the Mississippi, and then north, stopping in Nashville, Graceland and Mammoth Cave in Kentucky before arriving in West Lafayette, Indiana.

I had a room at the graduate residence in Young Graduate House. And when we had our first orientation meeting to get to know other students, there were four other Canadians in the first year class.

It was the beginning of a new chapter in my life.

On June 26, I received the e-mail I had been hoping for. I didn’t recognize the name of the sender and thought perhaps it was a spam message as my name was in the subject line. But I took a quick look and saw three photos that were attached. The one I have posted on the top of this blog post struck me as I was looking at a man who bore a strong resemblance to my grandfather, Charles Edward Evans . I knew without a doubt that he was my cousin. Such a fine looking cousin too!

The letter was written by my cousin David and his wife, Joanne, and described the details of his birth and adoption, in Ontario. The adoption had been arranged prior to his birth. He was christened by his adoptive parents 10 days after his birth. His parents were a lawyer and his wife from St. Lucia. David was so fortunate to be welcomed into a loving home right away so he could bond with his parents.

They wrote:

David’s adoption papers include a brief background, which provided his birth mother’s year of birth (but no date), the existence of two sisters, her parent’s nationality and occupation etc. No names were provided on the adoption papers. The medical birth record however, provided a name for his birth mother as Barbara Evans. There is even less information on his birth father. He was an African American, but born in Sweden to a jazz musician and his wife who were residing in Sweden at the time. They moved back to the USA and then he joined the US Air force.

The private investigator told them it would be a difficult task to find a woman with such a common name as Barbara Evans. But they got a break when they found an obituary for a Barbara Mary Evans, who died at 78 years of age in 2005, giving them a birth year to work with of 1927. But if we hadn’t found Barbara’s ashes in Maureen’s closet after Maureen died, I probably wouldn’t have posted much information about Barbara on my blog. Burying Barbara at the same time as Betty gave me the opportunity to have them both memorialized and remembered at Mountain View Cemetery. And that was the key to making the connection.

David and Joanne still live in St. Lucia, that gorgeous island in the Caribbean, where they are raising their children. They were grateful that I had chosen to publish my family history as it might not have been a successful search.

I responded right away and anticipated the contact.

Last Saturday, we celebrated our 35th high school reunion. A couple of my friends and former classmates did a beautiful job of planning and making the event memorable. Our graduating class was only 40 students, so all of us knew each other to some degree. While it wasn’t a great school academically in the 70s, it offered good athletics and helped me form important friendships. And with all of my medical challenges in recent years, the only friends who have really stood by me are the friends I made at LFA. For me personally, being at a small school was a good thing at that time of my life.

We started off the day on a tour of the school.They did a beautiful job of incorporating parts of the old buildings with the new school, such as the stained-glass windows and the use of solid Douglas Fir beams as benches.

We were in awe of the new development and facilities. The gymnasium is top-notch and they have labs now, so the students don’t go up to Vancouver College for Physics and Chemistry anymore, like I did. Although, I admit, I enjoyed those classes as it prepared me for university, and helped me make friends with some smart boys!

I wasn’t 100% sure I would be up to it, but I was feeling pretty good last week. So, about 10 days ago, I went shopping at Value Village to find an outfit that would help me look like Sister Pat, our homeroom teacher. And I wrote a little speech and offered a toast to our ‘unique’ class. I enjoyed hearing the laughter as I gave the speech and I received some good feedback afterwards. I left shortly after dinner as I was tired. It was nice to see people again.

Our tour guide Ben Fitch uploaded photos he took of our class at the school on the LFA website.

In 1989, I arrived in West Lafayette, Indiana to attend grad school at Purdue University. There were five Canadians in my class that year, one of whom was the gorgeous Indira Bhatnagar of Cornwall, Ontario. I remember the first time I met her new boyfriend, Drew Feustel , at a Halloween party. They were both counselors at the undergraduate residence halls and dated right through grad school. I was a staff resident at the graduate residence hall and that position came with a room large enough to entertain guests. I hosted a Pictionary game one night and Indi and Drew came.

My time at Purdue University was exceptional and I met so many interesting and smart people. Even though I knew that many astronauts had studied there (Neil Armstrong, Gus Grissom, Eugene Cernan), it never occurred to me that I might meet somebody who would become an astronaut.

After graduation, we went our different ways. I heard through the grapevine that Indi and Drew got married and moved to Kingston, where Drew did his Ph.D. at Queen’s. Then Indi got in touch with me to introduce me to her younger sister who was studying at UBC and interested in speech-language pathology. It was through that relationship with Indi’s sister that I reconnected to the amazing adventure that was in store for them when Drew was accepted into the astronaut program in 2000.

In 2008, an envelope arrived from the Johnson Space Center in Houston with an autographed photo.

Shortly afterwards, we received a message asking us to let them know if we were interested in attending the launch of Atlantis, on STS-125, the last mission to repair the Hubble Telescope. Of course, we said ‘yes’ — the details of that experience will be in my ’25 great life experiences’ category.

Drew’s second mission was the penultimate space shuttle mission, STS-134 on Endeavour, and went to the International Space Station. It was most exciting to be connected to all the communications from ‘ground control’, i.e., Indi’s internet connections.

Indi is a remarkable fundraiser herself, raising thousands for the American Heart Association in honour of her father. I am so grateful that the Feustels have honoured me with a donation for the upcoming MS Walk .

In September, 1982, I set out for a planned year-long adventure on my own in Europe. I had my return airfare on British Airways paid and my Eurail and Britrail passes paid for. That left me with $10,000 for the trip of my life, and I flew into Heathrow with my sleeping bag and backpack with Canadian flag patch sewn on.

There are far too many experiences in that one year to write about. There were many adventures and opportunities taken — including some stupid decisions — part of the experience of being young. I went to most countries in Western Europe, and also did a foray into East Germany as I wanted to visit Berlin and see the Berlin Wall.

Among the highlights were time spent in Greece and Spain. My favourite place in Greece was on the south shore of Crete where the photo above was taken. We fell into a nice daily routine of yogurt and honey for breakfast, Greek salad and pita bread with a large bottle of beer for lunch, then a nice Greek dinner, souvlaki or moussaka or roast lamb etc, retsina, then baclava and coffee. Mmmmm. Between meals we would go to the beach or play “500”, an Australian card game similar to Euchre. I spent about 10 nights in Plakias and was tempted to stay longer, but I knew I needed to move on. The Aussies pictured above went to Turkey from Crete, I went to see more of the islands (Santorini, Naxos, Paros), then headed up to Austria. When I caught up with them later in London, I wish I had gone to Turkey with them. It’s one of my small regrets.

The absolute highlight was time spent in Spain with my old high school friend, Joan. She was studying at the University in Granada. I was feeling a bit homesick at Christmas, so I took the train down to Granada to spend it with her. Back then, you had to switch trains at the French/Spanish border as the train track gauge was a different size.

After a post-Christmas trip/car-tour (Toledo, Madrid, Salamanca, Santiago de Compostela, then south through Portugal) I left for a month to see Italy, then returned in February to enrol at the Universidad de Granada for a three-month course, Espanol para Extranjeros, or Spanish for Foreigners. Joan had a group of friends who were locals and it gave me a chance to experience Granada and surrounding areas in a way that I wouldn’t have had as a regular tourist.

As I look at my photos of the Alhambra where there are no people, I realize in hindsight how fortunate I was to be able to go there many times without experiencing tourist hordes. It was a different time, only 7 years post-Franco, and Spain wasn’t fully explored by travellers as it is now.

I decided to start with Camp Latona instead of Purdue because it has as profound an effect on me at an important time of my life. As I’ve been developing my list, I realize that going through my top 25 great life experiences more or less chronologically makes a bit more sense than trying to rank them. They were all special to me. So, it will be a bit like writing my life story. A vanity project, for sure — but when you have a major health crisis and no parents or children, you start to realize that if you don’t record your presence, you’ll be forgotten very shortly after you’re gone without any trace. Since I can’t work now, I have the time.

In 1970, I first went to Camp Latona , situated on the north side of Gambier Island in Howe Sound. I was in a cabin named “Haida”, my counsellor was “Miss Kathy”, the camp director was “Sister Theresa”, and we had powdered milk on our cereal. I kept going back every summer in session 1, the first two weeks of July. Session 1 was always the wet session and the girls in Session 2 always got the sunshine. At camp reunions we would identify with our session — those of us from Session 1 liked to talk about how we formed our friendships as we struggled to stay dry in our primitive lean-tos with those old sleeping bags that never dried after they got wet. I grew up at Latona, as a camper until I became a counsellor-in-training, then a counsellor. I also spent time as the “outtrip director” at boys camp in 1977. I returned in the late 80s as a counsellor, then the next year as the Junior Counsellor director and Director of Senior Co-Ed Camp.

Latona was a very special place. It was there that I had the opportunity to see myself in different, positive ways. Growing up unattached in an alcoholic home was very difficult for me, and all of us in my family suffered in our own unique ways. I formed healthy friendships there that helped me get through the challenges of adolescence.

When the camp closed in the mid-90s and was sold, I never thought I would ever see it again. Declan Lawlor, “waterfront director” in the 80s, bought Latona and has re-opened a summer camp. Declan and I have fond memories of pranks and being captains of the “Gumbys” where we painted ourselves green and made carboard heads in the shape of our favourite flexible character. I am so glad that children in Vancouver have a chance to experience Latona again. It was my home away from home.

When I was at VGH hoping for surgery, I was put on a bit of a suicide watch. That meant that I became a monkey in the zoo with nurses peeking in on me and doctors asking my husband if I had ever been suicidal before. He tried telling them that I was a mover and shaker — and I was. I grabbed onto every opportunity for experiences and really loved my life. Not that it was perfect but I had things I wanted to do and I had projects on the go all the time. My work at GF Strong really made me realize that it could all be over or changed at any time. So, the whispers behind my back and the out-in-the-open notes in red pen around the ward (privacy? yeah, sure!) were offensive. It made me realize that they had no idea who I was and they had ZERO idea of the nature of the pain. It was the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain . . . and if you ever experienced it, you would understand. It is a pain you would not wish on anybody, not your worst enemy, not even Dick Cheney. OK, maybe, just maybe DC. But nobody else.

As I have had many remarkable experiences — some of which I’m sure would have added more ammunition to the ‘she’s really crazy’ file they had set up for me a year ago while at SPH, I’m going to start a blog category on the top 25 great things about my life. And, yes, Dr. E, I have received e-mails from space. I’ll start tomorrow.

Special thanks to my new friend Daina who suggested I expand my list from a top 10 to a top 25 as it was hard to squeeze all the cool things into 10.