ABOUT theSAINT!
I am not even sure where to start. What should I share, or what would others really care about reading? A very challenging question to ponder! I will start off with some of the alias’s I have used over the years – trying to maintain some anonymity! You can find me on X or Telegram as MisterSanctus if you absolutely need to know more.
Alias #1 MAGS. A nickname so cleverly given to me, by some teammates back in the very early 80’s. That nickname still used daily, one with a great story behind it.
Alias #2 Whozitsdad. A private name used, prior to the birth of our son, and only child.
Alias #3 Asshole. A word used frequently by co-workers who not only can take my shit, but can dish it out as well. Who ever said IT was boring needs to visit our office. And yes, we do some Pyrotechnique in the office, on the unaware passerby.
Now that the soft opening is out of the way, allow me to properly introduce myself. “Mister Sanctus”, Saint Christopher, Christopher, Christoph, Kristoph, Kristof. These are all names that have been associated with my family for many generations. Except Mister Sanctus :) The background of my father’s family (as far back as I can trace it) begins in Yugoslavia, and Czechoslovakia. Novi Slankamen which is a small village in Serbia is where most of the family action took place once they settled. Agriculture and farming were the primary trades in our family.
What you have here is a snippet of the town I refer too. To give you an idea of their challenging journeys and travels, my father was born in Tarsdorf, Austria. Tarsdorf is just across the river from Munich, Germany. Not a very hospitable area at the time. That was after many families had no choice but to flee their homes due to unrest or dangerous conditions. My Opa & Oma fled to Tarsdorf with many other relatives, and their families.
Dangerous conditions. Unrest. Hate. War. Crimes. I can only trace bits of my family back to the mid 1800’s. One thing that really wasn’t communicated, or passed down to the more recent generations was faith. I knew Catholicism was a big part in my family. Serbian Orthodox, Protestant: we were definitely a mixed family. One thing that should have jumped out at me, and it didn’t immediately was a tradition handed down for many many generations. It was staring me in the face and I missed it, until 2000.
My wife and I were working on names for our child. We did not want to know if our baby would be a girl or a boy, so we had names picked out for either or. So here comes the spoiler. Christopher was one of the names. I also have Christopher in my full name. My father had Kristopher. My Opa had Kristof. My great grandfather had Kristofer, and for a few generations before him Kristofer was the go-to. That’s not even the cool thing (at least it’s cool to me). My father had many middle names. John, Niklaus, Kristopher. The Niklaus was also a big name in my family. Again, that was not the cool thing to me. What is very special about this, was since my family were Catholics there was a traditional baptismal name used for the men, and if you guessed it by now – well now you know.
theSAINT was born. Saint Christopher has been the baptismal name used, and passed on for many generations. Every male that I can trace back, took Saint Christopher as their baptismal name. The next part will confuse you some, but I will come clean in the near future.
What makes ‘theSAINT’ (Saint Christopher) extra special for our family is that not only was our son baptized with Saint Christopher, I was also baptized the same year with Saint Christopher. I’ll let you ponder that for a while :)
My family knew back then, with constantly being on the move they needed extra protection – and the Patron of Travel, Saint Christopher was adopted! Now You Know about ‘theSAINT’ in my family.
HAVING MY SAINT CHRISTOPHER
I was born in 1967 to two teenaged parents. Yes, I was an accident! Wasn’t much support from my grand parents. I know for the first few years we had many addresses, while my parents got settled. I know what I was doing @ 16 – I can’t imagine how challenging it was for mine. To boot – I was a large lad when I was born. My mom was tiny – me, not so much. I was oh, 10lbs 11oz. Because I was a large lad in a tiny womb, there were a couple issues that also needed some attention. That attention finally wrapped up in 1979 after I had some surgery.
I was born and raised in Ontario, Canada. Not far from Toronto. Most of my early years were spent on a farm, and during those years I was blessed with some athletic skills so I played ball in the summer, and hockey in the winter. That was typical for many friends of mine. Growing up from a youth to an adult, with the same teammates creates an unimaginable bond. I forget the year, but when I was in the fourth grade we moved to the big city (larger village for us) and had to go through some changes. New faces, new schools, new friends. Leaving a rural school where buses were necessary, and now commuting to school on foot or bike was actually a pleasant, welcoming change.
But it seemed we were constantly on the move. The teenaged parents, now young adults never did get a solid footing. After the sixth grade, I was back at my old rural school for the seventh grade. Then back to the big city for the eighth grade. Was starting to get a little old. We will fast forward some. Athleticism was the only thing I had going for me. After all, I was a large lad who had been wearing glasses since the 1st grade. What saved my ass from the school yard beatings, was my insane adrenaline rushes, a high pain threshold and I grew up helping on the farm(s). Plus if I knew I would see them on the ice, punishment was imminent. My retaliatory approach had the attention of others. There were a few who challenged me on and off the ice, and whatever the outcome was – there was always respect. That aggressive nature both helped and hurt me as I matured.
As I left the teenage years, and progressed into adulthood, I took advantage of what athleticism I had and relocated when needed. I was a much better athlete on the field (I was a catcher, and I could hit the ball) so my late spring, and summers were spent moving around to new areas. It was nice being recruited in the fall for the upcoming season. Those habits continued on for some time. This was my way dealing with heartache and the ignored mental health issues I had been battling.
A habit that was burned into my head: if I continued moving around, my issues were left behind. New beginnings, a fresh start right? That was not always the case.
Protect me today in all my travels along the road’s way. Give your warning sign if danger is near so that I may stop while the path is clear.
Bear Christ always in my heart, as you once did, bearing him on your shoulder. may not prevail against me.
“Carry me safely to my destined place, like you carried Christ in your close embrace.”
SAINT CHRISTOPHER
And that is why I am here today. My wife has been very ill for many years. It would take a novel to recap what we as a family has experienced over the past many years. But we continue to fight and move forward, even past the days when we feel like giving up. It is during these trying times, we as family have relied on one or another to pick us up and carry us for that day, or weeks of emptiness.
This is why I decided to use Saint Christopher to help create the timeline of our ups and downs in a lighthearted way. I am not a religious man, but I believe I have faith. My wife should not be with us today. She has overcome the impossible, many times. Her medical team are the best. Caregivers are the best. But there has to be something else, something deeper.
Thank you for reading my ramblings. As time permits, I hope to do some journaling on here, as an outlet to vent, celebrate or even scribble. We will see what becomes of it.
MY AI, DIGITAL ATTEMPT!
