My name is Jack P. Ensor. I was born in Alberta, Canada. Alberta is a province (not a providence). Providence is divine care and supply, not a mass of land. Please don't ever say that you have been to a “providence”; it will make you sound like a damned fool.
Where was I? Right, Alberta. Anyway, I grew up in Canada. Yes, they do have running water, electricity, and Al Gore's Internet up there. Canada also has a great deal of snow and cold weather. In fact, the last time I was back in Canada, it was -52 Celsius. For those of you who live south of the forty-ninth parallel that is -61 Fahrenheit. Brrr.
Growing up in Canada, I learned to skate by the right age of three. My mother, whom I love dearly, but sometimes struggle to understand, insisted that I would be a figure skater because when I learned to skate I could only spin around in circles. In her mind, I was the next Brian Orser. She was wrong. The main reason she was wrong? Because in my opinion, any man who “dances” on ice wearing tights and sequins is a homo regardless of the fact the he may be a national superstar.
Really, I ended up playing hockey as most boys did where I grew up. I quit playing hockey after I realized that a) I wasn't any good at it, and b) I couldn't control my temper while I was playing. I sometimes wonder if that poor boy from Eckville ever mentally recovered from the time that I tackled him in open ice and hit him repeatedly while he cried for his mom. What a baby. You'd think an eight year old would be tougher than that.
“...any man who ‘dances’ on ice wearing tights and sequins is a homo...”
I am an only child and a product of a rather dysfunctional family. While growing up, I always believed that my mom and my dad and I were the typical family. We weren't. Well, that's true with shades of grey. We were dysfunctional, and that in and of itself is normal I suppose. I guess the fact that I was out terrorizing the town, and my parents were none the wiser, was about the only thing that was normal in our family.
I was raised Presbyterian. I don't think it was very difficult for my parents to decide under what denomination I was to be raised. This was because my mom was raised Presbyterian, and my dad was “I'm not going!” Though I attended church all my life, forsaking Sunday morning Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles, I was never a true believer in Jesus until the summer between tenth and eleventh grades. I became a Christian at the age fifteen at an Alliance Church youth retreat. This was no ordinary conversion. I even threw away my cigarettes...for a few days.
My “walk with God” is somewhat of a long story. What you should be able to gather from my posts is that I am a Christian; however, unlike most Christians, I am very honest about how I feel. I don't know how many Christians you know, but many of them are afraid to speak their mind in fear of what other Christians might think. It's bullshit I know. To me, it seems funny how a bunch of people who call themselves “Godly” have as much garbage in their soul as the rest of us. Yet they still have the gall to frown at me because I swear. They gossip about everyone they know, and they have the audacity to chew my ass about my chewing tobacco habit. Further proof: Christians are the only kind who shoots their wounded. My suggestion: love God, and love people and if you don't have something nice to say...shut your mouth.
“...Christians are the only kind who shoots their wounded.”
I was married at a very young age. I was seventeen when I met my wife Laura. We were together on a youth Christian mission trip in Nairobi, Kenya. I was with the Canadians, and she with the Americans. I won't say it was love at first sight, as I thought she was fourteen when I first laid eyes on her. It wasn't until after I talked with her for a while that she informed me that she was about to turn twenty. While in Africa, I fell madly in love with my her. In the seven weeks we were in Kenya, we both realized that we were going to be married. The trick was going back to Canada to break it to my parents. I was still seventeen. I decided before I got back to Canada that I wanted to move to Colorado, and officially propose to my wife. When I got back home, I told my mom what my plan was. I told her that I planned to board a plane to Colorado as soon as I got the money. It didn't go well. So I waited thirty-five days until I turned eighteen and flew to Colorado.
Eleven months after I moved to Colorado to pursue my wife, we were married. We promptly packed all of our things into a 4'x6' uHaul trailer and moved to Regina, Saskatchewan so that I could go to school to become an ordained minister. This also did not go well. We were broke, and Laura couldn't work because of her immigration status, and I had to drop out. Well actually, it was a combination of those things paired with my 1.17GPA and an incident involving an Alaskan friend and me paintballing several buildings on campus that led to me leaving Bible College.
“I had to drop out...it was a combination of...my 1.17GPA and an incident involving [a] friend and me paintballing several buildings on campus”
After leaving Bible College, I went back into website development, and spent two short years back in my hometown in Alberta. Laura and I realized that there wasn't much of a future for us there, so we moved back to Montrose, Colorado where Laura grew up. There I was hired and laid off by several different companies. Our oldest daughter was born, and I finally figured out that I needed to get an education. I had worked for an airline ground crew for several months that year, and I figured that I wanted to fly. I enrolled in college and became a pilot.
I spent a year working as a flight instructor. It's an interesting job. Typically, my days involved me waking up early, getting dressed, and going to work so that a bunch of kids could scare the shit out of me all day long. It was a means to an end. I now am flying for a regional airline. I fly a CRJ and so far I am really enjoying it
I originally started this website under the name of “Lucky Jack.” After about a week, I decided that I didn't really like that name, so the name changed to “Captain Jack.” It was originally intended for me to be able to keep up with all of our scattered friends and family. I was a cheap bastard and I decided to host the site on some free foreign server and in January 2006 we lost everything. The lesson here? Buy American. So I stopped blogging. I had put too much work into my site, and it was gone (hence the gap between January and October 2006).
“The lesson here? Buy American.”
I started blogging again in October, because I saw a shrink when I thought I was going crazy. As it turns out, I'm not crazy. But she did recommend that I find an outlet for my stress. Started writing a few things, and posting them on my MySpace blog. Some people commented that they had really enjoyed reading what I had written. I decided to start blogging again. This time though, I decided to shell out the ninety bucks for the domain and hosting. I'm not planning on loosing all of this crap again.
Thanks for visiting my site!
Last updated August 27, 2007
