Spicy emotions...........

Yesterday, my son and I went out for dinner to a restaurant just the two of us. As usual, our conversation ran the gamut of topics, from the latest Stanley Cup winnings to his insights on the millenium. He seems to be stuck on this topic of late......as I have written before, Max is a numbers guy. The whole millenium thing strikes this chord in him. We also talked about writing, as he is in the middle of a provincial assessment on reading and literacy at school (my opinions on this topic will have to wait until another time........I have LOTS to say about provincial assessments!!) and he has a very enthusiastic teacher who introduces the "word" of the day........Fridays was "autonomy"............as well as arranges time every day for creative writing on a topic they pick from a hat of many topics. He loves both exercises. It has also generated an interest in my writing, and he often asks me about it.

So......................I told him the topic for this week's Sunday Scribblings was "SPICY", and that I was thinking of writing about emotions and how you could describe them using the names of different spices. Without a blink of an eye he said.............



"Happiness would be cinnamon then wouldn't it?"



Our lives are more fulfilling and more exciting if we allow ourselves to savour the sweetness and the sourness of emotions. Though we try to avoid the bitterness of some spicy emotions, you know the ones that can make you wince with shame or guilt, or the feelings that leave you writhing with firey heat. And yet, it is experiencing the sharp tang of a deep gutteral feeling which makes us sometimes feel the most alive. Funny that.


Grief, the bitterest of them all is making it's presence felt in our family right now. It is a sorrowful time and I don't really know whether there is a certain spice all on it's own which could label the multi-layers felt when one is grieving. Perhaps it's a special curry, or a peppery concoction where the spices are blended that represents grief and sorrow best. Interestingly though when you taste the blends you can often pick out hints of individual spices.........much like grief.


Grief encompasses anger, sadness, confusion, vulnerability, fear, dread, anxiety, and fatigue. But you know what? It also combines hints of peace, relief, wonder and calm too. Grief unprocessed is bitter. Grief acknowledged and processed allows for the bitter to turn to sweet. And, along the way, it offers a chance to feel alert, alive and aware. Perhaps it is through drinking from the deep well of grief where we learn life's most important lessons because it is a vessel for people to come together to share in the acknowledgement of life........our own and the life of our loved one. It opens our eyes to the importance of love and belonging.......


Someone once said that variety is the spice of life. Not quite. I think the variety of emotions is the spice of life. And may I offer the suggestion that happiness would always taste like cinnamon, baked into an oatmeal cookie?

for more spicy sunday scribblings..........click this link.......

grief, relief, and reflections......

20 years ago this summer, I made the trek east with my future mother in law to find a place to live in Fredericton New Brunswick for me and my husband to be and then to continue east to Spencer's Island, Nova Scotia where she would spend the rest of the summer. It was her home......the home where she grew up, and the home where she returned to every summer. Spencer's Island was Merrydith's haven. Filled with childhood memories of country freedom, farm life, fishing as well as learning, Mim thrived surrounded by her ancestral connections.

At the time of this trip, it was the longest amount of time she and I had spent together alone. Though we had developed a healthy rapport where honesty and directness was front and centre, as wasn't the case I would find with this family and their interactive dynamics, we had never tested it over the course of a day and a half in the car together with the dog. I remember it fondly mostly because I learned something important about the "make-up" of this woman.

My impression then of Merrydith (Mim) was one of a strong willed very intelligent woman who was in charge, organized, opinionated, worldly and highly politically astute. Ahead of her time with many pursuits, she was the only female graduate from her Dalousie Law class. A lover of Canadian politics, and a lifelong supporter of the "best man" who never became Prime Minister, Robert Stanfield, and a voracious reader of everything from classics to whodunnits, Mim shared her thoughts and opinions on all.

We had much in common, especially our love of Peter Gzowski and CBC Morningside, which neither of us ever missed if possible. In fact, after my husband and I moved to the Maritimes away from "home" in Ontario, I always felt connected to Mim whenever I had Gzowski on the radio interviewing various and sundry Canadians and politicians......and would bring up a particular interview whenever we spoke on the phone. Needless to say, our journey east together was a non-stop conversation that ranged over many topics.

What I did learn about her which really surprised me was that this woman had another side to her. Out of her element, especially on chaotic highways around bigger cities like Toronto and Montreal, and even when we arrived in Fredericton, a smallish city where she had spent her university days (and where she met her own future husband, George "Buzz" Kerr) she was uncomfortable. Shyness revealed itself when I saw a woman who didn't seem confident anymore. Her confidence fell like a house of cards.

She was head to toe a "country girl" despite an adult life of studies, political campaigning, hostessing events, and supporting a husband whose career was in politics. So, as we drove along the familiar Trans Canada, I could see her retentiveness clearly. When we arrived in Fredericton, however, I thought this would evaporate. It didn't. So, even though I had never been to Fredericton before, I ended up taking the lead in finding a suitable apartment and finding our way around the place.

Once back on the road, heading east, Mim's focus returned. She quickly found her footing.

The road to Spencer's Island is a twisty turning one, during which the last 1/2 hour is a slower up and down trek along the Parsboro shore. Pastoral with amazingly stunning vistas of the Bay of Chignecto to take your breath away, and it takes every ounce of focus to keep your eyes on the bendy road and not on the view to the left! It is one of my favourite drives, most likely because of the end destination.....a beautiful little sleepy village garnished with fields of wildflowers, lupines and blossoms. Every time we turn off the highway and point our car down shore, I too can feel myself relaxing and getting excited at the same time while driving that piece of Canada.........knowing a big white old farmhouse awaits.

Mim felt exactly the same way, but 100 times more intense EVERY time she drove down the shore. I saw this for the first time during our trip together 20 years ago. As soon as we had turned off the highway at Amherst and began to inch closer to her home, Mim physically and emotionally relaxed. Her tension and anxieties dissolved and floated away. She was going home for a whole summer of reconnecting to her roots.....to a place where she always belonged.

Over the years, especially because we only live a few hours away from the old house, we were able to make the trek often......sometimes almost every weekend when we first moved here. There were a couple of times when I was down there on my own with Mim, though most often other family members would be there as well as summer visitors and other families who called Spencer's Island their summer spiritual home. Beach dinners, lobster feasts, blackberry and raspberry picking, long afternoon reading on the swing on the front porch, birthday parties, anniversaries, swimming and laid back card playing were shared by all, and by all ages. Every morning, coffee was on, as was the CBC radio.........and every morning Mim's brother Max would stop in for a chat and a cup of java.......as would several others. It was a laid back interactive place where Mim resided.

It was her place, left to her by her parents. It was hers alone.............though of course her children, grandchildren and friends..........oh, and her hubby.......were allowed to stay, but for God's sake, don't move anything without permission!! In a world where I believe Mim felt the daily chaos deeply, the home in Spencer's Island was both an escape, a haven, AND the one place where she felt she could be exactly herself! It was where she baked the best blueberry pies, cooked raspberry jam, filled picnic baskets for the beach, stoked the woodstove and read her books.

I remember this trip vividly, as I sit in my home in Fredericton.....a place where I had only expected to put roots down for a couple of years while my husband completed his studies. And yet, we remained.......partly because of our close proximity to Spencer's Island where family and friends helps us develop deeper roots, and partly because once the Maritime air takes hold of your soul............well, you don't want to leave because it does something to your ability to relax and your ability to find a deeper sense of who you really are. I get it...........and I think I began to learn this from Mim as I watched her transformation during that drive 20 years ago.

I could write much about what has transpired since then with Mim. As I stated, she's a complicated intelligent woman. She also struggled with depression and anger most of her life....for her own reasons which she rarely talked about. But, I don't want to write about that today. Those stories will be written later. I want to remember this moment.....a huge milestone and turning point in my life......the beginning of sharing of my life with her youngest son, and my husband. It was a chance for us to really get to know one another before the wedding day.

Early this morning, my Mother in law passed away, just a couple of weeks after her husband died. She had been very ill, and held on longer than anyone expected. It has been very stressful for everyone. Our grief is combined with relief and fatigue as we begin to make plans, so familiar to all involved.

And so it goes..........and life needs to be addressed.......the world never stops as we say good-bye.

This morning as I drove out to a meeting with a friend from work, I noticed the first of the lupines poking out of the ditches.........bright purple and pinks in the wild.........which spread across the fields of the Maritimes. In another week, the lupines will be blooming across the overgrown gardens at the front of the old house in Spencer's Island and in every nook and cranny ditch and field........Mim had a creative knack of being able to pick armloads of lupins, lilacs and phlox and then transform them into wildly expressive bouquets which adorned every room in the house. She loved June.......when it was time to head east to pick the flowers and to find herself again.

It will take a while to figure out many things about Mim and her life......and the choices she made as to how she lived her life. She was complicated......her dry wit, her zinging directness, as well as her personal struggles with her own demons have left us all perplexed as to whether she ever felt that her life was fulfilled.

What I do know, and we all know this......................her smile and her soul opened up whenever she was close to the shore. We will be returning her spirit there to find its way through the fields of lupines and up into her raspberry patch. Then, perhaps she will be at peace, this eternally Nova Scotia girl.

And I will continue to fill the old vases with wild flowers every June........for you Mim.....

behind the facade.....

Not a pretty sight, but one I see everyday as I head to my van in the back parking lot of where I work. In the background is a well established condominium with a view of the river and the front facade of the building across the street. In the foreground is the back entrance to several rooms where individuals live.

These people, many of whom have serious health and addiction issues, live in one of the worst rooming house conditions in the city. Not only can't they afford much else, because of their extensive life issues and the fact that they are mostly transient and single, they wouldn't qualify for public housing. I have met many of them. Their daily lives consist of survival and struggles.

Rooming houses, most of which are not even on people's radar, are notoriously rundown and horrible places to live. Safety and security are issues, as are cleanliness and orderliness of the shared facilities. How this place continues to be allowed to "function" is beyond me. I wonder how the landlord/business person who owns this slum can sleep at night.

Now, take a look at the photo again..........there is new construction happening. Do you know what it is? Below the hut being built in the right of the picture is a local English style pub called the Snooty Fox. Great selection of beer, the best pad tai in the city. It's a popular spot both at lunchtime and in the evening. The owners of the Snooty Fox have decided to expand to the roof by building a summer patio.

EXCUSE ME??

Right in the middle of the rooming house, the "SNOOTY's" are going to be allowed to swig beer and party?? I'm sure the owners of the pub will close off the patio so there is an intimate feel.....so that there will be no one aware of the fact that they are sitting 5 feet away from a person who may not be able to sleep because of the noise.....from the most marginalized people in the city next to the truly homeless............

I find this absolutely appalling. They should be ashamed.

saving grace...........

Satellite image of the coast of Newfoundland

There are some days when the news is full of stories I'm interested in reading. Ranging from local political, international, sports, and human interest, my interests are varied and nothing is more stimulating or satisfying that soaking up current events in order discuss them with others. Given that I am married to a news junkie reader guy historian, this is a good thing.

Today, the media was crammed packed with interesting stuff. In fact, I can't remember a day lately when I was interested in reading the national paper from cover to cover (oh and don't you worry you right wing nutbars out there...........I'm not fooled :). Though I'd like to share my opinions on all of them, there is one story which stands out....... and which I'd like to pass onto to you.


130 kilometres off the northeast coast of Saint John's Newfoundland, a crab fishing boat caught fire last week with 6 men aboard. 5 of them had survival suits, gear necessary to survive the sub-zero water temperatures. The 6th man, an 18 year old, lost his suit in the fire. His choice was to die in the fire or jump ship. He jumped ship wearing a t-shirt and shorts. He survived the two hours in the water as they waited to be rescued.

HE SURVIVED!!

Consider the following facts:

• It is unlikely that an unprotected person n water below 10 degrees celsius will survive longer than an hour
• The moment a person enters cold water the body experiences cold shock. Symptoms include the gasp reflex and difficulty holding breath
• Between 0 and 30 minutes, the body will become incapacitated and the person will struggle to move.
• After 30 minutes hypothermia sets in, which eventually (and quickly) leads to the heart stopping

AND yet, this young man survived two hours in sub-zero temperatures How? Here's the rest of the story. I welcome you to check it out and let me know how the story made you feel.........

choking on red tape

still works, but seen better days

ready for a rant? It's been awhile.................no fluffy stuff today.............

Last week, I had a chance to chat with Charles, our local blogger extraordinaire who manages to sniff out stories and stir up anxieties at the legislature with his bloggie threats and his trusty digital camera. He was telling me a story about a woman who lives in the same rooming house as he does. This woman was very upset because she had just changed banks and found out that her new bank automatically took $50.00 out of her account. Given that she only receives about $500.00 social assistance for the whole month to pay her rent, utilities, food and other life necessities, 50 bucks is HUGE! She was livid, as was our rabel rouser Charles who took this woman down to the bank to find out what was going on. At the last minute, the woman refused to enter the building. Too afraid and too worn down from day to day living on welfare to make an attempt to confront and to find out why the bank withdrew the amount, the woman balked. It was too much for her.

Charles, went in anyways to talk to a bank Manager on behalf of his friend only to be told that it was confidential and he would have to bring the woman in. It was enough of an ice breaker that when Charles went back outside, he was able to talk her into meeting with the Manager who according to Charles was a very friendly nice woman. Things were sorted out, and the 50 bucks was returned to her account. Apologies were in order. It was an empowering feel good story. Of course, Charles took a photo of the Banker and his friend for posterity.

GOOD on ya, Charles!!

The story led to our own conversation about how quickly one's confidence and sense of empowerment goes out the window when one is on social assistance. Everyday survival life is too difficult that there isn't the energy or the motivation to fight for rights, to stand up for yourself, and to jump through the many hoops bureaucracy and businesses set up and label "service delivery." When one is trying to make ends meet until the end of the month on a measley amount......when one is worried that there won't be any money left for food for the kids, or whether or not the hydro bill is going to be paid in full or if the hydro company will cut the power, whether or not one can scratch together some money so their child can attend the end of year field trip, or that new summer sneakers can be purchased etc, etc, etc.........the thought of fighting the big bank, or the case worker, or of filling out yet another application for money to fix up their home so the rotting floors and mold are removed.....it's just too much.

Bureaucracy and big business are just plain bullies. Though you and I may be able to fight the good fight....to let our voices be heard......to stand up for our rights, there are MANY others who are worn to the core and have lost their voice. And it's not just the welfare system......it is the healthcare system, the mental health system, the banks and loans companies, some community based services, social services etc.......

Time and again, I meet with people who are fighting such huge fights, with no support or power to get their needs met. Time and again, I go out to a home to complete a social assessment only to spend a good hour listening to their unbelievable stories of frustration in trying to deal with the infamous red tape. It overwhelms them......and astounds them to a point where they just give up because no one seems to go to bat for them.


What seems to happen is that if a person puts up a little fuss, they get labelled a troublemaker. If the person takes it a little farther, they are completely ignored. It's not until they raise such a ruckus by contacting their local politician, or phoning the media or at least throwing down the threat gauntlet so hard that they are taken seriously when someone somehow somewhere cuts through the bullshit red tape. The squeakiest wheel always gets the grease!

I spent this morning with a young woman who has survived heinous abuses, chronic health issues, and was put on Dilaudid when she was 17 years old because of a sore back from being beaten by a man who basically kept her to himself since she was 12 years old (where were her parents, you ask??? hmmmm...good question.....long story). She is presently trying to kick her addiction through the Methadone program (which I visited for the first time today and I must say I was VERY impressed with the friendly non-judgemental service the staff are providing. It was a breath of fresh air that's for sure) and find another place to live because her present "room" in a house in a respectable neighbourhood is filled with mold and bugs.......so bad that she contracted a wicked infection in her lymph glands and breast and was hospitalized for a month following surgery. No one was helping her. She kept asking and asking for help and no one had the where with all to help her apply for subsidized housing until she and I first met on Friday.

Part of the problem is that she is very difficult to contact because she locks herself in her room to keep away from the filth of the rest of the basement she shares with other tenants and has the fans on to keep the stench away. As well, she is fighting to stay clean from street drugs and Dilaudid. she travels daily to the Methadone clinic (which is stupidly located in the same area as the homeless shelter and community kitchen and the area in the city where the most drug transactions and addicted individuals hang out) and then back home again. She wants to get better because she has an 8 year old son whom she wants very much to be a Mom to. She also wants to be a candidate for the Interferon treatments given to Hepatitis C patients. She can't do this until she more stable physically and emotionally.

This woman knows the underbelly of the city like the back of her hand and has survived it. She knows how to fight for her own survival. She is a fighter, and doesn't come across as a victim. Life has continued to try to rip her to shreds and yet, what I heard was a strong willed very intelligent woman who knows what she wants. She has terrific street smarts despite her wounds. AND YET..............she was losing the fight because bureaucracy was choking her with red tape.

Do you know how long it took to get her on the list for housing? 5 minutes. She will be in a brand new spotlessly clean apartment by the beginning of next month. THIS will help her immensely with respect to her healing. In another 5 minutes, she was offered a bus card to be able to travel to the clinic everyday. In another 5 minutes, she started packing up her belongings with a new sense of energy. We had a productive morning, both of us learning a great deal..........!!

After I dropped her off at her disgusting hovel of a home, I seethed...........fuck, I was mad.......and performed my best imitation of a weathered old crotchedy sailor, swearing up a storm before I tucked it back in and diplomatically entered the office of this woman's case worker. Well, maybe I didn't tuck it all in! I had to make my point.

Ok.....so that was my morning. This afternoon? A unique version of the same story.

If one tries and tries and tries........................and TRIES to jump through the hoops all the while doing everything that is asked of them and still hits a red tape brick wall time and time again, well, wouldn't you be absolutely worn out?

There is no need of this bullshit. Especially in a city the size of this one. Well, anywhere. Let's get real and deal with this incessant bullshit by helping others jump through the hoops and heal!!

who's hiding in there?

from post a secret website.
this little "super squirrel" made me laugh today

Funny how shy we are about sharing some of our talents. The urge to be one of a crowd, to be accepted by others seems to override our incentive to show our true colours. This is perhaps more predominant when we are younger and the desire to "fit in" is so prevalent. And yet, we all have hidden talents we are reticent about sharing even when we're older and have reached a point where we have found our way to becoming adults.

In the long run, who are we hurting if we don't expose our tap dancing, baritone singing, impressionistic painting, basket weaving, poetry writing, tuba playing, number crunching, people connecting, mystic dreaming talents?


Nobody but ourselves...........right? Why do we care so much about what other's think? Why don't we want to shine?

What's a little discomfort for goodness sake?


Right!

OK.........So, tomorrow? Just so you know......... I plan to chuck my job, hit the road to perform my one woman belly dancing show. It's showtime!



ps.......care to fess up?

Two New Hosers have joined the ranks.....

We celebrated Canada Day early this year to honour two new "hosers." Our friends took the plunge to become full-fledged Canadians. YES! We nicked two more from across the border.







Singing a couple of Neil Young songs......oh, and a rousing version of "Mary Don't You Weep" and "Angel from Montgomery"


















A strange version of beach volleyball was attempted and enjoyed with gusto

An amazingly beautiful sunset over the river enjoyed on their back deck

And of course some fireworks to top off the evening

Welcome Hosers!! Though you've been living and working amongst us for a while now, and entertaining us in your beautiful home through a couple of soltices, we welcome you two "newbies...." Perhaps the next movie at the "Tex and Edna" movie soiree should be STRANGE BREW! If you haven't already, it's time you meet Bob and Doug MacKenzie.......

koooooo ooooookoooookooookooookoooookooookooooo...........g'day, eh?

"Country" critter looking for "townies"

Perhaps this is the new leader of the Progressive Conservative Party in New Brunswick checking out the joint? I have a feeling the Tories would win a couple of seats with his cute little face on the posters. Run Bambi, Run!

Watching this video, you'd think Fredericton was in the middle of the woods! This is the actual security footage of the four legged intruder who took the wrong turn and ended up in the media room at the Legislature yesterday!! Let's hope he made it back home safe and sound.....


for more sunday scribblings on town and country, click here!

encounters.........

top of haunted lighthouse,
Ward's Island, Toronto

I love watching jets flying overhead leaving their slipstreaming message
wondering where the people are headed
wondering if it's a trip of a lifetime or something more dutifully business
are they excited?

I love finding old structures abandoned by their keepers and whose walls hold stories
wondering what happened to the people who once congregated
wondering where life took them and whether their legacy has somehow lived on
were they satisfied?

I love walking past groups in parks who are taking a moment to share a meal
wondering how they are connected to one another, whether they feel that they truly belong.
wondering how their life stories are playing out.
are they content?

I love catching a glimpse of two people obliviously entwined in new whispers
wondering how they met and how long they have felt such tenderness
wondering if their lives will live up to their dreams of together
are they in love?

I love seeing a person sitting quietly on a bench, head tilted down focused on a book
wondering what they are reading in solitary comfort
wondering if they feel pressure to slip their novel into their bag to rejoin the rest
are they grateful?

We pass by so many people in the course of the day,
all of whom have unique stories,
thoughts and beliefs.........
thumbprints
connected to how they feel
and to how they view their life.

Last night as we approached the waiting area in the airport that was set aside for the flight to Fredericton, I spotted a woman who spotted me at the same time. Well, actually she spotted my Tim Horton's coffee cup (filled with tea of course since I only like the smell of coffee and not the taste) and commented on her desire to have a typically Canadian Tim's coffee, but would wait until she got home so she could enjoy a smoke with it. Within no time, we were swapping stories. This is a truly typical occurance when one is approaching the waiting area of a flight to anywhere in the Maritimes because there is a lack of pretentiousness and a sense of kinship I rarely find when I'm travelling anyplace else. Maritimers, especially if they know you're one as well, are open books. Even my daughter is aware of this, as she automatically commented that the woman must be from the east coast.

This woman was returning home from a 3 week holiday in Honduras with her husband who was on furlough from Afghanistan. They said their goodbyes in New York City, she returning to their home near Base Gagetown, and he to Kandahar for another 2 months. She shared some pictures of swimming with the dolphins as she talked about how wonderful it was to be in a place nestled on a beautiful beach away from technology and telephones, away from the realities of the dangers her husband faces. Afraid of what may happen, alone in a relatively new part of the country for her without daily contact with her family and friends, she was happy to share some of her story with me as we waited to board the plane.

After the flight landed, she approached me to offer my family a ride home which I declined because we were heading in opposite directions from the airport, and I passed her my email address and names of friends who live near her, who are also connected to the military and who would always welcome her for a friendly cup of coffee. I encouraged her to seek them out...........and to seek me out if she ever finds herself downtown and would like to join me in line at Tim Horton's.

Today, I thought about this woman a couple of times, wondering how she was when she entered her home alone late last night, wondering if I'd hear from her. I think I will, and if not formally, I have a feeling our paths will cross serendipitously. In the hustle of grabbing suitcases, I neglected to ask her what her name was.....but she has mine. I think I'll hear from her.

So often, especially when I'm surrounded by others at an event I wonder and wish I had more time to check out others thumbprints....... because every one of them holds artistic beauty....everyone one of them is a touchpoint to understanding we are all that we have. What is more important?

just what the doctor ordered.......

We spent a beautiful clear blue sky day exploring a small part of Toronto. Together, just the four of us. It was exactly what the doctor ordered. This is a pic of the Toronto skyline taken on the ferry over to Toronto Island.

Every city is made up of pockets of communities, some of which are more enticing than others, some have been created by different cultures who have moved into an area, some are business driven. Others are formed based on interests........the arts, the environment, the lifestyle. I love this aspect of city life, where you can explore the globe within the boundaries of one vibrant city.

Toronto thrives because of her diversity as well as her clearly defined communities.....the Annex, my old stomping ground, full of urban homes renovated and interspersed between the places of higher learning, The Beaches with its yuppified boardwalks along Lake Ontario, Queen Street and it's vibrant night life, Bay Street business, Rosedale set right in the middle of the city with beautiful big homes and many private schools, Spadina the garment district, Little Italy northwest of Bloor Street, Chinatown which is part of and off Spadine, and the The Danforth which is predominantly Greek. There are so many others.......which include the more violent poverty stricken side of the city.........Jane-Finch corridor for example where another shooting just took place.........Regent Park where rundown public housing apartments seem to block off the sun.......

Toronto is a glorious city, one I'm familiar with, and one I call home to despite having lived hundreds of kilometers away from it for a long time. It gets a bad rap from the rest of the country, because there is a sense that the people who live there are myopic in their views. To some extent, it is true. There is a sense that many Torontonians havent a clue how the rest of the country functions or looks like, that what happens within the borders of this city is more important than what happens on the east coast, or on the prairies etc. Never mind.....I always feel welcome when I return. And I love to explore it's little nooks and crannies, which always surprise me.

On Tuesday, my family took a short trip ferry across to the Toronto Islands and met up with a cousin of my husband who has lived there for many years. It is a small community with a core group of people who fought to remain living there despite years when the government only recognized them as squatters. In the ensuing years, the little cottages found on the island were saved by the inhabitants who fought to preserve the ambiance and lifestyle one would normally find on the west and east coasts. They are now considered residents, and many of the cottages have been renovated to accomodate year round living and growing families.

Not one of them were ostentatious whatsoever. In fact, many are small......all are unique in their design and decor, and most are surrounded by beautiful english like perennial gardens, complete with ivy which weaves along the side of the home and through the makeshift arbours. About 300 homes are nestled throughout one end of the island, where no cars are allowed.

We arrived early afternoon and were given bikes to explore the island, which included beautiful sandy beaches, an amusement park area which wasn't open for the season yet, which was fine by us because it allowed us to have the run of the place, a labrynth maze of hedges, a "haunted" lighthouse, flora and fauna and trails that took us to the other end of the island where a small airport is located. The four of us pedalled along enjoying the sun and quiet, and the head clearing views, falling in love with the lifestyle, and chatting about how great it would be to live there............so close to the city, but so far away from the bustle of it.

Just what the doctor ordered. It was a much needed escape from the realities of the week, and we all revelled in the day spent together as well as the time to clear our own heads as we pedalled along.

What was interesting was that wherever we went, the CN Tower loomed in the near distance. This needle in the sky............this technological wonder over the tree tops. It was a strange paradox not lost on us.

Yes, we whiled away a beautiful afternoon where the temperatures where perfect, when the clouds were no where to be seen.........watched the squirrels and birds and just had some downtime together fun. My God, it's been a while.........

All smiles.........

The evening was spent at the Skydome cheering for our Toronto Blue Jays. THEY BEAT the YANKS!! Max and I had made a sign to hold up for a local Fredericton ballplayer whose now a Jay........and our image and the sign was posted up on the JumboTron for all to see....pretty funny.

There are times when I do miss living in Toronto. And this was definately one of them. If you ever have an opportunity to visit this beautifully vibrant city, don't pass it up. And if you do decide to head there, let me know. I'd be more than happy to point you down a few interesting paths.

roots.........and friends.

Years ago when I was 16 or 17, a bunch of girlfriends and I went to a Natalie Cole concert in Toronto at Ontario Place. We took the train in early to assure we would get into the venue, which at the time was an outside "in the round" stage with seats under the roof and grassy hills all around the centre. You paid admission to get into Ontario Place, a touristy spot with lots of attractions, including the concert. So, there were no assigned seats. It was a first come, first in set up, which was why we had arrived mid afternoon for an evening concert. With hours to idle by, we set up our chosen grassy spot to soak in the spring sun, to watch the people come and go and to talk the afternoon away. Never at a loss for words, we surely allowed the conversation to run the gamut of topics which was most likely typical of a bunch of teenage girls.

What I remember of that afternoon was only part of the conversation, which I think began because we were all at a point where we would be moving on beyond high school and dispersing down different avenues. We started talking about the future and where we thought we would be in the year 2000 when the majority of us would be turning 40.


It seemed so far in the future at that time......... 40 ..............holy!.............. so much life to live before then.


Yeah, for some reason, the age 40 seemed like some milestone turning point or something. Perhaps we thought we'd be completely settled and established by then. We knew that we would have had our children if that was in the cards. We figured we'd all be married (to whom was a moot point for most of us then) Our careers would be firmly in place.........all of that. Plus, the whole idea of entering a new millenium seemed so bizarre, like overnight the world would turn into a version of the Jetsons and we'd all be flying around in little space cars living in pods........


And of course, since none of us was clairvoyant, our individual paths ended up quite different than we had anticipated. The new millenium came and went as did age 40, as did the realization that we would continue to drive cars on highways.


The most predominantly longlasting part of that afternoon was the fact that we talked about whether we would be in touch with one another when we turned 40. What would happen to us, we asked.........if we all went in different directions and we weren't in touch with one another for many many years..........could we still phone one another out of the blue many years down the road? It was decided then that


"YES"..........."I will be able to call you when we're 40."


Yesterday, this snippet of life conversation came back to me as I spent hours on the phone with two high school friends, one of whom I havent spoken to since the year I was married 20 years ago, and another whom I seem to only touch base with every 3 or 4 years. In both conversations, we jumped into it like there had been no gap in our connections. In fact, we couldn't talk fast enough........catching up, cracking each other up, spilling out secrets and stories, sharing opinions, asking about others, drumming up memories for one another. It felt completely natural and surreal at the same time.....surreal when I caught myself thinking about how much water had flowed under the life bridge....... natural because there was no effort whatsoever to tap into our common ground.


Obviously we couldn't fill in huge portions of what had transpired over the years apart, but we surely started things up again. More importantly, for me at least these two wonderful conversations linked me back to my roots, to my history in my hometown. It's a funny feeling.........I have lived away in another part of this country for so long now, have established myself in a completely different world, away from these roots, busy being a Mom, a Partner to my husband, a counsellor etc..........I guess I compartmentalized my own past to some extent. I think that happens naturally, especially when you move away or when you have children and your focus for such a long time is on the role of being a parent. You kind of lose yourself in the roles you seem to be playing in your day to day life. Time seems to flash by until a life event like a wedding or a death grabs hold of it and snatches you back to your roots.


"I'll be able to call you when we're 40"..........means......"I will be comfortable enough to pick up the phone after perhaps many years of not communicating and it will be just fine because there will not be any judgement of when or why or how come we didn't stay in touch regularly...... We will be able to pick up and talk openly no matter what." How great is that?


We covered a lot of ground yesterday..........lots of "remember whens," and "whatever happened to..." and "tell me about......." and "did you evers." But, we also shared a few secrets which only girlfriends with a history of being there during those adolescent years when the dramas of relationships and the transition into becoming adults takes precedence. It felt great, and for some reason I think the timing was right to jump back into eachother's lives, all the while reestablishing common ground.

At the core we are the same people. But, we've had time to live and to grow and to realize that "shit happens" that we may not have much control over. We have learned to recognize what is important and what is just the icing not really needed in life. We have accumulated some life lessons which though we may have been acquired in different ways, somehow they have led us to the same learning. Interesting.

Personally, I am left with gratitude and some awe that yes, I have friends whom I will be able to call when I'm 40............er........................wait a minute...............when I turn 50, and they were there when I was becoming "ME."


Sandy and Bonnie..............if you're reading this................. I.S. Flots live on forever. :)

simple pleasures

Shared simple pleasures......these are the stories fondly recalled. It's never the business merger or the long work hours and days away from family and friends. It's the late night starry sky sitting by a lake after a day of fishing. It's the car rides with the whole family stuffed into the car on the way to a vacation destination. It's the bottle of wine and two paper cups to drink from.

It's the hilarity of a late night party, or an ongoing joke shared everytime you meet. It's the stories around the family animals, or the kid's crazy friends who used to drop in on Christmas Eve and never leave. It's the way you celebrated birthdays, or the surprises brought forward by a beautiful winter day. Front porch chats, shoreline strolls, impromptu backyard lingering with the neighbours.

Shared simple pleasures are nestled in the milestones of our lives.............

do you remember.........?

what about the time...........?

one of my favourite memories........?

such fun, wasn't it...........?

I'll never forget..........?

These are the stories fondly recalled. Shared simple pleasures.......are not simple at all because their meaning tap into the richness of our friendships and our connections with one another. It is the gold thread glimmering in our life tapestries. Rather than consider the gold as an decorative accoutrement within the tapestries, we should recognize it as the real story of the legacy we leave behind.

Funny, none of this is ever found on a resume..........

what matters........

"My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together."

Archbishop Desmond Tutu

Communion is a sharing of ideas and of our true feelings through fellowship, while experiencing something together. Events in our lives offer us a platform to recognize that our own humanity is a reflection of the people we share these events with. These reflections have a brilliance to them that is far more revealing than simply looking at our own reflection in the mirror. Sometimes, our personal revelations shock us when we encounter someone from our past we havent seen in a long time, for example.....we may realize that somehow time has slipped by so rapidly in one quick glance at an aging face we almost didn't recognize.

We allow our lives to be jam packed filled with lists of "to dos" which seem to override the meaningful moments when humanity is reflected, when communion happens. Sometimes, we are so full of planning and getting through the day to day stuff that we don't even recognize a moment of communion when it's happening because we aren't "present" to it. We're thinking of other things or rushing to get to another destination.

What is wrong with us? Why do we not stop and take it all in? Is it denial? Fear? Forgetfulness of what is important?

Tonight, I sat in a small theatre to watch my daughter perform in a play. It was a struggle at first to pick myself up for the event because as this one was going on, another one was happening in another province under very different circumstances. My husband and extended family and many many friends were attending the visitation for my father in law. I was feeling quite torn, as I tried to put up a good supportive front for my daughter all the while wondering how things were in Ontario. But, as soon as I walked into the building where the theatre is located, I was surprisingly greeted by parents and colleagues I knew well who also had children and grandchildren in the play. As we waited for the doors to open, we caught up. Many acknowledged the death of my father in law as they had read about it in the newspaper. Their thoughts and genuine feelings truly reflected humanity. As much I had been feeling I belonged with the crew in Ontario, when I stood amongst the people in my community here, I realized I belonged at the theatre tonight as well.

The shocking revelation came when the lights went down and I gazed at my beautiful daughter dressed in a costume, surrounded by a group of young actors whom she has spent one evening a week with since September learning lines and practising new acting skills and realized that somehow she had grown up! (I admit, this is a revelation which seems to happen weekly!!) Her strong confidence and sense of self had somehow evolved when perhaps I was busy crossing things off on my list? It was a very important night for her, and I'm grateful that despite our collective sense of feeling disconnected to the events happening with our extended family, she was able to go on with the show, and I was able to be present to this communion.

Our lives are too busy.......we need to create moments when we can come together with others to celebrate, to recognize, to acknowledge our interwoven humanity in order to be human together.......we shouldn't only do this when an event is foisted upon us. Isn't this the key to a life fulfilled? Shouldn't we be aiming for more moments of honest revelations?

What do you think?

Little boys of summer....

"Marilla, do you think amethysts are made from the souls of good violets?"

I sat on a hill, my bare feet in a patch of violets and new grass.
It was the first time this season to feel the grass between my toes....to revel in the beauty of the tiny violets sprinkled by last year's breezes. My favourite quote from Anne of Green Gables came to mind.

The sun was quickly losing it's heat as it competed with the brisk spring wind. Summer is not fully here yet. It's taking it's time this year to warm up unlike the last couple of years.

But that's alright.

Everything is green again and the little boys are back playing the game of summer.

50 boys have taken the field, excited and thrilled to be back in play....stretching, running, and learning to throw straight. Familiar sounds of the game.......the ping of the bats, and the thunk of the ball landing into the gloves are interspersed with the rabble of the players. The first practise of the year is always the sweetest because it is the one dreamed about and talked about on those snowy January days.

I was not alone on the hill looking down at the diamond Parents mingled casually as they sipped from their Tim Horton's cups. Some had managed to get home and change into jeans and sweatshirts, while others were dressed in their suits and dresses having rushed to the field from work. Our days were different in many ways, but one thing is certain. We were all juggling, working, living, coping, managing, planning, meeting, compromising, interacting, winning, losing.....grinding through a busy day.

But, for 2 hours our busy worlds stopped.......at the ball field. And it felt good.

The day was over and an evening at the ball park put life into perspective. It never fails, I am always struck by the continuity and comfort I find there as I watch my son take his turn practising his swing. Just like I did. Just like his sister does. Just like his aunts still do. Just like my Dad did. We will be seeing them all this weekend, and more than likely baseball will be a major part of our conversations.

Roger Angell, a columnist for the New Yorker and lover of the game writes, "Since baseball is measured only in outs, all you have to do is succeed utterly. Keep hitting, keep the rally alive and you have defeated time. You remain forever young."

ON a day when family members are far away planning the celebration of a life well lived, it is good to spend time with my feet in the grass watching life unfold amongst the flurry of little boys playing a game that potentially can continue into eternity.

Like good violets who become amethysts.
forever young

ps.....Dad, if you're reading this.......Roger Clemens is starting against the Jays on Monday........Max wanted me to point this out to you and to let you know he's quite aware that Clemens will most likely make it into the hall of fame and how thrilling it would be to see the Rocket pitch live. see you Saturday. We will be bringing our gloves just in case anyone wants to throw the ball around in the backyard.

transitions.......of grief

Today was filled with many strong feelings, as we begin to say good-bye. My father-in-law passed away last night. After struggling with many health issues for such a long time, but fighting them with the piss and vinegar he was known for, he quietly fell asleep and found peace.

Peace.

Relief, grief, fatigue, joy, sorrow, confusion, and loss feed all of our brains with an overloaded sense of fogginess. None of us are thinking to clearly and yet, we have to make decisions, and we have to continue go about our lives as we prepare to celebrate his life.

Today, we spoke to many people on the phone. Our families live far away as do many of our oldest friends, spread out across the country. Every single person has their own memories of my father in law......their own "remember whens..." The stories, filled with loss and joy..... stoked us.

This afternoon, I pulled out a big box of photos along with the ones that made it to albums and spent time sifting through 20 years of family events.......weddings, anniversaries, Christmas mornings, births and baptisms, summer beach suppers, birthdays. So many snapshots, each coming alive with conversations. I'm starting to remember.

I'm remembering ......because I had forgotten. The focus has been on failing health, on aging. My father-in-law had been so cognitively distant for so long that I had lost the thread to our many heated debates over current events, his history lessons on Canadian politics, his enthusiasm for a big lobster feed, his gameness to try anything at least once, his love the Hamilton Tiger Cats football team, or his child-like excitement on Christmas morning opening presents, with a cup of coffee and a bloody caesar as a chaser on the side table.


I had forgotten how thrilled he was the first time he met his one and only grand daughter......so thrilled that when he took her from my arms his "swoop" left me in sheer terror that he was going to wing her over his shoulder so hard she'd fly through the air.


The pictures triggered and stoked........the memories.

I took my thoughts out to the garden and while I pulled weeds, I found myself surrounded by several different bird songs.........robins, orioles, sparrows, morning doves, blue jays, chickadees.......music of life all around...... and I was feeling relief along with grief along with appreciation..... As I worked quietly in my garden, I gave over to a free flowing of whatever memories showed up, knowing my father in law is now at peace.

Peace.........peace sung by the birds......

The layers are falling away.........the layers of the most recent years of seeing my father in law declining.....of watching his strength leave him.......to reveal his zest for life. It's all part of my own transition. Living and doing while remembering offers me the thread to my memories which in turn help turn a corner to a place where I can celebrate a life well lived. We all have our own process, our actions may be different I realized today but it's so important to allow all the feelings to surface especially during the time between someone's death and the funeral. I realized how I am, like every member of my family, like all the people who have been touched by my father in law, taking steps closer to being able to celebrate a life well lived.

Tonight, we drove my husband to the airport for the second time in a week. He is on his way home to make plans and to be with his mother and siblings. His best friend is flying in from Delaware to be with him, and we will follow up at the end of the week to take part in the celebration of "Mr. King of the Road," George "Buzzie" Kerr's life. I suspect that a party will erupt in his honour.

But right now, I feel like I've been struck by a transport truck. My heart is heavy and I'm exhausted, as are my sleeping children. Tonight, I will crawl in between them and find comfort.

sisters of mercy......

moonshadow ray offerings

All the sisters of mercy,
They are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me
When I thought that I just cannot go on.
And they brought me their comfort,
Later they brought me this song.
Ah yes I hope you run into them,
You who've been travelling so long.


Yeah, you who must leave everything
That you cannot control.
It begins with your family,
But soon it comes around to your soul.
Well I've been where you're hanging
And I think I can see how you're pinned:
Yeah when you're not feeling holy,
Your loneliness tells you, you've sinned.



They lay down beside me,
I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes,
I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf
That the seasons tear off and condemn
Ah they will bind you with love
That is graceful and green as a stem.



When I left, they were sleeping,
I hope you run into them soon.
Don't turn on the lights,
You can read their address by the moon.
And you won't make me jealous
If I hear that they sweetened your night:
Ah we weren't lovers like that
And besides it would still be all right
Leonard Cohen

This man is brilliant. Lately, I have been listening to a version of this hauntingly beautiful song of redemption and love which was recorded by Sting and it has been floating in my head all week. The lyrics keep returning to me as I wonder about the many people whose lives are so complicated and messed up these days......and who feel a sense of sinned loneliness as Cohen so eloquently expresses. I love the nature images.......the use of the moon as a guide, spring renewal....forgiveness and rebirth.

It is a song of hope for anyone who has found themselves "pinned" by their own sins......who felt the the loneliness of screwing up. We've all been there one way or another.......at different times in our lives. Cohen has offered us a gift to understanding this.

Who are the sister's of mercy? I have a picture in my head of who they are and what they look like, but am wondering what images are conjured up for you when you read the lyrics or listen to the song?

Try it on.........

Canadian Icon Mr. Dress Up
circa early 60's

This is the man who introduced all Canadian kids to the tickle trunk. Mr. Dress-Up and his pals Casey and Finnegan entertained generations of children every morning for years by encouraging kids to pretend and to use their imaginations. His famous tickle trunk was filled with fancy costumes and uniforms along with wands and masks, and swords and hats......shoes for glamour, and shoes for working. His simple successful messages of community and belonging were rolled into his interactions with his buddies and his interactions with the kids sitting in their living rooms.

You can be anything you want to be.

You can do anything you set your heart and mind to.

Try it out

Test the waters

Wear the mask

See if it fits..............juuuuussssstttttt right.

And if it doesn't try another and another and another.........

Social learning, where kids of all ages (including us) acquire knowledge of how to act in a situation or how it feels to be in a situation is an enormously important component of child development. Social learning, through imitation is a chance to not only walk a mile in someone else's shoes, but to understand the way of the world.

Watch a 3 year old play. Uninhibited, stream of words billow forth while the focused little one interacts in her environment. Chances are, you'll see bits of siblings, snippets of grandparents, slices of the important people in their lives mixed into their actions, their reactions, and their words...... They are learning through imitation. Open ended play, using stuff out of the tickle trunk to test the waters and to learn how to be. The more the child's living environment is enriched with opportunities and stimulation the more enhanced the social learning will be.

Observe (without them knowing!!) a group of 8 year old boys play on the playground during recess. Very quickly teams are sorted out for whatever game is hot right then. Comfortable in their roles in their teams, they will assume names of famous sports players, will mimic commentators, set rules and boundaries perhaps like their phys ed teacher...... you can see how they are learning big lessons on the playground.....of what works and what doesn't.

School age kids.........playing house, playing teacher........ building sandcastles, spending the day in a fort, going on a lion hunt......."I'm not afraid....." Its all about trying on a different mask, to see what it's like.

Observe the bully too.......she is the one wearing a mask shrouded in puffed up bravado. Her mask allows her to act out before someone hurts her first. Her mask protects her just like the mask of a goalie. But underneath hers is a wounded little girl who has learned to act out in a bullying way most likely from an important person in her life. Eventually the bully, if she isn't helped to take off this particular mask, will end up all alone with on one to help her learn new ways.

Head over to the Mall on a Saturday afternoon.... See the group of 13 year olds swarming around the front of the arcade? They seem to be dressed the same way.......from the tips of their spiky straight hair down to their shoes. Some let their hair hang in front of their face to hide their insecurities. Some huddle closer together to talk........all standing in the same pose. Bizarre.....they all seem to look like Avril Lavigne.

Check out the boys too.......desperately trying to look cool, wanting to fit in. Some are wearing chains dangling in a loop down their thighs. Bangs hanging in the eyes......scraggly, dishevelled goth wannabes scuffing about while talking in the same intonation.

We are profoundly influenced throughout our lives by the people we encounter. Everything from our interest in different hobbies to the style of dress we eventually choose to wear to the careers we decide upon. We test the waters, try on a few different outfits from the tickle trunk and find out which is the best fit.

Somewhere along the line, we cross it...........and discover our own uniqueness. We find comfort in ourselves, in who we are. This happens at different times for different people. And sometimes, it doesn't happen ever. Have you ever met someone who seemed to be uncomfortable in their own skin? Self conscious to a point where they stammer and struggle trying to find their own voice, they never seem to be able to relax enough to just be themseves........to accept who they are. More often than not however, we all eventually cross that line.

A little bit of this and a little bit of that remained from our learning along the way but it becomes consciously wrapped and woven into our own colourful entity complete with our values and beliefs, our tolerances and intolerances. As adults, we don't tend to wear masks in the same way as children and adolescents do. We tend to wear them to hide from the truth or as a means to shore up our bravado in order to act out. Our masks may cup our darkest secrets. They cover our vulnerable scars or something we feel shameful about. Masks allow us to disconnect with reality, even if it is just for a short escape in order to flirt with fantasy. A recreation of self, a chance to try on something different, to test the waters.....

You can be anything you want to be.......

Test the waters.....

Try it on.......

Go on..............see what fun lies in the tickle trunk.

For more on Masks, check out Sunday Scribblings this week........here's the link........