The Good Mother

If you ask me how many times I am an uncle, I don’t really know for sure. I think it is around fourteen times, give or take a couple. I have had nephews and nieces since I was five years old. Some of them still call me “Uncle Johnny” even though they are over forty.

Being a good grandmother, my mom was often called on to baby sit while their parents were off doing other things. Sometimes this would involve the kids staying at our house overnight.

I learned a lot of things from these experiences.

Manipulation was the first lesson. As the parents were about to leave, their kids often started crying hysterically trying to get them to take them along or to stay. After the drama was over and the parents left, my mother would ignore the act and pretty soon her grandchildren would be quite content in our home. When they calmed down, she would reward them for being so good. The irony in this is that when the parents returned, the act would start again, except this time in reverse. The children wanted to stay with grandma.

My mother instinctively knew when the crying should be ignored. She also had another talent.

When her grandchildren were in the house in another room, she would suddenly say, “I’ve got to go check on them. They are too quiet.” Having had eight children of her own, she had learned instinctively that an unusual silence deserved investigating.

I have read the accounts of parents of children who have committed suicide. Often they mention how their son or daughter became suddenly quiet in their relations with them, but they ignored it, hoping it would pass.

Do you have a friend or loved one who is unusually quiet right now? Then don’t delay. This is the time you should be checking up on them. There is nothing wrong with communicating with anyone if it is done in love.

With You By My Side

With you by my side
There is nothing I can’t try
Because even if I fall
I can get up and stand tall

With you by my side
I can fail and not feel bad
I can honestly be me
And know you accept what you see

With you by my side
There is so much to share
I feel I have so much to give
I have every reason to live

There was a time when I was lonely
I wondered if I would find someone
Now I have someone with whom I can confide
With you by my side
With you by my side

Roller-skating

As a teenager, I went occasionally roller-skating with my youth group to the Mutual Street Arena in Toronto. It was usually packed. The bouncers stopped people from going to fast, but they often were scraping unconscious people off the floor who had fallen and struck their heads.

When I moved to Kitchener, a few of us went during the week to Bingeman Park. Roller-skating was going out of fashion, so we had the place pretty much to ourselves.

It has been over twenty-five years since I last went roller-skating. I went tonight. I’m sure my muscles will feel it tomorrow, but it was great fun.

While I was going around the rink listening to the old songs from my era, I was thinking how people don’t go out very much to have fun any more.

Roller-skating was popular when I was younger. Bowling was another activity you could do. In the winter, there was ice-skating with hot chocolate after. We would also do things like get out a board game or cards.

These activities have some characteristics that seem contrary to what people do for fun in these times.

First, they involve going out with people or being around people of all ages. At the roller-skating young kids were cruising around the rink. We were probably the oldest, but in some ways were just as young as the others. Everybody joined in on the fun.

Second, the events are not centred on alcohol. While somebody may have a drink while he is playing cards, for example, it is not important. It’s funny that we preach drinking and driving responsibly, yet so many activities involve booze.

Third, roller-skating involves getting some exercise. Having had a hip replacement, the muscles in my hip certainly felt it, but it wasn’t painful. I feel invigorated and better for the experience right now.

We are trying roller-skating in our community every Friday night during the month of July. While tonight was the first time in over twenty-five years, I have the feeling that my next outing will be a lot sooner than that.

An Ordinary Day

I have had the good fortune to have some of my articles published on the Internet. Of the 296 pieces, four have appeared on other sites. I have submitted a few others without success.

As I have mentioned before, my commitment is to try to write something almost every day for a year and see if I have enough good work to publish.

Some kind people have mentioned to me that they have enjoyed what I have written, either privately or by leaving a comment.

I have ads on the side and if enough people click on them, I will get paid. Unfortunately, you have to get $100 worth to get any money. Obviously, traffic to my site isn’t that great. Last time I looked, it was at about $35. Unless Oprah mentions me, I don’t think I will get rich.

Still, even if I am exercise my brain to discipline myself to write, that is fine. It is a bonus if it helps others get insights into their lives.

Even if one article gains some prominence, I will be happy.

The way I figure it, I will be about the same as Einstein. Besides the Theory of Relativity, do you know anything else he did?

Does Paul McCartney write a Yesterday ever day? In fact, how many musicians come up with huge volumes of songs? There are many one-hit wonders out there.

So there will be days that will be inspiring, but it is not unusual that many of them will be quite ordinary. However, in my life there is one difference. Most of the time I try to find the extraordinary in the ordinary. If my life is a sponge, I want to get every last drop of water out of it before I die. Thus, I try to approach every day as an adventure. I am looking forward to the future in every sense of the word. I am expecting something good to happen and I am trying not to look behind me. When my ship or ships come in I will be ready for them. Until they do, I will still treasure the days on the dock waiting for them.

The Reunion

I discovered this video today. I can watch it over and over and never tire. To see the joy and love shared between the two men and the lion is amazing. I sometimes experience this feeling meeting old friends and finding that time has not changed our feelings towards each other.

What I find equally interesting is that at the end of the video you see the lion's new friends accepting his old friends. The lion doesn't exclude his new life for the sake of his old. He lets them mix freely in the love that exists.

Finally, if you watch other versions of this video, you will find how much music plays a part in this one. The same footage with other music doesn't have the same impact at all.

I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.

Getting Into The Canoe

I grew up in Toronto. We didn’t have money for very much, but my mother somehow scraped enough together for two weeks in a tiny cabin at Lake Simcoe. It wasn’t close to the beach and walking barefoot across the hot tar to get to it was part of the adventure.

A few years later my brother married Anne, a girl from Rosseau, Ontario. Her parents had a cottage on Lake Rosseau. In fact, it was right next to Lady Eaton’s summer home, now owned by Martin Short. Somehow she was able to give us two weeks in this paradise. We had no car and had to row across the lake to get into town, but we loved the place.

It was here I came to love canoeing. Anne’s brother would cycle out to the cottage and my brother and I would spend hours in the canoes with him pretending we were fur traders or Indians. We even made a totem pole one year.

My love affair with the canoe was not instant. The first time I tried to get into one, I had one foot on the canoe and one foot on the dock. Slowly the canoe started drifting away from the dock. My legs stretched farther and farther apart until I went, plop, down into the water.

The second time, I didn’t do much better. I tried to quickly shift my weight into the canoe and flopped right over the side and into the lake again.

On my third attempt I almost tipped the canoe, but managed to keep it afloat. From that moment on, I got better and better until I didn’t think twice about getting wet.

This experience taught me a few things about life.

To start, you can’t keep your feet on the dock and in the canoe forever. You have to commit to one or the other, and you can’t wait too long to make that decision. If you don’t make up your mind, you won’t achieve the results you would get from either choice. Since the canoe is there, once you decide to put a foot in, though, that should be the focus of your objective unless you find something drastically wrong, like a leak.

Next, when you make up your mind, you can’t simply rush into the decision. It takes some knowledge of what you will do. Even then, you might fail the first time. That doesn’t mean you give up. You just try it again.

Finally, it usually takes practice to learn how to do something easily and efficiently. If that was your objective, it is worth the effort.

Once you are in your canoe, then you have the delight of paddling all over the lake and discovering new territory.

True Friends

Many years ago, I worked for CITV in Edmonton. The owner was Dr. Allard, one of the richest men in Alberta. Apparently he owned a lot of land in Fort McMurray. He certainly had political clout.

As the owner of a television station, he did things that networks dreamed of. He produced an in concert series with popular artists of the day and the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra.

He ruled with an iron fist. The television station was his toy and what he said happened. He cancelled The David Steinberg Show because he felt one comedian’s humour on the show was disrespectful to women. Steinberg went on a rampage claiming censorship and lack of freedom of expression.

On another occasion, a young reporter, who eventually became a well-known journalist in Canada, stood trembling in the master control room. He was interviewing the premier of Alberta, a good friend of Allard, in fifteen minutes and he was told that if he asked anything that embarrassed him, he would lose his job immediately.

It was interesting seeing Dr. Allard come into his empire. People flitted around like birds seeking food at the feeder in our backyard. He was surrounded constantly by smiling people nodding their heads like the figures you see in the backs of cars.

So here he was walking into the master control room while I was doing my job. We chatted briefly. He asked me to explain what I did. Then he asked me a question that could have changed my life in a second.

He pulled out a cigarette and asked, “Do you have a match?” Visions of employees fumbling through their pockets and scurrying like rats in a maze to find the required match jumped into my mind.

But my reply was a bit quicker. I said, “Sorry, I don’t have a match. I don’t smoke. I have asthma and I consider it a disgusting habit.”

I’m glad he was a doctor, because he must have looked at the medical side of my reply and agreed with me with a smile. To me that smile told me that he appreciated somebody who took a risk and told him something he didn’t want to hear.

In St. Marys, I know a similar person. People around him are constantly telling him what he wants to hear.

Call me different, but I know my true friends because they do the exact opposite. Sure, they encourage me and help me fly like an eagle, but they also do something else. They keep me grounded when the flying is too dangerous. They take the risk of telling me when they think I am screwing up. And it is a risk. My reaction might be anger. What right do they have to tell me that? Who do they think they are? How can they understand? Are they trying to manipulate or control me?

Sometimes I want to do the opposite, just to prove them that they are wrong, even though I usually know in my heart that they are right.

Then I start thinking. What do they have to gain by telling me their opinion? The answer is almost always nothing. They may risk losing a friendship, if that is what I decide. Even if I think they are wrong, they have the courage to show me how they feel. They are being open and honest.

I have a few friends who spring to mind that have done just that – Mike, Patti, Brian, Kevin, Bonnie. The first four have made my blood boil at times, but they are treasures because I know that I can trust them enough to say how they feel. And you know what? Their perspective has usually been spot on? Being outside of the situation, they have looked at it with fresh eyes untouched by the emotions that often cloud the issue.

So, if you have friends who always agree with you and seem too good to be true, you are probably right. They are too good to be true. Your true friends will occasionally tell you that you are an idiot and then give you a hug and love you just the same.

Making It Better

“Make it better, daddy!” A child has skinned her elbow. She turns to the person in her life who gives her support and love. The father bends over, inspects the damage and kisses it better. The wound will take days to fully heal, but dad has done what has been asked. He has made the situation better.

Somewhere along the way we lose this childlike innocence. Things go wrong in our lives and we spend time figuring out what is wrong instead of how to make it better.

A few months ago, a couple of my friends and I had a big dispute. One of them ordered me out of his house. I obliged.

Living in a small town, it doesn’t take long to bump into each other now and again. When we do, there is a very terse hello. I’m not even sure I get a reply half of the time.

The thought that keeps running through my mind is going to their front door, knocking, and when they answer, asking, “How do we make it better?”

Life is too short to act with indifference towards people who have played a significant role in it. We all slip and fall sometimes. Nobody is perfect. Are we prepared to ditch all the good for one moment of hurt or will we work towards improving the situation?

Sad to say it is often easier to sit and do nothing hoping that it will all go away. Also fear prevents us from looking for a solution. What if our efforts are rejected? What if we fail?

Even if we merely kiss it better, we are taking steps towards a solution, and if it is a solution we are looking for we usually won’t find it by doing nothing.

Grandma and Grandpa

I had very unusual grandparents. The problem was that I didn’t know it when I was growing up.

They never phoned me. They never hugged me. In fact, they really didn’t talk to me.

When we went to their place to visit, we were allowed in only one room, the kitchen. All others were off limits, including the bathroom. If I had to go, I had to hold it until we got home.

My grandparents had a cottage at Lake Simcoe. We were never invited to stay there.

I never tasted my grandmother’s cooking. The only thing we ate was Kraft caramels. She always tried to get me to take the dark ones, mainly because she didn’t like them. Of course, I didn’t like them either and took the light ones.

Since my dad’s parents were dead, I had nobody to compare with, so I thought all of this was normal. I explained a lot away with the fact that we were a family with eight children and our size prevented us from being invited over for dinner.

When my grandma shook hands, she went sideways, not up and down like most people. The result is that a handshake sort of went around in circles.

When she sneezed, she didn’t go “Ah-choo!” It came out “Ah-chism!”

The one thing I did find unusual, though, is that I never got a birthday card or gift from them. The same went for Christmas.

One of our Christmas Day traditions was going to my aunt’s house for lunch. One year we arrived when my cousins and their children were there. My grandmother and grandfather arrived. What happened next shocked me. They started handing out presents to their other grandchildren and their great grandchildren, but not to me.

My mother explained that I should remember all the gifts I got every Christmas, which was true, but it wasn’t the gift that bothered me. It was the fact that for some reason I was not the same as her other grandchildren. I didn’t even rate with her great grandchildren. I had to sit there silently as they opened their gifts with glee. I tried to melt into the sofa.

My only regret is that my grandparents died before I was old enough to ask them why they acted the way they did. I am pretty sure that it had nothing to do with me. I think they were punishing my mother for not being a “good girl” like her sister.

When it comes to gift giving, I am still a bit awkward, but I can tell you this. Wherever I am, I make sure I have something for everyone in the room.

This experience has also taught me to focus on what I have and not to expect anything from everyone. That is why I love getting gifts. The ones I prefer are those that are not on any special day that are given out of obligation. They are the ones that come spontaneously. They are the ones that say that I am special.

A Second Opinion

I am definitely a Kamikaze clicker. The result is that I know many applications at an advanced level. This is not because I am so intelligent. I have merely made almost every mistake you can make and have learned in the process.

I did it again! I shut off my power a fraction of a second before Windows XP had shut down. The result was that my Windows would not load again. It suggested I load it in Safe Mode and a few other options. I tried them all, but I always took me around in circles right back to where I started.

The same thing happened to me a few months ago. I phoned Hewlett Packard, the manufacturer of the computer I own. My warranty had run out and I had to pay a service fee.

My first call was actually placed to India. The person’s knowledge of English was not acceptable, which didn’t give me the confidence to accept the advice. I decided to wait until Monday morning and get another representative.

On Monday, I talked to a Canadian representative. After about an hour on the phone trying this and that, the computer geek declared my computer fried and said I would have to reinstall everything. I had my documents backed up, but I had done this several months previously, so I lost a lot of things. He convinced me that I had no other option. I believed him. I paid about $60 to hear what I didn’t want to hear. It’s like taking somebody out to lunch and paying for it only to hear she is breaking up with you.

I spent a sleepless night last night knowing I had done the same thing again. Although I had a backup from two weeks ago, I didn’t look forward to the long process of reinstalling everything.

I tried calling the Kim Komando show. She’s a female geek or a geek goddess who is on the radio Saturday mornings. I couldn’t get through.

As you may know, I live in the humble town of St. Marys, Ontario, population 6,500. We have a computer store called The Source. It is part of a chain, but I think we have the best one in Canada. Bill owns it. Bill also knows computers very well. When I called him, he assured me that he could solve my problem.

You know what? He was right. He rewrote the registry, whatever that means, and I am back in business. He charged me $50 to do something that the mighty Hewlett Packard organization couldn’t do for $60.

It just goes to show you if somebody tells you that something can’t be done, keep trying until you find the person who can do it. Everything is possible. It’s just that some people just don’t know how. Find the ones who do and you will be more successful in life.

Some Dreams

I had an amazing thing happen to me this week. I had given my résumé to somebody a few months ago and did a follow-up without much success. It appears that she passed it on to a company and I am having a job interview today.

The lesson I have learned is that if you sit and do nothing, the result will be nothing. If you sow enough seeds, some of them may grow.

So here are some seeds that I am sowing today. They are dreams that I have. If anybody can pass them on to somebody who can then pass them on to people that can make them happen, do it.

∙ I would like to have Loreena McKennitt come to our front porch to have tea. Since she lives in Stratford, which is only a few kilometres up the road, this is quite possible. So if anyone knows her, get her to contact me.

∙ Does anyone know Bryan Adams? I think it would be great for him to do a live concert on the streets of St. Marys. I haven’t the money to pay him. It would have to be something for a charity or somebody would have to sponsor him. Perhaps he could shoot a video here. Our town is really that beautiful. If I can’t get Bryan Adams, Foreigner will do.

∙ St. Marys has a beautiful opera house. Right now it is apartments, and pretty ugly ones at that. I am looking for somebody who has about $10 million dollars to buy the building and restore it back to its original look as an opera house. My thought is to turn it into the Grand Ol’ Opry North, booking some of the top country acts. Possible owners could be Elton John, Paul McCartney or Shania Twain, but any multi-millionaire will do.


That’s about it for now. If anyone can help me with any of these dreams, email me at stevensj5@hotmail.com.

The Wobbly Knees

What a name for a slow pitch tournament! I’m not sure if it refers to how tired you will be after playing many games in a weekend or how you will be after frequenting the beer tent too much. Whatever the meaning, our team was one of the entries my first year of playing softball in St. Marys.

Leading up to the tournament, the players were pretty excited, but about the wrong thing. They kept on mentioning that event would be pretty great because there would be a beer tent.

I was new to the team. I was over 50 and the next oldest player was 28. Still, I had to say something. My speech went like this.

“I’m over 50 years old, yet I will be trying my hardest to win this tournament. I really believe we have a chance. At the end of the weekend I will be very sore, though. However, if the object of entering is to drink beer, let me know and I will stay home. Anyway, you need to learn that the beer will taste better if we win.”

I went on to explain how I had been in an Alberta final a few years ago and our best hitter was drunk on the field. We lost the game in extra innings. I vowed never to let that happen again.

They looked at me as if I was suddenly painted with polka dots. Who was this guy? Didn’t he know that a St. Marys team had never won this tournament? My response was that only one beer between games was fine, but if the team wasn’t trying to win, then count me out. They saw that I was serious.

Our first game was relatively easy, but the second was against a team called Pond Scum. I don’t know why they came up with this name, but they had been the finalists the year before and had won a tournament or two this year. Our team responded with a win. Personally, I rapped a triple that scored two runs late in the game.

The players heeded my advice. I saw few of them in the beer tent and if they did sit down, they only had one.

This story has a happy ending. Our team, the Marauders, became the first team from St. Marys to win The Wobbly Knees tournament, beating Pond Scum once again 8-0. More important, the players found that by placing a vision of our winning in front of them and working towards it increased our chances of winning. The focus became the games and not the beer tent.

They learned that keeping your eye on the prize and not letting anything divert your attention from it is what is needed for success.

Oh, and even though I don’t personally drink beer, every player came up to me after the final game and told me that the beer, indeed, tasted better after winning.

The Family Secret

For many years I knew there was a family secret. I had no idea what it was, but I knew it was there. I could see it every time my father looked at my mother and when she looked at him. I could see it in my brothers and sisters. I somehow got the feeling that I was the only one who didn’t know it.

There were moments that I figured it was my imagination getting the better part of me. If something were important, I would certainly know, wouldn’t I? But that didn’t stop the deep feeling that there was something I should know that I didn’t.

When I was twenty-six years old, my mother and I went through a period when we didn’t speak. She blamed me for the death of my dog and basically said that she didn’t love me. I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. I decided to let her make the first move.

Months passed. One of my sisters phoned me to ask what was happening between my mom and me. I told her the story, and then I asked her the question. I asked her what the family secret was – the one that nobody had told me. Her response was, “You don’t know?”

As long as I can remember, my father had gone away every weekend. If Christmas Day occurred on a Saturday, he would stay home until after the evening meal and then leave. I found out his reason for leaving was that he lived with another woman on weekends. I also found out that when he died, my mother had to put up with her being at the funeral. She had a son about my age. I eventually asked one of my brothers if he was my stepbrother. The answer was that he wasn’t.

I actually met this woman at my dad’s funeral. This unknown person came up to me and said, “You must be John.” She told me how my dad often talked about me. I didn’t add one and one.

I still remember my mom’s face every Sunday evening as the hour approached for my dad’s return. She would try to put a positive spin on it by giving us cake and sometimes ice cream while we watched Ed Sullivan on the television. My dad would come home and not much would be said.

When I finally found out the truth, I was relieved, yet sad. I wasn’t angry.

I was relieved that I finally had an explanation for all of the times I asked my dad if I could go with him and got a no. I also understood why he couldn’t help with driving for the softball tournaments our team went to.

I was sad that my dad was such a loser. I realized that I never really knew the man who was in our home during the week. That wasn’t him. There was this secret double life that he led.

He could have taken me aside and told me the truth, but he didn’t. How many times had he looked at me in his life knowing that he was living a lie?

How many tossed baseballs and footballs did he miss out on? How many times could he have played hockey with me? What pride could he have had knowing that he was shaping his son to be somebody special in the world?

He preferred to be somebody he wasn’t. I’m sure there were reasons that my father left my mother for another woman. However, he lost his own life with his family. He abandoned us and destroyed the respect and trust that he could have had. Had he told the truth, he would have known that our feelings, whatever they were, were based on reality, not some mythical man who watched Red Skelton every Tuesday night.

I can deal with the truth effectively. Trying to deal with the unknown is like playing a pinball machine blindfolded. You can participate and work the flippers, but you are not playing the game with all the information you need to succeed.

Here’s the funny thing, though. Once my suspicions have been validated, I wonder if there are any other family secrets I don’t know that will illuminate my past. Why do I ask? Because I just feel there are.

Two Great Men

These two great men have influenced history. They were born centuries apart, yet both have similarities that made them different from other people. They are Jesus and Gandhi.

Both wore similar clothing, loose garments and sandals. In fact, Gandhi wove his own cloth. Contrast this with the “dress for success” attitude we have today. We work hard to have a “look”. These two men didn’t.

We don’t really know what Jesus looked like. Films usually portray him as being handsome. Gandhi was far from the dashing figure that women would swoon over.

They used simple methods when teaching. They didn’t use multimedia presentations. They didn’t lecture in universities. They mainly talked to people. Scribes tended to write down what they said instead of their writing books.

Both of them were all about truth and loving your enemy. Gandhi refused to press charges against a white mob that tried to lynch him. Those in authority did not like the message of either man. Social injustice was high on their agendas.

Both of them didn’t really perform the job they were trained to do. It is said that Jesus was a carpenter. Gandhi was a lawyer. Both spent most of their time working on causes they believed in.

And they both had people follow them because of what they believed in. They were not influenced by what others thought. They did what they believed in. Not only did they talk the talk, they walked the walk.

Unfortunately, both were killed by those who were threatened by their ideas.

Why do I write about these two men tonight? They are so different from what we are teaching about what greatness is in the world today. Think of the people that our youth aspire to become. Who are the people who tend to get the most media attention? It is often people with lots of flash and little substance. Sure, there are a few exceptions like Nelson Mandela, but compare him to the hype given David Beckham, Paris Hilton, Hannah Montana and others.

I leave you with this quote from Gandhi: "As soon as we lose the moral basis, we cease to be religious. There is no such thing as religion over-riding morality. Man, for instance, cannot be untruthful, cruel or incontinent and claim to have God on his side."

And one that Jesus told his followers, "You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free" (John 8:32).

As I said, they talked the talk and walked the walk.

Tattoos

I am not a fan of tattoos. No use beating around the bush. Here’s why.

The main reason is that I believe that we have been already fantastically made and don’t need somebody we don’t know adorning our body with something permanent we may regret in time. I think a lot has to be said for natural beauty.

I know that there are parents who agonize over their kids following the crowd. I sympathize with them. It is his or her body, so you can’t prevent somebody from getting a tattoo, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel good about it if you don’t.

Just think if I had enough money to buy the Mona Lisa. If I owned it, I might decide to paint a moustache on her lip. I know a lot of people may be upset, but if I owned the painting, I could do with it as I wish. To add my personal touches to this masterpiece would be crazy.

That’s the way I feel about the human body and that’s the way I feel about tattoos. Why alter the master artist’s work?

The second reason is the reason people get tattoos. Years ago, few would have considered it. Then why, suddenly, is it so popular?

One is that many celebrities are seen with them. I get the feeling that people want to appear trendy. Hey, if Angelina has one, I have to get one.

Next, is the effect of television. Several programs glamorize the process of getting a tattoo. Not one of the few I have seen shows somebody regretting it. I wonder why? They are selling the sizzle, not the steak. Get a tattoo and you are suddenly trendier and sexier. Really? Sure, just like drinking beer makes your lifestyle better. You don’t see many beer ads depicting drunks, do you?

The fourth thing I see is the “I’m bored, so I’m going to do something bold so people will talk about me” syndrome. Some think it can be fun doing something, especially if they know it will push somebody’s buttons. Six months later they may want another one or something more extreme to generate attention.

I get a bit of a laugh when some people announce to me that they just got a tattoo. I ask, “Where did you get it?” Usually they reply that it is somewhere where you don’t see it that easily. Is it me or does that statement not make much sense? Why get something then try to put it in an inconspicuous place? If I bought a Jaguar car, I wouldn’t park it where others might not notice it.

What would I say if my wife wanted a tattoo? I’d tell her to go ahead if she really wanted to, but to do so with the knowledge that it would be a turn-off to me. It’s much the same if she decided that she wanted to smoke. I wouldn’t be in favour of it. She would have the right to do whatever she wanted, but I would be honest about my reaction. Then she would have to decide.

However, why not a compromise? Why not consider non-permanent transfers?

Come to think of it, we had a dispute over a similar issue once. I do not support fur and she wanted to attend a function with a mink stole. My position was firm. She was welcome to go, but if she wanted to wear the fur, she would be going alone. Ouch! That was a difficult one. It ended up that I went alone.

I guess it comes down to this. We all have the right to do whatever we want. Nobody can force us to do anything, but we can choose out of love to consider another person’s feelings towards something. I know that my wife would have no problem wearing furs in the winter. I love the fact that she understands the importance of this issue to me and refrains from donning pelts.

In a similar manner, I heed her advice on what I wear and how my hair is styled. I don’t want merely to look good to her, but for her as well.

Yes, it may be a small sacrifice, but that is what love is, right? If I truly love, it’s not all about me.

Committing to your dreams

“If you don't invest very much, then defeat doesn't hurt very much and winning is not very exciting.”
Dick Vermeil

I grew up in a large family. I am the youngest of eight children. My mother raised us by doing odd jobs here and there and with a small amount of money my father gave her each week to run the household.

I have no problem believing the story of how Jesus fed 5,000 with a few fish and loaves of bread. Somehow my mother was able to provide for us with very limited resources week after week.

Along the way, I was taught that success meant sacrificing something along the way to meet your goal.

For example, I knew that I would have to fund my own tuition, books and transportation to university. While my colleagues at school had money to go to movies and do other things, I didn’t want to dip into the money I had saved for my higher education. As well as being shy, I didn’t have any money for dating. If I did take someone out, it didn’t cost very much. It was often easier to stay at home and not go out. Anyway, if I had to have a fancy car, smart car or spend a lot of money on someone, they didn’t get who I was. Things don’t define me.

The result is that my university degrees mean a lot to me. Do I think I am smarter or better than everyone else? Not at all. What’s important is that I set a goal, charted the course and stuck with it until I reached my destination. That is the greatest thing I learned.

When I got into sport administration, I found out the amount of time athletes in some sports train, often at unsociable hours. Figure skaters sometimes have to skate very early in the morning. Gymnasts practice for up to six hours a day. Swimmers are in the pool constantly. They usually sacrifice any semblance to a normal life to reach their goals.

However, in today’s world there seems to be the idea that we should have it all and without any sacrifice. We were musing today at our bed and breakfast at how some of the great comedians of yesteryear honed their skills in Vaudeville. In today’s culture, you go into a studio and produce a video that looks slick. You get well known by being infamous rather than famous.

The key in the quote is the satisfaction you get or don’t get by committing to your dream. That’s the part where many people fail. They allow things into their lives which divert and take away from that dream. When this happens, it is often sad. People miss out on what could be potentially some great moments because they are unwilling to pay the price for success.

To Call or Not to Call

I have subscribed to Skype. I tried it once and ignored it. It allows free voice communication and video between people who are subscribed anywhere in the world. Guess what? You can do the same thing on MSN Messenger or Yahoo.

What I didn’t look into was the ability to phone a regular phone from my computer. The quality is quite good and the cost is substantially less. I can phone anywhere in North America for as long as I want for $1.52 a month.

When you get a new car, you want to drive it everywhere. I get the same feeling with Skype. With this new-found freedom, I search my mind for people I can phone.

There’s the dilemma. In life we move on. Episodes often end. You move away from people and their memory fades into the background. Is there any use of calling up people from our past?

When I lived in Edmonton, there were about five or six single people who used go out on a mass date. We would get together for a function and hang out together. Many of them thrust books into my hands and told me to read them. It was sort of like Seinfeld ahead of its time.

I am tempted to call some of these people, but I ask the big question. Why? I have fond memories of these friends. We had great times together, but that chapter in my life is finished. Is there any purpose of reopening it? Sure, a phone call to say I still remember is nice, but will it be like fireworks going off, one brief flash, only to fade away quickly.

However, there is one motivation that interests me. I love hearing stories about people. I learn from them. Often they give me insights. Is that being selfish?

Perhaps some of them are going through a rough patch and a call from the distant past telling them that they are still remembered fondly might encourage them.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps I’ll just listen to my inner self and listen for the voice to let me know when and if it is time to contact someone.

My Journey

I am still on my pursuit of trying to write an article a day in my blog for a year. The feedback from some is that they enjoy reading it.

There have been some days when I couldn’t wait to get to my computer and start writing. Other days have been rather ordinary. Sometimes I have had to drag myself to my office, staring at the monitor until some idea hits my brain. A few times, I just didn’t have it in me at all.

Today it struck me that it is a lot like taking a journey.

In the beginning, I was all fired up and had lots of energy. The vast wealth of ideas that are in my life was untapped. Every new day was fresh and the thrill of the project kept the juices flowing.

As time went on, some of that energy waned. The well of potential articles dried up. Each day meant pressing on towards the destination step by step. Often nothing that exciting happened to stimulate me to write anything profound. It’s like the feeling of being on a major highway like the 401. The scenery goes by, but it isn’t really that memorable. Still, once in a while something happens that wakes me up and is quite profound.

Along the way, I have encountered situations and people who have been sources of inspiration.

And I keep pressing on towards the destination. I have come this far. The end is near, so I might as well keep pressing on. When the year is finished, I will still probably write in my blog, but only when I feel moved to do so. I will certainly have a bit of a celebration to make the end of the journey.

This journey has been a lot like life, too. Between the highlights there is a lot of ordinary stuff that has to be dealt with. It is not all fireworks, but that doesn’t mean we don’t try to light off a few along the way.

It’s sort of like owning a dog and being a responsible owner. The pooch may be a great source of joy, but once in awhile you have to pick up the dog poop.

The funny part in all of this is that I have no idea how many hitchhikers I have picked up along the way. Some may just stay for part of the trip. A few have read every article. Those who have sent notes of encouragement have been appreciated, sort of like stopping at a rest stop along the way for a bite to eat, a washroom break and stretching the legs.

Regardless, I will reach the end and we will see what happens. I have thoughts of compiling the best and see if they could be published. A reader from Japan has already told me that she will order a book. Thank you, Nelly. Meanwhile, for those who are my passengers, I hope that you are enjoying the drive.

Drive

Every time I hear the song Drive by The Cars, I can’t help but remember the CBC video that was broadcast during the Live Aid concert in 1985.

I actually met Colin, the videotape editor who put it together. He edited the pieces to the music one night after a day’s shooting in Ethiopia during the famine.

It is a great example of how placing music and its lyrics and images together can have a powerful impact on an audience.

After this video was shown at Live Aid, the donations jumped dramatically. I have been told that many of the artists and crowd were weeping.

What many don’t know is that it almost never got shown. CBC News correspondent, Brian Stewart, I believe, gave the clip to Bob Geldof. When David Bowie saw it, he insisted that it be included and shortened his set to accommodate the video.

In case you haven’t seen it, I have put the link below.



When I view it, aside from the emotion that is generated from the production, I find the crowd reaction unusual. They applaud and cheer at the end. I would have expected a more sombre response. If you actually go to the You Tube site where the clip is stored, many of the comments are talking about how they like the song. They seem to have missed the point.

In 2001, I met a medical doctor who worked for the Department of Foreign Affairs. While not critical of things like Live Aid, he mentioned the reality that the world faced when dealing with situations like the famine in Ethiopia. While it is important to feed the starving people, it is also important to find some long-term solutions. If you don’t, the very fact that you have kept people alive will make the next famine even worse. A more colossal fundraising effort will have to be mounted. And if you merely feed the people without finding the solution, the problem becomes greater next time.

There are many agencies out there. They are all trying their best. Part of the problem is that the aid often doesn’t get to the people it is intended. I wish I had the answers. But unless we ask the questions, we will never solve the riddle. One of the issues being talked about more and more is the sustainability of the world. Just how people can we feed, especially if the world has a bad year for crops?

My Guitar

I won’t be long writing my blog. You see, tonight is a perfect night to sit on my front porch and play my guitar. It’s been a hot day and the cool air from the river is wafting up on the veranda.

I started playing guitar about 20 years ago. There were several years where I hardly picked it up after the first couple of terms of taking it at night school. I had gotten to the point where there were chords I just couldn’t play and I was getting tired of playing songs with only three or four chords. Also, I was frustrated because many songs I wanted to play were too difficult.

It wasn’t until I started substitute teaching that I grabbed my guitar and started playing it again.

I take it to school for several reasons.

To start, it is a hook that helps get the kids quiet. If they want to hear me play, they have to be quiet and finish their work early.

Next, it relaxes me. Substitute teaching is not easy. Some classes put me through the paces. Cradling my instruments in my arms takes my mind off the problems around me. The music takes me away to another place. Concentrating on the strings makes me focus on the immediate task, not all the other stuff that is happening around me.

Third, often I have time at school where I have a spare, but have nobody to talk to. This gives me something to do.

You know what? Through the years I have slowly gotten better. Songs that were a mystery for me are suddenly playable. How I got to this more elevated level, I don’t know. It has been one small, unrecognizable step after another.

Now my guitar is one of my best friends. So, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment with it on my front porch.

Is Love an Illusion?

Is love an illusion? That is a very interesting question. My answer, in one word, is yes. It is an illusion, but not in the way you might think and not in the literal sense. It is not fake. Here is my take.


With this entry is a picture of an optical illusion. At first glance you see one thing. As you look longer, you see another. I think love is like that. If what you see is so obvious and understood, then it is not love. It is only when you don’t fully understand it that you see its magical qualities. Let me give an example.

When I was a student at the University of Alberta, some friends did things from time to time that helped me immensely. They invited me into their homes for meals. One man gave me $800 for a vehicle I was only asking $400 for. They were showing love for no reason at all. How could they benefit from what they gave me? I had nothing to give in return. In fact, I have lost touch with all of them. They gave to me with no apparent gain at all.

That is part of the secret. If you are giving because of what you might get, then you are only bartering.

Real love is much more mystical than that. It doesn’t make sense at all. It just is. And it is when you don’t understand it that you know it is real.

Let me give you an example from literature. It is from A Tale of Two Cities. In the book, Sydney Carton exchanges places with Charles Darnay, who happens to be married to Lucie, the woman he wanted to marry before she chose Darnay.

His giving his life to his rival doesn’t make sense. Carton could have easily let him die and could have looked forward to consoling Lucie. That would have made more sense. I would have understood that. He does the one thing that will separate him for life from the woman he loves. As he steps into the cart going to the guillotine, he consoles a young woman who faces the same fate.

It is when Carton’s love is understood the least that it is at its greatest.

During the Second World War a pastor did something similar. The children were separated from the adults to be sent to the gas chamber. Many were crying. He asked to go with the children so he could comfort them in their final moments. They were going to die anyway. Why would he do this?

What is even more unusual is that people often reject the love they don’t understand for that very reason. They don’t understand it. Someone pays attention to me and makes me feel good for selfish reasons and I think it is love. Another doesn’t give into my every whim, knowing that to do so isn’t in my best interest and I don’t feel so positive.

Yes, love is certainly an illusion in the magical sense. If you ever have the privilege to experience it, recognize it for the fullness that it is and never let it go.

My Best Gifts

I always get nervous when I give gifts. When I was growing up, my mother had no problem passing her judgement on what she received. She didn’t do it purposely, but it often hurt when she showed her displeasure. It made giving her something the next time all that more difficult.

I learned a valuable lesson when I was going to the University of Alberta about gift giving.

I was poor when I met Marion. We briefly dated for a few months until I moved away from Edmonton.

I had so little money I had to tell her that if she didn’t take me out sometimes, we wouldn’t see each other that often. Many of our dates were Dutch treats.

Still, I wanted to do things that pleased her. I had to be creative.

One time I wanted to give her flowers. I know many men who woo their women by swooping down to a flower shop and getting a dozen roses. Some will buy a single stem from a wandering seller at a restaurant. Oh, how romantic – and how predictable.

Marion got flowers from me. Hers were handpicked wildflowers from fields in Alberta. There was one other fact that touched her heart about my gift. I had allergies to the flowers I picked. I handed them to her with tears streaming down my face and sneezing.

On Valentine’s Day, I figured I should get her a box of chocolates. Having no money, I did the best I could. I bought a candy bar, gift-wrapped it including a bow, and handed it to her with a card I had made myself. Again, she was touched by what I did.

Having lived in Ottawa, I have seen many company executives with their trophy wives. They supply them with a lavish lifestyle, but just how deep is their love. It reminds me of my teenage years when the guys with the nicest cars often got the prettiest girls. How shallow!

In my books, love is greatest when it involves sacrifice. When you give until it hurts, then you are really giving. If you give out of a great surplus, with plenty left over for yourself, then that isn’t so impressive.

Many mothers get this. Their homes are adorned with crafts made by their children at school, pictures posted on a fridge that have more value to them than an original Picasso.

So, you may never get that wonderful $3000 necklace you saw in a jewellery store from me. What you will get is one that I personally made with beads from a dollar store. And if you see more value in the $3000 necklace, then you just don’t get it. You just don’t understand the value of what a real gift is.

Noise

In the past couple of decades the anti-smoking lobbying group has made great strides in changing the attitude of our society towards smoking. It has been all for the better. People can still smoke if they wish. They just can’t do it in a place where others have to breathe the second-hand smoke.

The next frontier that needs to be tackled is noise. It seems as if some people feel it is their right to make as much noise as they wish. There are people in St. Marys who are inconsiderate when it comes to making a racket. And often they do it with the blessing of the Town.

In mid-July the Kinsmen club in town is going to have three days of a beer tent. Along with the tent will be bands playing until one in the morning. The best they can say is that the hope that the people in the neighbourhood will be understanding.

Guess what? I don’t understand.

I don’t understand why they want to deprive a whole neighbourhood of sleep for three days. If it was only for one, I could suck it up and put it behind me. It all starts on a Thursday and Friday is a workday.

I don’t understand why they are not using the air-conditioned arena. Our town has just spent 14 million on this facility. Why can’t they use this? Sure, it may not be a beer tent, but I don’t think it would hurt the sales that much and the Kinsmen wouldn’t be bothering anybody indoors.

One of my concerns is the message that this gives to the youth of our town. It says that it is OK to disrupt a neighbourhood until one in the morning without consideration of the people who live there. I could take it until eleven at night, but one in the morning is a bit much.

In past years, the music of the bands has gone for blocks. Underage drinkers have been seen partying on their front lawns. Way to go Kinsmen! You’re really doing a good job of promoting good values in our youth.

So what is the purpose of this beer tent? Well, it is one of their major fundraisers of the year. I’m sure it is and I’m sure the money is used for a few good things.

But I know that one of the main purposes of the people who go there is to drink beer excessively and hang out with friends, something that could be done indoors. Again, another example of promoting positive images for the youth within the community. It is OK to get plastered as long as the money is going to a good cause.

It seems as the wishes of the few, the majority who don’t live in the area, will be followed instead of those who want peace and quiet at night.

So, why not get some people involved to protest? I will test the waters with a few people, but many are afraid to stand up for their rights, which is another problem with our society.

Fortunately this year I won’t be in St. Marys for most of the beerfest.

Just like second-hand smoke, I don’t think I should be forced to listen to second-hand sound.

Erosion

Things never stay the same. Change is inevitable in life. It is how things change that makes the difference.

I can imagine how difficult it must be for people to deal with a sudden death in the family. The change in their lives will be dramatic. They can’t control it, so they have to deal with the situation that is placed in front of them.

That is not what I am talking about today. I am dealing with the change we want to see in others.

If somebody wanted to see changes in you, what would you prefer that they do? Would you want them to take a chisel and chip large hunks off of your ego or would you rather they take sandpaper and gently work on the flaws that way?

Think of yourself as a large truck pulling a heavy load. What will happen if you suddenly take a sharp turn? Wouldn’t you rather take that turn nice and slow? The other option is to lighten the load to make it easier to turn suddenly.

When I was a younger, I was hyped up a lot of the time. My body was ready to spring into action immediately. Through the years, I have gradually learned to take a more relaxed attitude towards life. There have been some shocks along the way that have jolted me, but it has been mainly a process of learning along the way. The sandpaper has gently rubbed me through the years and I have learned to take life less seriously without losing the passion.

If this is the way that we prefer change happening to us, perhaps we might think of this and exercise patience (isn't love patient?) when we want to see change in others.

Deal with it

Just as she was about to go home, her boss called her into the office. It appears as if her boss, a woman, wasn’t happy with the job she was doing.

There were some problems with the situation. Some of the points that were made happened two years or several months ago.

Tell me, what kind of a boss doesn’t deal with a situation, holding on to it then throwing it into somebody else’s face. In my opinion, this is not effective leadership.

When there is a problem that you don’t like, it is up to you to communicate to the person what it is. This clearly wasn’t done.

There are real dangers in letting something fester for a long time. The first is that what was once something small can become infected and grow. The second is that precious time that could have been spent correcting it in the bud has been wasted.

Many of us do this. A delicate situation comes up and we push it into the background instead of dealing with it. While invisible, dust swept under the rug doesn’t go away. Isn’t it easier to deal with it when it is first a problem and fresh in everyone’s mind?

The Standard

Long ago people started measuring things. For example, a cubit was the distance between your fingertips and your elbow. A foot was, well, the length of a foot. The only problem was that the measurement would vary, depending on the person. Someone along the way decided that it would be a good idea to standardize all weights and measures.

In a similar way, through the ages people have come up with rules and codes for life, starting with the Hamurabi Code, the first written laws in history. Why was this necessary? If there were no standard, then what was right or wrong would depend on individual interpretations. The result would be that everyone would find a way to turn everything to justify his or her actions without any consideration that it might be bad for society.

We still have an accurate system of weights and measures. In fact, with our modern technology, they are probably more precise than they have ever been.

As far as our moral standards, we are all over the map. There are explanations to justify anything. As somebody wise once told me, “If you don’t stand for something, you will fall for anything.”

This is happening in our courts. Somehow killing people is not as significant as it used to be.

In our churches, the Bible used to be the standard. More people know more about the Da Vinci Code than what is in scriptures. The pastor of our church is being terminated. One of the reasons is that he is preaching from the Bible as if it were true. People don’t seem to accept it. Basic Christian values don’t seem to belong in many Christian churches.

I see it in our classrooms, too. The concept of making someone feel guilty of a violent act is discouraged. When I reported a child punching another in the stomach, I felt that he was let off the hook too easily and that the administration was upset at me for reporting it.

When are we going to get back to having character? Sure, there are many reasons why I can do something that is wrong. There is one reason I can do something that is right and that is because it is right. It may mean standing alone against the crowd.

But, whose standard do we use? Unfortunately, it seems we have gone back to ancient times in how we measure right and wrong. The distance between my fingertips and elbow may be different from yours, so what you consider right may be different than what I do. That is unless we agree to accept a common ground for defining what is good for society.

Building a Team

Think you can do it alone? Go ahead. To succeed at most things in life you will need some help. In my experience I have learned there are many ways to help build the team that will win the game.

If you have the luxury to select team members who have the same vision as you do and accept your leadership, go for it. Governments surround themselves with buddies. Companies often use nepotism to gain this loyalty. The only problem with that is when people are not selected for positions based on ability, the output of others may be reduced. The best situation is to be able to select qualified people to work for you.

It reminds me of one of my favourite movies, The Seven Samurai. Bandits are attacking a small Japanese village. The citizens don’t have the money to hire an army. They only can hire seven samurai to defend against over a hundred. The blend of specialized skills of each person defeats the larger group. Their differences bound together created an invincible force far stronger than their individual talents.

Sometimes you don’t have the luxury of selecting others. You come into a situation where you have to work with what you have.

One strategy is to get rid of all the people who block your progress. This is the “my way or the highway” approach. If you choose to go in this direction, you better make sure you have the power to do so. You also need to have the right people ready to step up and fill the gaps. The hope is that by getting rid of the select few, the others will fall in line.

If you were building a wall, it would be like replacing some stones and chipping away at others so they fit in.

Another way to build your wall is to use the stones you have, align them carefully and allow cement to fill in the cracks. While this is usually the most difficult method of building the team to meet your goals, it can be the most effective. You are drawing on the strengths of others. Their individuality is celebrated and encouraged. They feel empowered. Rather than knocking people down and trying to change them, you are helping them fit into the big picture.

The cement is an important part. In fact, it’s a role I love to play when I am in groups. If the members need a laugh, I provide it. If people need to get focussed, I help them. The beauty is that I don’t even have to be the leader. I can have the fun of giving a positive identity to the team while working quietly in the background.

If you look at successful sports teams, they are like this. They are individuals with some common bond and goal, not a group who are bullied into doing something a certain way. When the coach is hired, the team is already there. He has to work with what he has.

Mind you, the bottom line is that if people are working against the team goals, they have to go. If they don’t want to be part of the wall, then everyone will be happier if they go. The problem is that if there is no way to get rid of them or neutralize them, if you are the leader, you might as well leave. They will make life so miserable if things don’t go their way, but the necessary changes to make the team successful will not happen and nobody will grow.

Freedom of Choice

Everybody wants freedom. Few understand it fully, perhaps myself included.

Many people think that freedom is doing whatever you want to do. Just think what the world would be like if everybody followed this principle.

A few months ago, there was a battle over excessive sound in St. Marys. A garage band would practise almost every Sunday afternoon for up to seven hours. Sometimes there would be mid-week sessions.

The problem was that there was no noise bylaw against this. The band members were right when they said that they were not breaking any law. They also mentioned that they were exercising their freedom.

This is where I think they didn’t understand true freedom.

As much as they might have the right to play music as loud as they want as long as it is not against the law, don’t the residents of the neighbourhood have the same freedom not to listen to it?

A few people around town said the solution was for local residents to leave their homes for a few hours. Why couldn’t the band find another place to practise?

Although I’m never seen this written anywhere, here is my definition of true freedom. It is the ability of individuals to do as they please without infringing on the freedom of others.

In this case, the band members could have played as loud as they wanted as long as the noise didn’t exit the garage or the neighbours had the right to tell them to stop.

Just like in St. Marys, I’m sure many may think of arguments against my words. One of my favourites was that Elvis would never had made it had there been a noise bylaw.

However, we now have smoking bylaws all over Ontario. People can smoke as long as it doesn’t affect others.

I have no problem with allowing motorcycle riders to go without helmets as long as the public doesn’t have to pay for the hospital bills when they smash their brains.

I’m sure you know of somebody who tears others or good ideas down with their words while expressing their right to have freedom of speech. When confronted by these types, I have been known to oppose them. When they tell me that they are only exercising their right, I tell them that my telling them to keep quiet is exercising my right of freedom of speech, too.

It all comes down to this for me. With true freedom comes responsibility. If freedom is good, then its fruit should be good also. It should make the world a better place.

Blades of Grass

I have discovered that I have a unique talent. It isn’t so special because I have this great ability. It’s just that most people don’t think of doing it, and even if they do, they have better things to do.

I can play tunes on blades of grass. Many can make a squawking noise, but I can do better than that. You can follow the song that play.

My big test came a few years ago when I was in a church talent show. They decided that I would open the whole thing with O Canada, our national anthem. The big question was whether the crowd would recognize it. By the third note everybody was standing at attention. I’m debating whether to send my audition tape into the Toronto Blue Jays. I can play The Star Spangled Banner, too.

Playing actual tunes takes patience and practice. There are some difficulties, too.

To start, it is a seasonal instrument in Canada. You can’t find any grass when there is snow on the ground.

Secondly, I have allergies to grass. I know how it feels to suffer for my art.

Then there is the problem of cuts on your lips. These can be very painful. Fortunately I have somebody around who can kiss it better. In fact, I sometimes fake the injury for a bit of affection.

Finally, you have to choose your grass wisely. Picking some next to trees close to where dogs like to run is not a good idea.

On my journey towards virtuosity, I have discovered that blades of grass are all very similar, but every one is unique. As the master, I must adapt to the thickness and stiffness of each one, placing the blade delicately between my thumbs. Then I have to tune up, similar to musicians in an orchestra to get a feel for my instrument.

Aren’t we all like blades of grass? While similar, we have our own pitch. To emit a sweet sound, we have to be held just so and the right amount of wind must pass over us. Some will grab us and emit a loud objectionable sound. Others will not have the patience to practise. However, under the master’s touch, a sweet song will come from our spirits.

Similarly, we should treat others in a similar way. It is not about our grabbing the grass and making a noise. We have to seek out the character gently with our hands and blow just right. We are having communion with the grass. We are seeking the harmony and beautiful sound something very ordinary can make. Our role is making it special.

What is my favourite tune to play? Why The Green, Green Grass of Home, of course!

Psyching Up

If a man does not keep pace with his companions,
perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.
Let him step to the music which he hears,
however measured or far away.
Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

I love the feeling of adrenaline flowing through my body before a big game. As a softball player, I played in some very competitive leagues. Many times I was pumped up pretty high.

As I grew up, my preparation for a game became pretty routine. I would get to the park before everyone and just sit there staring at the field having a quiet time.

As people arrived, I would start stretching, followed by tossing the ball to a friend, gradually increasing the distance and warming up my arm.

The coach would hit balls to the outfielders and I would concentrate on chasing them down and returning crisp, accurate throws to the player beside him. I learned how to put a backspin on the ball so it would stay in the air longer and give a fat bounce that was easy to catch.

As the game got closer, I would focus on the task at hand and I could feel the adrenaline increasing.

Then, the team would get together in a circle, listen to the instructions and inspirational words by the coach, then let out some primal scream that was supposed to unite our energies and put fear into the opposition – except I didn’t do it.

I would hover outside the circle and listen to the instructions and pep-talk. Then I would walk away from everybody.

The first time this happened, the coach was a bit upset. Why wasn’t I being part of the team? Was I trying to hurt team spirit? Fortunately he bought my explanation.

It was neither of those. The truth was that before a game, I needed to calm down and focus on the task at hand. I did not need to get higher. That would have ruined my performance. Like the quote above, I walked to the beat of a different drummer.

The result was usually a performance where my body and mind were in tune, something that was better for everyone.