Passion

Doesn’t everybody feel the same way I do? If I do anything, I want to do it passionately.

There are many things I do in life with little passion. Mowing the lawn is the first thing that comes to mind. The grass grows and so I cut it. Sometimes I am tempted to let it grow and not cut it until I can get passionate about it, which will probably be never.

There are times when I write that I ache to get the words out. I can’t wait to get to the keyboard and let the thoughts spill onto the screen. I can be in bed in the middle of the night and something jumps into my mind and I leap out of my covers and rush to the computer.

One thing I love is having passionate conversations with people. A good example was tonight. The relatives of Nora Clench, who grew up in this house, are visiting and someone in town who knows a lot about her came over. I could feel the energy flow through the discussion.

It’s sad that I can no longer play softball due to a hip replacement. One of these days I may go out and play anyway. I am passionate about the game. I hate watching it, but when I am on the field, it is like I am on a stage. It is where I am meant to be. This passion has affected every team I have played for.

There are days as a teacher when I am passionate. These are days when I capture my students in a spell they can’t avoid. They are swept up in a tide of enthusiasm and something magical happens.

I enjoy being passionate about life. When I am I feel like a wild horse running at full speed with the wind running through its hair. My energy level is high and I don’t feel fatigue. Lately I have not been feeling that passion. I have been doing things that I am committed to do, like some volunteer work in the community, but I am aching to get into something that stirs my blood and focuses every bit of energy in my body.

Yes, I want to be passionate about life. I want my life to be like a sponge and soak up many positive experiences. Before I die, I want to squeeze that sponge so every bit of moisture is wrung out of it. I already have enough “what ifs” and “might have beens” in my biography. When opportunities come, I want to be ready to grasp them with vigour, not merely touch them.

Just Being Young

I watched a news report last night about students returning to university. It talked about the noise and violence that occurred at this institution last year. A local politician stated that steps were being taken by local government to make sure it didn’t happen again this year.

At the end of the interview a student was interviewed. She said that, in spite of efforts by others, it was frosh week. This meant that students would be carrying on with this type of activity because it was a tradition and just part of being a young university student.

Excuse me? Perhaps this was the reporter’s attempt of providing balanced coverage. Journalists often do this to give another viewpoint even when it may express what a small minority feels. The result can be making something big out of nothing – creating a problem that doesn’t really exist in order to appear fair to all sides.

I am getting tired of hearing viewpoints that make it sound like it is fine to disobey the law.

If we, as a society, are to be successful, we have to have a set of rules that we abide by. We have that. For every law, there is a good reason for it. While there may be mitigating circumstances to break a law for the common good, just being young is not one of them.

Our society has many problems because parents and others do not say no to our young people enough. I don’t mean saying no just for the sake of saying it, but I do mean saying no to things that are not good for society.

I don’t agree with every law that is written. That doesn’t mean I don’t respect them. If I choose not to obey one, then I am willing to suffer the consequences. What I can’t accept, I try to change in non-violent ways.

For example, I would have had trouble living in the parts of Ottawa a few years ago. Clotheslines were against the law. I find this hard to accept. Fortunately the province has made it illegal to ban clotheslines.

I often hear parents telling me that their kids are just being teenagers when they are doing something wrong. It’s as if they are unwilling to confront them in their errors and help them make wise decisions.

Growing up in today’s world is not easy. We are not making it any easier by ignoring the laws we have put into place for everyone for the sake of a few who want to disobey them.

The New NASCAR

When I lived in England, I got what many would consider the dream assignment from the CBC. I was sent to a racetrack called Silverstone to cover what was then known as Formula II auto racing. Formula II was one step down from Formula I.

I arrived at the track the day before race day to the sound of motors screeching around the course. They never let up all the time I was there. Race day was even worse. Every car was out on the track, squeezing ever ounce of energy out of its body, screaming all the way.

Those two days, followed by days of my ears ringing, strongly confirmed what I had suspected long before. I hate auto racing with a passion.

When I watch it on television, I have no idea what is going on. Once in awhile there is a crash. Often people scramble around madly to change tires and add fuel. Aside from this, I am just watching cars go around in a circle. I honestly think you could take the same footage from one year, edit it a bit differently, add a new commentary and nobody would know the difference. It would certainly save a lot of money and fuel.

The amount of fuel that is used bothers me. So does the amount of advertising you see everywhere. It’s on the cars, the driving suit, and the hats. It assaults you from every angle.

There is an argument that some may make that is a valid one. The fact that people raced cars from pretty much the moment they were invented has led to important advances in the technology. In the early days, something going 60 km an hour was considered foolhardy. These days much time and money is being spent on making the engines more fuel-efficient and the bodies more aerodynamic.

But I have a better idea. Why don’t we start a NASCAR circuit that is based on solar power? There are cross-country races based on solar vehicles, but this usually amounts to a few university students rising to the challenge. Let’s get the heavy hitters out there. Why can’t Ferrari, Honda, Porsche and others get into the game and start pushing the envelope on speed and efficiency produced with alternate energy?

My guess is that the competitive spirit would take over and it wouldn’t take long to produce vehicles that would be efficient and cheap to run. It would wean us off our need for petroleum. The advances in energy production for cars could be passed on to other needs.

And once there is no need for oil, then what happens to nations like Kuwait, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates? People often say that the war in Iraq has a lot to do with oil. Won’t taking away the need for this precious liquid take away conflict?

And there will be one other good reason I just might like this new form of NASCAR. It will be quiet, that is until sponsors realize they can use the silence to have cars play audio versions of their commercials as they pass by the crowd.

One Silly Centimetre

Canada's Dylan Armstrong missed the bronze medal in the shot put at the Olympic games by one centimetre. That’s about the width of your baby finger.

Immediately my head is flooded with questions. How accurate are the people who measure where the ball landed? Was the tape they measured with as equally taut for Armstrong and the man who finished ahead of him? How would it feel to come so close after working so hard for something and miss by so little?

I then shift gears and start asking more questions. Aside from Dylan Armstrong and a few other shot put fanatics (I imagine there must be some), will anybody really care about anybody but the winner? Will anybody even care about the winner after the Olympics are over?

I love watching some sports at the Olympics, but for different reasons. In most cases, I don’t really care who wins. What I enjoy is the lesson learned that people can overcome obstacles to produce amazing results. I also learn that most things in life take dedication and hard work. Sometimes having the right genetic material helps. Unfortunately, having the right chemicals is often the difference. Regardless, the difference between first and fourth is often very, very small.

When it comes right down to it, I don’t really care about most of the sports. Fencing is a good example. Although I would like to try it someday, watching it doesn’t excite me. However, the story of fifty-year-old Jujie Luan from Edmonton interested me greatly. She returned to her native China to compete in fencing twenty-four years after winning a gold medal in fencing in Los Angeles. These stories about the human spirit are the ones that I enjoy.

The Olympics also teach me that there are often second chances in life. Four years ago, the Canadian eights rowing team, world champions at the time, finished fifth. Four years later, they have won gold with some of the same crew. Defeat was a mere stepping stone to eventual victory.

And if these stories can happen to these people, why can’t they happen to me? All I have to do is have the dedication and faith of these athletes and I can reach the podium on the desires of my life.

Somewhere

Somewhere out there you are waiting for me
And I just have to find you
Sometimes I feel so lost and I’m trying to see
And I just have to find you
Somehow I’m expecting the best is yet to be
And I just have to find you
Some way I will finally solve this mystery
And I just have to find you

One day I know you’ll be there
You will appear from nowhere
We will have so many moments to share
And you will know how I care

Do you feel the same way I do?
Tell me, I haven’t a clue
Is it hello or is it adieu?
I think it’s time that we knew

Somewhere out there you are waiting for me
And I just have to find you
Sometimes I feel so lost and I’m trying to see
And I just have to find you
Somehow I’m expecting the best is yet to be
And I just have to find you
Some way I will finally solve this mystery
And I just have to find you
Somewhere

The Olympics

I have been enjoying myself tonight watching the Olympics. I watched Michael Phelps win his seventh medal, but that isn't what excites me.

Although I was never at the level in any sport of reaching the Olympics, I did play at a very advanced level in fast pitch softball in the 1970s. The world champions were in my league in 1973. Men's softball has never been considered for the Olympics.

Still, that doesn't mean that I have never had that dream.

What I miss most about playing at such an elite level is the preparation for the game. I would try to go through the same routine every time.

I would arrive at the park very early. I would try to be the first one there. I would do my stretches and start tossing the ball back and forth. Gradually I would move back until I was throwing it about 40 yards without going over the receiver's head.

Eventually I would get into a zone where I would be totally focused on the task ahead. The only thing I had to be concerned about was executing what I was trained to do. The anticipation of success mixed with the intensity of my mind gave me a special feeling. Knowing that you are peaking for that special moment in your life is exhiliarating.

Watching the Olympics brings back all of these memories. It's a great feeling.

I’ve Been A Millionaire

It’s true. I have been a millionaire. In fact, I have been a multimillionaire. The only problem is that currency I had in such abundance was not the Canadian dollar. It was the Turkish lira in 1999. At that time a million Turkish lira were worth about $3.50 Canadian.

I was in Turkey teaching computer courses at the Canadian embassy in Ankara. The assignment lasted a month.

While I was there, I stayed at the Sheraton Hotel. By the end of my stay, my hotel bill was in the billions. There were so many zeros after the few numbers that it almost looked like the printer was in shock.

I even brought some million-lira bills back to Canada to give to people as stocking stuffers. At first they were impressed with their newfound wealth. Then they discovered how little the million lira was actually worth.

In life I have found people to be like that. The ones who are really worth a lot are not the ones who appear to be the most valuable with plenty of zeros after their character. It is the strong, silent ones that are often the most valuable.

A good example is my penpal, Marie-Jeanne. We have written for over 40 years. It has been nothing flashy, mostly a Christmas letter once a year. That friendship has endured and its strength was confirmed when she and her family visited recently. There isn’t much display or fanfare, but we just know that it is there, solid as a rock.

I was recently talking to a friend about cars. I was telling him that I hope one day to buy one that I really want, not just one I can afford. I told him that I want to buy a Jaguar. My reasoning is that people often buy cars to make a statement. They want something that will shout to everyone that they are rich, famous or very successful. A Jaguar doesn’t shout anything. It whispers very quietly that you don’t have to play this game. You simply have a car that defies comparison.

I can honestly say that my good friends are like Jaguars. They are not like Turkish lira – a lot of numbers with little worth.

Arab Logic

Talal Nasser al-Sabah, a member of Kuwait’s ruling family has been sentenced to death. He was caught in his home with more than 10 kilos of cocaine and 75 kilos of hashish.

There is a debate in this country about whether he will be pardoned because of his royal status. As an ordinary citizen, his fate would be sealed.

What impressed me was the judge’s reasoning on why such a harsh sentence was given.
Al-Sabah "deserves the death sentence ... for dealing with drugs and narcotics that threaten the security of society and lead its youth into the mire of addiction," according to the ruling.

It is not only in the Arab world that the penalty for being caught with drugs is death. Many countries in Asia have the same consequences. I remember being in the airport in Taipei and seeing a big sign as you walked towards your luggage stating that the penalty for being caught with drugs is death.

Meanwhile the governments in North America concede that they have lost the war on drugs. They keep on citing statistics from the Netherlands, with its liberal drug culture, showing that the soft approach is right.

I have been to China, Taiwan and Turkey, an Arab country. Being a foreigner, I may have been shielded from the sordid side of life, but I didn’t get the feeling that drugs were a problem at all in any of these places. I imagine that there are people who are taking them, but there is a general stance of non-tolerance to them and there is no evidence on the streets of any problem.

Notice that the death sentence statement doesn’t merely deal with Al-Sabah. It also looks at the consequences of his actions. He is part of society, so he bears some responsibility to it. Compare this with our individualistic way of life in North America.

What gets me is that we criticize some of the practices of other countries that to our eyes limit freedom. What we fail to realize is that, while we may have much more freedom, we are not responsible in the way we handle it.

We are preaching the democratic way to countries without the sensitivity that they may not want the social ills our society has created.

A Sad Day

I read the news today, oh boy! Actually, it was last week’s local weekly. In it was the death notice of a man I worked with a couple of years ago. The write-up was rather vague. I have learned that this usually means that the person took his own life. One conversation and a later phone call confirmed that Ron had gone into the garage, closed the door, started his car and went to sleep forever.

Although it is inevitable, death is a sad event. It is particularly sad when somebody chooses to commit suicide. It means that the person has lost all hope and sees no way out of his situation.

There are some who may be reading this who are thinking of ending it all. All I can say is don’t.

There are too many beautiful sunrises and sunsets to watch. There are puppies and kittens to hold. There are many joys that will eventually come your way. You want to be around to experience them.

Think of it this way. When you are down as low as you can go, there is nowhere else to go but up. The odds are heavily in your favour that things are going to get better.

Perhaps you have been hurt more than you can bear. What do you have to lose by hanging in there and see how that hurt can be turned into something beautiful? The pain you are experiencing now can actually be something that will strengthen you, even if you hate it.

Anyway, if you are eventually going to die anyway, why not just stay around longer to see what happens? You might be pleasantly surprised by the result. Miracles are possible.

You just have to look at the rhythm of life to know that there are cloudy days and there are sunny ones. There are times of sorrow. There are times of joy.

I saw a video yesterday of a tornado. It passed right by a tree. I expected it to be torn apart. For some reason, the tree looked pretty much the same after the wind passed. Although minus many leaves, some managed to remain attached.

As you go through the turbulent time in your life, be like that tree. Hold on tightly to your roots and ride out the storm. I can assure you that there will be a time in the future you will look back to the time when you decided not to commit suicide and know you made the right decision.

And if you need to talk to somebody, my email address is at the top of this page. Even if I don't know you, I care.

Three Churches in Montreal

Montreal is a great city. One of the many things it is known for is its churches and cathedrals.

One of the most beautiful is Notre Dame Basilica, which is nothing like the Notre Dame in Paris, but from photos I have seen, it is very beautiful inside. I can only talk about photos because refused to go inside, though. Why? They charge a five-dollar fee to visit the church. Apparently there is a ten-dollar light show you can attend, too.

Celine Dion had her fairy-tale wedding in this church. I wonder if this has anything to do with the charge for entry. Like any celebrity, fans often flock to anything that has to do with their idol.

Of course they have to raise money for maintenance and reconstruction, but it is a church, not a museum or a place of entertainment. In my opinion, there should never be an admission to a place of worship. To the secular world, charging an entry fee doesn’t seem so drastic. But God usually doesn’t make sense to a secular world. Why? Probably because people in the secular world are too busy trying to define God instead of letting him define them. Teachings like loving your enemy are difficult for everyone, yet a clear element of the Christian message.

Contrast Notre Dame with Marie-Reine-du-Monde. It is designed to be one-third the size and similar to St. Peter’s in Rome. There is no entry fee. What is even more impressive are the two signs, one in English, the other in French, at the door. They advise people who are visiting that they are entering a place of worship and to act and dress accordingly, especially during worship services. I only had a chance for a quick glimpse inside. My guess is that there is a box for donations.

The third is St. Joseph’s Oratory. It has the world’s second largest dome. St. Peter’s in Rome is the first. It is an impressive building. What was even more impressive was the reception we got. We arrived just as it was closing. Since there are many stairs leading up to the church, they provide a bus. The cost of the bus is by donation. Nobody prompts you to give.

When we hopped on, the driver got on the walkie-talkie and asked if the building could be kept open for a few more minutes so we could visit. We thought the other people on the bus were going up, too. They weren’t. They were waiting to go down, but they seemed to be all associated with the church. They sat in the bus chatting with great animation about a special service that was happening the next night. They mentioned it to us and invited us.

Here are my questions. Which church is merely a tourist attraction and which ones are functioning like places of worship? Which churches opened their arms to the public? Which ones are fulfilling the Christian message? From my brief exposure, I can’t say for sure, but I think I have a pretty good idea.

Of course, there are some who would take me to task for passing judgement on the three churches, but let’s put it this way. If I were to live in Montreal, I think it is a safe bet which church I wouldn’t be trying first as my spiritual home.

Life Is Hard

If it wasn’t hard, everybody would be doing it. It is the hard that makes it so great.

Tom Hanks said this to Geena Davis in A League of Their Own. Her character has just left the team because she felt that baseball was getting difficult. He is trying to talk her out of it.

I love this movie. It is about a women’s professional baseball league during that started during the Second World War and lasted into the 50s. Like all great movies, it is about more than that. It is also about life.

You can take the quote and apply it to almost any situation in life. It rings true every time.

I don’t want to live an ordinary life. I want to face challenges and conquer them. There will be times when everything will fall into place. More often than not, I will have to work very hard at things that are worthwhile.

In baseball, if you fail seven times out of ten, you are doing very well. Some say hitting a baseball is one of the most difficult tasks to do in sport. When you do get a hit, the feeling is sweet. Like the quote says, it is because it is so hard that it is so great when you can do it.

What obstacle are you facing in life? It may seem insurmountable right now, but when you finally overcome it, you will be so rewarding. Just hang in there tough. It will be worth it in the end.

Vacation

I am on vacation for awhile. I am showing my penpal and her family around Ontario and Quebec. I am not really near computers very often, so it is difficult to write a blog. Maybe that is a blessing. We have come too used to computers now. I have often thought that if terrorists want to cripple the western world, they should attack our computers, cell phones and Blackberries instead of people.

Oh well, I'll talk to you soon.

The Bus Ride

What are we doing? Where is our reasoning?

Whenever the death penalty is discussed, the arguments are brought forward that an innocent person might be killed by mistake. Names like Stephen Truscott and Donald Marshall are mentioned. I share this concern, too.

If that is the only reason these people oppose the death penalty, then what do they say about what happened today?

An innocent bystander was stabbed repeatedly on a Greyhound bus in Portage La Prairie, Manitoba. There is no mistake who did it. The murderer hacked off the head and taunted the police with it.

I am not trying to argue the death penalty in this article. What I am trying to do is point out how we use hollow arguments to justify anything. Don’t tell me you don’t want the death penalty merely because a mistake might be made. What about the cases, like this one, where there can be no mistake?

Although the reason all of this happened is not known yet, people are saying that we should be spending more money on mental illness. Few seem to suggest the violence that we see in our media might be the cause of some of the ills of our society.

The film, Silence of the Lambs, about a sick person killing and eating people won several Academy Awards. I could create a list of several pages of violence that has been portrayed by “artists”. We even argue about everybody’s rights to produce this stuff, yet we scratch our heads in bewilderment that these things might actually be harmful to our society.

We are allowing our children to play video games that are far too violent. While filling in for a kindergarten teacher, the grade 8s paired up with them for computer buddies. As soon as I saw the 5-year-old shooting at a helicopter full of people, the monitor went off. The grade 8 student couldn’t grasp that this was not a healthy activity for the child. Guess what? Neither could his parents, because he said he played it all the time at home.

On one hand, we have people preaching that people must be responsible for their actions. On the other, pundits make their living explaining why somebody doing something is not entirely his fault. There are social/economic reasons. Maybe there was bad parenting. All of this may be true, but how does the situation get corrected?

In the meantime, there are parents somewhere trying to understand why their son was so brutally murdered by a stranger in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. No amount of making excuses for the murder can bring this young man back to life.

A Piece of Paper

I was driving to Toronto on Highway 401 a couple of days ago. For those of you who don’t know it, there are many cars on it. At one point there are sixteen lanes. In spite of all of these, traffic can still move very slowly.

Such was not the case. I was able to drive over 100 kilometres per hour. I was making great time.

Suddenly a piece of paper shot up into the air and did a delicate dance in front of me. It leapt for joy, spun around, dove down then ascended to the sky laughing as another car passed under it. It was living for the moment and not worrying about the fate that would surely eventually happen. Eventually it would crash to the earth and be flattened endlessly by tires.

That didn’t matter now. What was important was that it gathered up all of the energy around it to live for the moment.

I thought that my life is often like that piece of paper. There are times when I feel like my life is being carried by the currents around me. While I may have goals and objectives, I am often reacting to the circumstances that are dealt to me. In spite of all my desires and planning, a lot of life is accepting what comes my way.

Like that piece of paper, I want to channel everything into the joy of the moment.

I know one day I will die, but while I am here, I want to leap, spin, dive, fly and dance. I want to experience the fullness of life. I want to take large gulps of it, not sip elegantly and politely at it. At times there will seem to be no purpose to each brief episode, but if the purpose is live passionately, then that is enough.

Others may have difficulty understanding my outbursts, but like the piece of paper, riding the undulating current will be the thrill that others will miss. Unless they come along for the ride, they will have difficulty comprehending what it is like to soar.

It was a mere piece of paper, but it took a difficult situation and did something it wasn’t designed to do. Like it, I want to discover that my life can go through difficult times and accomplish the unthinkable.

Cottage Country

I spent a wonderful weekend with my pen pal and her family at Lake Rosseau.

The first highlight for them was spending time with my family. When we grew up, we were fighting all of the time. When my parents died, we had to decide what we would do with our family. Would we let it die a natural death or do something to keep it together?

We decided to hold an annual bowling tournament to commemorate the fact that my mother started bowling in her 70s and continued as long as she could. The result has been that through the years we have actually become very close. My family has become a very strong factor in my life and something that I am willing to share with anyone. I am proud to do so.

My guests enjoyed the experience of meeting everyone.

Second on the list was seeing the cottages at Lake Rosseau. Gone are days when people went to some rustic retreat to get away from it all. From what I saw, it looks as if they bring everything they have from the city. Most of them better than the new homes being built in St. Marys. Even the boathouses are exquisite. One of them had room for seven boats.

Many people might be envious. I am not. I can’t see the people sitting down at night and playing a friendly game of Scrabble. The satellite dishes pick up far too many television stations for some friendly, family interaction. I would doubt it there is a Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys book to be found in these mansions.

What we found unusual with almost all of these huge palaces was the fact that there didn’t seem to be anybody around enjoying them. Perhaps the kids are too busy playing video games or chatting on the Internet. The parents could be soaking in the hot tub.

Really, why go outside in the nature when you have every luxury know to civilization inside?

But give me the old-fashioned cottage any day. I love the old, creaky floors that get swept with a corn broom. I even have no problem with an outhouse.

It seems that the phrase “getting back to nature” is very unnatural these days.

Vacation

I am taking a few days of vacation at my brother's cottage on Lake Rosseau. I can't wait to get there.

Sandy

His real name was Alexander, but like a true Scot, he called himself Sandy. I had the privilege to meet him during the 1986 during the Commonwealth Games in Edinburgh.

At that time I was working for the CBC. My job was to act as a vehicle dispatcher and he was one of my drivers.

The Commonwealth Games provided jobs for students like Sandy. A lassie by the name of Justine got a job as a secretary to one of the producers.

When Sandy met Justine, he was immediately smitten. It was pretty obvious. The only problem was that Justine had a boyfriend.

Every Canadian who came in contact with Sandy and knew about his crush on Justine couldn’t understand why she didn’t fancy him.

When they were together, you could see a great admiration for each other. Sandy had the knack of always being able to make Justine laugh. To all of us bystanders it seemed as if they were made for each other.

Something happened one day that made it even more apparent that fate was part of this relationship.

Justine came in one day and propped up a small teddy bear on her desk. She gushed at how her boyfriend had given it to her the night before. She shared this information with everyone, including Sandy. A sly smile appeared on his face.

The next morning, about fifteen teddy bears exactly like the one Justine had received were perched on her desk. They were identical to the one she had received a couple of days before. They were so alike that you couldn’t tell the original from its clones.

Justine came in and just gasped. She had no idea how the bears got there. Later Sandy came in and asked Justine how she liked the teddy bears he had given her.

Later I asked him where he got all the toys. Apparently he had a friend who was in the importing business and he had received a shipment exactly when Sandy needed a large supply of them.

Sandy seemed willing to move the world for Justine. He was a great guy.

I met him a year later. I had a group of senior citizen softball players touring Great Britain, so I got him to lend me his Scottish costume. It fit pretty well except for the shoes, which were too small, but I managed to squeeze my feet into them. Unfortunately, I have no idea where the photo of me in this outfit went. While I must have looked different, Sandy hadn’t changed. He told me that he and Justine were just friends and met occasionally for a drink.

I think of Sandy now and again and I wish the best for him. I can’t help but wonder why Justine was so blind to his kindness and affection. All I can think is that it is her loss, that is, unless she found somebody who cared about her with the depth that Sandy had for her. I trust that she has found somebody who loves her so wonderfully.

Often a love like this comes along only once in a lifetime. It can seem so easy that people often take it for granted and let it slip through their fingers.

Tourists to Canada

My penpal, her husband and her daughter have been in Canada for one week. I have been busy showing them around.

It is alway interesting to hear their impressions of my country.

I am happy that they find the people very pleasant and the countryside beautiful, but that is to be expected. I could have predicted these.

What is interesting are the differences that are not so obvious.

Karl made the comment today that Canadians must have good teeth. He noticed that there are signs for dentists everywhere. While we were driving around in the car, he made his point by pointing out every one he saw. Sure enough, it seemed every minute there was a sign for a dentist.

We head into Toronto tomorrow. I will be interested in hearing their comments about the big city.

Niagara Falls

It’s going to happen. I guarantee it.

I took my penpal and her family to Niagara Falls yesterday. At the side of the Horseshoe Falls is a terrace with a wall and a guardrail around it. The idea is that it is to protect people from falling into the water to a certain death.

What bothered me was that people are sitting on the guardrail or the wall. Often they are doing so with somebody a few metres away trying to get the perfect photo. They move and contort their bodies much like a gymnast. If they have a sudden lapse of concentration, they could tumble and that would be it.

Equally as disturbing was the lack of attention that some parents paid to their children. Many of them could easily slip between the guardrail and the wall.

I was talking to a couple of teens working at the hotdog stand nearby. They mentioned to me that my fears were not imaginary. Somebody slipped and fell into the brink last year.

As much as it would be tragic to the person who died, can you imagine the trauma it would create for the people who witnessed the event?

It reminds me of the great Karl Walenda who performed one too many high wire walks in his life, falling to his death in Puerto Rico in 1978. It only took one adverse set of circumstances to make what was something that was routine to turn into a tragedy.

I think of times when I have been careless driving my car, but I don’t think I would do something as crazy as sitting on a guardrail next to Niagara Falls. Somebody will fall and they will probably put up something that will lessen the experience of being right next to the powerful current. One’s person stupidity will ruin it for many others.

Why do people do such things? I ask this question of myself as much as anyone else. There are times when I make some decisions that make me shake my head after at how dumb it was. Sometimes we even do things knowing that they are dumb.

It reminds me when I was young. We used to have an old radio with an electromagnet on the speaker. When I touched it, I got a shock. However, I kept on touching it, wondering why I kept on getting a buzz.

In the meantime, I will be watching the news for what I feel is going to be inevitable, knowing that one person’s foolishness will affect many people.

Stay tuned

I have something to write, but it is late. I will post it tomorrow.

Differences

I know a few people who read my blog. After that, I haven’t a clue. In fact, I was talking to Rory from our town and she told me of a friend of hers who discovered this philosopher in St. Marys – me! I got quite a chuckle from that one. She may be reading this right now.

When I am writing this blog, I am putting my thoughts out there for all to see. I found out early in the game that no matter what I write, everyone will not agree with what I say.

Take for instance my article, The Mirror of Death. It is one of the first ones I wrote. If you haven’t read it yet, go the very beginning of my blog. It also appeared in a weekly newsletter sent out by Bob Proctor’s group. I always include my email address so people can reply directly to me. I received over 250 emails on the weekend after it was distributed. Every one of them told me how it helped them get through a rough moment – except one. She tried to tear a strip off me for writing something that seemed so cruel to her.

I have tackled other subjects that are more controversial that I know people don’t see the same way I do.

I learned long ago that if I spend my life trying to please everyone, I will be wasting my time.

What is important, though, is how we handle our differences. How do we treat each other when we disagree?

What I have learned is that it is important for the dignity of both persons to be preserved. If either one is lessened, then the difference has not been handled well. Everyone is entitled to his opinion, and that includes me.

So, do you disagree with some of my thoughts? Let’s get out a pot of tea, light some candles, speak softly to each other and discuss the issues. Let’s make the effort to explore our points of view. We both may learn something in the process; even if it is that understanding the other person is all we get from it.

1984

George Orwell wrote his famous book, 1984, in 1949. I read it in about 1970. It seemed pretty far-fetched when I read it. I remember smiling in satisfaction when 1984 actually came and went and life wasn’t at all like the book.

Fast forward to 2008.

In many cities, Big Brother is watching you. Security cameras are place on the street to monitor what is happening.

What amazes me most about today is the “Doublethink” that happens. Its definition is the act of holding two contradictory beliefs simultaneously, fervently believing both.

I see this a lot in peoples’ opinions about the media. You mention blatent sexuality on our television screens and they will tell you that the violence is worse, yet nothing seems to be done to curb it. It is increasing.

I think it’s pretty safe to say that the portrayal of violence and sex does influence our society in a bad way. If you doubt me, watch the women in many hip hop or rap videos. If you protest against this, you are met with those crying out that you are hurting artistic freedom. What happened to my artistic freedom and right to protest?

Some people have trouble eating meat because an animal is killed. Others have trouble supporting capital punishment because a life, which is not so innocent, is taken. Some of these same people will have no problem with somebody “choosing” to end a life of an unborn child merely because it is a girl. And these vegetarians committed to fighting against executing a criminal will feel fully justified with abortion for any reason including determining the sex of a child. Somehow the taking of a life is different when it is an unborn child. It’s OK, but please don’t kill a cow or a mass murderer.

To me it all comes down to this. You will believe whatever you want to believe to be true merely by believing it. You will be able to justify anything. Unfortunately, it appears to me that when you have no absolutes, you have absolutely nothing.

Love Never Fails

Our cat, Toby, is a big suck. You would have never have known it ten years ago. Even six years ago, he wasn’t so nice. We had another cat, Timmie, at that time and he was a bit of a bully. If it hadn’t been for our dog, Sarah, sticking up for Timmie, Toby would have had total domination.

First Sarah died, then Timmie. As time went on, Toby became more and more friendly. Why? Perhaps he had less competition and felt less threatened. Another reason was that we just kept loving this cat no matter what. As time went on, our love broke down his resistance.

As the saying goes, love never fails. Those are powerful words, the strongest being the word never.

Why does love never fail? I think that part of it is what the alternative does to you and not the other person. The other person may not respond to my love, but if my heart is filled with hate, what does that say about my life? Do I really want to walk around with all of this negative baggage or do I want to feel positive?

I remember trying to teach two cats in Alberta not to climb up on the screen door and wreck it. I would put them up on the screen and tap them gently to give them the idea that when they were on the screen, it would be uncomfortable. One of them got the idea quite clearly. The other one wasn’t very intelligent. When I put him on the screen and started tapping him, he started purring. Here I was making him feel uncomfortable and he was returning love. I couldn’t take it. I started sobbing.

I go back to my point of making sure your heart is filled with love instead of hate. If you want the best life you can have, do you want bitterness or happiness in your soul?

Doris

Meeting Doris for the first time is like a lightning storm on a hot summer evening. You have the choice of being afraid or remarking on the beauty of the experience, but you will never forget it.

What is so remarkable about this lady? She is the world’s number one hugger. The first time she met me, she had a hug for me. She has a hug for everyone. Her hugs are not ordinary, though. Each one is filled with love and meaning. They are not merely passed out like business cards at a meeting. Each one is more like a unique greeting card with your name on it.

Doris is special. She is what I sometimes call a hallelujah honey, but with a difference. I have met many women like this who are like chocolate Easter bunnies, sweet on the outside, but hollow on the inside. Doris is solid through and through. Her love gushes out from the inside and is difficult to resist. There is nothing phoney about her.

After the first hug, I tried to avoid Doris. Like a bat chasing mosquitoes with its sonar, she somehow found me cowering in a corner after church. “Good morning, John,” she chirped and gave me a hug. In spite of my best efforts, she always discovered me.

When you first start kneading bread dough, it is difficult, but eventually it breaks down and becomes smooth. In the same way, her hugs softened my resistance until I looked forward to them each week. It was as if each hug took away one hurt inside me. Gradually I succumbed to her love. More than that, her loved transformed me. Rather than being the hug receiver, I started being a hug giver. I have passed her gift on to others.

It has been years since I have seen Doris and her husband, Joe. I do know that if we meet again, there will be a hug for both of them. Doris preaches love. She preaches the best kind. Her love is not just something you merely talk about. It is something that is the very essence of her and is passed on with no expectations.

As Dusty Springfield sang, “What the world needs now is love, sweet love.” What the world needs now is more people like Doris.

What a Catcher!

Of all of the positions in baseball and softball, catcher is the one I love the best. It involves a lot more than just sitting behind the plate and catching the ball. You have to be thinking all of the time. A good catcher can make a big difference in the game.

In the amateur game, you have control over the pitch selection. The pitcher can reject your suggestion, but I usually am in sync with him. I rarely have a sign shaken off.

Warren Spahn, one of the great pitchers of all time, once said that hitting is timing and pitching is upsetting timing. The catcher is the conductor who orchestrates this performance. Do a good job and you are successful. A poor job often means the batter launches rockets.

Sounds simple, doesn’t it? It is a lot more complex than that. It is like chess on a playing field. Sometimes the strategies are obvious; other times they are subtler. You usually have to look for little cues. How close is the batter to the plate? How high are his hands? Does he take a full or a condensed swing? Your job is to analyse all of this data and come up with a pitch-by-pitch battle plan.

The job is not over yet. Having the proper mechanics is important. You have to have a good arm, be able to withstand the force of somebody trying to knock you over and be able to block balls in the ground effectively.

A catcher can have all of these elements, yet not be as effective as he can be. There are other things, little things, that can make all of the difference. It involves talking with people.

First, I make sure I have my pitcher focused on my glove. If he puts his mind on anything else, he can get in big trouble. He has to be zoned in.

I also talk to the umpire. I want to make him happy that I am with him. If I feel he has missed a pitch, I might gently ask him if I blocked his view in any way. Sometimes I will laugh and tell him that I really wanted that pitch, as long as it was close. I want the umpire to like me more than the other catcher. Will it affect his calls? Let’s just say that it can’t hurt.

Finally, I chat with the batter. The topic doesn’t really matter. It can be the weather, mosquitoes or federal elections. The idea is to take a bit of the focus off the batter’s concentration. How do I know this works? There are times when I have lost my concentration, resulting in my hitting the ball poorly.

This reminds me of the story when Hank Aaron went up to the plate. Since he was using a wooden bat, the label should have been facing him, but it wasn’t. The catcher made him aware of this. His response was, “I didn’t come up here to read.” He didn’t want anything to break his concentration.

We can apply this lesson to reaching our goals. Isn’t it often the little things that make the difference between failure and success? For one moment we didn’t pay attention and all was lost.

How much do you want to succeed? Is it enough that you will pursue your goal passionately, not allowing anything to take your eye off the prize?

The Science Lesson

How did human life start on this planet? Was it purely by cells combining with other cells and the strong combinations surviving? Was there a divine hand in the mix? Were the earth and all its life created in six days? Everyone has a viewpoint. I decided to try something different with my two science classes in Drayton Valley, Alberta.

I brought into my classroom texts that supported Darwin’s evolutionary theory. I also brought in creationists’ material.

I told the students that we were going to have a debate. They were to look at the information and decide which side they were going to take. I invited them to go anywhere they wanted to get more facts, including talking to their parents. Unfortunately, the option of browsing the Web did not exist in 1979.

Like ants in a colony, they devoured the material, furiously writing notes. Not only did they look at the side they supported, they filtered through the opposition’s information, looking for holes in their arguments.

The day of the debate came. The students argued politely, yet with great emotion. Most of the time, I listened, however, I asked questions of both sides. The questions were difficult and comprised of the main arguments both sides use when trying to weaken the other’s position.

At the end of the class, I asked the students what they had learned. Cheryl said something that was profound. She said, “I found that people can really get upset and angry about something that they can’t prove 100%.”

I learned that it is sometimes better to give people all of the facts and let them find out for themselves what they want to believe. My students had the opportunity to examine every argument. At the end of the day, regardless of the side they chose, they found that their position needed more research and work. I’m sure that has happened for some of them.

I also believe that they acquired the thirst for knowledge. Rather than being forced to drink the elixir I brewed, they were invited to the laboratory of life to come up with their own.

Three Michigan Ladies

They came into our lives like a jack-in-the-box. We didn’t know them, and then suddenly they were there. We love them. We look forward to their next visit with great anticipation.

They are three widows from Michigan who have visited our bed and breakfast twice. What makes them so special?

All three speak in glowing terms of their former husbands. Although not there in person, they still seem to commune with their departed spouses.

All are devout Catholics, not the send-in-two-boxtops type. They take their faith seriously. Here is the key, though. Their beliefs bring them joy. They support each other. Each one is very different, yet their spirits reach out to each other and others. You can’t help but be caught up in their positive enthusiasm.

They haven’t just come to stay with us. They have openly shared their lives with us, including their feelings on many issues and situations. It seems as if we have known them for years. They are comfortable with themselves and are natural.

They teach me by example to be joyful and spread it everywhere. I can focus on what is wrong with the world or I can look at what is around me and marvel how it all fits together.

They have certainly blessed my life. I trust that I have reciprocated that blessing.

Tolerance

"Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
Saint Francis of Assisi

I have a problem. At times I don’t think I am very wise. I often don’t know the difference of whether I can change things or not. It is not as simple as it seems.

The problem is that people have different tolerance levels. In our quest to have harmony in the world, something has to give. Everybody can’t have his or her own way.

For example, I can sit in a car with somebody and she will find it too hot, while I might find it too cold. What is the best solution? Adding more heat will only make it too hot for one person, while opening the windows will make it uncomfortably cold for the other. How are both satisfied? Which one is supposed to tolerate the other?

In the days of smoking being permitted everywhere, people had to tolerate something for years until they fought back. It was a long fight that took lots of courage. Fortunately, medical evidence helped clinch the argument.

I had an interesting discussion with somebody this morning. It was about beer tents and amplified sound at night. In St. Marys, where I live, it appears we are creating more and more events involving music that goes well into the night until one in the morning.

Personally, I have no problem tolerating these kinds of events a few times of the year until 11 pm. I really don’t want any outdoor event to continue until 1 am, however, I am willing to tolerate it a couple of times a year.

The person on the other side of the discussion suggested that we have to be more tolerant to the people who want these events.

The problem is if more and more groups want to have similar events. When does it become intolerable? That depends, doesn’t it? What I find unacceptable may be desirable to the next person. How do we decide? When do the partygoers tolerate my point of view and find a solution to satisfy me?

You might suggest a simple vote on the matter. Not a bad idea, but I have found the second part of the St. Francis of Assisi quote appropriate here. I know that people often lack the courage to speak out against something they can’t tolerate. To do so often involves having your character mocked by your opponents. You may even risk threats and violence. They accept unwillingly something they can’t tolerate, sometimes becoming very bitter and unhappy in the process.

An example of my confusion of what to tolerate is some of the Pride weeks in various Canadian cities. Gays parade down the streets exhibiting behaviour I and many others, I believe, wouldn’t tolerate if it were heterosexuals doing the same thing. Yet we are expected to embrace it.

I am even more confused by the conflicting images of these parades being an event for the whole family and the hedonistic images I see in the media. However, we better not speak out against this, otherwise we will be called homophobic. I don’t believe I am homophobic. I certainly don’t have a fear of homosexuality. I just don’t embrace the thought of people parading around semi-naked promoting sexuality and handing out condoms to small children, regardless of their preference in the gender of their partner. It’s just that I haven’t heard of a parade of heterosexuals doing this.

In a similar vein, blacks can use the “N” word, but whites can’t; yet we turn around and preach that everyone is created equal. It’s funny that on the Black Entertainment Television Network, blacks have often referred to white people as honkies, not exactly a kind remark, yet is not this word derogatory as well?

Abortion is another issue where there is very little middle ground. How can people at either end of the spectrum tolerate the opinion of the other side?

So, who makes the rules of what we tolerate and what we don’t tolerate? How do we as a society come to some consensus? Is it the group or person who shoves the most or has the most power? Maybe is it the person who has the most influence or money? Or does everyone do what he or she wants and expects that his or her actions will be tolerated? Maybe it’s time to go to the Northern Ontario wilderness and become a hermit.

My viewpoint is that fear has gripped many people and they are not serene, but accept what they might, indeed, be able to change. Like me, they are clouded on the issues and lack the wisdom to know the difference. However, there are some serious lobby groups out there who seem willing to crush anyone who dares oppose their point of view.

I would love to hear St. Francis’s speak now to a world where his voice would be one of thousands sharing the same stage, but differing in the message. In today’s onslaught of opinions, it is sometimes very difficult to have the wisdom to know the difference.

One might suggest that we should reflect on what St. Francis says and pray to God for this wisdom. Sounds great! It seems that even God is giving different messages to everyone, too. Just look at what is happening in many of the Christian churches. There seems to be a justification for every point of view. Viewpoints that have been valid for centuries are now seen in a new light.

So, I pray a new prayer. I ask God to teach me how to apply the words of St. Francis to the current world and to magnify the meaning of what he says so I can understand better.

Heritage Festival

Today was the main day for the St. Marys Heritage Festival. Each year is seems to get bigger and better. New and more events are added. For me it was much better than any other year for another reason.

This year we had two kids, Henry and Harriet, staying at our bed and breakfast with their parents. I also invited a former colleague, Beth, and her daughter and two grandchildren. That made the total four kids. That made all the difference.

It’s wonderful when you are allowed the privilege of looking at the world through a child’s eyes. We had eight of them.

Sometimes it isn’t the big things that amaze you. Something as each kid taking turns trying out our hammock is a big adventure. Watching them play with pure joy with our dogs in the backyard is refreshing.

Henry came up to me with a cherry in his mouth and asked where he could plant the seed, fully confident that in a few years there will be a tree full of fruit. Faith like that is infectious.

Then came the fireworks at night. Seeing the explosions lighting up their delighted faces was special.

Knowing that I was a part of creating a special day for these two families made all of the difference. Maybe that’s it. Through my hospitality, I created a spark that lit up the lives of these people. In return I was treated to the fireworks that their joy emitted.

All and all, it was a very satisfying day.

The Technology Olympics

We’re just a few short weeks away from the Olympics. A lot of attention will be on performance enhancing drugs. There are other issues that give some countries and individuals advantages that have nothing to do with steroids and everything to do with technology.

Take, for instance, the new swimsuits that Speedo has developed. They are state of the art and fit the athletes perfectly. Since they have been introduced, swimmers using them have seen their times drop dramatically. New world records have been set. Will every athlete have the opportunity to use one of these new suits?

I saw a documentary on the Australian swim team. They have built a special swimming pool with glass sides so the performance can be captured on video and the efficiency monitored by computer. The members get feedback on their technique that nobody else in the world has access to.

A few years ago, the cycling world was caught off guard by a new spoke design where the weight shifted towards the perimeter as the bicycle went faster. Another innovation was wheel covers that cut down on the wind resistance. Teardrop helmets did the same. When things like this happen, the performance of an individual athlete may not determine the outcome. Access to the technology me be the difference between a gold medal and none.

Some bobsledding teams have major automakers improving their sleds. Some of the poorer nations buy the used sleds that have been tossed to the side to make way for the new ones.

Skiing is another sport where some countries seem to get the technological advances before others.

What I find interesting is that the International Olympic Committee seems to turn a blind eye to performances enhanced by technology, unlike their position on drugs.

Another factor in the success of some countries is the money they put aside for athlete development. Countries reward performance in different ways. For some there is very little reward. For example, Australia used to spend, and probably still does, far more on its athletes than Canada, even though it has a smaller population. There are certainly the haves and the have nots when funding is concerned.

What you end up with is a system where there are often many other factors in the result than the athlete’s performance. In spite of this, sometimes you end up with somebody like Britain’s Daly Thompson, who won two gold medals at the Olympics in 1980 and 1984. What is remarkable is that he was his own coach and did everything pretty much on his own.

You know something is funny when India, a country with over one billion people has won only seventeen Olympic medals ever, eleven of them in field hockey. Australia with its current population of just over twenty million has won 386.

Rising High

There is nothing like a good old country gospel song. Here is one that I composed many years ago. I have the tune in my head, but I don't know how to write music.

Are you feeling lonely,
As if your life is going to end?
Your spirits can be lifted.
Do not give up, my friend.
It’s when your always feeling down,
That’s when you’re going to fall.
Just look up to the heavens
And rise above it all.

Sing, rising high, rising high.
The storm clouds have moved over.
I’m reaching for the sky.
Yesterday has come and gone,
But the best has yet to come,
And I am sure to get there
If I keep pressing on.

Or is it disappointment
That really makes you sad?
Does fortune frown upon you,
And makes the good turn bad?
Well at the very moment that
You’re up against the wall.
Just look up to the heavens,
And rise above it all.

Sing, rising high, rising high.
The storm clouds have moved over.
I’m reaching for the sky.
Yesterday has come and gone,
But the best has yet to come,
And I am sure to get there
If I keep pressing on.

Now, when you’re up in heaven,
And your life on earth is done.
You know that life eternal
Will have really just begun.
And when the Father says, “My son,
I heard your every call,
When you’d look up to the heavens,
And rise above it all.”

Sing, rising high, rising high.
The storm clouds have moved over.
I’m reaching for the sky.
Yesterday has come and gone,
But the best has yet to come,
And I am sure to get there
If I keep pressing on.

Our Father

As a kid, I used to go to Sunday school at the nearest Baptist church. I didn’t go to church. With all of the energy I had, that meant sitting still for an hour and there was no way I could do that. Anyway, at Sunday school I could ask questions. I did – lots of them.

I remember filling in the lesson manuals they gave us. Some of the questions were so obvious in their intent. One asked what you would do if your brother hit you. The choices were answers like: forgive him, pray for him, tell a parent, interspersed with get back at him and hit him. Let’s just say that some of my answers were slightly different than the other kids.

It used to bug me when some of the students would give the “churchy” answers for the teacher when I knew their heart was much different away from the class.

Once in awhile we used to say The Lord’s Prayer, which begins with the words, Our Father. I remember explaining to my Sunday school teacher that I had trouble saying these words. I would have rather said, “Our Jim,” or “Our Fred.” The concept of a father to me was somebody who left our home every weekend. I didn’t want the love of somebody who left me all of the time.

My teacher gently explained to me that when we said the words, Our Father, it meant the perfect father. My reply was that I had no idea what a perfect father would be like. I only knew the one I had.

Through the years I observed my brothers and other men being parents. Some did better than others, but I became more aware of what a father could be like. Since I have never been a father, I still don’t have first-hand knowledge. I think I have a pretty good handle on it, though. Here is what I have learned:
1. A good father tells you like it is. His intent is to build you up, not to tear you down, but your life has to be built on reality. That means that the building must be done to code, which may mean getting rid of shoddy work. He is honest.
2. A good father talks the talk and walks the talk, too. You can trust the person you see every day is the same one everybody does. You can count on a good father. His life is an example for you to see.
3. A good father shows his love to you through his words and actions. Merely saying, “I love you,” isn’t enough.
4. A good father wants to be with you and has an interest in your life.
5. A good father is not trying to be your best friend. He is trying to be your father. That might mean opposing you strongly when he knows you are doing something that is not in your best interest.
6. A good father is honourable. He honours you. He honours your family. He honours his wife.
7. A good father seems to know when to let go and when to hold on. When you fall, he helps by showing you how to get up. He usually doesn’t just get you standing up again.
8. A good father builds a relationship with his children. He doesn’t just “have” them.

There’s my list, but you might want to leave a comment on some of your insights on being a good father. You may be helping others, so please comment or add to what I have written.

As a teacher, I often think of my students. Some of them don’t have dads or moms. Others have fathers who are poor role models. I trust that they will discover some of the things I have.

Howard

Dr. Song, whose Chinese name is Song Yaowu, is known to me as Howard.

When I taught English as a second language, he was the department head of international affairs at the Harbin Institute of Technology. I guess you could say that he was my boss, but he immediately was my friend.

I’m sure everyone has the kind of experience where you meet somebody and it just clicks. That is the way it was with Howard and me.

We are both dreamers.

Not having a car in China, I used to walk almost everywhere. On the last Saturday, my feet were killing me, and I still had a lot of walking to do on my last day, Sunday.

Word must have gotten back to Howard that I was sore. The next morning I received an invitation to go to a private club with him on Sunday evening for a foot massage.

We took a taxi down some residential streets and descended into a beautiful room. From there we were taken to a private room where two masseuses washed our feet and started bring life back to my aching feet and legs.

The two women were soon forgotten. Howard and I were together letting our minds race. I told him of what I would like to do if I ever came back to Harbin. He shared with me some of his ideas. Our thoughts bounced around the room like the ball in a pinball machine, complete with the flashing lights.

A couple of years ago, Howard got a fellowship at Michigan State University. He didn’t have a visa for Canada, so I went to Port Huron, Michigan to spend the day with him and his daughter.

It was as if nothing had changed. We still fed on each other’s dreams. Howard talked of my going back to Harbin. The day wasn’t long enough for either of us.

Howard and I don’t have much contact with each other. It is sort of like planets that approach each other only once in a decade or something. When it happens, it is something special. While I would love to see him more often, it is a friendship that I treasure. While I have sent him emails, they have been unanswered. I have learned to wait until I look at my inbox and there is a message from him.

Johnny V. in China

When I was in Harbin, China, I had a group of ESL students who were mainly in their early 20s. I did things with them to immerse them into the English culture.

Every day we learned an English song. I still remember when they heard Anne Murray’s You Needed Me. I explained all of the words they didn’t know and my experience the first time I heard it. We did this just before lunch. When I went to the common room for the students, they had already downloaded the song from the Internet and were listening to it over and over.

I had brought all of the CDs of tunes from my high school reunion, so I decided that it would be fun to have a disco night with the famous Johnny V. as the DJ. Sara, one of the students, would be the Chinese DJ.

The students designed posters and put them all around the Harbin Institute of Technology. They promoted the fact that Johnny V., the famous DJ from Canada, would be there.

China is very different from Canada. To start, the ballroom where we to hold our dance was only available from 6 to 8:30 pm. Considering patrons don’t even think of going to Canadian clubs until 11 pm, it was a bit strange to be starting when the sun was still in the sky.

We had plenty of bottled water on hand. We were selling it for about twenty-five cents, but I think some students found that a bit expensive, because we sold very little. I think my North American colleagues who attended bought most of it.

With all the promotion around campus, about fifty people showed up.

The music started with Hey Jude followed by Staying Alive, then Satisfaction – a winning combination if I say so myself. Sara and Johnny V. were in fine form. Johnny V. looked pretty cool with a bandana around his head. The only problem was that nobody was on the dance floor.

I asked my students, “What’s wrong? Why aren’t people dancing?” They told me that the people didn’t like my music. What? How can they not like The Beatles, The Bee Gees and The Rolling Stones?

It took me a nanosecond to understand that it really didn’t matter that they didn’t like my music.

“Quick,” I shouted, “Get me something they like.” Instantly something was produced out of thin air and the strains of techno-rock started throbbing through the speakers. Yuck! I hate that stuff. It’s all done on computers, but suddenly the dance floor was moving like fish flopping in nets. Some of the dancers were quite talented, and everybody had a good time.

I still remember the reaction of my students. “You changed your mind. You changed the music,” they stammered.

“Yes,” I replied, “What I had wasn’t working, so I tried something else to see if it would work.”

Somebody stated, “That is not the Chinese way. The people in charge just don’t change their mind.”

Well, Johnny V. did that day and he was glad he did.

P.S. If you are looking for a DJ, you haven’t lived until you have heard Johnny V. And don’t worry. He will play whatever it takes to get you up dancing.

The Power of Music

I laugh when people say that the media (yes, the word media is plural) don't affect them. They really don't know how seductive they really are.

If a company pays about a million and a half for a thirty second advertisement on the Super Bowl and it has no effect, it must be crazy. Why would anybody do such a foolish thing if there was no result?

Still think that the media don't manipulate you?

I am going to do a little experiment here. A few days ago, I did my blog on a lion called Christian and how he was released into the wild. His former owners went to see him again and the reunion was caught on film.

I have discovered that there are several versions of this story on YouTube. The footage is pretty much the same in all of them. Concentrate on the actual film and ignore all of the rest. The only difference is the music that is played in the background.

What I ask you do do is to watch all four versions and monitor your feelings to each one. I will say no more, but I think you will understand just how powerful a medium can be.







And one more.



There are a couple of other things to note. If you have watched all four, you will discover that there are various subtle differences in the text and story. One version has many spelling errors that you can miss quite easily. Each one is a version of the "truth" according to the author.

Finally, what is the purpose of each video? Again, there are subtle differences.

So, where do you go for the real truth on the Internet? As you know, there is only one source - The Thoughts of Johnny V.

Out of the Blue

I always love surprises. I got one today. I received an e-mail from 冯艾寒 . What? You can’t pronounce the name? Neither can I. I almost deleted it, thinking it was junk mail, but I replied asking how this person knew me. It turned out it was one of my English as a second language students from Harbin, China.

Her name is Frances, although her Chinese name is Aihan Feng. Actually it is probably Feng Aihan, assuming that her last name is Feng. In China they use the family name first.

I always like talking to my students from Harbin. I have many stories to tell, but the one for tonight is the day I asked them why they all chose English names. I never really got a great reply except that when dealing with people from North America and Europe, it was easier to have a western name.

Then one of them asked me if I had a Chinese name. I think my laughter could be heard all around Harbin. Why would I have a Chinese name, especially when I still don’t think they need to have English ones?

I told them I didn’t, but invited them to make one up for me. The name they chose for me was Lee (or Li, I’m not sure) Lehr. Then somebody explained how they came up with this name.

They chose the family name, Lee, because it is one of the most common in China. It is the equivalent of Smith.

The “Lehr” part has something to do with smiling. They said they chose this for me because I seemed to be always happy. And I was.

I truly live in the lap of luxury in Canada, but when I think of my days in Harbin, they were among the happiest I ever had in my life. Each day was filled with adventure and joy. I don’t think my students could have picked a name for me that would make my happier than the one they chose.

It is always lovely when somebody pays you the compliment of looking you up after so many years. It shows you are not forgotten.

Casting the First Stone

John 8:7 (American Standard Version)
But when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.

A controversy is happing in Canada. Dr. Henry Morgentaler, a man who fought for the right for women to get abortions on demand, is receiving the Order of Canada. Many are unhappy with this.

First, the argument is being made that the Order of Canada is a positive award to unite the country, not to create division, as his appointment has clearly done.

Second, many feel that abortion does not protect the rights of the unborn, whose lives begin at conception, not at birth. Our legal system calls an unborn human a fetus to strip it of its identity.

Get into a discussion with people who condone abortion and you hear the “what ifs” come out of the box. What if the woman was raped, and even worse, by her father? Guess what? I don’t pretend to have all of the answers, but I can counter with a few “what ifs”.

What if the only reason the woman wants an abortion is that she doesn’t want to look fat? What if she wants to terminate a life so she can go out partying and potentially get pregnant again? What if the reason is that she doesn’t want to give birth is that it is the wrong gender? This is happening in countries like India and China where sons are valued more than daughters.

However, I want to get back to the casting the first stone business. Many letters to the editor of the Toronto Star today accused a Catholic priest of casting the first stone. What right did he have to protest Morgentaler being inducted into the Order of Canada when the Catholic Church had committed so many of its own sins?

Personally, I don’t know that one Catholic priest can be held responsible for all of the sins of the Catholic Church. I find that a bit unfair.

People often use the “casting the first stone” argument because they want the other person to stop telling them they are doing something wrong. They want to silence him, and usually because the arguments are cutting a bit too close to the bone. “What right do you have to tell me that I am doing wrong when you have flaws, too?”

First, let’s get something straight. The men who confronted Jesus were about to kill this woman. They weren’t merely trying to slap her on the wrist. In fact, they were setting him up by quoting the Law of Moses, which meant that a woman caught in adultery should be stoned. They conveniently forgot that the man caught in the act should have suffered the same fate.

This is when Jesus said the words about the person without sin should cast the first stone. He saw through the purpose of their confrontation. It was to try to discredit him, not to deal with the woman.

Next, while Jesus did not condemn her, many forget that he told her to go and sin no more. In other words, he said, “You are doing wrong. Stop it!” He certainly didn’t condone what she did and he didn’t say, “Look, I realize that you are only human. What you are doing is quite natural and it is love (in once sense of the word), so I will keep on forgiving you without any consequences, because I understand the temptation.” How convenient is it to forget his response.

If I take the suggestion that because I am not perfect I shouldn’t pass any judgement on anyone, then as a schoolteacher, I should not try to stop the bully from picking on others. I shouldn’t try to prevent any behaviour that will hinder learning in the classroom. And why? Because I have made mistakes, too, and I shouldn’t cast the first stone. I have no right to do so.

As far as I am concerned, stating an opinion is not casting the first stone. My intention is not to kill somebody, nor condemn him or her. However, I do not intend to sit idly by and allow injustice to occur, either.

I accept that people don’t like others to tell them that they are doing wrong. I don’t like them telling me I am wrong either, but that’s the chance I take with people I really love. I don’t condone things that may potentially hurt them. Granted, I need to work on my delivery at times, but I did mention that I am not perfect either, right?

Clare Hoy, a Canadian journalist, once said that just because you accept something happening in society doesn’t mean you have to condone it.

If I raise my voice in protest (I am a product of the 60s), though, please don’t accuse me of casting the first stone. By making that statement, are you not casting a stone at me? And feel free to try to correct me of my wrongdoings. I may snarl a bit if you try, but I can’t think of a true friend who hasn’t tried to steer me in the right direction occasionally.

Luna

Although you haven’t seen me for some time
The day will never dawn
When you see me coming back because I’m
Always here and I’ve never really gone

My thoughts are with you when you awake
They follow you throughout the day
They measure every breath you take
They hear every word you say

While you may feel I’m far away
And I am out of sight
I assure you that I’m here to stay
I’m just hidden by the night

When morning comes, I’ll reappear
You’ll see that I’m still there
So you have no need to fear
We have so much to share

How can you be sure that I’m still here?
And that I never did depart
I have chosen to stay so near
Because you name is written on my heart

Sometimes

Sometimes it happens after dark
When the thunder signals rain
And the sky is filled with sparks
Sometimes it’s in the laughter of a child
As she’s running down a hill
And acting kind of wild

My life amazes me
Each and every day
There’s always something new to see
I discover things I never knew
But no matter what I do
I spend all of my sometimes with you

Sometimes it's the loon upon a lake
When it gives its lonely call
And it makes the silence shake so strong
Sometimes it’s the dust on a country road
As it takes you far away from me
And my heart is about to explode

My life amazes me
Each and every day
There’s always something new to see
I discover things I never knew
But no matter what I do
I spend all of my sometimes with you

There’s something beautiful happening every minute
And it gives me lots of joy because you’re with me in it.

Sometimes I listen to the wind
And I hear your voice inside me
And the sunshine tells me you just grinned
Sometimes I feel like you’re right there
You walk with me every step I take
Because we have so much to share

Sometimes …

Three Cups of Tea

Here we drink three cups of tea to do business; the first you are a stranger, the second you become a friend, and the third you join our family.

I just finished a wonderful book called Three Cups of Tea. It is the story of Greg Mortenson, a man who has built fifty-five schools, especially for girls, in Pakistan and Afghanistan.

There are many facts that make this a remarkable story.

In 1993 Greg Mortenson failed to reach his goal of climbing K2, the second-highest mountain in the world. The attempt to scale the peak left him in poor health and the people of a small village in Pakistan nursed him back to health. In return for their kindness, he promised to build them a school.

When Mortenson returned to the United States from Pakistan with the dream of constructing one school, few would have given him much hope. Since his return was delayed, he was fired from his job as a nurse. He didn’t have a home. How could he hope to build a school when he had very little money to look after his basic needs?

This didn’t stop him. He kept putting bread on the water, hoping that one fish would eventually bite. And it did.

Nothing stopped him - not being kidnapped, not being branded as somebody who was trying to convert Muslims to Christianity (which is not true). Nothing would prevent him from keeping the promise he had made.

Problems were meant to be conquered. For example, when he found out that he couldn’t get the materials for his first school across the valley, he built a bridge.

He just kept pushing on where others would have given up.

As an American in Pakistan, especially after the bombing of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, he had many hurdles to jump to gain the peoples’ trust. He overcame them through his honesty and the quality of his character. Many declared that he practised Muslim values more than those who were against him.

I also learned that radical Saudi Arabians are funding extremist schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan. While the graduates of these schools often become terrorists, the root of the problem is in Saudi Arabia. I wonder why the western world doesn’t put more pressure on the source?

But I learned a more valuable lesson from Brigadier General Bashir Baz, a member of Pakistan’s armed forces. He said: “Osama is not a product of Pakistan or Afghanistan. He is a creation of America. Thanks to America, Osama is in every home. As a military man, I know you can never fight and win against someone who can shoot you at you once and then run off and hide while you have to remain eternally on guard. You have to attack the source of your enemy’s strength. In America’s case, that’s not Osama or Saddam or anyone else. The enemy is ignorance. The only way to defeat it is to build relationships with these people, to draw them into the modern world with education and business. Otherwise the fight will go on forever.”

Greg Mortenson is fighting terror with books and by building schools.

For more information on what he is doing, you can go to his organization’s website at www.ikat.org.