Dear Anonymous:

I got this comment the other day and I would like to thank the person again who sent it. I would also like to make some comments.

I admire your desire to change the world but think you need to relax and enjoy life a little more - you sound a little bitter lately!
I've read your blog periodically - I'm not a regular because your content is not very inspiring and too personal. Mostly (not always) it appears you are writing this more for yourself than anyone else. I suggest you Google "how to write a successful blog" for some constructive ideas.

To start, read the very top of this blog. It states what it is all about. I’m sorry if you think it is too personal.

As far as the inspiring part, I have no problem if you don’t find what I write that motivating. Although I don’t even compare to these works, the Bible and the Koran provide inspiration for many, but nothing for many.

What I do know is that I have touched one heart with at least one article. I received an email from the very first one, The Mirror of Death. It was from a mother who had just buried her daughter that day and she thanked me for putting into words feelings she had difficulty expressing. There have been other messages thanking me. To me, the few who I might have helped along the way are worth it.

Mind you, a weekly Internet mailing, endorsed by some involved in “The Secret”, going to thousands around the world, has used four of my articles. Each one resulted in about 200 positive replies and few negative ones. There are at least 800 who have been positively affected by what I have written.

Bitter?

First, this is the 394th article that I have written in a little over a year. A few have told me that some are pretty good. I know many are not very good at all. I don’t pretend to be a Hemmingway or a Tolstoy. In an earlier blog, I mentioned that my purpose was to write for a year and see what happened. I have found that not much has developed, but if I have helped make somebody’s life a bit better, great.

The process of trying to think of what to write is difficult after a year. That is why I will be writing much less, if at all, in the future. I feel I have gone to the well too often.

As an avid newspaper reader, I know that columnists don’t write Pulitzer-winning pieces every day. Some are criticized through letters to the editor, many in a similar tone as yours.

Since I don’t get paid at all for this, I am writing this between doing other things. I’m sorry if having a bad day may be reflected in some of the writing.

However, most days I am far from bitter. I live better than most of the world. I have great friends and, contrary to your statement, I do enjoy life very, very much. I do wonder if some of your judgement on my bitterness might be because you don’t agree with many or most of my opinions.

Yes, I am concerned about the world. Like many, I struggle to make sense of what is happening. Sometimes the process is difficult and I expect it shows in my writing. I see things that I don’t understand. For example, people complain about too much violence on television, yet do nothing about it. Sure, we can tell them to change the channel, but I feel that only to do that is to abdicate any social responsibility. The media affect our lives and we need to understand them more.

I state my opinion. Yours may differ. That’s fine. I may even be totally wrong and you may be totally right. That doesn’t make my right to state my opinion any less valid.

As far as “Googling” for tips on writing a better blog, I am not trying to create some mass following. You are right. I write mainly for myself, as most blogs I visit do (I have seen so many photos of peoples’ children), and if others can benefit from my ideas, great. So, thanks for the suggestion, but I won’t be following up on it.

Although you might not find me very inspiring, perhaps you might enjoy the following quote from Bill Cosby.

“I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody.”

So I can accept your criticism as being how you feel. I haven’t satisfied you. It really isn’t a big deal for me – I am not trying to please everybody – especially since you are anonymous. Thank you for taking the time for writing. If you are ever in the area, drop in for some tea.

Complaints

If I don’t like something, I am quite willing to pipe up and say so. Through the years, I have learned to pick my battles more carefully. Still, the way I see it, we are all responsible for the society we live in. If we don’t voice our concern, then we should be prepared to live in the world that has been formed without our input.

Years ago, I was concerned about a Sprite advertisement where parents were attending a show so they got their daughter to baby-sit. They specifically said no boys were to come over. As soon as they left, the boyfriend was seen behind the door with a pizza. The parents forgot their tickets, so they surprised the teen by walking in. The pizza was thrown in the air and the boyfriend ducked behind the couch with the adults not knowing all that happened.

Sounds innocent, but I didn’t like the way it made it sound “cute” to lie to adults when you are in a position of responsibility looking after children. I was surprised that the parent company, Coca Cola, had shucked it wholesome image. This was the company that taught the world to sing in one of its ads. Why was it portraying adults as dolts who wouldn’t notice someone was trying to pull a fast one on them or if they did know what was going on, wouldn’t seem concerned that their daughter was lying to them?

I don’t think it was only I who complained, but the advertisement barely lasted a week.

More recently, my target was the Wrigley Gum Company. It introduced a new sugar-free Juicy Fruit. In the commercial, a guy was strumming the company song on a guitar. Two guys enter the scene while everyone else is enjoying the music, rip the instrument from his grasp and smash it. This was supposed to be funny. I didn’t think so. So I called the company.

They basically told me to lighten up. Didn’t I appreciate the allegory? I asked them if their company policy was to settle all disputes with violence. In a world where people don’t seem to talk about their differences and come to some resolution, smashing somebody’s guitar is not an image I want to see. Also, having written commercials myself, I know that the idea isn’t really that creative. There are better ways to convey a radically new gum.

They created a second ad. It wasn’t much better. I complained again. Like before, I don’t think I was the only one who was offended. It didn’t last long either.

Next I tackled Much Music. You’re against violence against women, right? How about racism? Why not throw in vandalism?
In a Smashing Pumpkin’s video called 1979 all of the following happens. A girl’s head is shoved violently at a party. An Asian’s convenience store is trashed. Somebody’s home has its pool furniture thrown into the water and toilet paper put all over. Ah, the sweet innocence of youth.

I wrote to Much Music and they didn’t reply. I happened to know that the Canadian Radio and Television Commission takes these complaints seriously, so I contacted them and asked why I didn’t receive a reply. The sent a letter to Much Music and copied me saying that the station had nine days to respond otherwise it risked losing its licence.

Somehow I told this story in a classroom a few days ago and a couple of girls went ballistic. They didn’t equate that I had done nothing wrong. I was exercising my rights, and it was Much Music that was trying to ignore them.

I told the girls to put their beefs on paper. One furiously started scribbling. She tossed out the first draft and handed me the second. On it she told of how a video by M.I.A. called Paper Planes advocates that war and gangster activities need to stop through mockery. I thanked her for her response and said I would watch the video.

Ya, perhaps in my old age I just am not getting the hip, young message that is being given here. Maybe I am taking the last lines of the song a bit too seriously:
Some some some I some I murder
Some I some I let go
Some some some I some I murder
Some I some I let go.

Meanwhile the number of murders in Toronto is on the rise and people scratch their heads and ask why. No, it's not this one song, but it is a whole society filled with media of all types, including the Internet, that promote voilence.

There was a saying in computer talk a few years ago in the punch card era. It was garbage in, garbage out. I will argue for your right to put whatever you want into your head. I cherish that same right for myself, but it has been known for centuries that if you fill your life with good thoughts, then the result will be a happier life.

Writing

There are times when I love to write. I literally can’t wait to get to my keyboard and start pounding my keys. Lately, that hasn’t been the case. I have been struggling. I just haven’t had the motivation.

There have been topics that I have wanted to discuss. It seems that I just can’t be bothered. I am discouraged. There are times when I feel as if I am going nowhere. I keep trying to work towards goals and don’t seem to be succeeding.

Then I watched the birds at the feeder today, particularly the one containing Niger seed. Each nugget is so small. Each peck extracts only one. It will take forever to drain the container. Yet, each morning I see that it has gone down. It has happened one seed at a time.

So I try to focus on the small stuff and try to do them well. I plough ahead with the expectation that I will arrive at my destination in life, whatever it is, safe and sound.

Just like the sparrow, if I just keep pecking away, I will make a difference eventually.

The Conference

If an invitation to a conference from a professional group had said, “We invite Caucasians aspiring to leadership positions …”, what would you think? My guess is that many would consider such an invitation as racist.

If it said, “We invite heterosexuals aspiring to leadership positions …”, I suspect that many would be calling it homophobic.

What if that same professional group had in one of its communications, “We invite Muslims aspiring to leadership positions …”? Might that be deemed as religious exclusivity?

How about this one? “We invite men aspiring to leadership positions …” Definitely sexist.

Well, the invitation did not say any of these phrases. It did say, “We invite women aspiring to leadership positions …”.

What would you say if this professional group had many activities specifically for women and none exclusively for its male membership? What would people say if the situation was reversed?

Oh, and by the way, this professional group says it has a great concern for social justice and equity.

Maybe I have it all wrong, but I feel that equality and equal opportunity means just that. We have worked hard to take words out of the English language that depict gender. Chairmen have become chairs. Manning a table has become staffing it. Mankind has been changed to humankind.

Then why is it not sexist when it appears that men are not welcome? I have checked with this professional group. Men are not allowed at this conference.

Why is there this double standard? It is like saying only white people can be racist.

I am not saying that there shouldn’t be conferences and seminars that are geared towards the interests of women. What I am saying is that everyone should be allowed to go to them as long as they are members of that association.

When I was the Executive Director of the Canadian Association of Journalists, we had several caucuses, including ones for women and gays and lesbians. I remember one journalist who was neither a woman nor gay, but he joined both of them. Nobody batted an eye.

A part of me is tempted to register using my name in French, Jean, which looks like a woman’s name in English, and then show up. A part of me wants to stand up and fight against something I feel is wrong. Another part of me says I have had too many battles of this kind in my life. Swimming against the stream too often gets you nowhere and you often get swept over the dam.

I’ll just think about it for now.

What He Said

It wasn’t necessarily what he said. It was how he said it that made the difference.

Dream On

I wish things would turn out the way I want them to all of the time. They don’t. We all face disappointments in life. At times we just want to give up.

What would happen if you didn’t take any more shots in basketball because you missed a shot that would have won a championship?

What would happen if you didn’t take another turn at bat because, like mighty Casey, you struck out with the bases loaded?

What would happen if you decided not to drive because you failed a driver’s test?

While I can’t guarantee that you would have the opportunity to win another championship or knock in some home runs or pass the driver’s test by giving it one more try, I can guarantee that if you don’t give it one more try, you will never have that opportunity.

At the time when it feels you should give up on your dreams, you should dream some more. It may seem a crazy thing to do, but look at it this way. If you have no dreams, you have no dreams to come true. If you have many dreams, one, just one of them, might come true.

You have the option of living in certainty that nothing will happen or the expectation that something could happen. Which one would you rather choose? Many opt for the sure bet. It feels safer knowing what the future holds in store.

Although I feel like Charlie Brown at times when he was trying to kick the football, I trust that one time Lucy will not pull it away. In fact, that is what I wanted to see in the last strip of Peanuts. I don’t know why Charles Shultz didn’t think of it. He should have had Charlie Brown kick the ball a mile. It would have been a fitting end to a great comic strip.

The way I figure it, I will keep dreaming on until some of my dreams come true. The odds are with me. Eventually something will happen.

Speaking the Language

Effective communication means using the English language in a way that resonates with your audience.

When I worked in television advertising in Edmonton, I feel we lost an important account because my boss prevented me from presenting a proposal in a manner that the client would appreciate.

The Full Gospel Businessmen’s Association sponsored a program that was broadcast on our station called Good News. Due to Canadian content laws, the organization, based in California, realized that there were many advantages in having it produced in Canada.

The Edmonton chapter of this organization was very strong. So was the Toronto chapter. It was basically a two-horse competition.

There were many reasons why Edmonton should have won over Toronto. Our production costs were less. It took less time and less money to commute between California and Edmonton. Our staff and production facilities were among the best in Canada.

Landing this account was pretty important, too. This was an organization of businessmen. There is no telling how much additional business rubbing shoulders with them could have generated.

I put together a great package that ended with the line, “It is my sincere hope that our proposal is an answer to your prayers.”

When my boss saw this, he made me take it out. He indicated this in the strongest possible terms. Why? Was there something untruthful about what I said? Not at all. If these were Christian businessmen, they would, indeed, be praying about it. Was I being insincere and giving them a line just to win the contract? No, I honestly thought we would do the best job. Anyway, selling what you have is putting it in a favourable light in language that the consumer will appreciate. The problem was that my boss wasn’t a very religious person – more anti-religious – and he didn’t speak the language.

The result was that Toronto won the contract. I still wonder how things might have been if I had been allowed to keep that one sentence in my introductory letter. I don’t waste too much time on it, though. There is nothing I can do to change what happened. It’s history.

US Politics

I am perplexed by the Christian right’s involvement in the US election. It seems as if it is basing its recommendation to voters on two issues that define Christianity to them – abortion and the right for gays to marry. If you are against both of these, then you must vote for John McCain.

I’m not even going to debate these two issues, because that is not the point I am trying to make here.

What confuses me is what I feel elections should be about. In Canada, we voted yesterday and the main issue was who we felt was the most effective leader for the country. Yes, there were other issues involved, but at the end of the day, it was the person who is to make those decisions who was being judged.

Let’s start with the Biblical stance that everyone is a sinner. That includes Barack Obama, Joe Biden, John McCain and Sarah Palin. None is exempt from this category, including me.

So, which sinner do you want to put into the White House?

I guess one of the questions I would ask is which person would you trust the most to be able to negotiate peace and harmony in the world? Which person will put the best face on the United State’s foreign image?

Or does the USA have the market cornered on Christianity? Is it the only nation that is following God’s will?

For the past eight years there has been an evangelical Christian as the leader of the most powerful nation in the world. And he has been terrible. Sure, he has been in line with the two “issues”, but most agree that he has been one of the worst presidents ever. The suspicious way he was elected must have been God’s will, right? Can we forget the voting irregularities in Florida, a state governed by his brother? But many were happy because he is an evangelical Christian.

My concern in polarizing these two issues for the vote is that many other important issues will be sidelined. There are many cults out there that believe the same thing. How do we know that Sarah Palin’s theology reflects the mainstream of America? She and her husband have supported a political movement in Alaska to separate from the United States, yet she has the gall to link Obama to terrorism and some guy he had dealings with long ago. Do people not see the hypocrisy in this?

Aside from these two issues, which party is acting more Christian-like? If one party was to pull the trigger on dropping bombs on innocent people, which one do you think would do it first? Would it be one that supports gun control or one that argues that Americans are safer if they pack a pistol?

If at the end of the day people think that McCain is the better leader, I have no problem with that. That’s the way democracy works. What I have a problem with is that two issues are defining the campaign when there are a lot of other things at stake.

Meanwhile both parties try to put fear in the voters’ hearts using every political trick in the book. Does that sound very Christian to you? If God is really on your side, do you need to stoop so low?

My friends in the United States, clear your heads and do the moral thing. Elect the best leader you can. If it is Barack Obama, that’s fine. If it is John McCain, that’s fine, too, but don’t elect somebody based on two issues alone when there are so many others to consider.

Adolph

One of the most amazing students I have ever had was Adolph. This was years ago in 1979.

He always seemed happy and got along with everyone in spite of having a name that few have named their kid after the Second World War.

His foster parents asked if I could come out for a meal to discuss the best way to help Adolph progress in school. You see, he had problems in most subjects, particularly math.

If I asked him what 3 plus 4 was, he would just guess at the answer. To multiply 3 times 4 resulted in more guessing.

When I arrived at his home, I noticed a copy of The Hockey News on the coffee table. I instinctively picked it up and glanced at it while I waited for tea.

When Adolph’s foster mom came back into the living room, she said, “Go ahead. Ask Adolph any question from The Hockey News.

I started with a simple one. “Who is the leading scorer with the Edmonton Oilers?”

“Wayne Gretzky.”

“How many goals?” He knew. “How many assists?” He knew. “What’s the total?” He knew.

In that era, every kid knew about Wayne Gretzky. I decided to be a bit, no, a lot tougher.

“Who is the leading scorer with the Minnesota North Stars?

“Al MacAdam.” Adolph was right. He knew the goals, assists and total points, too.

“What kind of stick does he use?” Adolph was like a marksman picking off targets. He knew. “What kind of gloves does he use?” He knew, he knew, he knew everything I asked him. Somehow he could digest The Hockey News like kids attack pizza.

The next day in class, I thanked Adolph for inviting me into his home and gave him a note to send home with his foster mum.

In math class, I tried fruitlessly to work on addition and multiplication with him. Then I got a brilliant idea.

“How many points does Wayne Gretzky get in a game if he has three goals and four assists?” “Seven,” Adolph immediately shot back.

“And if he gets a hat trick (three goals in a game) for four games, how many goals does he get?” “Twelve,” replied Adolph, matter-of-factly.

It seemed as long as I put the math question in hockey terms, he knew the answer.

Maybe that’s the problem we face with communication. We express ourselves in our terms and expect everybody to understand. I somebody doesn’t get it, perhaps we need to enter into his world. Of course, this is much easier said than done. It requires work on our part and the other person has to be open about what his world is like. Fortunately, Adolph’s passion for hockey allowed me to discover valuable insights about his character.

I lost track of Adolph. A job that I wanted more took me out of the province. My fondest desire is that this young lad landed on his feet and is happy in life. I know what the perfect job for him would have been. Something working with a professional hockey team was right up his alley.

I wonder if he ever got to meet Wayne Gretzky. I hope so.

Censorship

We had an interesting discussion about censorship around our breakfast table. Those who feel that censorship is a bad thing always amaze me. What I dislike is the superior intellectual attitude that they often adopt. I think they need to think a few things over.

Mention censoring explicit sexual content and they cite how violence bothers them more. Ok, limit that, too.

Let’s look at a world with no censorship and see if you want it.

In this world snuff films would freely exist. What is a snuff film, you ask? It is where a person is murdered and the action captured for people to watch. I wasn’t even aware that such things existed until I saw the film “Pornography” starring George C. Scott.

The tapes of Paul Bernardo would be accessible to anyone. They depict the torture of two teenage girls and the sexual acts they were forced to perform. Who knows how seeing these may encourage others to mimic the contents.

The problem, of course, is that the Internet is here now with very little censorship. However, some things are taken off. For example, You Tube removed a clip that showed a US Marine throwing a puppy over a cliff to its death.

However, there are some who would argue that nothing should be censored and that people should have the option to decide for themselves what they should read or watch.

The main problem is what to allow and disallow and who makes that decision.

One of my teachers at Ryerson once sat on the Ontario Film Censorship Board. The dilemma was that if a film was censored, they would be asked if they had seen it. If the answer was no, the response was, “How could you censor it if you didn’t see it?” If the answer was yes, then the argument was made that they had seen it, so everybody should be allowed to do the same.

With freedom there is responsibility. For every action there is a reaction. In an anything-goes society, we have to accept the fact that many things will be allowed to happen that will not be good for that society. I think the majority of people want some limits, which means censorship is not necessarily a bad thing at all.

A Couple of Thoughts

I have been very busy lately. We run a bed and breakfast and I have been doing occasional teaching almost every day. There has been little time to sit and muse about what I am going to write. I have had a couple of thoughts, though, and I will share them with you.

People are worrying about the litter from coffee cups. I would like to add some pizza companies that sell single slices and put them on a small wedge of cardboard. Inconsiderate customers toss them away without any regard. I have some solutions.

For the coffee, charge a bit extra for the cup. If somebody brings in his own cup, then he gets a discount. If you collect 10 take-away cups, you get a free coffee. What if people toss them away anyway? There will be people like me who will collect the in order to get a free coffee.

The same strategy can be used for the pizza wedge plates.

In both cases, people might be concerned that cups and cardboard from different locations might be used for the free product. Simply marking the bottom of the item with a unique symbol or store location will do the trick. If this isn’t present, then it doesn’t count.

It could also be a strategy for helping the poor. Instead of asking for money, you could give them these “vouchers” that could be traded in for coffee and food. I tried to start a scheme like this with Subway stamps a few years ago. The idea is that people could donate the stamps to the poor, but the head office didn’t seem to warm up to the idea. Too bad,

On another matter totally unrelated, I have Sarah Palin editorial cartoon that I would like to draw. The problem is that I can’t draw, so I will just describe it.

Perhaps you remember the night she debated Joe Biden. When she greeted him, she asked if she could call him Joe. What a calculated move! Don’t ever believe that it was spontaneous.

In my cartoon she would be meeting the Queen. The words that would come out of her mouth would be, “Can I call you Liz?”

That’s it for today.

Elections

I am getting to hate elections. Instead of hearing of what we look forward to if we elect a government, fear is marketed.

I’m tired of hearing what will happen if we elect this party or that. Right now it is a situation where four political parties in Canada are ganging up on the Conservatives.

I have no problem if you don’t prescribe to any of the platforms. What I hate is when people make it sound like the people who are running for office are purposely trying to destroy the country.

Think about what would motivate somebody to run for office in the first place. I’m sure part of it is a sense of adventure, but I’m just as sure that it is wanting to make a difference in your society. Seriously, some criminals are portrayed in a nicer light.

In the United States, it is even worse. Things have become petty. I heard that the Republican Party is pointing out that Obama’s middle name is Hussein. Are they trying to link him to some terrorist organization? Yes, they are. The name of the game is to try to put fear in people’s hearts. Hey, Barack Obama didn’t choose his name. Anyway, what kind of parents would name their kids Track, Trig, Bristol, Willow, and Piper? Sarah and Todd Palin, that's who. Doesn’t sound like the Brady Bunch to me.

If you think I am being tough on the Republicans, I’m sure the Democrats are doing similar things.

Not only that, they are digging things out of the distant past that probably have no relevance today. That’s probably why I don’t run for office. If everything I said or did years ago was hauled up for everyone to see, I probably wouldn’t get too many votes. The truth is, though, that people grow and change. Sometimes they actually learn from their mistakes. None of us is perfect.

Yes, I’ll be glad when all this is over and all of the people roll up their sleeves and start making this country better.

Motivation

Books have had a profound effect on my life. Viktor Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning” ranks in the top ten.

Frankl was a Jewish psychiatrist who lived through the holocaust during the Second World War.

While he was in the Theresienstadt concentration camp, he found that as long as prisoners had the hope of being reunited with their loved ones, they had the determination to stay alive. Many died, though, just hours after receiving information that the reason for living – their family – had died.

One of Viktor’s motivations for pushing on from day to day was a book that he wanted to write.

As long as people have a reason to live, the fire will burn brightly in their heart. When that flame goes out, so does the will to continue life.

From this starting point, Frankl built up a practice in which his goal in treating patients was to find a significant reason for living, even if it was something as simple as feeding a budgie.

As an occasional teacher, I have a difficult task. I have to enter a classroom and find some way to motivate students. Sometimes I succeed; sometimes I don’t. It all comes down to whether I can find a reason for the class to perform well.

I have experimented with this a lot. Something as simple as putting a coloured piece of paper on their desk when they do well and taking it off when they are not on task has worked effectively. The purpose is to get as many as you can by the end of the day.

With kindergarten students, I have taken a cue from the movie “Life is Beautiful”. The father in the film awards meaningless points to his son to keep him quiet and obedient in a concentration camp. Guess what? It works for kindergarten, too. I award points for smiling, standing straight, keeping quiet and almost anything else. By giving the kids a reason for doing as I wish – earning points – they are motivated to behave well.

So what is your motivation for living? Hopefully it is something that helps you climb great mountains and hang in there when others would give up. If you lack this drive, let me know and I will start sending you points.

No Problem?

I couldn’t believe my ears! A man stood up in a public meeting and stated that there was no division on the board of directors he represented. The problem was that I have talked to three separate members of that same board who have told me that there is, indeed, division and that it has been around for years. Why would he say such a thing? Was he lying, unaware of the truth or what?

If I hit my thumb with a hammer, doesn’t my whole body know that there is a problem? Doesn’t my eye look at the throbbing mass? My tongue will be participating in the pain along with my brain.

Then how could he be unaware of the division on his board of directors?

It is not difficult to imagine. I have known husbands and wives who have not been aware of the problems in their marriage. They often say things like there were a few difficulties, but that is to be expected. As far as they were concerned, things were good. And then the spouse walks out the door.

The problem may not be entirely with this man’s perception, though. Perhaps the board members who were dissatisfied didn’t communicate with him very effectively.

The situation is still the same. If one person on a board is unhappy, then there is a problem that has to be resolved. It doesn’t matter who caused it. It doesn’t matter if you are right and the other person is wrong. What matters is that the problem is corrected.

Most have hear the saying, “It takes two to tango.” Well, I’d like to add another phrase to it. “It only takes one person to spoil the dance.” Try to recognize the problems that others may be having and deal with them. If you are the one in the relationship having the problem, make sure the other person is aware if it. Communicate. You’ll learn more about life by meeting the situation head-on rather than pretending or not knowing it exists.

Canadian News

I really appreciate being Canadian, but for reasons that are not that obvious.

We are blessed with better journalism than most of the world and a freedom to cover what is happening without fear of being killed. Seriously, there are countries where being a reporter is equivalent to having a death wish.

If Canadians want to be, they can be very well informed about what is happening here.

If you move to another country, it is difficult getting Canadian news. While it is nice to know what is going on, it is comforting to know that there is nothing so serious here that reverberates around the world. It’s not that we are that boring. We just don’t have the violence, problems and scandal that other places have, and that is good.

Let’s take today, for instance. We are in the midst of an election campaign, but what is one of the big stories today? The five finalists have been named for the Hockey Night in Canada theme. Oops, I made a mistake. It is not a theme. It is more like our second national anthem. Regardless of which one is the winner, there will be a lot of discussion around coffee (Tim Horton’s, of course) about which one is the best.

If you are interested, why not listen and decide for yourself?
HOCKEY NIGHT IN CANADA THEMES

Yes, I love Canada because there are times when it is non-newsworthy. It just chugs along trying to be nice in a world that contains so much hatred.

As my pen pal and her husband put it this summer, Canada is a dream for so many Europeans. Having been many places in the world, I have to agree that our standard of life is very good. I have come to appreciate living here.

What I find interesting is that unless you have experienced living in other countries, you don’t usually have an idea of what a wonderful place Canada is.

Getting to Milverton

We had a meeting to go to in Milverton. My sister offered to drive, but she didn’t know the fast way to get there. I had gone many times and I knew all of the back-road shortcuts.

We set out on our journey. I saw the intense look in her eyes as we sped down the country roads towards our destination.

About halfway there, we caught up with another car from St. Marys that was attending the same gathering.

Immediately I saw the intensity of my sister’s gaze decrease greatly. As long as somebody else was taking the same route, it erased all doubt that we might not be going the right way.

And so it is with life. It is easier to walk along the path knowing that others have preceded you to clear the way. Their footprints on the ground reassure you that you are getting closer to where you want to be.

The problem is that if we are the first one to push along that road, we have to do it without the benefit of the example of others.

That is the difference between a leader and a follower. Leaders don’t mind taking chances moving through uncharted territory. They don’t have to follow the crowd. They aren’t listening for the footsteps of others to hear if they are following. They pay attention to their own progress, not seeking the gratification of others.

We reached Milverton in good time, taking the most efficient, timesaving route. I had guided my sister well. Some other day, though, I think I will try another route to see if there is even a better way to get there.

Buying Your Way Into Heaven

What if you could buy your way into heaven? Wouldn’t it be wonderful? The people with the most money would be assured of a great afterlife.

But hold it! Some people would have an advantage. If they were born into a rich family to start with, that wouldn’t be fair.

And what about the people who came by their money through dishonest methods? Perhaps they might have stolen it or duped others from the money they could have used to pay for their salvation. Would you want these kinds of people in heaven?

What about those who are filthy rich but are selfish? Perhaps they spend nothing on those less fortunate than they are. They have beautiful homes, yachts, expensive cars and other worldly possessions.

On the flip side, what about the poor? Is it their fault that they are poor? Shouldn’t they be given a chance, too?

So being able to buy yourself into heaven doesn’t sound like a great idea. What about doing good? That sounds better.

How do you define what is good? For example, Bill Gates probably does a lot more good than I do. Hold it! He has a lot more money to do philanthropic work. And now that he is retired from Microsoft, he has much more time.

What about those who have suffered terrible abuse and hardship? How do we judge the broken-hearted and discouraged? How do we be fair about being good? It is a lot easier being good when everything is working out for you.

So, how do you give everyone the opportunity of going to heaven? You figure it out.

Terry Fox

There are moments in time we remember. They are stamped on our brains, never to leave.

Those of us who are old enough know where we were and what we were doing when President Kennedy was assassinated. Hockey fans can relive Paul Henderson’s goal in the Canada/Russia series in the final game in 1972.

I was reminded today of another vivid moment in my life. The school where I was teaching had its annual Terry Fox Day. It brought to me the recollection of my hearing about his death.

I was on an airplane heading towards Winnipeg in 1981. We were over Thunder Bay when the pilot came on and announced that he had died. The cabin became instantly silent. It remained that way for quite some time. I remember feeling rather empty. We were near the place where he was forced to give up his quest to run across Canada with one artificial leg for cancer, the disease that claimed his life.

Although he didn’t reach his goal, I don’t think anybody would call him a failure. Many regard him as a hero. I don’t. I put him in a class by himself. He was simply Terry Fox. That’s all I have to say.

He certainly was a pioneer. He set out to do something when nobody else had done anything else like it. Others have since emulated his feat for various causes.

What made him so special was that he wasn’t doing it to draw attention to himself. He did it because he felt it should be done. My memory of his run was that it didn’t get much publicity at all in the beginning. It sort of grew as he lurched from community to community.

In 1999, while on a contract with our Department of Foreign Affairs, I became quite aware of the impact he had on our country. As I travelled around the world, I found out that the embassies I worked in all had a Terry Fox Run.

Will there be Terry Fox Days years from now? I hope so. It isn’t often that somebody who dared to dream without any expectation of personal gain comes along. He touched the lives of many, including me.

Yolanda

I grew up in a time when political correctness did not exist. Sometimes I think it was a blessing. Sometimes others hurt people without reason.

There is one incident that happened when I was in elementary school that I still bristle with shame.

Her name was Yolanda Sacco. She had come with her parents to Canada from Italy. She still spoke English with an Italian accent. Unlike most of us, pale as a bed sheet on the clothesline in winter, she had a beautiful olive skin. Her dark eyes seemed on fire. Her hair was long, wavy and dark like coal. I thought she was very beautiful, but she wasn’t like we were. She didn’t even dress the same.

Just like today, kids in the schoolyard pick on others. The weak try to find somebody even weaker and try to feel superior. Yolanda was at the bottom of the chain when it came to being teased. Kids of all ages would run towards her and yell out that they didn’t want to get her kooties. It took me years to find out what kooties really were, lice.

Of course she didn’t like it! Who would? Her reaction to every barb was thrown her way was like a bull pierced by the spears in an arena. She would charge wildly after the tormentor, only to miss time and time again. This only augmented the taunting.

One day I joined in the frenzy. I delighted in seeing this creature thrash about like a fish caught on a hook. My nostrils flared with the feeling of power I had evoking such passionate fury out of Yolanda.

The recess bell rang and everybody returned to class.

My mother was the crossing guard at this school. I would usually be home by the time she returned.

When she came in the door, she asked, “What happened to Yolanda today?”

“Why?” I replied.

“When she crossed the road tonight she was sobbing as if she didn’t have a friend in the world. Do you know what happened?”

My mother was pretty perceptive. I somehow knew she knew that I was one of the ones who had crushed Yolanda’s spirit so much.

I would love to say that this story had a happy ending. It would be nice to tell you that I went up to Yolanda, apologized and that we became good friends. That didn’t happen. I wish it had.

The best I can do is admit my mistake, learn from it and, as I often do, send out a silent prayer on her behalf, hoping that she has experienced happiness beyond her expectations.

And yes, I would love the opportunity to meet her again and ask her forgiveness to her face for what I did. By not doing this at that time, I lost out on being able to grow in this experience.

The Sports Networks?

All of them are guilty. Not one of them is exempt. They call themselves sports networks, yet they continually show poker. It is bad enough that they show professional wrestling, which is anything but sport.

Tell me, what conditioning do poker players have to go through to be top competitors? None. Oh, I’m sure that some of them will tell how they work out and eat a special diet to stay sharp, but it is a game of chance. I would rather watch a game of Trivial Pursuit than watch people I don’t know do something I have no control over.

Seriously, I could get a bunch of friends over, have them dress up as different characters, videotape the game and sell it. It might even be better if I scripted it like WWE wrestling. Why would I do that? So the most popular player would win most of the time, thus increasing the television ratings. How can we be sure that this isn’t happening already?

There are several good reasons I consider television poker a waste of time.

The first is that you can get your poker fix anytime you want on the Internet.

Next, poker is gambling. Many people are getting hooked on it and the result is that lives and families are being ruined.

But the best reason of all is that we are becoming a sedentary nation. Why? One reason is our glorification of activities that don’t require any sweat.

Remember the Olympics just a month ago? Many of us were glued to our television sets watching athletes compete for glory. Do you think that they hibernate for the next four years and emerge again for the next Olympics? No, there are competitions everywhere for them. If the competitions aren’t televised already, then the sports networks could do so.

I think it is time for the Canadian Radio and Television Commission to look at what sports networks are offering the public. Are they encouraging Canadians to get out of their armchairs and become fitter or are they doing the opposite? By the amount of poker I see, I think it is the latter.

ESL Students

If you ever want to gain an appreciation for your country, teach a class in English as a second language. It will change the way you think about Canada (in my case).

Quite often people in our countries become angry with immigrants. If you take the time to find out their stories, you will gain a new appreciation for them. I will tell you two.

She was a doctor in Columbia. Her husband was a lawyer, and a successful one – too successful. It seems he won a case against the wrong people. Their response was to murder him.

When the note appeared at her door that she was next, she fled to Canada. She is studying English, and hopes one day to be a doctor again, but it is starting all over.

The first thing you notice about her is her smile. Like many others, she is happy to be in Canada. The cold winters are not welcome, but the political climate and freedoms warm the soul.

Next, meet a woman from Afghanistan. She lived there before the Taliban took control. Still, as a youngster, girls were not encouraged to go to school. Her family moved to Iran, but she says that foreigners were not treated very well there.

She and her husband eventually returned to Afghanistan. The Taliban was in control by then. Her husband was thrown in prison for reasons they still don’t know. Eventually he was released and he fled to Russia. She took off to Canada with her six children.

She hasn’t seen her husband in eight years. The last time she talked to him on the telephone was six months ago. She has had to make her way in a strange country with different customs and provide for her children.

She told me her oldest daughter finished high school with a 92% average. It’s funny, but when you see some of the top students in schools, they are often people who have come from another country.

It is as if people from abroad see the opportunity in Canada that others don’t see. Like runners who train at a high altitude, their hardships at home prepare them for success when they are faced with better conditions.

There are bad apples in every crop, but the vast majority of ESL students I have met appreciate Canada in a way few Canadians do. Not only that, they encourage me to overcome any difficulties I might think I have. They inspire me.

A Good Boy?

I was reading the Toronto Star the other day. The story was about a 23-year-old who had been shot.

The article said, “The men demanded drugs and cash he was carrying and (he) was shot point-blank when he refused to deliver, a source said.”

Later on an uncle is quoted as saying, “If kids are bad, you can always see the symptoms, but not with him. He was a good guy.”

Sometimes there is nothing blinder than love. It can make you ignore the symptoms.

An acquaintance said, “He was always laughing, always happy. He was a really good guy.”

I don’t want to be misunderstood here. I am sad when anyone has to die, but I am concerned when we start labelling drug dealers as good guys. People who make their living by ruining the lives of others are not good people. It doesn’t matter how much they laugh, how much they are kind to their families, how they may spend their money on others.

I hope this is a case where the family is just painting the best possible picture of the person to help them cope.

Unfortunately, too many people overlook the bad in their children and immediately label them as good. I have heard many of them say, “He’s really a good kid,” when the child has made some horrible choices in life.

Although not people, my dogs can provide a good example. They are not good all the time. Here’s the difference, though. I recognize when they are bad and I do what I can to correct it. If I didn’t do that, I wouldn’t really love them. We have a great relationship as a result. They are very happy and so am I.

Why are we so afraid to do this with people?

And I am speaking from experience here. Somebody I know was taking and dealing drugs. We got somebody to help by intervening. We dealt with the situation, eventually getting him to a clinic in the States. We didn’t idly sit by and talk about how good he was. He wasn’t, but we loved him enough to do what was necessary to give him the option of turning his life around. Fortunately, he grabbed the lifeline that was thrown to him.

Yes, there is good in everyone, but when the bad covers it you have to recognize it so it can be dealt with.

Finally, there are consequences to our actions. The fact that this young man was dealing drugs was the cause of his brutal death. The uncle in the story asks, “Why would anyone want to harm this young guy?” The answer is right in front of his face, yet it seems he refuses to see it.

The Scratch

Nobody’s perfect. I prove that every day. In fact, I really showed my humanity the other day.

We are looking to buy a new car. We don’t want to put any more money into the ones we have right now. I decided to take one out for a test drive.

The salesperson went along with me. I really liked the way it handled. We came back to the dealership and I wanted to see how easy it was to park, so I backed it up into its original spot – almost.

Crash! I misjudged just a bit and backed into a light standard. I suffered from embarrassment. My main concern, though, was I might have gotten the salesperson into hot water.

She said that she would talk it over with her boss and get back to me. I insisted that I go along with her to own up to my error. He wasn’t there, but two other representatives came out to look at the damage. I told them that it was entirely my mistake and to let me know what I could do to correct it.

I found out today what I can do to correct it. I paid for the repair. It came to just over $300. I immediately went to the dealership and put it on my credit card.

After I got over my initial feelings about the incident, I laughed about it. Why? I figured it was better to chuckle over my mistake than get upset about it. There was nothing I could do to reverse it, and nobody was hurt, so I decided to count my losses and move on with a smile. This attitude made everybody feel better about the damage and eased any tension that might have existed about the situation.

As I got to thinking about the accident a bit more, I realized that the $300 that I forked out could actually be a good investment. While I sincerely wish I hadn’t backed into the pole, a lot of good could actually come out of it.

Think about it. I admitted my mistake immediately and took full responsibility for it. I mentioned that it was not the fault of the sales representative. I know at least the salesperson appreciated my attitude. My guess is that the others who came with me to inspect the damage felt the same way. There is no telling how many others they will influence if the subject of my character comes up.

When the bill came, I didn’t question it. I calmly went in, paid it and laughed about the mistake I had made. There was a time in my life that I might have been really upset over having to pay for this. Not now.

We may eventually buy a car from this dealership. What kind of customer would they like to negotiate a sweet deal with, one who tries to push blame away from himself or one who admits his mistake? I’m the guy who didn’t try to stiff them with paying for the damage. I have earned their trust through my words and actions. At the very least, I know I have their respect and that is worth a lot more than $300 to me.

Yes, good can actually come from bad. Often it is the perspective you take on it, not the circumstances themselves, which may be bad.

And finally, I learned one other thing. When it comes to getting the car in and out of the tight parking spaces on car lots, let the staff do it.

A Close Shave

When I worked with Softball Canada, I remember an occasion where I heard that an umpire attending a national championship tried to sue the association. We had a strict policy that umpires could not have beards and this gentleman sported one. He was claiming that he was being discriminated against.

The case was thrown out of court. Here’s why.

The umpire-in-chief at the time was a man by the name of Ed Bitz. He told the judge that the umpire was aware of the rule before he arrived at the national championship.

As umpire-in-chief, his job was to judge the umpires. It is important that they are neat in appearance. Shoes had to be shined. No jewellery could be worn, mainly for safety reasons. Pants, shirts, shoes and socks had to be a certain colour.

At least a couple of reasons were behind these rules. First, there were usually at least two umpires on the field. It gave them more authority if they looked the same. Second, on a close call, like a policeman, a neat umpire would be able to “sell” the call better.

The beard is considered part of this philosophy. Bitz’s reasoning was that he had to make the judgement of when a beard was considered too scruffy or not. He found that the simplest way was to determine this was to draw the line at the skin – in other words, no beard. Otherwise, when would a beard be deemed to be unacceptable?

With many of today’s issues, we face the same problem. Where do we draw the line in the sand or when does a beard become too scruffy? It doesn’t matter what the discussion is, your level of tolerance to any issue will be different than mine. Then what do we do? How do we agree to disagree?

In my blog, I have given my opinion on a number of topics. I don’t expect everyone to have exactly the same view as I do.

Like television in the 1950s, years ago things tended to be more black and white. Today, there are so many colours. Perhaps this is good, but the result can be that there are so many variables that society doesn’t have any values at all. Anything goes. Where does that leave us? I wonder. I long for the simple solution that Ed Bitz had on beards. The easiest place to draw the line was at the face.

Family

I come from a remarkable family. There were eight children. Each one of us is different. We can have eight different viewpoints on any subject. When we get together the conversation flows like an eggbeater.

When we were younger, we used to fight a lot. When I say fight, I don’t mean those little tussles. Life was pretty violent. On one occasion my sister and brother both had to go the hospital for stitches.

Part of the problem back then was that there were ten of us living in a house with only three small bedrooms. I remember studying in university what happened to rats when you put too many with in a confined space. I could have skipped that class. I already knew that they fought from personal experience.

Some of my classmates used to invite their friends home after school. I tried it a couple of times, but it didn’t work. Adding another person to an already crowded house made matters worse.

Did I have it bad? I didn’t think so. Growing up in a home like that, I figured that what I experienced was normal. Something was always happening. There were few dull moments.

As we all grew older, a strange thing has happened. We have grown much, much closer.

My pen pal came to visit from Belgium this summer. She remarked how ideal my family seemed. It seems hers siblings are distancing themselves from each other.

Perhaps having shared such a unique experience binds us together. Really, I wouldn’t trade my family for any other. I feel that I can share them with anyone.

For example, Tony, a friend, may be coming over tomorrow to do some carpentry work. Some of my family is visiting for a few days. I know that they will welcome him as if they have known him for years. Of course, I will be the brunt of their teasing, but I’m used to that.

I have come to realize that it I am quiet fortunate to have the family I have. This isn’t just my brothers and sisters. It flows down to my nephews and nieces.

As they say, you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family. I think I won the lottery concerning family. We aren’t perfect, but we are special. The adversity we shared together when we were younger, I think, has brought about a bonding that will last. Had we had it easier, I'm not so sure if we would be that close.

The Best Sermon Ever

I have attended a few churches through the years. When I worked in television on Sunday mornings, I had to endure about seven sermons. I have heard about every slant on Christianity going on out there and in many different styles. Of all the sermons I have heard, there is one that stands out as the best.

Norm Anderson delivered it when I lived in Edmonton. His style was often to pick a passage from the Bible and explain how it could be applied to everyday life. On that particular day he didn’t pick a passage. He didn’t even pick a whole verse. The whole message was comprised of only eight words.

“For God so loved the world, he gave …”

Until that moment I had a Hollywood idea of love. It was all warm, fuzzy and gushy. It involved a lot of words. Saying “I love you!” was so meaningful, especially if you said it with passion, exhaling as you delivered the line.

I learned that day that too many people look for love, the noun, instead of practising love, the verb. A precious love is not something you have. It is not something you make. It is something you give.

I can say, “I love you!” millions of times, and there is nothing wrong with doing that, but if I give nothing to show it, then my words are meaningless.

Norm talked about how really giving meant that you didn’t expect anything in return. If you expected something, then you were bartering. It also is not giving what you have in abundance, either. There are too many men out there with trophy wives. They can be lavish in their giving, because they have lots to give. No, true giving is giving something precious. The ultimate giving, thus, the ultimate love, is giving your life to somebody. Loving is not about me. It is about somebody else.

We all need to receive love, but if we want to be the best lovers out there, it is all in the delivery, not the receiving, of this precious commodity.

I think circumstances sometime make it difficult to practise love. I think of Goksel, a friend in Turkey. Regardless of a few years of not hearing from her, I have recently made contact and found that her lack of correspondence has been due to the fact that she has been grieving the death of her husband. My love for her certainly has been dormant through this period of time, but I never gave up. I will be the best friend I can be, but the distance will make it difficult. Also, my ability to give love will be influenced by her willingness to be in contact with me and to communicate. Before you get the wrong idea, I am not talking about romantic love. I am describing a love that thinks of the other person first.

Regardless, loving all comes down to giving, according to Norm Anderson. You know what? I think he was right.

Do you know somebody who needs encouragement right now? Is there a friend who is on your mind? Reach out and touch them. Give them your love. Don’t just tell them. Make your love an action verb, not a noun.

A Day of Rest

I just realized that I just finished my 366th entry into my blog. That is over a year's worth of writing. I am celebrating by taking the day off, except for this short message.

To start, it is difficult to write something interesting every day.

One concern about putting your thoughts and emotions out there for all to see is that people will either a) think you are some sort of a kook because of them, b) get upset at you because they disagree with your position on a certain subject c) think that what I have to say is not very important or boring, and d) all of the above.

My other concern is that I really have no idea who is reading what I am writing. Sure, once in awhile somebody mentions that they read something. I appreciate any comments I receive. Most of the time I feel like an actor on the stage with nobody in the audience.

But I still write on, not really sure if this journey will take me anywhere, but enjoying the view.

Anyway, this was supposed to be a day off, yet I have written something. I hope anyone reading this will be blessed by something I have done.

Bagpipes

When I worked on television, I loved working on remote broadcasts. It meant getting out of the humdrum of the day-to-day routine. The hours were usually long and on a weekend, meaning lots of overtime. Since I was making just over $100 per week at the time, the extra money was useful.

At the time CKCO in Kitchener did a lot of events outside the station. I have never seen a place that did more parades than we did. One year we covered three Santa Claus Parades. You think the kids would have caught on that Santa didn’t look exactly the same in all three. Mix in an Oktoberfest Parade and an agricultural parade in Brantford and you get the idea.

I was pretty excited when I was asked if I wanted to do the Fergus Highland Games. Excited? I was ecstatic – that is until I experienced the actual event.

We arrived to the sound of bagpipes. We had coffee to the sound of bagpipes. During lunch, we were serenaded by, well, bagpipes. Bagpipes, bagpipes, bagpipes all day long! They never stopped.

When I got home, I could still hear them. They permeated my dreams.

Now I can only take bagpipes in small doses. The sound is similar to a cat in pain. I swear that there are only five tunes that you can play on this instument.

The only problem is that we Canadians love them. A soldier dies in Afghanistan and we hear the television news report at the funeral. How does it open? The sound of bagpipes. I don’t want to be misunderstood here. I am sad that somebody has died. It’ just gets to be a bit monotonous when every item on the same subject starts the same way.

If people are led into a building, somebody wearing a kilt squeezing the blessed bag escorts them. Politicians love it. They feel it gives them a regal entry, I guess. The Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame does it. We lead the students down to our storytelling festival under the influence of the pipes. Many have them at weddings. If there is any event that Canadians don’t think will be embellished by the sound of bagpipes? Sometime I don’t think so.

I ask you to consider this. Canada considers itself a multi-cultural country. Whole neighbourhoods are devoted to people from various nations. When the World Cup of soccer is on, many eyes are glued to the television sets even though Canada has only been at the event once, I believe. Why? Because no matter what teams are playing, many Canadians consider it their team.

Since we have so many cultures close to our hearts, why to we always seem to pick the Scottish when it comes to parading people around? Are we immune to a good brass band? How about playing sitars, balalykas or alpenhorns? Please play anything except the bagpipes for me. They are simply too cliché.

9-11

There are very few people in the world who don’t know what I mean by the title of this article. Some moments in history are pressed into our minds. We never forget them. We can tell you exactly what we were doing when we heard the news.

Those of us who remember know what happened. We have a pretty good idea of why it happened. Still, we try to find some sense in the tragedy. We try to find the nub of information that will unlock everything and bring some logic to the situation.

Each person deals with it in his own way. Some talk of a conspiracy. They believe that there were bombs planted in the World Trade Centre by the US government. One guy on You Tube created a video filled with inaccuracies. It talks about how the number 11 is a significant, stating how New York City has 11 letters and other useless facts.

For me, it all comes down to this. What have I learned from this moment in history?

I didn’t know anybody who died in this tragedy, although I played softball with one of the survivors. What happened at the World Trade Centre and other places on that day has not touched me personally.

I can replay the footage of the planes crashing into the towers, hoping unrealistically that they will miss this time. They don’t, but each time I view the image, the effect is amplified.

What I walk away with from all this is the fragile nature of our existence. We really don’t know what will be happening from one moment to the next. Our lives can be going on quite normally then, bam, something happens that changes everything forever. What endures, though, is love.

One of the immediate effects of 9-11 was that people started connecting again with their own families, their friends and themselves. While it is sad that it took such an event for people to reach out and rediscover all that they have, that is certainly one thing positive that has come out of this terrorist act.

The Election Debates

I have heard that the Green Party is now being allowed in the election debates. Elizabeth May has triumphed. What she hasn’t done is assure me that she is any more honest than any other political leader.

I realize the importance of being seen on the same stage as the other leaders. I just wish that I had the confidence that it had been done in an honest manner.

My understanding is that to be part of the televised debates your party had to have a seat in the House of Commons. Enter Blair Wilson. He was a former Liberal member who became independent then joined the Green Party.

The next step was for Elizabeth May to start shouting that now that the Green Party had a member of Parliament, she should be allowed to be part of the leaders’ debate.

To this date the Green Party has never had a person elected. Seldom have their candidates even finished in second place, yet they want the same voice as the other major parties.

To start, the whole situation seems fishy. The Liberal Party and the Green Party have agreed not to field opposing candidates in two ridings to increase the potential of their people getting elected. Now that’s democracy for you, isn’t it? So we now have a former Liberal party member shifting to the Green Party. Doesn’t that sound a bit suspicious?

I wonder what would have happened if Blair Wilson had joined the Natural Law Party, Canadian Heritage Party or Communist Party of Canada. Would the same outcry have happened? My feeling is that it wouldn’t have been an issue at all.

Then why did it make a difference with Elizabeth May? She has spent years as a lobbyist nationally and internationally. She is well connected and also knows how to whip the media into a frenzy. There was a letter in our local paper this week about including her in the debate by a party member. My guess is that every party member was encouraged to do the same.

Before you get the idea that I am against Elizabeth May, stop. I admire her in many ways. She has a lot to say. I think she will add something to the debates.

What I don’t like is the way the process worked. If you think I am being tough on the Green Party, I don’t like the idea that a party that doesn’t field candidates outside of Quebec has a place at the podium. Giving the Bloc Quebecois a voice, when it really has no care about the rest of Canada unless it is in Quebec’s interest, does not please me at all. I think it is time to set some rules for how the speakers at the televised debates are selected.

Media Sightings

I have watched with great interest the two party conventions in the United States. There are things I like about each of them; there are things I dislike. One of my concerns is the media spin that is put on these events.

Politicians often complain out of one side of their mouth about media coverage, yet they milk it to death.

Criticism was raised against Princess Diana when she wanted her privacy, yet would contact journalists when it suited her. You just can’t have it both ways.

A bit of that happened last week at the Republican convention. I remember reading about how the family wanted Sarah Palin’s teenage daughter’s pregnancy to be a private matter. Suddenly, the father of the child is at the convention by her side. He didn’t seem to be there at the beginning. Why did he suddenly appear? It certainly got a lot of media attention that wouldn’t have been there had he not arrived.

At both conventions, there were many shots of spouses and kids. What I find odd is that nobody commented that these children seem to be the only ones attending the convention.

Having planned a few conventions, my guess is that there were a few delegates who brought children along. We provided daycare for the children, so their parents could go about doing business.

Although I haven’t done the research, I suspect that both conventions had daycare. Either that or everybody except the candidate families left their children at home, because I didn’t see any.

I have no problem with children who want to see mommy’s or daddy’s finest hour. It is important that they are part of the process. I have difficulty understanding what an infant, who will have no recollection of the event, is doing in the arms of his father and the wife of the presidential candidate. Would not the child be better off asleep in a crib in a quiet room? Why was this baby there?

I think the answer is obvious. The party is playing up to the media. The fact that the baby has Down syndrome portrays the parents as people who understand what it is like to have a child with a disability. It makes them appear nobler. The media eat it up and the public does too. Few stop and ask questions and recognize the media manipulation.

As I said, when the media doesn’t allow this manipulation, both parties will scream about bias and inaccurate reporting. And why not? If you aren’t covering my truth, then I will be upset.

My hope is that the commentators in the media include in their analysis these blatant attempts of branding candidates through means other than the issues they represent. At the end of the day, isn’t that what America wants? It doesn’t matter if you are a hockey mom (a pitbull with lipstick) or that certain Hollywood stars or Oprah supports you. What matters is what the candidates stand for and the good government they hope to provide.

The Same Old Same Old

We have just finished another storytelling festival in St. Marys. In many ways you could consider it a success. We had the strongest roster of tellers ever. Many aspects of the event were beyond our expectations.

Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t the best and our attendance did not go up.

Tomorrow we will be doing a post-mortem. We will be deciding where we need to improve. Many suggestions will be given.

The easiest thing to do would be to continue on, doing the same things we are doing now, just trying to do them even better. We won’t probably be losing money and the tellers and all those who attend tell us we are doing a great job.

If our objective is to have more people come each year, then we are not succeeding. If we do the same as we did last year, the results will be pretty much the same. If you put the same amount of sunshine and water on seeds each year, the yield of your crop won’t be much greater.

Therein lies the problem. We often put up with mediocrity because it feels comfortable instead of taking a chance and flying with the eagles. We tend to look at all of the negative aspects instead of the positive. We worry about falling instead of thinking about flying. The problem is that if you are staying the same and not improving, you are actually moving backwards.

For example, I have thought that it might be better have the festival at the end of June instead of September. I know that many will come up with reasons why we shouldn’t switch the date. My feeling is that if we never try, we will never know. I can think of a few reasons why June will be better, longer, hotter days being one of them.

Most of us are the same way. We settle into our lifestyle, complete with all of its habits, never wanting to change. We are comfortable the way we are, thank you.

When I get like this, I think of Tiger Woods. He was at the top of his game, winning a lot of tournaments. He was the number one golfer in the world. How did he feel about that? He got a coach to change his swing. His goal isn’t to be the number one golfer of a certain year. He wants to be the best golfer ever. He knows that he probably won’t do it if he does the same things every other golfer has done.

Martina Navratilova was the same way in tennis. She was a very good tennis player. That wasn’t her goal. She wanted to dominate the game. She decided to do something other players hadn’t done much of to that point. She worked on her strength and conditioning. Until then, tennis players had become better by merely playing more tennis. She stepped outside of the “same old” and got more than the “same old” results.

So, what do you want out of life? Are you content living the way you are? If so, I am happy for you. However, if you want more, realize that you are going to have to change and that will probably mean going out of your comfort zone and doing things in ways you have never done them before. You are going to have to analyse what you really want in life, then be prepared to make the positive changes you need in order to meet them.

My Happiness

There is only one person in this world who can make me happy – me! Does this mean that people don’t bring me happiness? They do. I love the gift of happiness that others drop at my doorstep.

No, what I am trying to say is that I am the one who is responsible for my happiness, not somebody else.

Let’s say I rely on somebody else to bring me happiness. Guess what? I am going to be disappointed. Why?

To start, can you imagine going through life knowing that somebody else’s happiness depends on you? That is certainly a responsibility that I don’t want.

Next, people are human. They disappoint us sometimes. The stumble and fall. They are not perfect. Do I want to place my joy in the hands of somebody else and take the control from me? I don’t think so.

There is something liberating knowing that your happiness does not depend on somebody else at all. Allowing yourself to have this privilege means you have control over your life. Somebody disappointing you may hurt a bit, but it won’t devastate or destroy. It won’t take away from your happiness at all. Why? You are not depending on that person for your happiness.

I have learned that when I realize I am the only one responsible for my happiness, I am happier. If I have the choice of being happy or sad, I’d much rather be happy.

Something else happens, though. When I am happy, people quite naturally want to be around me. If I am sad, they want to avoid me.

A case in point is Charly Chiarelli. He was a storyteller at our festival this weekend. His enthusiasm bubbles over. He seems to be a very happy man. The result is everyone, EVERYONE, wants to be around Charly. He is the life of the party. When he is around, you expect something wonderful to happen.

I try to be the same way. Instead of moaning about the way things might be, I try to dream of the way they can be. I try to spend my energy bringing joy to the world. I want to be so happy that people want to come along with me for the ride.

And that doesn’t depend on them. That depends on me. Nobody else, only me.

Yes, you can dance for joy alone. When you do, you will soon find that somebody just might want to join in the dance. And if they don’t, then it’s too bad for them, because your dance will bring them joy, too.

My Front Porch

It was a magical night. The organizing committee for the storytelling festival, some of the tellers and the audio guy met for a barbecue at our place.

The conversation was animated. All were enjoying themselves.

This year, our theme is One World – Many Voices. We are featuring stories from different cultures. Assembled on our front porch were representatives of a few countries.

I purposely left my guitar in a spot where it was easily seen. Matt, who is doing our sound, spotted it and got it out and started strumming it. It didn’t take Charly long to get out one of his many harmonicas. La’Ron followed with an odd-shaped drum. It is actually a cube that he sits on. The sound changes depending on where you hit it. Mark went to his car and brought back his mandolin and flute. Finally, one of Matt’s buddies arrived with his guitar.

Our little orchestra assembled, they jammed for over an hour. Everybody joined in when a familiar tune was recognized.

In spite of very different backgrounds and experiences, music intertwined our spirits as we joined together in song. The sum of our parts became one and it was beautiful.

Good food, good music and good friends. It was a perfect recipe for lifting all of our spirits.

Dear Governor General

I understand that Prime Minister Stephen Harper will be coming to you soon to ask for an election to be called.

If my understanding is not wrong, this is the same man who wanted to change the way we do things in Canada. He didn’t want political parties going to the polls merely because they may be ahead in the polls and might win a majority government.

I realize that we have a minority government. I have no problem if the other parties defeat the Conservatives on a vote to force an election.

Of course, the Conservatives could put something ridiculous on the floor, knowing it would be defeated. That would make them look bad. They don’t want to do that.

So Mr. Harper seems to have decided to invite all of the party leaders over for coffee in an effort to convince everyone that nobody wants to play ball with him, so he must call an election.

Michaëlle, I hope you don’t mind my being so informal, but I feel that you have done a great job and have been a real friend to the country. I really feel you have integrity to have risen so far. So I am asking you for a favour.

From my courses long ago in junior high, I learned that you have the ultimate power in Canada. It is something that has only been used twice in our history. I am asking you to use it again.

When Mr. Harper comes calling to ask you to call an election, I am hoping that you will read the hearts of most Canadians and answer, “No.” Then you can give him two options. Please tell him that he can continue doing the job he has been doing for the past few years. If he doesn’t like that one, inform him that there are a few other party leaders who would be willing to get together and do what is necessary to give Canada good government.

Please don’t make us go to the polls unless you get the feeling that Canadians, and not the Conservative Party, want to do so.

Michaëlle, this is a great opportunity to show that you are no ordinary Governor General.

Sincerely,
Johnny V.

Kerem

Have you ever heard of Kerem Yilmazer? Unless you are Turkish, you probably haven’t.

We met Kerem and his wife Goksel in Bodrum, Turkey in 1986. We were seated on a terrace at a restaurant. Rather than sitting facing each other, we sat looking at the people walking along the street, leaving two seats facing us.

Goksel and Kerem came looking to eat, but there was no more space, except the two seats at our table. I motioned for them to sit and they accepted my offer.

We found out that both of them spoke English fluently. Kerem had gone to high school in Los Angeles. Goksel had gone to Boston University. In fact, Faye Dunaway was her roommate when she was there.

The next few hours were spent in animated conversation. I was working for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation in London, England. They were Turkish film stars. We swapped stories about our lives.

Kerem was sort of like a Charles Aznavour or Frank Sinatra of Turkey. He mixed acting with singing. Goksel was a comedienne. In the movie, Funny Girl starring Barbra Streisand, hers was the voice you heard in Turkish, except for the singing, of course.

They invited us to meet them at the beach the next day, which we accepted. We enjoyed each other’s company so much. This led to our getting together every day they were in the area.

I remember one time they came to our hotel to pick us up. We sat and chatted on the chairs in the lobby. A television set was broadcasting a program about a wealthy Turkish family that owned lots of land. It had a son, sort of like the J. R. figure in Dallas, who was gambling away the family fortune.

I noticed people in the lobby looking at the television, then looking at Kerem. Yes, he was the villain in the program. In real life he was anything but. He was a gentleman through and through.

While we were in Turkey, Goksel and Kerem had a wedding anniversary. We threw a surprise party at a restaurant for them, complete with a cake with Turkish words on it. They told us it said “Happy Anniversary”.

The day came when their vacation was over. We still had a few on ours. I remember going back to the restaurant where we met and feeling rather empty. In a short period of time, a close friendship had evolved.

For many years, we exchanged Christmas letters.

In 1999, we met again in London, England at a Turkish restaurant. The place was packed when we arrived. We were placed way in the back at a pretty bad table. As soon as a good one became available, the owner escorted us to the prime location. He knew who they were.

Our reunion was filled with joy and laughter. It was great meeting them again. We parted not knowing if we would see them again.

When we arrived back in Canada, Turkey had a major earthquake. We called them to find that they had spent three days sleeping in their car, but they were fine.

Then came the silence. Our Christmas letters were not reciprocated. We kept sending them. Regardless of whether they were writing, we kept on reaching out, never giving up hope of rekindling the friendship.

Today that day came. I was tooling around the internet when I thought of Goksel. I decided to put her name in Facebook and there she was. I sent her a message immediately and asked her to be a friend. The reply was almost immediate.

So was the news about Kerem. He had died in a terrorist bombing in Istanbul in on November 20, 2003 while sitting in his car at a red light.

As Goksel put it in her letter, she died that day, too. She keeps herself busy, but her special partner in life was taken from her. We feel the loss, too.

I have included some clips of Kerem and a photo. Yes, he was very handsome. Yes, he was a recording and film star in Turkey. But, yes, he was my friend. That is how I remember him.

A Brief Note

He sits quietly at the counter
Quickly jotting down each word
It is all that he can give her now
And the idea seem so absurd
For they’re only letters on a page

The crowd is bustling round him
He’s oblivious to their din
He scribbles each and every thought
And pulls each feeling from within
Hoping that they touch her soul

What does he have to give her?
All material things turn to dust
So he pours his heart upon the page
And hopes that she will learn to trust
The meaning of his words

How can mere words show her his love?
He dreams of all he wants to give
To make her life exceed her hopes
Yet all he wants to do is live
The words he’s written down

It’s a ragged piece of paper
It has captured his thoughts for now
He has finished writing the brief note
And he pauses and simply wonders how
It can make any difference

A cleaner picks up the crumpled paper
It contains a solitary phrase
It simply says, “I love you”
Written in several different ways
Each one with its own meaning

He wonders where this note came from?
Why was it merely tossed away?
Was it ever delivered?
He throws it out and cleans the café
For they’re only letters on a page

Labour Day

Tomorrow is the first day of school. Today brings back many memories when I was young.

Families are usually steeped in tradition and ours was no different. On the two weeks before Labour Day, my mother always managed to get away to a cottage somewhere. Looking after our household all year, she had earned it. It was the younger children who went with her.

We would be dropped off and then picked up a couple of weeks later on the Sunday before Labour Day. I don’t know why, but I remember it usually being very hot when we got home.

My father would also come home from his vacation on the same day. No, he didn’t vacation with us. He always brought home lots of fish. While our family could have eaten it all eventually, there was too much for our freezer. I remember scurrying around to neighbours’ homes and asking them if they wanted a fish. I had to move quickly because the fish were frozen and you could hold onto them for only so long before your hands would ache.

On Labour Day, we would go to the Canadian National Exhibition. At school we had gotten free passes and we used to watch the annual Labour Day Parade, which was a big deal then. It was a big deal for us, too. Three of my brothers were sheet metal workers and they often were in the parade.

Another highlight was the arrival of the 48th Highlanders pipe band. On several occasions my Uncle Stan led them. Apparently he was well known in military circles, although I hardly knew him.

Being on a strict budget, we had two rides, I think, we could choose from. My favourite was called The Scrambler. The rest of the time was spent wandering around all the buildings.

We didn’t need money to enjoy the Ex. Taking in all of the sights, sounds and smells were delightful.

After a day of walking around in the hot sun, we would return home on a very crowded streetcar, then take the subway, then the bus and arrive home. We couldn’t get to bed fast enough. Rather than being nervous about the next day, we slept soundly.

We awoke to a new beginning, wearing new clothes we had purchased in the Eaton’s Annex, an area of the old Eaton’s store where there were bargains.

While we can’t go back, it’s nice that the memories still remain.