Posted on January 18, 2018 under Storytelling with 9 comments

Bernie Vosman 1960-2018

 

“Go rest high on that mountain,

Son, your work on earth is done.”

Go Rest High on That Mountain. Vince Gill

Bernie Vosman was my friend.

But then again, Bernie was everyone’s friend.

Bernie was a unique person. He was loyal, kind, dependable, witty, and charitable and had an unbelievable work ethic. I got to know him during my years as administrator of the CACL Workshop. We teased each other relentlessly, something for which he became well known. Over the years, he asked many a married man, “How’s your wife?” When he was questioned on his own marital status, he would quip,” I’m not married. I have no money. Me teasing.”

He participated in the Special Olympics for decades and in 1988, traveled to Calgary for the National Games. Amongst all the participants and volunteers at these games, numbering in the thousands, Bernie was given the “Spirit of The Games “award. That speaks volume about his character.

He attended the CACL Workshop for many years and as the supervisor of the woodworking shop said, “Bernie was the backbone of the woodshop. He always knew what to do. He didn’t need instructions and could operate every piece of equipment.” He was considerate of others and was “a really good soul,” according to another staff member. We can all attest to that.

Participants at the Workshop enjoyed outings such as canoeing.  Bernie was always keen to participate… as long as it didn’t conflict with work!

He branched out and started doing work in the community. At the time of his death, he was employed by Nova Construction. Nick, his supervisor, said that Bernie worked with a purpose. “He was never idle. When his regular duties were complete, he would come and ask if he could do something else to help out. He was our morale guy.”

While we will all sorely miss Bernie, it was his family that Bernie cherished the most. His siblings adored him and treated him with dignity and respect. And Bernie returned it in kind, along with some carefully chosen quips! His sister Mary put him on the bus on his first and last day, a span of some 51 years. His work ethic around the farm was legendary. He was proud of his Dutch heritage and while unable to speak the language, he understood every word when it was spoken.

Back in the 80’s, his brother Johnny, who was running the dairy farm, was attending a Bulldogs playoff hockey game at the arena. He became concerned as the game went into triple overtime, knowing the cows needed to be milked. When he arrived home, Bernie has milked every cow and fed them as well. “How did you know how much feed to give each cow,” queried Johnny? “I went by the size of the udder,” replied Bernie. When John tested the milk later, everything was perfect. Bernie was one smart man.

Bernie loved his parents, Bill and Diny and he was their pride and joy. His siblings say that their parents were able to spend their last 20 years together in their house primarily because of the help Bernie provided. When Bill died, Bernie put his arms around his mother’s shoulder and said, “I’ll take care of you.”

At the end of every day, Bernie would go to his bedroom and rehash the events of the day…to himself…out loud. Anyone going by his door would think that there were four people talking.

Son. Brother. Uncle. Friend.

A family member said, “Bernie was our glue. He kept our family close.”

When Bernie arrives at the pearly gates, as he no doubt will, he will stride through those gates and say, “Bernie here.”

 

Posted on January 15, 2018 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

Saguaro National Park – Arizona

( Peter MacDonald photo )

 

Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

Loosely translated for those of you not familiar with the phrase, it means “ my bad.” It comes from a Latin prayer called The Confiteor which means, “I confess.”

I waxed eloquently last week about the evils of Nabilone. Are you still humming the music to Abilene?! I still have issues with “Big Pharma,” and make no apologies for that sideswipe. This column is meant to be light hearted. There’s more than enough potty language flying around these days.

I did a pretty good job at trashing Nabilone. And this, after only taking a single pill. I received lots of feedback, some public and some private. Most of you just had a good laugh. But for a few of you, medications like Nabilone are game changers. I received a bit of “schooling.” Apparently (and not surprisingly) it takes several weeks before a person’s body adapts to a drug like Nabilone. In some cases, people with chronic and severe pain have been given a new lease on life.

So, Nabilone, this is my official mea culpa. Sorry, but I won’t be taking you to the prom. I have a book to write and am involved in quite a few community endeavours and cannot afford to wait for you to ask me to dance in 4-6 weeks’ time. I’m in enough of a fog as it is.

Small community newspapers matter. I am very fortunate to have multiple platforms to publish my stories but I think newspapers are still my favorite. There’s just something about holding the written word in your hands while sipping coffee… or wine. The Highland Heart has been around our community for quite a few years now. I love the paper. It is local and it is grassroots. When I’m hanging out in the Doctor’s office or sipping a dark roast at the Tall and Small, I often grab the HH to see what’s going on in our community.

Full disclosure. I am a regular contributor to this publication (and don’t receive remuneration). I am astonished at how many people stop me to say they’ve read something of mine in the Highland Heart.

So, here’s the deal. The paper is for sale. You could be the new owner. If you are interested, contact Sarah Armstrong. You just might be the next media mogul!

Profound sadness. I came home from an event the other night and Betty informed me that Bernie Vosman had died. It really and truly felt like a kick in the stomach. Bernie was one of the finest and most decent human beings I have ever met. I got to know him during my days as administrator of the CACL Workshop.

In the eyes of Bernie’s family, colleagues and friends, he was a superstar. I will tell you more about this incredible guy on Thursday as I pay tribute to a life well lived.

Have a great week.

P.S. OK. So you’re wondering, “What in the hell is the picture of the cactus all about?” That was taken by my son Peter in Saguaro National Park near Tucson, Arizona a few years ago. Hoping to spend some time there in March. Apparently it’s the place to go for arthritis sufferers.

Posted on January 11, 2018 under Thursday Tidbits with 3 comments

The Missouri River

( Peter MacDonald photo )

 

“ Naboline, naboline,

Nastiest drug that I’ve ever seen”

(Sung to the music of “Abilene”)

Pain.

Chronic pain.

Show of hands. How many of you suffer from chronic pain? Thought so. Lots of us. It goes with the turf when you’re north of 65. We’re all looking for something magical to minimize pain. This could be through aquasize, chiropractic medicine, acupuncture, therapeutic massage, cortisone injections heating pads, extra strength Tylenol and when things gets really serious, Captain Morgan dark rum.

Oops. Forgot one. Medical marijuana. Having run out of options, I spoke with my doctor about medical marijuana. When the discussion ended, I had in my possession, a prescription for Nabilone which is a synthetic drug having some of the characteristics of marijuana… minus the high.

A few days ago, I took my first pill.

You’ve all seen the ads in the U.S. when they’re touting a new “wonder drug.” Yes, it’s wonderful for the pharmaceutical companies but the side effects are what get me. The list is gobsmacking and runs from benign to lethal. I read the sheet that accompanied my prescription to see what I might expect… besides relief from pain.

I will not bore you with all the sordid details of the next 18 hours other than to say that I now know what it might be like in the Sahara Desert; such was the dryness in my mouth. Throw in confusion (more than normal!) and mind racing all night and I concluded that the remedy was worse than the pain. The next day, I trotted back to the pharmacy to return the 59 unused pills.

I think I’ll just wait until pot is legalized, go to NSLC and grab a few joints ( ones that don’t creak and ache! ) and then listen to George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord.”

I sing in the Antigonish Chorale Ensemble (ACE). It is an excellent choir. The musical arrangements are quite challenging for someone who doesn’t read music very well. Having talented people on either side of me who can read and sing very well it an enormous help. But I am trainable and after several practices, I can follow along. The choir had its first practice of the New Year a few evenings ago with a whole new batch of songs to learn before our spring concert.

“Oh, Shenando, I long to see you and hear your rolling river…”

Shenandoah is an American folk song classic. At least it was until I started to sing it. I was drifting along, like the Missouri River when all of a sudden; I got caught in the current. I kept looking at the page and what I was reading was NOT what was being sung. I wondered if I was suffering a delayed reaction to the Nabilone! I then did what I do best. I started faking it. It was something between a mumble and a stutter. I turned to Michael on my right. “Where in the hell are we?” I queried. He pointed to page 5. I looked at my music. Page 5 was missing… as were pages 6, 7 and 8.

I opened my music folder and sitting there amongst the other half dozen pieces that we would be working on, were the missing pages.

“Growing old graciously…. Priceless!”

Have a great weekend.