Posted on July 2, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

Sock it to me

 

There’s an expression that I love. It goes like this: “It’s hard to make new old friends.”

Old friends are like a well-worn sweater or a pair of comfy slippers that you just can’t discard even though they are tattered and coming apart at the seams. Enduring friendships are to be celebrated and cherished even when you haven’t seen a person in decades.

Earlier this week I received an unexpected gift, a pair of Happy Socks. I am hardly a fashion maven. It’s difficult if not impossible to dress me up and make me look respectable. That was until a dear old friend, Patrice, sent me two pair of what I would call “designer socks”. This hose can be added to my rather bland collection of blue dress socks and several pair of “Darn Tough” socks that I use for long walks. The latter are very expensive but worth every penny if you’re planning on doing a lot of running or walking.

While I love my new footwear and its snappy design, it is the thought behind the receipt of this unexpected gift which really brightened my day. I haven’t seen Patrice in more than 40 years. We communicate occasionally on social media, but we haven’t had a face to face during this passage of time. Old friends are a treasured commodity.

Most, but not all, of my readers are Canadians. I have a handful of old friends living in the United States and “new old friends” that I met during my time in India three years ago, and while walking the Camino in Spain last year. Yesterday, we celebrated our country’s birthday. While most of the festivities were done online because of the pandemic, it didn’t diminish the feeling that many of us have for our “home and native land”. Canada is not perfect but when one looks around the world, most of us who call ourselves Canadians are very happy to call this place home. And grateful. In these very challenging times, I am glad to live in this country. I suspect that I am not alone.

Because I am feverishly trying to create something out of nothing while writing this post (!), I thought that I would tell you that my 6^th book is on its way to the printer. I want to send out a huge thank you to my daughter, Ellie and to Jean Pearcey who worked super hard, especially in the past few days, to get my manuscript presentable. I hope to have copies of the book for sale before I leave for the north on July 26^th. In all likelihood, I will do a virtual book launch on Facebook “live”. The books will be on sale locally at the 5 to $1.00 and of course, you can get a copy by contacting me directly. An online version of the book and e-book will be available on Amazon shortly.

Last weekend, I walked from town to Ballantyne’s Cove. The weather was hotter than I expected. It was in the high 20s. Forty kilometers into the walk, and sporting two rather nasty blisters, I was invited to spend some time at Friendway Park at Cape George Point. Paul and Marsha Purcell have a summer place high on a hill overlooking the ocean. Paul is a celebrated athlete, but I had never had the pleasure of meeting him until that afternoon. Along with their children, the Purcells were joined by the Bonvie family. It was one of those uniquely Maritime moments when the chemistry is almost instantaneous. It didn’t take long for well placed insults and barbs to start flying. We shared stories and laughter. The final 3 kilometers of the walk to the wharf at Ballantyne’s didn’t seem so onerous.

It actually isn’t hard to make new old friends!

Have a great weekend.

Posted on June 29, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with 3 comments

 

Tom and mom. Two people who continue to inspire me

 

“We all die. The goal isn’t to live forever. The goal is to create something that will.”

Chuck Palahniuk

I try my best not to watch too much television but during the pandemic, my guess is that most of us have watched more t.v. than we have in some time. The news is dominated with heavy doses of Covid-19 reporting, systemic racism issues (north and south of the border) and the endless circus of politics in many countries. Occasionally we catch a glimmer of hope amid the seeming endless chaos and despair with stories of hope, compassion, and love.

CBC’s The National, has a short segment at the end of many of their nightly newscasts featuring the life of someone who had died of the virus. Last week I saw the story of man whose roots are in India who taught school in Nova Scotia for many years. His son spoke lovingly and proudly of his amazing dad who threw himself into numerous charitable endeavors in retirement. When asked, in his 80s, why he kept such a frenetic pace. He responded that he had one life to live and planned to get the most out of it. The son feels inspired to carry on with this same attitude.

Last fall, I ventured up north to teach. I was dealing with some personal issues and arrived in a community that has had its share of trauma. I don’t mind admitting that I struggled mightily. Three people kept me (relatively!) grounded during the most difficult days when darkness enveloped me and bitter winter winds blew.

Very often I thought of my late mother. Quit wasn’t a word found in her vocabulary. There were many days that I thought I couldn’t go on. Mom would be sitting on my shoulder telling me to “finish what you start.” Perched on the other shoulder, was my late brother Tom. I would think to myself, “What would Tom do?” I knew damn well what he would do. He would throw himself into the situation with every fiber of his being.

The third leg of my three- legged stool was my brother in Vancouver who called me every Saturday to listen to my ranting.

Dying is mysterious business. Most of us by now have experienced death firsthand in our family or extended family. Those of us left behind are tasked with processing death in our own unique way.

I must say that I intensely dislike the way the term “closure” is bandied about by so many people. I looked up this word and found the following: Closure means being normal, getting back to your old self, no longer crying or being affected by death. It means moving on with life and leaving the past behind, even to the extent of forgetting it or ignoring it.

To all that I say a resounding BULLSHIT.

I believe that the greatest way to honor a loved one is to not only remember them but to emulate them. Take all their positives and carry their spirit forward. They have given us a parting gift, one that we eagerly unwrap each and every day… a form of re-gifting, without having to use wrapping paper! They give us courage when we are fearful. They lift us up when we fall. They give us energy when we feel that we can’t take another step. They make us laugh when we feel sad.

During my brother’s 10 -year siege with cancer he often said that he wasn’t afraid of dying. He was afraid of not living. He squeezed every ounce out the final decade of his life.

To honor those who have gone before me…

I hope to do more and give more.

I want to be a difference maker even in the smallest of ways.

I want to be positive and cheerful.

Care to join me?

“I guess it’s not what you take when you leave this world behind you,

It’s what you leave behind you when you go.”

Three Wooden Crosses – Randy Travis

Have a great week.

 

Posted on June 25, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

Practicing physical distancing in the early days of the Coronavirus

 

Bubble Buddies.

Coronavirus has done much to keep friends and families apart but in strange ways, like Facebook “Live” shows, Zoom and Facetiming, we may have done more communicating than ever before, albeit in a  new way. For three and a half months we have been encouraged to stay home. In the early days, the measures imposed by health authorities kept us at home hugging our fridges rather than our loved ones. Then came family bubbles and things started to change slowly and imperceptibly.

My son, Peter, arrived home in mid-March after spending a good part of the winter performing a solo music act on a cruise ship in the Caribbean. I came home from northern Quebec at the end of March when my school year ended abruptly. We both went into self-isolation and emerged from our caves in mid- April. We unofficially became a bubble and started spending time together, most of it in the outdoors.

Peter and I have spent a lot of time together over the years. We have done some epic road trips across Canada and the United States. My third book, “Tales, Trails and Tunes” chronicles some of these adventures. Spending countless hours in a car, motels and restaurants, we got to know each other well… maybe too well if you ask Pete! While both of us have the gift of the gab, we also learned that long periods of silence are perfectly acceptable.

It started harmlessly enough. In April, we started doing a few walks which led to a few hikes. While I haven’t kept a tally, I’m guessing we walked or hiked 6 out of every 7 days since then. While I have done some hiking in and around Antigonish County over the years, this was all new terrain for Pete. He discovered that Antigonish has many great hiking options. There were days that one or both of us didn’t feel like walking or hiking but we would push each other to get our ass in gear. We never regretted it.

Similar to road trips, long walks and hikes have their share of banter but much of the time has been spent with our own thoughts.

Peter is smart like his mother. He is musical like his sisters. I think he may have inherited his quirky sense of humour from his father! Luckily, the forests and glens don’t have recording devices to capture some of the zany conversations we have had. We would be walking along when something would come up that elicited a funny comment. The conversation would then go off in a bizarre tangent bordering on the ridiculous. I think we could easily write sitcoms together. To wit: after our ill fated hike in the woods at Ballantyne’s Cove where we were savaged with ticks, I mentioned to Pete that we should go down to the wharf now that Fish and Ships has opened for the season (world class fish and chips). His retort, “We can go for fish and ticks”!

Rarely does any one in sports or any walk of life record perfection. Ted Williams is acknowledged as the greatest hitter of all time in baseball recording a career batting average of .344. This means that two thirds of the time, Ted went down swinging. I am happy to report that Pete and I batted a perfect .1000 when it came to “apres walk/hike” activity. On every single occasion, we retired for a cold beer, first in my apartment (with appropriate social distancing) and lately at one of the restaurants that have re-opened after a long hiatus.

On Monday, we did a big hike at Keppoch, first going to the top of the mountain, then making our way to White Rock where we enjoyed a lifesaving swim in the cool waters of the Ohio River. It was a very muggy afternoon. Keeping our streak intact, we went to Boston Pizza and had a beer and some nachos on the patio. It was a gorgeous evening and such a pleasure to see lots of smiling, happy people.

We were quite enamored with the nachos and I wondered aloud if it was possible for me to write an entire 600 -word story about nachos. I have written more words on less substantive topics! This led to one of our “off the wall” conversations. Once again, I can only hope that BP doesn’t have recording devices embedded under the tabletops. Stay tuned. I may write this piece yet. Will the chicken in the nachos be plain or spicy? I bet you can hardly wait!

In a few weeks’ time, we will be heading in different directions as we try to resume a normal life, whatever in the hell that is.

I have been honored to have the best “bubble buddy” one could imagine.

If only we weren’t so foolish!

Have a great weekend.