Letters to Lost Loved Ones – Part 4
January 20, 2025 § Leave a comment
As we continue our Letters to Lost Loved Ones series, The Muse and Views co-author Wendy Peters reflects on a deeply personal milestone—the 20th anniversary of her brother’s passing. In this heartfelt letter, she shares how grief has evolved over time and the moments that have shaped her journey toward healing.
Dear Wayne,
August 9th used to mean something to me. Something horrible, terrible, incredibly sad. But last year, it came and went like any other day. I forgot that it wasn’t any other day.
At least until I looked up at the calendar a couple of days later, and then had to google the day you died because I thought I had missed the anniversary. And I had.
It was a big one too. Twenty years since you left this earth.
For a moment, I wondered if I was being a horrible sister for having forgotten. But I didn’t feel guilty about forgetting. And I was a bit in awe that I actually felt like this was a big grief milestone.
The forgetting. Not forgetting you, but forgetting the fact that you’re missing.
You were never just a part of my past—you’ve always been here, tucked into the quiet moments of my present. Sometimes it feels like your memory sneaks up on me, not in the big, heavy way it used to, but like a whisper reminding me of the person I was when you were still here—and of the person I’ve become without you. Different, yes, but still carrying pieces of you within me.
For years, I clung so tightly to everything about you that I didn’t notice I was suffocating myself. Grief does that. It feels like something heavy falling on top of you, pinning you down so completely that you can’t move or call for help. And then, over time, it settles—not gone, but continuing to weigh heavily on you, leaving you struggling to find any strength to push back. I spent so much energy holding on to you and everything about your absence that I wasn’t growing or moving forward in other areas of my life either. Or if I was, it was only on the surface—just enough to get by. I didn’t realize how much of the world I was missing beyond the struggle.
But then, things started to change—not all at once, but ever so slowly. It was in the first laugh that didn’t feel like betrayal, in the quiet courage it took to let someone close again, in the smallest moments that began to feel less heavy. I remember the first time I looked at your picture and didn’t feel sad—I could see the happiness in your smile instead of the ache of missing you. Maybe someone lifted the weight, or maybe those small changes made me strong enough to bear it. Either way, I started to see beyond it, and the world began to feel open again.
I know in my head that you’d want this for me, and slowly, my heart has started to believe it too. But that doesn’t erase the guilt. There’s still a part of me that wrestles with living the life you didn’t get to. I’m learning, though—learning how to forgive myself for finding joy, for moving on, for being here.
I know I’m not the only one who misses you. Your sense of humor and wit were second to none, and there are many Wayne stories that still float around today. And yet, you’re still here, too, in your own way—woven into the stories, the memories, and the little reminders that catch me off guard. Like the birthday card you gave me when I was 13 or 14, with the yellow lab nuzzling the cat on the front (representing Goldie, our first family dog). You wrote, “Can you imagine Goldie being that friendly to a cat? Happy birthday, love your brother.” I’ve kept it all these years, and it still makes me smile every time I see it. I find you in the music that stops me in my tracks, in the jokes that only you would have told, in the random strangers who somehow remind me of you. It’s not the same, but it’s enough to know that you’ve shaped me in ways I’ll never lose.
This isn’t goodbye—not even close. I’m still figuring out how to live without you, and maybe I always will be. But now it feels less like drowning and more like walking forward, even if the path is uneven.
I miss you. But it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. And that’s okay.
Love,
Your sister.
Letters to Lost Love Ones – Part 2
January 28, 2023 § Leave a comment
In September, David wrote a letter in this space to his late wife, Joyce, to begin a series he and Wendy are producing on dealing with loss. That piece marked the six-month mark of her passing. Today, it’s 34 years since David’s father, Bob Olinger Sr. died, so he’s sending his thoughts to his Dad.
We’ll continue the series in the coming weeks. Admittedly, it’s been tough to share personal feelings for loved ones broadly. We hope our letters help others contemplate their losses and find strength. We will also be featuring inclusions from other friends.
Dear Dad,
It’s been quite some time since I’ve written formally to you, though I do think of you often.
As time goes on, I remain very aware of how you helped to shape my life and I know that you continue to influence me from above.
Though I mark your passing every year on this day, it seems even more meaningful today with Joyce’s short illness and death last March. It was a stark reminder of just how precious life is. Unlike with you, I did get to tell her how much I loved her. You were gone instantly and I was three provinces away.
Every time I hear The Living Years by Mike + The Mechanics (https://bit.ly/3HEOA0I), I think of you and the unsaid words I’d love to have imparted on you.
The night you left us all too suddenly, you’d just attended your first NHL game with Bob Olinger Jr., a match between the Calgary Flames and Chicago Blackhawks. Sadly, you never got to see your beloved Montreal Canadiens in person and I have a few times. Alas, our Habs are not doing well again this season and have only won the Cup once since your passing. Maybe next year!
I naturally adopted several aspects of how you lived such as looking out for others. One of the things I learned from observation is to try to balance life, though I know I could have well beyond what I did. You were pretty focused on your job and never found ways to explore pastimes you’d probably have really enjoyed.
I’ve attended many sporting events and concerts and travelled across our country extensively to get more out of life. That I know there was much more to do underlines the importance of not putting off dreams.
The hope is, as each generation passes, we discover ways to emulate the best of those who’ve come before us and see how we can enjoy our time on earth even more.
Joyce and I had hopes of international travel in the coming years. COVID and her illness cut all that short. Ironically, son Peter and his partner, Mara, are in New Zealand as I write. That was a country on our bucket list.
I’ve noticed many more ironies lately. Peter’s been accepted into Vancouver Island University to pursue a teaching degree this fall. You always wanted me to be a teacher. Though I never followed that career path, I did mentor many people in my career, worked within a school system and volunteered for an adult education agency.
I’ve also relocated to Kelowna to be closer to Peter and enjoy a different lifestyle with warmer weather. You didn’t get the opportunity to retire to the place you’d purchased in nearby Westbank. I have connected with some of your brother John’s family to re-establish some missing family linkages.
Dad, I’m pleased I picked up on many of your traits and found ways to live life much more fully. Just as I wonder what Joyce would do in certain situations, I will continue to seek your guidance from the heavens. Please give her a hug for me.
Missing you today and always.
Love, David
Letters To Lost Loved Ones
September 8, 2022 § 4 Comments
Back in May, David wrote in this space that our next blog would focus on loss. Today marks six months since David’s wife, Joyce, passed away. Wendy is very familiar with the subject matter. In 2004, she lost four close family members in the span of nine months, including her older brother, Wayne.
We decided to devote this space in the coming weeks to sharing our feelings about loss through letters to our departed loved ones. We’ve invited other friends who want to remember special people to do so in this manner.
Readers are welcome to add their comments to these blogs if they have feelings that resonate with our words.
David begins …
Dearest Joyce,
They say that time flies when you’re having fun. The last half year has, indeed, flown by. It’s also been the worst time of my life. The only relevant word beginning with fu that comes to mind is one commonly associated with an upraised middle finger to cancer.
It still hasn’t sunk in fully. Some days feel somewhat normal as I pretend you’re just away getting more treatment in Edmonton and will return any days. Others are numbing and I feel nearly paralyzed navigating life on my own.
Your condition deteriorated so fast on that saddest of days in March that I didn’t get a chance to say everything that I’d like to have fit in.
I was fortunate to affirm often in your last few months how much I love you. You knew that I always considered you my best friend and the woman I was happy to call my wife for more than 35 years. You were my only true love ever.
Others are not so fortunate. They lose their wife, husband, mother, father, son, daughter, brother, sister or someone else they’re very attached to suddenly and there’s no chance to share feelings like I was able to.
So this isn’t like the verse in Joni Mitchell’s song Big Yellow Taxi … I did know what I had before it was gone (you had to know I’d draw in a music reference when I write to you).
Instead, there was more that I could and should have said.
You did know how proud I was that you’d become an accomplished potter and instructor. I told you early on when you took up the craft that you’d be able to sell your work. Sure enough, you went well beyond that. I was so delighted to promote your sales.
I was not only honoured to have you as a spouse but you were clearly the go-to for Peter as he grew into manhood. I always deferred to you in parenting matters. You were the heartbeat of our family.
There were other times, however, you perhaps didn’t know how much I appreciated you – that you were always there for me, my protector when I needed it the most. You let me be me and I did the same with you. But it wasn’t always like me to let you know what was troubling me.
It would’ve been easier for me to just tell you. You knew when something was wrong. I have to admit I would clumsily try to work through problems, not wanting to bother you.
This is yet another reminder to tell love ones what you feel about them, to leave nothing important unsaid. It often becomes too late.
During the last year, you apologized repeatedly for the impact your disease was having in our home. I only wish I could have shared your pain as you bravely carried on as a once hopeful prognosis turned into notice that your time would be cut short.
That you continued to work until your final days remains inspiring but you were determined not to be defined by your diagnosis.
Though I was surprised by nothing that was said about you at your Celebration of Life, it was heartening to hear tributes from the many lives you touched, whether family, friends, colleagues, clients, or peers in the arts community.
Facebook memories over the last few months have provided both plenty of triggers and moments to reminisce – wedding anniversaries, our birthdays and other annual celebrations, summer vacations, and photos of locations we’d considered as possibilities for our next home.
You’ll be happy to know that I’ve figured out our online banking and bill payments, things you flourished in managing. The next road trip will be difficult without you and your adeptness for navigating and holiday planning. Your adeptness with technology is greatly missed.
It’s bittersweet that I’m carrying forward with our relocation plans.
A favourite photo of you is prominently displayed on our upstairs entertainment unit. I gaze at it often. As I contemplate life and what to do next, I frame my thoughts in terms of WWJD … What Would Joyce Do. I welcome any guidance you can provide from the heavens.
I miss you and will always love you. You will forever be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Love, David
On The Quest For Purpose
March 8, 2021 § 2 Comments
We’ve been writing in this space for nearly 11 years to develop content for an inspirational/motivational book(s) and that remains our focus. There haven’t been many posts in the last couple of years. That’s not because we’ve run out of topics. Far from it.
We’ve both found ourselves wrapped up in life but it’s also a sign there’s ample material to do more than one book, an online publication – or both.
As a way of getting back on track for 2021 and moving towards our goal, we’ve decided to compose our first blog together. We’ve written many complementary pieces and commented on each other’s posts, but we’ve never actually co-authored a blog.
In this post, we’ll discuss knowing your purpose. In the past, we’ve touched on purpose in a couple of different ways, including the concept of living with purpose.
What made you want to write a blog about finding your purpose?
D: It was the quote below that caught my eye and prompted me to suggest to Wendy we write about purpose together. It really resonated with me, partly because it contains my first name but mostly it reflects how I see myself living.
“Work for a cause David, not for applause.
Remember to live your life to express, not to impress, don’t strive to make your presence noticed, just make your absence felt.”
― Grace Lichtenstein, Inside Real Estate: The Complete Guide to Buying and Selling Your Home, Co-Op, or Condominium
It’s not clear who the David is that’s being referenced, but it had me reflecting, once again, on what my role is in life.
W: For me, I’m at a stage in my life where I feel like I’m redefining my purpose. Back in 2014, I departed on the journey of a lifetime. I took a two-year sabbatical and travelled across 18 countries. It was something on my bucket list for much later in life, but a very big goal that I had geared most of my efforts towards preparing for. Having the opportunity to accomplish it 30 years before I intended, coupled with the experiences I had and people I met along the way, left me with some pretty big questions to answer when I got home. Amongst them being, “Why am I here? What is my purpose?”
Purpose is a big topic and takes on varying meanings for different people. What does it mean to you?
D: For me, purpose is having an influence on other people and events to improve situations, better lives. Coming to terms with that has helped me to understand relationships and why things happen in the way they do. It doesn’t always make negative outcomes easier but it can help you move forward, guide you on what to do next and help you determine what you should do to meet goals.
W: I think there are two sides to the meaning of purpose, or rather a more physical purpose versus one’s sense of purpose. You can do something on purpose, meaning intentional, and you can do something with purpose, meaning on point and aligned with your values, aspirations and overall direction in life.
How do you know when you’re on your purpose? What do you do if you feel like you’ve wandered or fallen away from it?
D: I’ve come to realize that I’m a mentor, someone who encourages others to do their best, to consider all the possibilities and to make the most of opportunities, whether it’s as a parent, a husband, a supervisor, a colleague or as a volunteer leader. I’m meant to be a supporter on the home front, in business and in the community – getting behind important causes and lending my skills where they best fit.
On a professional level, that means being a storyteller, whether it’s doing a feature story on an individual or helping an organization shine.
I’m here to be a positive spirit, motivating others to look at the brighter side of life, to connect people and build community.
Ultimately, my purpose is to leave the world in a better place than I found it.
It’s been increasingly easy to identify my purpose by recognizing when I’m not living it –those times when I get drawn into toxicity in online discussions or conversations with people who know they can set me off in person – and do if I’m not careful.
W: I have some very physical/emotional responses I look for to help guide me to ensuring I’m on purpose, especially right now while I’m still defining and refining my direction, the impact I want to make and what I want my life to mean. When I relax more, when something or someone makes me smile instantaneously, when my eyes light up at a suggestion – these are all the tell-tale signs I use to show me I’m on point. I guess you could boil it down to following my bliss. Being on purpose means doing the things and spending time with the people who make me feel the best.
When I’ve wandered off from or fallen away from my purpose, I can feel the discord. I feel tense, uncertain, untrusting, and lost.
How do you find your purpose if you’ve lost it? What advice would you give others seeking their purpose?
D: When I recognize I’m off purpose, I remind myself I’m of more value when I’m aligned with like-minded people, working toward a common goal or finding a new volunteer opportunity. My advice is to take a step back when you feel off and re-evaluate. Even small things like taking my dog for a walk in the middle of the day clears my mind and I’m refocused on what’s important.
W: When I’m feeling off my purpose, I feel awful. That’s when a self-care day often comes into play where I can take some time to step back and breath, pinpoint what’s going wrong. I don’t try and make a plan to change it though. I’ve learned that once I pinpoint the source of what’s pulling me off purpose, I look back for the things and people that make me feel on purpose.
Like David, reminding myself of my value and what characteristics help me align with other like-minded people is especially helpful. If I’m too overwhelmed or distraught by something to get there, I quite literally start with a nap followed by 10-15 minutes of meditation and then some journaling to help me process whatever is going on in my head and give me some much needed perspective to get back on track.
You get more of what you focus on, right?
Can you have more than one purpose? Or does your purpose change? How do you support that?
D: I’ve reflected on my own purpose as life has changed, from being a husband and father to job changes, individual and team successes, accolades and awards, operating a communications firm, volunteering, and living life, in general.
In more recent years, I’ve had a renewed sense of accomplishing my purpose. When I relaunched my communications consultancy in 2018, some of my initial employees in the late 1990s and early 2000s passed along congratulations and reminded me I’d hired them for their first jobs. They shared their gratitude for giving them a chance.
There’s been great joy in imparting career and life advice to our son and encouraging my wife to pursue greater heights in her pottery hobby.
W: I do think it’s possible to have more than one purpose, but I think they’ll have varying degrees of importance. I think, generally, people have one main purpose (or theme) for what they want their life to be about and then other, more specific purposes come in to play to support that. “Sub-purposes” to play on David’s love of storytelling.
For some people, I think they’ve been blessed with a strong sense of purpose that stays with them their entire lives. For others, I think our purpose changes as we change and grow. I know I resonate more with the latter. My purpose continues to evolve as I deepen my understanding of myself and what I’m capable of.
Supporting an evolving definition of my purpose is literally like trying to make sure the pants I bought 10 years ago still fit… or acknowledging that it’s time for a new pair. It’s, at minimum, having an overall goal or theme for my life and then making my plan of action each day or week to check in to make sure it stills fits. If it doesn’t feel right anymore, I need to determine if I’m off track or if it doesn’t fit and choose my next steps accordingly.
My purpose setting is not like goal setting where it should be quantifiable and measurable. If a person wants to make it that way, that’s up to them. But for me, I feel my way forward where my purpose is concerned and my only requirement is that whatever my decision, it feels good to me. This also requires a good degree of surrender and self-compassion because it’s a continual work in progress and I don’t think it’s one that ever ends.
What are the benefits of having a strong purpose? How about the dangers of not having one?
D: It helps me live with focus and to get back on track when I’ve gotten derailed. Businesses and organizations having values, vision and mission statements by which to live and it’s good to have a compass.
W: Purpose gives me a guiding light to live my life and make decisions by. Much like David, knowing my purpose helps me find the right organizations to work with to ensure I’m doing work I feel good about and identify the kinds of people I want to spend more time with.
I don’t know that everyone feels the same need for a strong sense of purpose. I’m someone who needs to connect into a bigger meaning to find my reason to get out of bed in the morning. Without a strong sense of purpose, I think I run the risk that when I get to the end of my life I’ll look back at it and think, “What a waste.” I want to feel like I have juiced every bit of human experience I can while I’m here.
What about you? If any of the questions above resonate for you to answer, add them to our discussion in the comments below!
Everything In Its Time
December 4, 2017 § 1 Comment
At the end of October, I authored a blog that had taken months to complete, and even then, the eventual inspiration came from wanting to pay tribute to a former supervisor. While it was a struggle to finish off, I wasn’t frustrated or discouraged. I knew the piece came together the way it should. It had its time and place.
I was immediately re-energized to start work on another blog that had also been in the back of my mind for some time – and this turn of events was most fitting. I wanted to express how there isn’t necessarily a right time for things to happen in life, whether it’s doing something you’re passionate about like writing, checking off a bucket list item, a career achievement, or a life decision, like when to get married.
Perhaps that spark came from highlighting my memories of Bill Scott, former editor of the Grande Prairie Daily Herald-Tribune, who’d passed away earlier in the month.
It may have also been our mutual joy of writing that reminded me not to focus on how many blogs I write but rather on the fulfillment I get as well as the reason Wendy and I started The Muse and Views eight years ago.
Our goal is to build content from our musings and reader comments for a motivational/inspirational book(s). There’s no doubt we have more than enough writing to fill a couple of books – themes have developed on topics ranging from goal setting to meaningful people to our love of music.
Wendy and I need to meet up again soon to sort through all of our work and go from there.
It will happen in its time. The finished product may not be the traditional book we originally contemplated. It may be an online publication and some podcasts or a combination of mediums. There are no limits to the possibilities. The fact we both continue to write in this space, albeit intermittently, will give rise to more food for thought and means that goal remains very much alive.
Ultimately, we need to decide what success looks like.
American businesswoman Anne Sweeney helps to put things in perspective with this quote: “Define success on your own terms, achieve it by your own rules, and build a life you’re proud to live.”
Writing a book isn’t the only item on my bucket list (I also continue to tinker with the short story on my late dog Jasper who had a penchant for demonstrating he thought he was human). Among other things is my desire to have a flat tummy.
Though that goal is health related, it’s another thing where I have taken steps in the right direction, but admittedly haven’t made a full commitment. I work out twice a week with a personal trainer who even comes by my house to capitalize on the workout equipment in our basement.
Often I finish Thursday’s workout thinking I am going to exercise at least three times by the following Tuesday and typically it turns out to be once or none.
So, to really accomplish that bucket list item, and achieve even higher levels of fitness in the process, I need to work out at least twice more per week.
Again, I could get down on myself for not doing more, but then I ask myself if I was working out a year ago. The answer is no. Were my blood sugars higher? Yes.
So, there is always more we can do toward a goal, but I think of it as success if we continue to move towards that target, whether the steps are large or small.
As Nido Qubein, motivational speaker and president of High Point University said, “Your present circumstances don’t determine where you can go; they merely determine where you start.”
I met Edmonton colleague and friend Elizabeth Severson several years ago at an economic development conference in Yellowknife. She’s documented on Facebook her challenges of staying on course with a healthy regimen.
Here’s a post from Oct. 30 that shows how progress is often an ebb and flow affair: “When I started my weight loss journey a few months ago, I weighed the heaviest I had ever been … I finally said enough is enough and started making some drastic changes to my lifestyle…less junk food, less eating out. More portion control, meal prep, healthier choices and going to the gym. The result of these changes: more energy (for the most part lol), less headaches, less body aches, and not needing as much medication around cold/flu season. I sleep better too!
“The biggest change however is that I am down 16 lbs!! And while I have another 50 lbs to go, I know I can do it! Yes, it’s tough, I have my ups and downs, over-indulge at times, but I am human am trying not to beat myself up over it. I am grateful for the supports I have in my life (my husband, my family and friends) and look forward to being the healthiest version of me.”
Since this post, Elizabeth has shared news of how she’s faring. Sometimes, there have been setbacks but then I encourage her to look at other good things that have happened in the meantime, like her husband getting partial custody of his daughter.
Our success towards goals also have to be put into perspective with what else is happening in life.
For Jackie Dawson, another Edmonton friend, getting married wasn’t something to do just because her friends were getting hitched. If that meant waiting until age 36 to say yes, so be it.
“I could have been married in my 20s, I was proposed to, but I knew I wasn’t ready. I had lots I wanted to do still and I was still trying to figure out who I was,” she says.
But I waited…then I figured it would never happen because I hadn’t met the right guy. Then when I met my fiancé I knew right away that I’d marry him.
I’m glad I waited and didn’t settle. When you know, you know. Some people are lucky enough to find that person early on but I was never 100% on seeing myself with any guy I dated for the rest of my life.”
Jackie and I are both huge sports fans, so I thought it fitting to sum up with this quote by former NBA coach John Wooden who once said, “There’s a choice in everything you do, but in the end, the choice you make, makes you.”
Let The Real You Shine Through
October 16, 2017 § 2 Comments
“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.”
This quote by author Ralph Waldo Emerson struck a chord recently when I mentioned my last blog to friend Alysha Samec. I had written about adapting to change and growing as a professional and told her I was now considering how my personal side has evolved.
I actually began thinking about this topic in the summer when the Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation reunion was held in in Sault Ste. Marie, Ont. I didn’t actually attend because of my work schedule.
However, it was almost exactly 20 years since I left the OLG to start my communications business so I felt a little sentimental.
I also reminisced a lot as a result of getting reconnected with many former colleagues through Facebook at the time and thought about who I was still in contact with and what kept us connected.
In August, we travelled through the Sault on our summer vacation so I had the opportunity to visit a few friends I’d made in my newspaper, lottery and school board days and while operating my communications firm.
As I visited with these people, I considered whether my personal brand had changed over time. If so, would these connections remain just as strong?
Great friendships and business associations endure the test of time – you pick up where you left off as if time hadn’t stopped when you’ve been apart for some time.
I’ve been friends with some people in the Sault for up to 27 years. We stayed connected invariably over shared beliefs and interests.
Alysha asked me if I could define a time when I knew who I am. That’s tough to put a finger on but I think the basic David was formed in my early 20s.
On one hand, I’m much more confident than the guy who it took three weeks to ask out the lady who would become my wife. Now it would take me three seconds.
At the same time, I have always pursued what is really important to me so I had to put my shyness aside to be a news reporter.
I have always known there is something more. Even in high school, I transferred out of a class where I wasn’t being productive to the one that produced the school newspaper, which would lead to my pursuit of journalism – and that newspaper interview that would have me meeting the above-mentioned wife-to-be.
I’m proud of the professional me and happy with David, the person.
Would I do some things differently? Most assuredly so. Do I live with regrets? Never.
A quote from actress Jennifer Aniston sums up my feelings ever so powerfully: “If I could tell my younger self anything, it would be to stop trying to please everyone. You can’t please everyone. All you can do is be yourself and whoever likes you, likes you and whoever doesn’t like you, doesn’t.
“Live your life to the fullest and take chances. Don’t let bullies get to you. Be strong. Just stay true to who you are.”
The late technology legend Steve Jobs had some further great counsel: “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”
These thoughts on personal brand tie back to my professional life. I recently met up with Ryan Townend, CEO and owner of William Joseph Communications, headquartered in Calgary with offices in Saskatoon and Red Deer. He was doing marketing presentations in Grande Prairie where William Joseph has now expanded.
Ryan related he’d gotten contracts on a couple of occasions, in particular, because of his personal/professional brand. In one instance, he worked his butt off over a long weekend to make a presentation and his competitors didn’t respond to a quote request for several days.
I already had a strong affinity for Ryan’s style as it reflects my own work ethic and practices. This just added to my enjoyment of his business philosophy.
In another instance, Ryan received work because he’d personally responded to every person who commented on a social media campaign that went sideways. His demonstrated willingness to handle a sticky situation up front and honestly impressed a client to be.
Ryan’s outlook is simple: “We only have one life to live. Let’s make it a good one!”
All of this tells me that when you’re authentic, either personally or in business, you’ll get connected to the people you really want to be around.
As a side note … I’ve struggled getting fingers to keyboard on this blog for several weeks but wanted to complete it as a tribute to former Daily Herald-Tribune editor Bill Scott who I worked with for 3.5 years in the mid-1980s. He passed away Oct. 3 and his celebration of life was last week.
Bill authored the column Potpourri for more than 45 years. As much as he was an excellent writer and editor, Bill exemplified how you can work hard and play hard. He enjoyed inviting staff to his home and sharing his love for cooking and music. He organized car rallies for employees and always got the hockey pools going. And then, of course, he would hold court on Fridays after work at Dar’s, a popular watering hole back in the day.
Bill also walked the talk when it came to volunteering. That connected with me at the time and I’ve given back to the community in some form or another almost continuously since.
RIP Bill. You were certainly true to yourself. Journalism and Grande Prairie will never be the same.
A Post On Planning
July 28, 2017 § 1 Comment
“The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
This saying is adapted from a line in a poem entitled: “To a Mouse,” written in 1785 by Robert Burns. It is said that Burns was ploughing his fields and accidentally destroyed a mouse’s nest, leaving the mouse without adequate shelter to survive the winter.
It’s meaning – it doesn’t matter how carefully something is planned, there’s always the possibility that something will go wrong with it.
Over the last several months, I have been stuck in planning paralysis. Everything I looked at, I would envision down the last detail, spending days, if not weeks, coming up with action plans and detailed descriptions and dreams for everything from wall decor ideas for my home to events I thought would be fun to full-blown business and marketing plans.
I kept coming back to wanting an instruction manual as to how I was going to proceed in the coming months, my blueprints to success. The problem was, as much as I was spending time in the dreaming and “planning” of what I wanted, I wasn’t executing on any of it. Six month later, I had moved a couple of rocks, but for the most part I was in exactly the same place as before… minus a few more dollars.
My coach said to me:
“Wendy, you’re such a prairie girl when it comes to your dreams. It’s like you can see the details for miles. Come spent some time in the twists and turns of the mountains and you can’t see around the next bend until you get there.”
I’ve since stopped “planning”. That is, I’ve stopped writing down action steps I’m probably not going to take.
There are some people for which having their instructions written down before they begin their journey works very well for them. They’ve studied their maps, made their routes and know their milestones and points of interest.
What I’ve learned is that I’m not one of those people. But I have also had to learn how to harness my dreaming and scheming and move between the imaginary and the reality of what I’m trying to build.
When I think about how I approached my 18 months of travels, I knew the big broad picture – I was going on an adventure – but I filled in the details as I went. I booked flights a couple of months in advance for when I wanted to switch continents, I booked my accommodations a few days out from my arrival and I decided what to do with my day to day often the day of. The best part – I liked it like that and I still travel that way. Ebbing and flowing in a general direction while I twist and wind my way through interesting stopovers.
Could there be a clearly instruction manual for me on how to proceed than that?
In my experience, my best laid plans often do go awry – or more like they don’t go at all.
What about you? What have you found is your preferred approach to life and planning (or not)?
A Trip Down Memory Lane
June 1, 2015 § 3 Comments
I’ve been thinking about this topic for a few weeks, but the timing is best now.
Tuesday would have been my father’s 93rd birthday. He’s been gone for 26 years but a surprise reminder occurred when my older brother, Bob Jr., delivered our dad’s rolltop desk from Canmore, Alberta, recently.
The old piece of furniture has endured a tough life. When I first grew up, it remained at the old farmhouse where my father was raised in North Rolla, B.C. It was moved into Dawson Creek, thankfully, before vandals burned down all the buildings at the farm.
Once at our house, the desk, probably more than 100 years old, proved to be a landing spot for my father’s paperwork. I think I inherited my lack of filing prowess from him.
My father willed the desk to Bob and I snapped up the opportunity to take it when my brother began downsizing.
I remember always being fascinated with the desk – its many cubby holes, the deep drawers, the handiwork behind the rolltop, and the solid oak structure.
The arrival of the desk was an opportunity to connect with Bob, my sister-in-law, Louise, and their son, Logan. I hadn’t seen my nephew in a few years and memories of my dad rushed back into my head.
I’ve been without my father almost as long as I had him – I was 28 when he passed away.
The desk is a reminder of my father, beyond its physical presence. It is strong. It has character. Its dark stain makes it appear stoic. My father had an enduring quality, though he passed away much too young at age 66.
Although it needs some tender loving care, the desk is reminiscent of my dad’s relentless drive to excel as a highways foreman, a position in which he rarely missed a day’s work, even when seriously ill.
Dad might have been called a workaholic though that term wasn’t used widely in his generation.
I believe we share a lot of the same qualities – caring, compassion, generosity, a sense of fairness and justice, and a wry sense of humour. He was shy until he got to know people. I am the same, though my career choice has found me coming to grips with public speaking and schmoozing upon occasion.
He preferred talking one-on-one to people, often workmates about a project. Through practice, I have learned to be comfortable in crowds, though I like smaller groups, talking about shared interests like sports or music.
I gained my work ethic from Dad but also learned the value of playing hard, something he was just figuring out how to do when he passed away.
Ironically, he died on the way home after watching his first NHL hockey game in person. I have been to many professional sporting events live along with going to numerous concerts, another love of mine.
Dad’s idea of going on vacation was to get from points A to B as fast as possible. I enjoy compiling hordes of information and then plotting out a general plan, with room to be spontaneous.
I’m thrilled the arrival of the desk provided a new opportunity to think about my father.
Happy Birthday, Dad. We’ll take good care of your desk and continue thinking of you often.
Furkids And Our Family
February 23, 2015 § 4 Comments
The end of February is a favourite time of year. Winter is coming to a close and it’s a tradition in our family to watch the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.
Even Mica, our seven-month-old puppy, joined us this year, frequently gawking up at the TV with curiosity at the furkids running into our living room.
This year’s viewing was bittersweet. It’s a year ago later this week that we suddenly lost our beloved Jasper.
If there was ever an example of how much a pooch becomes part of the family, it was Jasper. I’ve written a few times about how Jasper thought he was a human.
My eyes welled up often as I watch the Dog Show as they described the role canines play in watching out for their families while providing amusements for adults and children.
It’s a cliché, but dogs really are humans’ best friends. They are loyal and don’t hold grudges. They’re always ready to make our day. They make you smile, even when you don’t feel like it. They provide comfort and are the best listeners, whether we have tales of woe or happy stories to share.
Shortly after we brought Mica into our home in September, a work colleague, Karry, shared the verse below by author Erica Jong. It perfectly describes what dogs mean to us:
Dogs come into our lives to teach us about love,
they depart to teach us about loss.
A new dog never replaces an old dog;
It merely expands the heart. If you have loved
many dogs your heart is very big.
Joyce and I have been married nearly 29 years and we’ve had a dog almost 27 of those.
First, there was Sammi. She was always nervous and traumatized from shoddy treatment prior to joining our family. She was smart-as-a-whip, the most patient big sister when Peter was a toddler, gnawing on her legs, and the most loyal dog ever.
Then there was Jasper, a golden lab/shepherd/mutt cross. He was once described diplomatically as rambunctious by a neighbour but he wanted to be everyone’s friend. His belief that he was a person was defined by taking up his full third share of our bed.
Mica, a Bouvier-Golden Retriever cross, is still forming her personality, which, much like her fur, is still trying to figure itself out – she was born completely black but now tufts of white are showing through.
Anyone who thinks dogs are just animals has never come home from a stressful day to a happy-faced puppy, wagging its tail, bounding up to greet you.
Here’s to the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show for reminding us of all the various breeds of these fine companions. And here’s to all the joy they bring my family and all the other furparents out there.
What Brings You Home?
December 1, 2014 § Leave a comment
Flickr credit: Nicolas Raymond
My countdown is on for one last trip this year. I’m two weeks out from a 5 week journey to Costa Rica. After nearly a year on the road living out of my backpack, I don’t think I’d be making this trek if it weren’t for the family involved.
Woe be me, I know, to be embarking on another trip this year. It’ll be my 14th country in 2014. I am incredibly excited (and grateful and fortunate) to take this voyage. It will be with my dad and step mother to visit my step sister and her family. They took a 6 month sabbatical to travel to Costa Rica with their 3 kids. I haven’t seen Costa Rica since I was 17 on a school trip.
It’s a family trip of a lifetime. An opportunity for memories I just won’t say no to. However, the yearning that sent me out the door around this time last year is now yearning for parts of the life I put on hold.
A lot can happen in a year. I look at the people I’ve met during my travels, the experiences and friendships I’ve forged, as well as the ways in which I will never be the same. When I left, I told people it was the perfect time to go. No house, no dog, no debt, no husband, no kids… nothing to answer to. And it was perfect. It was exactly what I needed.
But while I’ve been away, your lives have continued on too. You’ve met new loved ones, lost friends, made your way through your own happiness and sorrow. I’ve experienced your lives at a distance. While I wouldn’t trade this year for anything, I’m not looking to make the same exchange in the future.
A year is a long time.
It’s long enough to show me what kind of trade I’m making if I keep a completely nomadic lifestyle. Though there’s a balance to be struck somewhere I’m sure.
They say home is where your heart is. Mine lies in my connections. Although they are becoming scattered throughout the globe, they’re still concentrated most in one place.
There is nothing quite like the friendships and relationships I come back to in Alberta. It’s each of you who bring me home.
Doesn’t matter where I go
This place will always be my home
Yeah I’ve been Alberta Bound for all my life
And I’ll be Alberta Bound until I die– Paul Brandt
The Muse and Views 