Living to Leave a Legacy
November 14, 2011 § 5 Comments
Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/nishanthjois/4350003635/
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine was in the midst of trying to figure out what her role in life is, her place in the world.
I don’t think I’ve ever determined the answer to these questions, with certainty, for myself, let alone be able to suggest to someone else what their destiny might be.
On one hand, it would be easy to get overwhelmed if we are really meant to find a way to stand out amongst the billions of people on the face of the earth. On the other, George Bailey (played by James Stewart) in It’s A Wonderful Life learned that all the lives of those around him would change without him.
Therefore, I think it’s more worthwhile to consider how we can make our mark closer to home than examine ourselves on the world stage.
We can get great satisfaction out of volunteering in our community. I certainly have in many organizations and my son’s schools over the years.
Are we making special contributions in the workplace, like serving on committees? Are we challenging ourselves on the job itself? If someone were to ask our colleagues about us when we move on to another job, what would they really say?
How do our friends and family view us?
A few weeks ago, Jordan Skidnuk, son of Kathy Skidnuk Stoughton and the late Darrell Skidnuk, reported on Facebook that he’d received word that he is the youngest athlete to represent Canada at the 2012 Boston Marathon. I was really touched by the tribute he made to his dad, in the process.
Darrell, who lost his long bout with cancer in April 2004, was a consummate friend, parent and husband. He gave it his all to everything he participated in. And he was involved in a lot.
Jordan left no doubt about the influence of his father.
“This is a dream come true, I have never worked so hard for something in my life. This one is for you Pops, always with me every step of the way in spirit. Thanks so much to every person that came to watch a race, or encouraged me when I thought that this was impossible.”
As parents, we can hope to achieve nothing greater. I am sure Darrell, who also ran about 20 races, was smiling up there in the sky.
Legacies come in all forms and lengths.
In acknowledging the deaths of long-time community builder Bill Bowes and four teens killed in a car crash in late October, Grande Prairie Mayor Bill Given noted we are all capable of leaving a legacy, regardless of our age.
Mr. Bowes, who died at age 86, was instrumental in the development of the Daily Herald-Tribune, along with his brother, Jim. He was also a well-known Rotarian, instrumental in the success of the 1995 Canada Winter Games, the growth of the Grande Prairie Storm hockey club, and was active in the chamber of commerce.
In 2009, he received the Alberta Order of Excellence.
The four teens were members of the Grande Prairie Composite High football team. Their Warrior team-mate remains in Edmonton hospital with severe injuries.
The outpouring of sympathy and support for the families and the team came from near and far. Their story hit the national news.
Mayor Given noted that, in death, the legacy of the teens is that the community has been forged together stronger.
The bottom line is that whether someone is 15 or 86, they are capable of making a difference – that might be at the neighbourhood level or community wide. Only a handful of people rise to prominence on the national or world stage.
Encounters of the homeless kind
November 7, 2011 § 2 Comments
Image via Wikipedia
Over the summer I spent some time with someone who lived on the streets for a few months of his youth. Talk about time spent expanding my comfort zone. That experience challenged me to look at the streets of Calgary in a new way, and at the people who currently occupy them, from people in suits walking to work to people pushing shopping carts from one dumpster to the next.
It’s true that we’re afraid of the things we don’t understand. I don’t understand the world of the homeless, and admittedly, on the whole, it frightens me. I have a hard time even beginning to wrap my head around how they got there and why they’re choosing to stay there (there’s an entire other argument to be made, I’m sure, on whether or not it’s a choice).
Today I met one of the nicest, most friendly people I’ve ever met on the streets of Calgary. Yes, on the streets–that is, after all, where he lives. Well, technically he calls a city park home.
I’ve spoken with him before. Last time he was telling me about how lucky he felt because someone thought to drop off a new blanket for him. I didn’t think to ask him his name at the time. Just politely conversed in return while I finished transferring my recyclables from my car to the large green bins. I remember him also saying how he had found a radio. The music was playing from somewhere nearby where I imagine he had found an outlet to power it. When I was done, he bade me good day and off I went without another thought to this man by the recycling bins.
I was out for lunch at Local 510 one day over the summer with some colleagues. We were eating on the patio and this guy walked up to our table and asked us for some money. He was near tears and told us he had HIV and that his parents had kicked him out onto the street. He was trying to raise enough money to find shelter. Skeptically, we all fished out some money for him. After he left, one colleague leaned in and said “I’m pretty sure I recognize that guy. He hangs out around 17th Ave a lot.” Is his story true? Who knows. Maybe parts of it are.
There’s also the guy who sits on a crate downtown day in and day out. I’ve passed him several times, but I’ve never stopped. The last time I walked by him, I spotted a loaf of bread tucked under his crate. Is that what this man eats every day? Where does he come from? Where does he go at nightfall? And why does he do nothing more than sit on that crate? Only in my last couple of trips by him did I make eye contact and smile. Why was that such a hard thing for me to do?
Today, I was back at the recycling bins. As I opened the door to my car, I heard a radio playing. I stepped out and saw someone rummaging around the bins like last time.
As I approached with my recycling he turned around and said “Hello! How’s your day going?”
“Fantastically! Thank you. How is yours?” I replied.
“Oh, I’m having the most amazing day! I slept until 2:10 this afternoon.”
“Really? That must’ve felt nice! I haven’t been able to sleep that long into the day in quite some time.”
“I don’t usually get that much sleep either. This was the first time in five years I’ve slept that long! And man did it ever feel great!”
And so on we conversed while I finished unloading my car. Another fabulous thing about his day was that one of the garbage men had given him a garbage picker. It was a metal rod with prongs attached to the end and a handle he could squeeze to bring the prongs together. He even did a demonstration of it for me, picking up bottle caps, bottles and bits of paper from the ground. Works wonders for reaching inside the bins too.
It was at this point that he paused long enough for me to ask him an important question.
“What’s your name?”
He looked up and said “My name’s Bart.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Bart. I’m Wendy.”
He smiled and kept talking. I learned that the park is his home. He takes great pride in keeping it clean. “You won’t find any garbage around here, no sir! I make sure I pick up every last bit of paper to keep the area looking clean. I hate dirty things. It’s not like the recycling centre over by the grocery store. That one’s a mess! People put stuff everywhere,” he paused. “Well, actually, it’s not the people bringing the recycling in. It’s all the pickers. They just don’t care. But me? I care.”
Last summer I went to find a geocache with another friend of mine. The one we picked to search out was in this very park. As we explored the shrubbery along the backs of the houses, I remembered seeing a sleeping bag up in a tree. I wondered now if it belonged to this gentleman.
After a spell, he said, “Well, you’ve probably got other places to be. I’ll let you go. Have a nice day!”
I got into my car, drove home, and haven’t stopped thinking about the whole encounter all evening.
I can’t get it out of my head just how happy he was to have a tool that made his job easier and how proud he was to be keeping the park clean. As I was pulling away, another man drove up to bring in his recycling and Bart started up again and asked “Hello! How’s your day going?” All with the same warmth and another big smile.
*Names used in this post are fictional… well, except mine.
The Power of the Human Spirit
October 10, 2011 § Leave a comment
It’s a balmy Thanksgiving Saturday in Goderich, Ontario. I’m on holidays. We’ve just finished picking wild apples near my brother-in-law Jim’s house. Many family members would be gathering for dinner the next day. Life couldn’t be much better.
Yet my eyes were welling up with tears.
Joyce and I’d just toured the renowned town square where the majority of the damage occurred during the Aug. 21 tornado, which miraculously left only one human casualty. We were in the community to attend the Out of the Storm concert, an event to raise funds to support rebuilding efforts.
It will take years for the town to return to its full former splendour. I’ve always thought of it as a most charming place. Goderich was long ago dubbed the Prettiest Town in Canada by Queen Victoria.
It took just seconds to wreak havoc in this community of 8,000 residents on the shore of Lake Huron, leaving many businesses out of commission for an indefinite time and leaving numerous century-old buildings in ruins.
Lots of grand old trees were uprooted and had to be removed.
Only 45-minutes’ drive away in Ripley, my mother-in-law reported seeing only a few rain drops and a dark cloud.
Elsewhere in the path of the tornado, homes were severely damaged or destroyed.
This was the second tragedy I’ve had close contact with this year. In mid-May, a wildfire destroyed about one-third of the Town of Slave Lake, Alberta, and threatened other nearby communities, prompting response by the Grande Prairie Regional Emergency Partnership, of which I am a member.
My demeanour picked up as the music began. Rock and roll and blues are my two favourite genres of music so while the circumstances for the concert were unfortunate I was glad to be there to support the cause.
I also couldn’t help feeling uplifted when I saw the spirit of the volunteers and the T-shirts being sold as part of fundraising efforts.
One read: FU F3, representing the resolve of residents to reconstruct in the face of Mother Nature’s devastating winds.
Another proclaimed: Twisted … Not Broken.
The concert drew thousands of locals and visitors and featured 12 hours of music with scheduled acts including the Downchild Blues Band, the Arkells, Matthew Good, Salads with Choclair, Serena Ryder and Texas Flood. The Province of Ontario is matching funds raised on a two for one basis.
There were numerous vendors, a silent auction and a children’s area.
Organizers did an incredible job in pulling the concert together in such a short time. An event of this kind would normally take months to stage.
On this Thanksgiving weekend, I couldn’t help but feel fortunate to have never faced tragedy such as what occurred in Goderich or Slave Lake first hand. I’m amazed at how the human spirit can respond in the face of adversity.
It’s inspiring how people in these two communities are picking up the pieces – literally.
During a video tribute at the concert, Mayor Delbert Shewfelt proclaimed: “We will rebuild. We will be stronger than ever.”
There is no doubt Goderich, Slave Lake and other communities struck by catastrophes will be like phoenixes rising because of the determination of people to overcome their circumstances.
One of the songs during the Downchild Blues’ set was, I’ve Got Everything I need (Almost).
With the drive behind the people of Goderich and Slave Lake, all they need is time.
Being An Instrument Of Change
September 26, 2011 § 2 Comments
In the days since the 10 year anniversary of 9/11, I’ve been pondering what has changed over the last decade and how I should lead my life accordingly.
I’ve returned to Alberta to work, my son has grown up and moved to Edmonton, we have a different dog and changed vehicles a couple of times. New friends have been made and I have less hair and what’s left is sprinkled with what I call Arctic Blond (grey).
The cell phone I said I would never get in the first place has been replaced by a Blackberry (but since it belongs to my employer, I can say I didn’t personally get sucked further into the technology vortex). While the Internet was well into development in 2001, we were not bombarded with the networking platforms like Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn we are now.
On a global level, we have security levels never before seen so travelling by air or crossing international borders is not as easy as it once was. There was once an ad campaign about not leaving home without a specific credit card. Now, a passport is mandatory for even travel within Canada.
Going to a sporting event or concert is no longer as convenient with backpacks and purses being searched.
More terrorist acts have occurred though none of them have caused the death tolls incurred on that grave day in September 2001.
The world has been ridden of terror lords such as Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein. There are many others to take their place.
As much as the world is on higher alert, it is hard not to be numbed by the bad news on the nightly news, in newspaper and, increasingly, social media.
The phrase, “If it doesn’t bleed, it doesn’t lead” is very much in vogue when it comes to following the news.
However, while there has been change in the last 10 years – including some for the good such as no smoking legislation spreading to restaurants and bars in our country – one thing that has not changed is my love for life and desire to connect with like-minded people.
As individuals, we can be instruments of change. When you think of it, the dictators mentioned above or numerous others ranging from Idi Amin to Adolph Hitler and Baby Doc Duvalier have been able to rise to power. They made a difference, didn’t they?
But so did Mother Teresa, Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr.
So many people believe they can’t have an impact so they do nothing. Far too few get involved in their community, even in their child’s school activities or help to manage academic performance in collaboration with teachers. Then they seem surprised when Johnny or Mary can’t read effectively when they are about to graduate.
When I see that 61.4 per cent of Canadians voted in this spring’s election, I feel like asking anyone who complains about what the federal government is doing whether they voted. Just one in four voters cast ballots in last fall’s municipal election in Grande Prairie.
I’m not here to preach. There is more all of us can do. But when I see people not voting in droves, the apathy is chilling. How is it dictators in other parts of the world manage to rise to power? I do know that people in other countries are dying for the right to vote.
Our purpose in life should be to pass on lessons learned to the next generation so they don’t repeat the mistakes of the past – or if they do, they do so knowing the consequences.
I grew up in a dysfunctional home. I vowed my son would not follow suit. Now that he has grown, he has the choice to heed the direction of his parents and teachers or make his own choices.
And he will. My hope is that he and his peers take up the torch and improve the world for the next generation.
Every action does counts.
Most often, we just have to look in the mirror, like this quote from actress Lily Tomlin suggests: “I always wondered why somebody doesn’t do something about that. Then I realized I was somebody.”
So, while the world has gotten smaller and everything moves faster, one thing that hasn’t changed is our opportunity to make changes, big or small.
The Blended Family
August 29, 2011 § 9 Comments
As of 2001, there were more than half a million stepfamilies in Canada*. If you ever would’ve told me I’d find myself as part of one, I never would’ve believed you. I had a mom, a dad and a brother. For all intents and purposes, our family seemed like every other. We ate dinner together, spent family holidays travelling between one set of grandparents or another, my mom or dad would drive us to our various sporting events and activities. Nobody fought (except for Wayne and I, but it’s what siblings are supposed to do!) No one seemed unhappy.
I remember driving home for Thanksgiving in my second year of university with my mom. On the way home she said she had something to tell me. “Your father and I are separated,” she disclosed. “But he’ll be there for Thanksgiving dinner.” Separated? The word rung loudly in my ears the rest of the way home. What? Why? How?
To find myself, at 19, facing parents who were separated, who might potentially get a divorce, seemed ludicrous. My brother and I were no longer at home, which meant they’d already made it through the hard stuff, right?
I won’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of a marriage, I’ve never been in one after all. Nor will I attempt to dissect the various elements that may or may not have led to their separation. That’s not my role in this story. Nono, my role is the one of the daughter. The one who lost her only brother seven some odd years ago and somewhere along the line found herself with six stepbrothers and stepsisters. Yes, six! Let’s not forget the four stepnieces and one stepnephew. A little overwhelming perhaps? Potentially.
Not long after my parents split up, I remember heading to a party with Wayne. On the way there, he turned to me and asked:
“Did Mom and Dad splitting up surprise you?”
“No,” I replied, “I kind of saw it coming.”
“It sure surprised me.”
That’s the only bit of conversation him and I ever had on the subject. Wayne was about 4 years ahead of me in school, you see. And so he hadn’t been at home in the end. Not that anything bad had happened during that time, but after a bit of reflection, it was obvious to me that my parents had drifted apart long ago. Wayne wasn’t home for that part. No wonder it caught him by surprise.
Fast forward to 2004, I’m pretty sure both of my parents had started dating their current partners by then. Neither of their partners got to meet Wayne, which is unfortunate. It’s an opportunity I wish everyone could’ve had. Though sometimes bull-headed, and frankly, a bit of a jerk at times, I think all of y’all would’ve really enjoyed him. Damn was he funny. But, this post isn’t about him, no, in this post he’s merely a part of a larger story.
It’s hard to put into words the turmoil of emotions I felt from that point and into the coming years. The relationships each of my parents were in continued to evolve. I met the children of each partner. I played along, met the new stepsiblings and hung out with them on special occasions, like Christmas. They were nice. But it’s hard to get to know new siblings as a young adult. Especially when I couldn’t help but feel like I’d be forgetting my real sibling if I let the others in too much.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve bonded with my stepsister and one of my stepbrothers on my mom’s side. My stepbrother has even come house boating with my cousins and I the last couple of summers. He’s also doing a decent job of stepping up as a big brother, complete with the harassment I’ve been missing! My two “wicked” stepsisters on my dad’s side, well, they’re both married with kids and in a phase of life I’m still not in. It’s a bit harder to relate to them. But they’re a fun pair and it’s difficult not to enjoy myself around them.
Throughout it all, I’ve felt like the only person not quite ready to move on. My family had been split apart and I had lost the only person who would’ve possibly known what it was all like. The only one who would’ve still been with me in the other family, the one that fell apart. For a long time, I felt like I didn’t have a place. I was on the outskirts of both sides, but not a true member of either. My best friend and her family, and my cousins back in Saskatchewan became the consistencies I clung to for stability while the rest of my world shifted and tilted around me. For even a grown up child needs stability somewhere in her life when what she’s always known is in a gargantuan state of flux.
A few weeks ago, my dad and my stepmom made things official by tying the knot. At the wedding, I stood up for my dad and my stepmom’s two girls stood up for her. If you were watching me closely during the ceremony, you’d have seen a great many tears in my eyes. But they were a mixture of emotion. Emotion in memory of the sibling that was missing, the one that was a stranger to this new family, but also a strong sense of belonging. There was a new family being formed, and just like my two stepsisters, I’ve got an equal part to play.
After the wedding, one of my stepsisters came over and said that one of my stepnieces had whispered to her as she looked carefully around the room: “Mommy, I know who my new Auntie is… it’s Wendy.” Nieces and nephews? I never thought I’d have any. Now there are five of them. And one of them already thought to call me Auntie. It’s a weird feeling… yet a wonderful one.
My dad’s speech at the wedding was short. He may have uttered 3 or 4 words more than this, but in essence, he said, “Thank you for making this easy.” I think the fact that it was a very gradual transition, that they’d both raised some pretty wonderful kids (am I right?), and that him and my stepmom are just so gosh darned happy are what made it easy.
As the days have ticked past since the wedding, it’s been settling in on me just how permanent this new family is. It’s legal. It’s binding. My signature is on the marriage license as a witness to prove it. I experienced the creation of a new family, my new family. That might just mean it’s okay to open my heart and my life to these new people. It’s okay to move past the family and the brother that were, because it and him are still a part of me. And now, there are that many more people to love me, and me them.
Don’t Shop Til You Drop
August 22, 2011 § 7 Comments
“Slow down, you move too fast
You gotta make the morning last
Just kickin’ down the cobblestones
Lookin’ for fun and
Feelin’ groovy …”
That verse certainly won’t be found in any jingles from major retailers stocking and promoting Christmas gifts in August.
They are words, admittedly, from the much simpler times of 1966 when Simon and Garfunkel recorded the 59TH Bridge Street (Feelin’ Groovy) song on their Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme album.
Thinking of the rush toward Christmas that’s already begun and taking it easy on this Sunday four months ahead of The Big Day had me musing over the word thyme and its homophone (words that sound the same but have different spellings and meanings) partner time.
It seems no matter how much people vow each year to slow down and spend less on gift giving, many still get caught up in the Christmas shopping vortex earlier and earlier and spend more and more money.
No wonder kids are hardly done opening the newest version of electronic gaming gadgetry they received at Christmas (which was of no surprise since they’d lobbied for months) than they are clamouring for the latest and greatest of something else.
Are we really surprised when much of the mound of nicely wrapped presents on Dec. 25 becomes clutter within days?
A rant about excesses at Christmas is an old one that needs no further comment other than the increasing craze over one day of the year is symptomatic of the rest of life for those who let it.
Many of us seem to try to pack one more thing in our lives yet always think fondly of the simpler times, like the quick vacation or the spontaneous dinner out.
Who relishes the maxed-out credit card bill in January?
It blows my mind when I’m channel surfing and I see shows like Say Yes to the Dress and the wearing apparel being considered costs more than my entire wedding. Of course, I’ve been married 25 years now and I wonder how many of the couples on the show will still be wed a quarter century later.
It all seems to start out with graduation in kindergarten and by the end of elementary school, the expectation of an elaborate celebration has gone crazy. Getting only about half way through basic education warrants a gala bash with participants driven in a limo?
It’s no wonder kids want to be teenagers all too quickly, rush off to post-secondary education, often before they are ready, and can’t wait to become of age.
By 30, many people have sped through the first third of their lives without taking the chance to smell the roses … and by then, they are stuck in a routine.
Am I being a grumpy old man about this? I don’t think so. I like a party just as much as anyone and as age 51 is calling my name, I am still at a point where I think of all the things there are left to accomplish.
It just seems we build up expectations for big moments earlier and earlier in our lives and those of younger generations so nothing is really THAT special anymore.
As I was writing this blog, I saw this quote on a friend’s twitter post: “Be not afraid of growing slowly; be afraid only of standing still.” ~ Ancient Chinese Proverb.
Do these wise words and my commentary provide conflicting viewpoints? Absolutely not! There is a difference between enjoying and thriving on a fast pace and having your life spinning out of control so we lose sight of what’s important.
We really can pack one less meeting or email into a day. We can call an old friend out of the blue or take an impromptu Sunday drive. We don’t NEED to shop until we drop.
Rediscovery my purpose… by accident.
August 15, 2011 § 4 Comments
If there’s anything that life likes to do, it’s get increasingly busier. Sooner or later, we each wake up and think, “How did I get here?” That is, if we wake up to that fact at all. Although a busy life is not something I think any of us can avoid, it is possible to keep your ear to the ground and eye on the road to know when you’re swerving off track. Just like driving, it requires focus and attention when you’re behind the wheel. If you’ve got too many things going at once, you might find yourself in a heap on the side of the road sooner than you think.
I’m by no means crashing into a ditch, but I’ve felt myself slowly being pulled off course. In fact, I think I turned down a side road and lost my way for a while. I’ve been off on a different sort of adventure and the sounds of the main highway, that is, the road I had first set out on with a purpose in mind, were drawing more distant every day. I vaguely remembered what it once was, but was losing touch with that part of me. I’ve been wanting to make my way back, to remember what exactly I was after in the first place, but I didn’t know the way. At least not until, like a loud horn and beacon blazing through a thick fog, I was given a connection back to that place… and hence, a direction to head in.
I was reminded today of an experimental status I did on Facebook one day last year. I used my status as a cancer fundraiser. Except instead of trying to get my network to support me, I asked them for their stories. In exchange for every story shared, I donated $2 to cancer research. The experiment was successful in my books. I had nearly 40 stories shared, and 4 other friends who stepped up to match my pledge. In total we raised close to $500… yep, you read that right. $500 from a Facebook status update.
About 10 months ago, I left my employ with ATCO and started a new adventure with Yelp, a business reviews website out of San Francisco. With this new challenge came a lot less available time for me to keep up many of the online activities I had been doing in my spare time. This, unfortunately, has included blog posts on The Muse and Views. Today, however, I was reminded of why I started the blog with David in the first place. My whole reason for blogging was partially that of healing, inspiring and sharing my ideas and thoughts, and partially in hopes of inspiring and helping others with my posts. I’m not sure when exactly I lost sight of that purpose, but I did. And because I did, it’s made trying to keep up the blog and the new job next to impossible.
What’s so special about today? Well, through a sponsorship we’re doing with Light The Night across Canada, my Facebook status experiment and how well it had worked was at the forefront of my mind. I wanted a way to engage Calgary’s Yelp Community the same way I had engaged my own personal network all those months ago. I recognized my knack for using communication tools in ways many don’t think of at first. It comes so naturally, it’s a part of who I am.
This was the beacon lighting my way back. That connection into myself that I won’t otherwise find. As much as I wish this blog were for you, it’s really, first and foremost, for me. And, with David’s reminder not to waste our talents, I’m making my way back.
If Only I Had Their Talent
July 25, 2011 § 4 Comments
Singer Amy Winehouse joined the 27 Club this past weekend.
This is not a prestigious group – it’s a growing collection of gifted performers who’ve left this world all too soon, at that young age, the result of running on a collision course with excess drug and alcohol use.
Other members of the Club include musicians Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, Brian Jones, and Janis Joplin.
They all enjoyed more fame in their less than three decades on earth than most of us will see in a lifetime – not that most of us want to be front page news regularly. These entertainers were more often the subject of headlines for all the wrong reasons.
When I heard of Winehouse’s demise, my immediate reaction was that some of the most talented individuals in the world seem to have no idea of the breadth of their abilities and how far they could rise if they really wanted to. On the other hand, there are people who’ve yet to realize their talents or just need that one break to rise to stardom. Many deserving of the chance will never get it.
What is it that causes the likes of Winehouse to author their own destruction, despite promising careers? Was she troubled all along and the fame and fortune did her in? Did she not realize what she had and did not care? Did she think herself invincible?
My friend Gina MacArthur had an interesting observation with this post on Facebook: “I’m not sure what’s sadder, that a talented young woman died way too young, or that the first reaction of most when they hear about it will be that it was only a matter of time.”
The 27 Club is a group of entertainers whose members’ deaths are associated with excesses of illicit drugs and alcohol. The list of other stars that died before their time, in part because of their own behaviour, could fill pages. There is just a spike at that age.
Keith Moon, one-time drummer with The Who, died at age 32. His Wikipedia profile could read like so many others: “He gained acclaim for his exuberant and innovative drumming style, and notoriety for his eccentric and often self-destructive behaviour.”
With Dan Akroyd in Grande Prairie this past weekend to help fundraise for the dinosaur museum being built just west of the City, I couldn’t help but think about his Blues Brothers co-star John Belushi, who died of a drug overdose at age 33.
Even Marilyn Monroe was only 36 when barbiturates did her in.
Singer Elton John aptly referenced her in a song as a “Candle in the Wind.”
It’s ironic that actor James Dean would be quoted as saying, “Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today.”
While the 24-year-old Dean would perish in a car crash, his words appear to typify the sentiments of the stars who live in the moment. It seems they don’t realize just how their own gifts influence those who dote on them. Maybe they don’t know. Maybe they are too self-absorbed to care. Maybe the drug use wipes out any sense of their real self worth.
Maybe the families and handlers of these megastars can do more to set them straight before it’s too late.
Of course, those of us who adore these entertainers, literally to death, also need to take a step back. While news of Winehouse’s passing was sweeping the world, actual world tragedies were unfolding with news of more than 90 people in Norway dying as a result of a shooting spree and bomb attack.
Chiara Dalfini, a writing colleague in London, England, puts this in perspective: “All are sad for what happened to Amy Winehouse … well…. what about what happened in Norway????????”
And then there were the more than 43 victims of the bullet train crash in China which resulted in another 200 injuries.
Those who lost lives or were hurt in these incidents had only fate against them – they weren’t party-going, pill popping rock legends or movie stars. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Sometimes I think of those who have gifts like the John Belushis, the Jim Morrisons and Amy Winehouses of the world and liken it to winning the lottery jackpot. I tell myself that I wouldn’t waste the talent or the money if I were given the chance to prove it.
However, I can’t carry a tune in a bucket so I won’t ever make it to the Karaoke Hall of Fame. I have a face most suited for radio but not the voice, so I will never be mistaken for a movie star hunk.
My biggest lottery win was on an unintended correct pick on a sports betting ticket.
Instead, I will be thankful for the talents and gifts I have been blessed with and not allow successes to let my head get too big.
The Passion of Les Habitant Fans
April 25, 2011 § 5 Comments
It all started when I was 10 years old. I wondered what the sirens were all about as my Dad watched hockey.
I was hearing, of course, the signal to begin and end the periods at the fabled Montreal Forum where the Canadiens, a.k.a the Habs, played prior to moving in the Bell Centre.
My initiation into Hab Nation began in the spring of 1971, 40 years ago. This blog is an account of how I and other men and women across the country have become diehard fans invariably as a family custom.
I started watching the Habs play against the heavily favoured Boston Bruins, who they would upset in seven games in the first round of the playoffs that year. As I write, the Canadiens are once again the underdog versus the same team in this year’s post-season.
A love for the team attired in rouge, blanc et bleu with a CH on the front of their jerseys would be one of the things my late father and I would share over the years.
The torch has been passed on to support this storied sports franchise which has won the second most championships in professional sports with 24. Only the New York Yankees have more banners.
I was immediately hooked as the upstart team went on to win the Cup in my infancy as a fan, beating Boston, the Minnesota North Stars and the Chicago Blackhawks.
What a great time to become a fan of the Canadiens – they would capture six Cups in the 1970s, including four in a row, from 1976 to 1979.
The number of championships would dwindle after that – just two since – but the fervent desire to win never ceases in Montreal and for fans of the Canadiens elsewhere. Hockey is a religion in Quebec and I couldn’t help but be drawn in by the passion.
Although the Canadiens were not the favourites in 1971, I was attracted by their tradition for winning and commitment to be the best.
Some of my lifetime heroes came from that era of hockey, particularly Bob Gainey, who epitomized how I believe an athlete or any professional should conduct themselves — make every shift count.
He would later coach in Minnesota and was general manager in Dallas when they won the Cup. He also had executive duties with the Habs and served two stints behind the bench.
The highlight of my being a member of the Hab faithful came in 1979 during a student exchange between Northern Lights College in my hometown of Dawson Creek, B.C. and Marianopolis College in Montreal.
We’d been told from the beginning that the March 22 game between Montreal and the New York Islanders was already sold out.
On the day of the game, though, two classmates and I decided to go to the Forum to get souvenirs so we could say we’d been to the Canadiens rink.
After loading up on Hab paraphernalia, we checked in at Marianopolis College where our liaison asked us if we’d like to go to the game that night. We said in unison “What game?”
It turned out Charles Bromfman, owner of the Expos at the time, was in Florida for spring training and his tickets became available. We jumped at the chance.
I recall to this day walking around a few feet off the ground. I have never been so excited.
The Habs lost that game but would go on to win the Cup that year. They almost didn’t make it, but for the famed May 10 gaffe by Bruin coach Don Cherry. A late too many men on the ice penalty in the seventh game against Boston allowed Montreal to tie the game and win it in overtime, propelling the Habs on to the final against the Rangers.
I would get to meet Guy Lafleur, who scored the equalizing goal, years later at an oldtimers’ game in Sault Ste. Marie. I got to speak briefly with Ken Dryden who was general manager of the Maple Leafs when I attended the final game at the Gardens.
Another favourite moment was having a friend get an autographed copy of Jean Beliveau’s autobiography. My dog, Jasper, chewed the book to bits, with only the signature page remaining intact.
My wife knew how much the book meant to me so she didn’t share the news of the book’s fate until six months later.
A trip to the conference finals last spring stoked up the fire for Hab fans again. I knew my passion hadn’t subsided. It was a sick feeling losing to the Flyers.
I am not alone in my passion for following the Habs.
Here in Grande Prairie, Tom Pura at the Chamber is Commerce, is well known for being a big booster of the Habs and the Saskatchewan Roughriders.
He, too, started following the Habs in 1971.
“The obsession really hit during the four straight run from ’76 to ’79,” he recalls.
“I had to sit in the same spot in the same position to watch their games … very superstitious. They were entertaining to watch including the golden tones of Danny Gallivan and Dick Irvin. The cups in ’86 and ’93 were pleasant surprises, but nothing compares to the ’70s for me.
“I celebrated every win and took every loss hard. It seems silly to a lot of people but everyone should have a passion for something. Mine was always sports.
“I knew those teams in the 70s inside and out, every stat, every number and name, every idiosyncrasy, and we imitated our heroes in road hockey or tennis court hockey or floor hockey. I never actually played ice hockey, but I was Larry Robinson on defence and Ken Dryden in goal and Pete Mahovlich at forward because i was one of the taller kids,” says Tom. “I even remember Larry Robinson’s overtime goal as a rookie in ’73 against the Flyers. I was six not yet seven and recreating that shot from behind the blue line in my living room with a plastic stick and puck.”
For Trista Lefave, a friend from Cornwall, Ont., who’s studying at the University of Ottawa to be a teacher, following the Habs started at an early age.
“My father is a French-Canadian from Quebec and a huge Habs fan.”
Her father, whose house is a shrine to the Habs, would delight in buying Canadien-themed Christmas presents for family members.
“He bought me and my brother Habs jerseys, and other things like pajamas or blankets. He’s the one who got us into the Habs, anything Habs. And now for birthdays and Christmas my sisters, brother, mom and I give Habs presents to each other, and we passed along our love for the Canadiens to my nieces and nephews so it’s all in the family.
“I grew up watching the Canadiens play and cheering on Patrick Roy. I became a very dedicated and diehard fanatic for the Habs.”
Trista has watched the Habs play in Ottawa but awaits her first game at the Bell Centre.
Last November, she did get to meet her favourite player, forward Mike Cammalleri, along with coach Jacques Martin, assistant Perry Pearn, and former Hab Maxim Lapierre at an event at the Bell Centre. Retired Habs Rejean Houle and Yvon Lambert were also on hand.
Much like I grew up wearing a Yvan Cournoyer’s #12 jersey and admiring the speed that would earn him the nickname Roadrunner, Trista appreciates that Cammalleri is not a big player, but is a sniper nonetheless.
“He’s a true Canadian hockey player. He loves being a Montreal Canadien. I just love his whole demeanor, his dedication, passion and his attitude. He’s not as big as everyone else, but he plays with heart and shows his skills are just as great and better than some. I respect that a lot.
“The thing I find amazing is everyone who plays on the Habs always talks about what an amazing team it is to play for, how dedicated and passionate the fans are and how that makes them want to play. Brian Gionta even said he wouldn’t have signed with the Habs had it not been for the passionate fans. We love our sport and take it seriously and it’s amazing that the players see our love for the game and for them.”
Another friend, Hélène LeGendre Drake, an audiologist who lives in Whitby, Ont., returned to her Hab roots in recent years.
“When I was very young living in eastern Quebec, my Dad and I would watch the game on Saturday nights. It was the best night of the week! Aside from the game, it was so nice to see my Dad in such a good mood, and fun for me to get to eat junk food and stay up way past my bedtime,” she recalls fondly.
“My real passion for the Montreal Canadiens started about six years ago after a friend invited me to a pre-season game at the Bell Centre. Something magical happened at that game, it was so exhilarating! And after that experience, I was simply hooked!
“I knew that I would be making the trip from Toronto to Montreal many times to see my beloved team! I usually manage to attend three games in Montreal per season. I’ve even made the awesome trip to California last year to see the games versus LA and Anaheim.
“I have only met Canadien players once, at the Toronto Hockey Hall of Fame in 2006. Each player signed our poster and chatted with us a bit. It really was surreal. The only two players remaining with that team are Tomas Plekanec, who happens to be my favourite player, and Andrei Markov.
“I know now that I am a true fan of the Montreal Canadiens for life. It has become my passion. Win or lose, I bleed bleu, blanc, rouge!”
Meanwhile, here in Grande Prairie, hope springs eternal that the Habs will once again rise to the top and win hockey’s Holy Grail.
Making Your Goals A Reality
February 14, 2011 § 5 Comments
A few weeks ago, my friend, Elizabeth, was abuzz with excitement about how 2011 would be a year of significant change including her return to school next fall and starting a marketing-related business.
But where to start?
I’d read recently that while you go through a book from front to back to find out the ending, authoring a success story occurs with the goal in mind and working back.
So, I told Elizabeth that she needs to determine what her ultimate achievement is to be and then visualize the steps required to make it happen.
Organizational consultant and author Stephen Covey, in his book, The 7 Habits Of Highly Effective People, describes this as beginning with the end in mind (Habit 2).
- Habit 2 is based on the principle that all things are created twice – a mental or first creation and a physical or second creation.
- Most endeavours that fail, fail with the first creation.
The highway to success is littered with the wreckage of countless abandoned dreams. How many of us have had ideas we didn’t pursue because we didn’t dare to go to that next step?
Perhaps we were fearful of failure or simply just comfortable. Maybe other priorities got in the way.
I know Elizabeth will succeed. She’s a driven individual, passionate about her company idea and has a good business sense. Returning to school part-time will be a key to her success.
When you’re starting a company, there are all kinds of considerations, beginning with a business plan. Then there are factors such whether to be home-based or located in an office space. Should you hire staff or just bring on associates as needed? Even choosing a corporate name can be a challenge. Should your own name be attached to it or do you select something unique?
Having operated a successful business, I share Elizabeth’s excitement. There’s nothing quite like taking an idea and nurturing it into reality. In a sense, it’s like producing a child and watching it grow.
Earlier, I described reading to the end of a book to see how the story turns out. My personal goal involves writing books – the first based on a story I penned for the Grande Prairie Public Library writing competition last year – and others to be developed from the content Wendy and I produce for this blog.
So, in a sense, I’m already on my way with Book Number One. I’ve set next Christmas as a target for being on bookshelves.
But, considering Covey’s end in mind guidance, there are many steps to go. The story needs to be fleshed out further. I need to determine whether it’s a kids’ book or something for older audiences. Should it be done in a series? Will I find a publisher or self publish? Perhaps it will be an e-book. If I print, how many copies do I want to publish? What about an illustrator?
Decisions.Decisions.
I enjoy these kinds of questions. They mean I see opportunities that I’m passionate about, that I have a purpose and before long, I will have steps in place to reach my goal. When I started my business, I remember colleagues at my former workplace telling me how lucky I was.
It was good fortune to be making a quarter of my former salary with a fledgling company? Hmmm. Yeah, right! Joking aside, I do know what they meant. They wished they’d had the motivation to try something new, to follow a dream.
I never want to be left saying, woulda, coulda, shoulda, to have regrets. Admittedly, it does take strong resolve to follow through on a goal, especially something that is significantly life-altering.
American comedian/author/educator Bill Cosby offers this advice: “In order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure.”
So, as we reach month 2 of 2011, what are your goals for the year? How will you get there?
The Muse and Views 