Our four legged friends
January 18, 2010 § 8 Comments
Last fall, David asked me for my opinion and some ideas on a piece about pets. The library in Grande Prairie does a writing competition every year, and this year pets were the topics. I’ve always felt that pets are an important part of a person’s life for those of us that have them. They can bring us great joy, they can disarm even the most protected person, and we can learn so much from them.
It was my last at home (home being my mom’s place) over the holidays before heading back to Calgary. I had just returned home from Edmonton and there was a cute waggily tail waiting to greet me at the back door. I let Tetris into the back porch so we could properly greet one another without the discomforts of the cold outdoors. That waggily tail continued to wag, and as usual, Tetris was beside herself with joy to see me. She eventually calmed down and became the sweetest dog in the world (and no I’m not biased at all).
As I sat in the doorway petting her and scratching her belly, I noticed just how relaxed and at peace I was with her. It’s taken me a long time to become that way with other human beings, but with a pet it’s just so natural. I remembered a friend in Calgary mentioning once that she wished she could be as at home with herself with the rest of the world as she is when she’s hanging out with her four legged friend. What is it about a pet that can only bring out the best in us?
A dog operates from only one place. They don’t know how to lie or deceive, they are easily hurt, but trust again just as readily. They will always be home to greet you, even on the days you may have parted on a harsh word because they left a spot on your tie… or chewed up one of your favourite shoes. And yet, they remain a source of love and affection. That’s what being on the receiving end of unconditional love is like. Imagine if most people operated from the same plane. Where those you interact with are not a source of distrust or stress, but such an unfathomably endless well of joyful emotion, that you know no matter what you do, they love you anyway.
This is the lesson I learn and relearn from Tetris every time I’m back home. The ability to open myself up and accept her the way she is… holes in the backyard, mud on my jeans and everything… and allow her to accept me the way I am… messy apartment, laundry that’s never done… and everything. It is easier done with a dog, they don’t have the capacity to judge. But what if we refrained from judging one another as well? How much easier would it be? How much farther ahead would the world be because we trusted one another and weren’t scared to be who we are?
How Big Is Your Change?
January 11, 2010 § 2 Comments
It’s early January and many people are trying to follow through on New Year’s resolutions. Some have vowed they’ll stop smoking. Others have begun an exercise regime. Many of these pledges will fail. Numerous people have already thrown in the towel by now.
Not all significant lifestyle changes occur as a result of a promise to one’s self on Dec. 31. Sometimes people just realize that it is time.
However personal improvement occurs, it is most heartening to see that people really can overcome major obstacles, whether hurdles life has thrown at them or their problems were self-inflicted.
I was inspired about a year ago as I was contemplating my entry into the writing competition being held by the Grande Prairie Public Library. The theme was Winning and Losing.
The angle of my story was the reverse … losing and winning.
I told readers how a friend’s daughter lost everything – her children, her job, her house – through drug abuse, becoming addicted to crack at age 30.
Interviewing the subject of the story and writing it, gave me a picture I had never seen so up close and personal. I had never experienced the depths people will go to feed and addiction. It brought tears to my own eyes to see the story turn into one of her winning her family back, regaining employment and having the opportunity to buy a home again.
So, while we are considering whether we can make life-altering changes to improve, the answer is … yes we can. Just ask Marcie:
Marcie Wins Back Family, Loses Drugs
My idea of winning and losing has always been pretty simple – did my Montreal Canadiens or Toronto Blue Jays win last night? . . . Or how am I doing in the hockey pool?
Occasionally, the competitive juices would boil if I was vying for a coveted job and, hey, who likes to come out on the short end in an argument?!
But catching up with my friend, Theresa, and her, daughter, Marcie, recently gave me a whole new perspective on winning and losing.
Not since I experienced the birth of my son and death of my father, both in 1989, have I faced such a pronounced rollercoaster of emotions when hearing those two words together.
Theirs is story of a mother and daughter basking in the glow of a renewed life together thanks to Marcie overcoming drug abuse – a five-year addiction to crack cocaine.
Marcie’s definition of winning includes her ability to hold a job now. Being reunited with her two children, now 20 and 12, is another win. Probably the most important victory is the respect she’s earned from her children.
“They know they just have to call me and I will be there.”
For her to regain that connection, Marcie had to be completely open about the ordeal she’d put herself and her family through.
“I also know the tell-tale signs of drug abuse now and have that awareness. I feel more responsibility and more pressure. It is me that stops me from going back,” she says.
For her to achieve these wins, Marcie had to lose her home, place her sons in her mother’s care, and give up much more.
“You lose yourself and your goals,” she says of her addiction. “You lose track of what’s important, your values, your self esteem, and then you hit rock bottom.”
It becomes a vicious circle. The crack makes things feel better, but only for so long. Then reality sinks in. Marcie is fortunate she didn’t spiral into further despair or sink deeper into the world of drug abuse.
“When you start hating the way you feel and the way your life is going, turning to drugs is a way to cope because when you are high, you don’t feel,” Marcie explains.
“When you are living a life of chaos, your focus is on getting and using drugs. You are always on the go, people are always around you partying, and people want to be your friends without judgement. The excitement was the feeling of being important and on top of the game. People needing drugs will make you feel like you are important and they respect you when, in fact, all they want is your drugs.
“The winning side of this is that once you are in rehabilitation, you can learn to deal with your feelings of despair and learn how to cope with the guilt of choosing drugs over your children. You then become able to focus on what is important like family, and getting healthy, both mentally and physically.”
Marcie knew it was time to check into detoxification when she was sitting in a camper, with nowhere to go. It was 11 p.m. on her 34th birthday.
“I had nowhere to celebrate my birthday. I gave myself a present. I knew if I made a bad decision at that point, I would go even lower. If I stopped, I would be able to get help. I called my mom and said, ‘Please come and get me. What have I become?’”
Theresa recalls that moment, too. Was it real this time? Would she ever have her daughter back?
For four long years her grandmother, her mother and father, her sister and her children were forced by this awful drug to live in fear of never having Marcie back.
“She called to say she was done and could no longer face the horrible life she had now and wanted me to pick her up and take her to detox,” recalls Theresa.
The anger welled up in her because she’d heard Marcie’s promises to reform before, only to be disappointed.
“She never followed through and I was getting tired of the let down every time. This time, though, there was something in her voice that was different, and because I love my daughter with all my heart, I went to pick her up.”
Theresa had a lump in her throat when she met Marcie. She couldn’t believe what she saw.
“I found this skinny, dirty, hollow-faced stranger standing under a streetlight,” Theresa recalls. “She was the most pitiful thing I have ever seen. I drove her to detox, walked her into the first set of sliding doors where she met with someone from AADAC.
“I wished her a happy birthday, told her I loved her no matter she has done, kissed her on the cheek and walked away.”
But she didn’t get far.
“I sat in my car in that parking lot for two hours, sobbing and praying that this nightmare would finally be over.”
Marcie would be in detoxification for five days in Grande Prairie. She then went to rehabilitation for three months in Edmonton where she spent a year getting counselling. She also became a member of Narcotics Anonymous.
Although she was no stranger to alcohol and had smoked pot, Marcie didn’t begin using crack until her 30th birthday, at the invitation of her then boyfriend and that started her downward spiral.
“It was fun. It was exciting, but when the money was gone, I was left with an addiction. That is what I remember and I think of how far I’ve come.”
She thinks back to how things fell apart. She had a house and a car and would be the safe place for her friends to do drugs.
“Every penny went to keeping up the drug habit. Then the car broke down and I was out of a house,” she says.
“I spent every pay cheque and child tax cheque, borrowed money from family, friends, and acquaintances. I’d estimate that I spent $1,000 a month minimum . There were the parties that went on for days and everyone would bring drugs and do them until they were gone.”
Marcie has seen herself at her worst and knows there is a long way to go on her journey, but there are also more wins on the way. She has had some setbacks, but has learned to deal with them without going back to crack. It’s been two years without it.
“It’s not a nightmare now. Everything I have been through has made me a better person. I feel better now than before I started on drugs. I have a wonderful career now. I have a great relationship with my children, my sister and the rest of my family.”
Theresa is overjoyed to be on the good side of the winning-losing equation now. There were times she was ready to give up on her daughter. But she never did. Theresa always found strength in remembering Marcie before her addiction.
“She was my first born and the apple of my eye, and as she got older – my best friend. She grew up to be a person of integrity, honesty, and had a heart of gold. She was always helping out friends, even when she had little money for herself or her children,” says Theresa.
“I often remarked that her kindness was being abused by some of her friends and her reply was, ‘if they need it more than I do, I will help wherever I can.’”
Theresa says with that big heart, Marcie would get into relationships with men who seemed to always need something.
“She would always say, ‘I can change them. I will help them to become better people.’ The unfortunate part was she couldn’t and ended up hurt and in financial trouble. After three bad relationships and the loss of her home, she became upset with the way her life was going and, I think now, she gave up. Marcie said once that she was a failure as a wife and a failure as a mother.”
Theresa realizes now that she, like many parents of drug abusers, was in denial.
“I didn’t realize at the time how bad off she was,” Theresa says.
However, Theresa was faced with that reality when she had to pick up her two grandsons from school in January 2004 and then didn’t hear from her daughter for almost five months.
“My life changed dramatically as I then had to become legal guardian to both children,” she says.
“I was angry, scared, mad, confused, hurt and every emotion imaginable. This is something that a mother should never have to go through – not knowing if your child is hurt, scared, cold, hungry or has a warm place to sleep or, if someone has hurt her, or even worse yet killed her.
“I worried about the lifestyle she was in – the dark side of life – and I couldn’t even find her to bring her home.”
Added to this, Theresa had plenty of advice telling her to let go.
“I had many friends who said that “tough love” was the way to go but until you have to go through something like this, you will never know how hard that is,” she says.
Theresa did have to take some action for Marcie’s own good and the safety of the family.
“I eventually had to do and say things to her when she did get in contact with us. I had to cut off all access to money; I had to tell my own flesh and blood that she was no longer welcome to come home to have Christmas dinner with her family because of drugs.”
Buying Marcie gifts became pointless because Theresa knew they would just be sold for drug money.
“My daughter went from a beautiful, healthy, loving human being to a thin, dirty shell of a person with no goals, no hope and no laughter in her heart. Crack turned her into someone else. There were times that I almost wished she was dead so that at least I knew she was finally safe and out of pain.”
Theresa smiles when she thinks of her daughter now and is thankful she never, deep down ever threw in the towel on Marcie.
“I am very proud of my daughter as she has worked her way back to not only being the way she was, but I believe even a better person than before because of what she had to go through to get here,” Theresa says.
“I never, never, ever gave up on my daughter and truly believe that all addictions are a disease and the only way back from the bowels of hell called addiction is to have someone on the other side – waiting and supporting them in any way they can.”
Marcie agrees. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without my mom. Some people have nowhere to go after they get out of rehab. I was lucky she would take me back. I wasn’t a perfect person, but she hadn’t grown to hate me.”
Marcie, now 37, was also motivated by the opportunity to have her family reunited after being separated for the better part of four years.
“I wanted to get myself back, but I wanted to get us back as a family.”
Her big dream is to once again own a home.
“I want a place for my grandbabies to visit.”
Winning and losing really is more important than last night’s sports scores. A whole lot more.
The Freedom in Letting Go
January 3, 2010 § 7 Comments
I used to think it was about letting go. That when people left us, we had to let them go. They were gone. They were lost. Maybe they died, maybe they simply fell out of our lives. My biggest challenge used to be letting go.
Before I moved to Calgary and after my brother died, I lived in his condo for a year. I was holding on. I was holding on so tightly. Had it not been for my mother’s somewhat more than gentle push to get out of Millet, I would’ve stayed. I would’ve held on. Because I thought that if I held on tightly enough, it would mean that I wouldn’t ever forget him. It would mean that I’d never actually have to lose him. And then maybe I wouldn’t have to miss him as much.
A voice inside my head kept telling me that I had to let go. I had to move on with my life. In fact that’s what we tend to hear from others trying to offer support, trying to breath some life back into us. And maybe it is about letting go, at least to an extent. I couldn’t hold onto what life was. It couldn’t be the same, no matter how tightly I grasped at what I could. When I left Millet, I hadn’t let go yet. My parents and I kept his condo for a good six months, I went back almost every weekend and hung on.
I can’t pinpoint the exact time I began to let go, but I do remember the first time I was able to look at his picture and feel him smiling at me and be able to smile back, not from a place of sorrow, but from a place of happy memory. I felt like he was telling me that I was okay. I was through the woods. I was headed uphill back to what life used to be like.
Today, I picked up his pocket watch. It stopped ticking a long time ago, and I’ve never bothered to replace the battery. As I thumbed the texture on the casing, examined the still hands, I realized something. It is not the ticking of the hands that made the pocket watch a pocket watch. I’ve carried it with me on occasion even without the ticking hands. And just as the pocket watch remains what it is, so to does Wayne. My brother is still my brother. And I can bring him with me whenever I need to. It’s not about holding on anymore. I had to learn to let him go to get to the place that I found he is still here, though he may not tick, he can still exist as whatever I need him to be.
The last week of 2009…
December 28, 2009 § 8 Comments
It’s the last week of 2009. This Christmas has been rare in that I haven’t gotten caught up in all of the hubbub. My stress levels have been at an all time low. I’ve enjoyed every moment, every person, and every morsel of food more than I ever have. And now, with the year on its final legs, I think I’m going to take this week to relive and relish the highlights of 2009, and decide how I will set the stage for 2010.
One way people attempt to start out a new year is with resolutions. And while the intentions behind resolutions are usually good, so many people have set themselves up for failure. The reasons for not following through on a resolution depend on person to person. For me, I think it’s been because there’s always that expectation that you try hard to follow through, but nobody ever actually makes them, so if you give up on your resolutions after a month or two… well, heck, at least you tried, right? This year, I want my resolutions to stick. And so they won’t be resolutions. Because taking one day out of the year to look at what you want and setting a goal isn’t enough. It takes changing our day to day to really make change in our lives.
I’ve been coming across the quote from Ghandi a lot lately “Be the change that you want to see in the world.” That has been my focus for 2009, and will continue to be my focus in 2010. Finding alignment in my own life and in what I want to see in the world. Being the change.
During the last couple of months, David and I have been talking about a New Year’s feature to do. We’ve gone to our networks for some feedback, and thought through a couple of iterations of what this might look like. We will be kicking off the New year with a bit of an experiment. Over the course of the first 10 weeks in 2010, we’ll be posting 10 Things to Inspire and Motivate in 2010.
All the best for a motivational and inspirational New Year.
Retreat, Recharge, Resume
November 19, 2009 § 13 Comments
As much as I love to work, there comes a time when I want nothing more than to seek shelter from everything that is swirling around me and do a complete shutdown. There are a couple of favourite places for this.
These are not far off, exotic locations, although they have become more distant since I returned to Alberta.
And I had the wonderful experiencing of returning to both of them in October while on vacation.
One such place is the Lake Superior region, which I described in my Ode to Lake Superior (found below). It was published in 2008 by Diane Sims in her book Rider of the Clouds. I wrote this piece before relocating back to Grande Prairie in 2007. At the time of its writing, I did not know yet that my career would involve a return to this community.
The other place is Ripley, Ontario, where my mother-in-law lives.
No, she is not standing over me as I write this!
Ironically, entering the village, there is a sign that proclaims: Ripley, Ontario’s Natural Retreat.
Now, I would not actually choose to live there because I generally do thrive on a faster pace and ready access to any dining, shopping or services that I require nearby and, with a population of less than 1,000 people, Ripley is short on these.
That being said, when I want somewhere to go where I am bound to forget even what day it is, Ripley is the place to be.
Of course, I enjoy the company of my mother-in-law – my wife is not watching what I say – and other nearby family members. However, in this community, I have found I can just wind down and not even consider what will happen later that day, let alone what is in store in the weeks ahead.
I have asked friends and colleagues if they have such places. They do, although sometimes these are locales involving special people, too.
Lori Goodman, a workmate at the City of Grande Prairie, describes Jansen, Saskatchewan as the “best place ever in small town Saskatchewan.”
Jansen is where her grandmother is located and Lori enjoys returning both for the people and the sense of family. Like Ripley for me, Jansen has a slower pace and it’s a community where she does not feel judged, where people are not expecting something of you and there is a sense of trust with folks.
Sherry Lawler, a friend and colleague who operates Alpha Proofing in Edmonton, says these special places for her can be found along a trail in the mountains or by visiting her grandfather in Kelowna.
Do you have a special cove somewhere? A place where you can forget everything and recharge your battery for a day, a week, a month?
Here’s my tribute to my favourite place of all.
A Superior Power – My Ode to Lake Superior
Kersplash!
The waves thunder up against the beach along spectacular Lake Superior, pounding the shoreline, with the mighty force of nature. These roiled waters retreat, only to crash up on the rock and sand again and again.
I never get tired of this scene. Even in mid-winter, it plays back in my mind as vividly as if I were there in person.
It is no wonder Lake Superior is dubbed Gitchee Gumee. In the Algonquin language this means all-powerful lake.
As much as I love the breath-taking beauty and the majestic snow-capped mountains of my native Western Canada, there’s nothing like finding a favorite spot along this greatest of the Great Lakes to go and contemplate life.
Sometimes I sit and watch, closing my eyes and letting my mind go free.
On other occasions I walk for miles with my wife, or alone with my dog. When I look back, I see my fresh footprints fill up with water. Maybe this is symbolic for how my pent up thoughts have disappeared after I have left them behind.
Pancake Bay and other spots along this largest of the Great Lakes have provided that space many times to disengage a muddled collection of details. These range from what I have to do upon returning to the office to the more prevalent past events that I have dwelled on with no solutions, regardless of the amount of reflection.
For someone who doesn’t embrace the winter wonderland that can last up to five or six months at a time in this region, there are precious few weeks to visit these favorite haunts to let go of those thoughts that have build up in the crevasses of the mind over those long months of snow and ice.
Even pounding up against the shores as I contemplate what this lake means to me, these waves pose no threat. Not like they can – and have. The date November 10, 1975 is one fixed firmly in the minds of most locals. That is when the Edmund Fitzgerald was swallowed up in a storm nearby with all 29 crew members aboard.
Like a moody, but close friend, you have to know when to approach this companion.
It is difficult to fathom how those crashing whitecaps can transform into a surface almost like a sheet if ice at other times, as loons and other waterfowl take their turn visiting this friend. Or kayakers glide out to deeper waters, perhaps looking to dump their stresses in even greater depths.
On the summer visits I yearn for with great anticipation each spring, the waves are most often like extra playful friends, splashing up against you.
What I find most endearing about this friend is that no matter how busy it can be dumping water ashore or in perhaps its own pensive moments in those times of calm, I always leave knowing I have been listened to … the clutter is gone, washed away to the great depths of the Lake.
The shores themselves have special meaning.
They offer refuge from those oh so chilly waters – it takes until the dog days of summer to feel at all comfortable even wading in … Yet I always tell people who complain about this that I prefer this to camp along or to spend a day at the beach … I remind them that is nice to be able to look in the water and to see the sand bottom, versus the murky water at other Lakes.
And there is also nothing quite so refreshing after a hike on a steamy afternoon as diving into Lake Superior and having the dust and sweat immediately wash away.
The land against this enormous body of water represents a symbol of arrival to me. I often wonder what the voyageurs must have thought when they climbed out of their canoes for a rest.
The shore here makes me think of a favorite passage in a verse I have posted in my office. It speaks of how if you help others across the river, you will get to shore, too.
It really is true!
Lake Superior represents an even greater challenge than the symbolic river. When I have really thought about it, my most rewarding moments have come while working as part of a team effort or helping a younger colleague find success.
You realize important things like this when you stop and allow yourself to find meaning in life, that things do happen for a reason and, as Mahatma Gandhi once said, be the change you want to see in the world.
Lake Superior does not count amongst the Wonders of the World. It is not an exotic location or have a sophisticated name, or have any mythical stories attached to it.
I have come to know its healing powers on many occasions. When I have permitted Gitchee Gumee to take me in her grips, I have allowed those wasteful thoughts to be washed away for positive new ones.
Lake Superior, my friend, I knew the first time I saw you that we would be spending a lot of time together. And we have. I have delighted in even visiting for the day. We have brought friends and family from afar. They also marveled at you.
If I were ever to move to some other location, I know you would always be there. I would never forget the strength you have given me. I will always return.
Everyone should be blessed to have a friend like you.
The Journey Continues
November 10, 2009 § 13 Comments
Canadian rocker Tom Cochrane had it right: Life Is A Highway.
My blogmate, Wendy, won’t be surprised I’m using a musical reference in my blog. We both do that with regularity to explain things.
In her last post, Wendy described the search for herself as a long one. She wondered if she would stand still for a moment or if she’s destined to keep moving and to continue in search of herself along the way.
I’m certain Wendy’s journey toward more knowledge of herself will be ongoing, just as mine about me will.
Anyone who constantly looks for more out of life, who is not content with the status quo, is bound to wonder what role they play in the scheme of things. There is going to be an ongoing search of who we really are because we continue to evolve and grow with the new circumstances in which we find ourselves.
Yes, life is a highway. Mine is just significantly longer than Wendy’s since I am several years older.
Sometimes we can whip into fifth gear and zip into the fast lane on our life’s highway – things are going great and we haven’t a worry in the world. Other times there is road construction and we are forced to travel along at a snail’s pace – perhaps we are overwhelmed with competing life or work priorities that are bogging us down. Sometimes there is a blizzard and we are storm stayed, stalled from moving forward – a death has occurred in the family or maybe we’ve had a relationship go south.
Events and people along the way can serve as jet fuel to thrust us ahead while some individuals and circumstances can clog up life’s carburetor. It is always a good idea to do a maintenance check to see our personal engine is firing on all cylinders.
In my case, I was flying through my 20s. I had the fortune of meeting my bride-to-be and my best friend by interviewing her for a profile while I was a newspaper reporter in St. Paul. I was married at age 25 and she has been my rock ever since. If I had any doubts, having my wife follow me across the country for my latest job when she loved her work and the people she worked with would have removed any questions.
My life euphemistically veered for the ditch when my father died in January 1989. Somehow I knew when I moved to Ontario, that I would never see him alive again, but you can’t live life on premonitions.
It wasn’t that my father and I were that close. We were alike in many ways – our work ethic, values, kindness, our friendliness once we get to know people, and our concern for the underdog. But we had little else in common in terms of interests, other than we shared the Montreal Canadiens as our favourite hockey team.
My father’s death became something of a Circle of Life moment in that we knew he had plans to come and see my son once he was born in April 1989.
Although I have never developed the prototypical work-life balance we are reminded to find, his untimely passing did underline for me that it is important to live in the moment.
I was able to launch my communications consulting business, The Write Stuff!, and have some flexibility in my life because my father had left an inheritance. However, I would give all that back to have seen him live longer. He was just learning how to enjoy himself when he died. In fact, Dad just attended his first NHL game on the night he passed away.
I have strived to find my own level of conformity with the work-life balance ideal, but I do love what I do, so it is not a 50-50 proposition to me.
So, I have found myself working hard like he did, but playing hard when it came time to see some of my favourite performers in concert. Between 2005 and 2006, I saw the Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen and Bob Seger live. I have also taken in numerous hockey and baseball games over the years.
After my mother died in 1991, it was back into the fast lane again. I refocused my career to move from newspaper reporting to corporate writing, editing and photography at the Ontario Lottery Corporation. Five years moved by quickly and I learned a lot of things that would help me find opportunities down the road.
When restructuring began occurring in 1997, I knew it was time for me to revamp my career. It was in that year that I started my company. That led to my position with the Huron-Superior Catholic District School Board, which in turn, paved the way for my current position with the City of Grande Prairie as Manager of Marketing and Communications.
When I think back, my highway of life has been mostly bare and dry, allowing me to travel at top speed most of the time, changing gears as needed. Setbacks, such as my diagnosis of diabetes in 1999, have not been debilitating.
When I found out I had diabetes, I said that the D word is a whole lot better than the C word – cancer.
My good friend and best man, Darrell Skidnuk, was not so fortunate.
He was taken from us after a lengthy battle with cancer in April 2004 at the very young age of 42. Darrell and I met as reporters at the Daily Herald-Tribune in Grande Prairie. He would become associate publisher of Fort McMurray Today. Darrell was the consummate professional, husband, father, volunteer and citizen.
Even though I believe in God, I have not been able to rationalize why He would let a great guy like Darrell suffer and perish when he had so much to offer the world. Many others hate their existence and wish to die.
Darrell was one guy I could talk to about anything, so it seems natural now to wonder when I am having a dilemma, “What would Darrell do?”
Another friend, Diane Sims, has ovarian cancer and multiple sclerosis, along with other related ailments, yet still has a strong spirit to continue writing and helping others through their pain.
Again, I wonder, “Why Diane?” Is it that there are certain people put on this earth simply to inspire others?
So, how does all this relate to me and my life?
I have been motivated by them and try to be better at what I do when I think of them.
Although I don’t know where my highway is taking me, I know my role is to make every workplace I have been to better and to encourage others to be the best they can be. I am here to foster better lives for others who have not had the same fortune as I have while constantly raising the bar for myself.
Wendy is right, we only have one shot at life. Darrell packed a lot into his short existence. Diane continues to fight the odds.
I haven’t always lived up to their standards, just as I don’t always heed the Serenity Prayer when I should.
But as long as I remember where I should be on that highway of life and follow the signs, I will enjoy a rewarding journey.
In search of myself
November 2, 2009 § 9 Comments
The search for myself is a long one. I keep finding myself in so many different places and at so many different times that I wonder when I’ll stop and stand still for a moment… or if I’m destined to keep moving.. and keep myself in search of me along the way.
I once had a pretty specific belief about life. I always believed that things would work themselves out how I had envisioned them. The belief in whatever I was working towards just had to be strong enough. If it was a relationship, my love just had to be deep enough. If it was work, my desire had to be true enough to keep me motivated. But somehow, what I pictured would come true.
People talk so much about life defining moments and how you don’t really know you’re in one until after it’s passed you by. I think I’m in one right now, at my laptop, writing this blog post. I’ve just finished writing up some other draft posts. And there’s this feeling in my gut that nothing will be the same after tonight.
My life defining moments in my mere 27.5 years on earth have been few… in fact, there are two:
My first big trip overseas without my parents: I went to Indonesia when I was 14 to visit a childhood friend who had moved there with her parents. The experience of such a different culture in and of itself inspired further trips and led to my BComm with a major in International Business and a further desire to wander the globe.
The death of my brother in 2004: If ever there’s a way to flip somebody’s world upside down, it’s to experience the death of a sibling so young. Not that I have any experience with losing a sibling when I’m older… but this event rocked me to my core and has influenced every single decision I’ve made since then.
The 2nd moment I would say has brought me the most mileage. In the last 5 years, there hasn’t been a single aspect of my life that hasn’t been influenced by him in some way. And yet, I continue to search, and I won’t stand still. I often wonder if this is a direct result of that, and if someday someone will be able to stop me dead in my tracks and to be happy and content with where I’m at… or if that has forever shaped the way I view life, and my continual search for something more. Finding purpose in my life, if you will.
I’m not sure what the outcome will be, but one thing I know, is that I’m continuously finding moments where I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. And it’s always in different situations and with different people, but that keeps me going… and because my circumstance is always changing, it keeps me in search of myself.
It’s also changed the shape of my belief on life. There’s more to it. But finding a happy and fulfilling life for me is about discovering the things I didn’t know about myself, finding the gifts I have to offer the world and maximizing that contribution, and being flexible and nimble enough to change my responses and actions based on the situation around me. We’ve only got one shot at the life we’re living… what are you doing with yours?
Who Are Your Friends?
October 27, 2009 § 6 Comments
There is a saying that people come into your life for a season, a reason or a lifetime and once you figure out where they fit, you will know what to do.
I have always enjoyed the verse because it has helped me numerous times understand others better and made sense of situations, sometimes after the fact, even years later.
People who you think you may enjoy lasting relationships with, you don’t for whatever reason, perhaps differing priorities. Often these folks move to another community and time and distance take their toll. A falling out can end what one might have thought was a lifetime friendship. Other individuals linger in your life a little longer and you realize later that they had a definite purpose and helped you grow from your experience with them. Then, there are people who seemed inconsequential with little in common when you first meet them … individuals you thought were simply fulfilling a reason or, at most, there for that symbolic season, who’ve endured, not just as friends, but almost like family.
For me, those lifetime people easily fit the bill with words I expect to see in a true friendship or even a business relationship – trust, respect, honesty, loyalty, and dependability.
The verse came to mind on my recent holidays to Ontario.
I was reminded of it after my wife, Joyce, and I went for dinner with two couples in Sault Ste. Marie that we have known for many years. And as one year has led into another and then we returned to Alberta after 20 years away, nothing has changed when we get together with these people after two years living in Alberta. These are definitely in the lifetime category.
They are genuine people that you know you could always call on, no matter what, and vice-versa. All friendships are to be treasured, especially ones you have built up for years. But it really is priceless to just be able to pick up where you left off.
With some people, even family members, there seems to be a reaquainting you have to go through before you get into your visit. Not with these friends. It was like we had never left.
One of the couples, we had known longer and spent more time with than the other – in fact we’d become so close that every year for about 16 years, we took turns hosting Christmas back and forth between our homes. If members of our respective families happened to be visiting, they were welcomed in. Summers were never complete without at least one camping trip together at Pancake Bay Provincial Park, north of Sault Ste. Marie, on the shores of Lake Superior. Here’s to you, Jeni and Jim!
The other couple had invited us to their wedding and that was already a dozen years ago! Wow. Nothing had changed with Johnny and Maria Murtha. Always the same down-to-earth, kindhearted people. Cheers to you, too. Actually, it is more like good luck. With two precocious daughters, they will have their hands full in a short time, Dad with a shotgun.
How does it happen that some people just become these kinds of friends that you can so easily reconnect with after two or three years apart?
Technology will certainly help, whether email, Skype, Facebook, Twitter, to keep the ties strong. And we can even pick up the phone every once in a while.
Speaking of technology, it was my interest in learning more about enhancing our City of Grande Prairie website and examining the potential of social media that connected me with my now friend and blogmate, Wendy Peters.
We met by attending the Website Strategy Conference last May in Calgary and hit it off immediately while waiting for one of the presentations to start. More chat ensued after and we exchanged business cards and agreed to stay in touch. I was interested in the validity of getting into the use of Twitter and she encouraged me to try it out. The rest is history.
We intend to write books together and seek other business opportunities, so the status of our relationship has to be at least in the reason category. Perhaps we will go our separate ways after we make a few million dollars together. However, every time we talk on the phone or chat on Facebook, more ideas come out, so it seems more likely that further opportunities would arise.
In fact, what really got our partnership started was my noticing on Twitter how profound some of Wendy’s sayings are. I felt these should be in a book. Wendy immediately jumped at the thought. We decided blogging would be the best way to develop our material together, and faster.
What is really neat is how in sync we are, despite our distance. I live in Grande Prairie and Wendy in Calgary. A reader of The Muse and Views noted that Wendy and I clearly have a lot of chemistry. We both agree wholeheartedly with that statement. It seems comparable to being a figure skating pair who produces great results together. What we do away from the “ice” does not matter and we might have little or nothing in common.
As it turns out, Wendy and I have become great friends and talk regularly on the phone and online. But I was floored when she told me that she had been a figure skater growing up, feeding direcly into my analogy.
In fact, it seems that every time one of us says something, the other has a complementary experience or idea to relate.
How does such magic occur? Why do two people with very different circumstances work so well together and feed off each other so readily? At times, it has been freaky.
I am not going to question the magic. I just want to ride this train to success. On the other hand, just like with our friends Jeni and Jim, the relationship cannot be taken for granted, either. Good friendships and business partnerships are nurtured.
And when Wendy realizes her dream of working in Africa for a while, I better be ready to either go visit or have the ability to conquer even greater communication challenges.
I don’t think there are too many ice rinks in Africa.
What’s in a word?
October 5, 2009 § 1 Comment
When everything I tweet about is interesting, eventually I need a new word for interesting, because the meaning I once held with the word ‘interesting’ has been diminished and diluted by my own abuse of it.
What’s in a word?
So often companies and individuals alike have a list of the words we use and the words we don’t use. Over time these lists have developed as we have tied certain meanings to each of the words and attempted to create our own identities and brands. Using ‘proud’ vs. ‘pleased’. Eliminating negative words, ‘I don’t want any debt’ vs. ‘I will be abundant’.
Words are what help us to frame our world, our perceptions and our existence. Words can have a variety of different meanings for the person using them depending on what our past experience has been. ‘Dog’ can instill fear in someone who was bitten as a child, or joy in someone who grew up with a family pet. ‘Party’ can mean a great time to some, but petrify those who don’t like crowds.
Catch phrases can often become tiresome to the user and listener alike. For example, I find so many things ‘interesting’ on the web. But because I use it so often as a quick description of what I just read, the meaning I once held with the word ‘interesting’ has been diminished and diluted by my own abuse of it.
There are also plenty of words that I have chosen to banish from my vocabulary because of the connotations I associate with them: don’t, need, should, have to. To me these are negative words, and they attract negative elements. Don’t think about an apple. Don’t focus on the negative. Focus on the positive. Which sentence actually entices you to think positively?
My day to day is continually bombarded with a variety of statements, but as I begin to question my own outlook and use of vocabulary, I begin to question the use of words by others and the motivations behind it. Whenever someone says to me ‘You should be doing this’ or ‘You need to try this’, those to me are trigger words to stop and ask ‘why?’ Is their suggestion something that will actually help me? Or do they have something to gain from my actions? And if they do, is it a win/win scenario? Or focused solely around their own wants?
Words are funny things. Their use and their interpretations, whether consciously or unconsciously, influence so much of our day to day. What words would you consider ‘trigger’ words? What words have you eliminated from your vocabulary? And vice versa, are there any words you attempt to use more often?
To whoever gets my dog…
October 2, 2009 § 3 Comments
This isn’t my story. I received it a couple of days ago in an email. And it made me think about how many times I jump to conclusions about something before I know the full story. Sometimes, we can only dig so far before a decision must be made… but sometimes it’s worth digging a little deeper. Hope you enjoy the read… Wendy
TO WHOEVER GETS MY DOG
They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street. But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news.
The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did. At first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys (almost all of which were brand new tennis balls), his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner.
See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike. For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls – he wouldn’t go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn’t really think he’d need all his old stuff, that I’d get him new things once he settled in. But it soon became clear that he wasn’t going to. I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like “sit” and “stay” and “come” and “heel,” and he’d follow them – when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name – sure, he’d look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he’d just go back to doing whatever. When I’d ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey. This just wasn’t going to work.
He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn’t wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the “damn dog probably hid it on me.”
Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter’s number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter.. I tossed the pad in Reggie’s direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I’d seen since bringing him home. But then I called, “Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I’ll give you a treat.” Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction – maybe “glared” is more accurate – and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me. “Well, that’s not going to do it either,” I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number. I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
To Whoever Gets My Dog: Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. If you’re reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time… it’s like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong… which is why I have to go to try to make it right.
So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you. First, he loves tennis balls… the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after it, so be careful – really don’t do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.
Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I’ll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones – “sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.” He knows hand signals: “back” to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and “over” if you put your hand out right or left. “Shake” for shaking water off, and “paw” for a high-five. He does “down” when he feels like lying down – I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business. I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.
Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand. He’s up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they’ll make sure to send you reminders for when he’s due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car – I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. I’ve never been married, so it’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially. Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new. And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…. His name’s not Reggie.
I don’t know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. but I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I’d never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything’s fine. But if someone else is reading it, well… well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It’ll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you’ll even notice a change in his demeanor if he’s been giving you problems. His real name is Tank. Because that is what I drive.
Again, if you’re reading this and you’re from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with… and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter… in the “event”… to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.
Well, this letter is getting to downright depressing, even though, frankly, I’m just writing it for my dog. I couldn’t imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. But still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me. That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things… and to keep those terrible people from coming over here.
If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades. All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don’t think I’ll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth. Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night – from me.
Thank you, Paul Mallory
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer. I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.
The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.
“C’mere boy.”
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months.
“Tank,” I whispered.
His tail swished. I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.
“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.”
Tank reached up and licked my cheek.
“So whatdaya say we play some ball?”
His ears perked again.
“Yeah, ball. You like that ball. ”
Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room. And when he came back……he had three tennis balls in his mouth.
The Muse and Views 