January lessons

A couple of days ago I went for a short walk and felt like I was coming out of hibernation. I've been inside a lot this month. My cough/cold somehow developed into back/leg pain. All I can guess is that the coughing may have triggered the back into action. I am now on the mend and visiting my physio regularly. During my last visit, in the middle of a manoeuvre where he seemed to be putting all his weight into drilling my hip with his elbow, he asked if I was okay. I told him it was all fine, as long as we didn't post a photo on the internet. I walked out feeling a whole lot better.

I'm pretty lucky that I don't get sick all that often, so this has been a humbling experience. I've been reminded that our circumstances don't really matter; we are all just  bodies, some luckier than others. This month's deaths, of some well-known singers and actors show that fame and money don't protect you either.

My relatively easy encounter with the sickbed should serve to make me more sympathetic to others when they are under the weather. Basic caring gestures like phone calls, texts, visits and food are so much appreciated when you just don't feel like doing anything.

If it was May and everything was blooming and the days were longer, then it would have been a pain to be stuck inside. However, with its cold, short days, January is the perfect time to cocoon on the couch. I have taken time to watch a few movies, my favourite being Silver Linings Playbook.

Our home is about to burst with stuff so I've spent some time sorting, organizing and discarding. I come from a family of savers so discarding does not come naturally to me. For example, when the kids were born, we put all the baby cards into shoeboxes. Those boxes, have sat untouched for 30, 33 and 35 years. Last week I went through baby Brendan's cards. I must confess that I saved a few, but the majority of his cards are now gone.

Gone also is the art that he produced at age 3. It's been on a shelf in his closet all these years. A friend told me this week that if you really want to remember your kid's art, take a photo of it, instead of keeping the actual paper. Of course these creations weren't just paper. A lot of these masterpieces had sand, wool, popsicle sticks and material glued to them...very cumbersome indeed.

This week we have been trying to organize all our music books. If we were organized folks then we would have done some of this when we got married, forty years ago. There are piano books and sheet music from Pat's childhood and teen years. There is all my music. Our kids also took music lessons. (How many copies of the Royal Conservatory Grade 4 book does a family need?) Pat and I both led school and church choirs for years so there is a ton of both liturgical and school music.

On top of that, Pat inherited his aunt's music. Those gems, from the 20's to 50's are really coming in handy as Pat plays weekly at a nearby long term care facility. As we have sorted through the piles this week, he has been constantly running to the piano, to try many of them out. That's the advantage of sorting. You re-discover treasures you had forgotten.

When his Aunt Mary was alive and we would sit in her living room listening to her funny stories, I would sometimes look at her antique furniture and wonder who would get it? Instead of furniture, Pat was given all her music. That old sheet music means so much more to him, that any antique ever could. It's so satisfying for him to remember her, as he plays her music and shares it with others.

Perhaps my most important lesson this month came in a conversation with a family member who has recently been diagnosed with cancer. I asked her how she was coping with radiation. When we spoke, she was just about finished her three week session. In the cheeriest of voices she told me that she was feeling fine except for a puffy face from steroids. She laughed that she was so puffed out, all her wrinkles had disappeared. She and her husband drive for an hour, every day, to the hospital in Kingston. Many of us would be complaining about having to get in the car, every cold day in January to go to radiation but not this lovely, feisty person. " You know, Mary Ellen, that drive along the lake is just so beautiful!" She also invited us to visit them again, for some time on their sailboat this summer. If she's so cheerful, I'd better not even think of complaining. Here's hoping that she enjoys that drive, the lake and her family for many years to come.

Happy Easter?

After laying low for a few days with a cold, I ventured out yesterday. My first stop was to a Rexall Pharma Plus. I was shocked to see a staff member opening boxes and stocking the shelves with Valentines Day merchandise.

It was Seniors Day at Shoppers Drug Mart so I went there next. What I saw there made me stop in my tracks. Two staff members were busy cutting into boxes. One person was stocking the shelves with Valentines day merchandise. The other worker? Well she was in the Easter section! Eggs, bunnies, you name it; it's all there. "You're kidding?!" I asked incredulously. She shrugged and answered , "I sure don't make the decisions. This is Shoppers' policy. After all, Easter is early this year." It's true, Easter is on March 27th but does that mean we have to see Easter eggs in stores on January 7th? It's a gross example of the crass commercialism of religious feasts.

I really hope I won't be in a drug store with my grandchildren for a long while. I really don't want to have to fend off requests for Easter candy before we have all recovered from the sweets we ate at Christmas. Talk about rushing the season!

Christmas Visit

Well that's it! Christmas is officially over. Every year my parents give us a tin of Quality Street  chocolates. We all have our favourites. I have just eaten the very last blue (coconut) one, so that is the end of the season for me.

It has been wonderful to have a busy, full house. Brendan, who now lives in Nova Scotia, was home for ten days. Norah and her family were here for a week. With them camped out here, Aaron was also around a lot. Although we would love it, if our kids all lived in town, there is an intimacy to having them sleep over again, that I really enjoy. That wouldn't happen if they lived here.

They all left on Saturday morning. I always feel sad when I go upstairs and see the empty bedrooms.            
                                     

                                     And now for the cleanup. There are toys to put away.

                      It will be good to move more freely, with the baby gates down.

         Rooms will look bigger when the baby furniture gets stored in the basement.

      It will seem a little more civilized to have a dining room table without a pool             noodle on it. The noodle worked well, to keep Eliza from bonking her head.

                        We'll untie the shoelace that kept Eliza out of the junk drawer.

              All of these minor accommodations were a small price to pay for the many special moments that we enjoyed. Just spontaneous, small happenings - moments that money cannot buy.

      Like watching a little guy explore and enjoy the first real snowfall of the season.

                               

Or a fifteen month old sharing a book with her ninety-year-old Great Grandma.

                                        And Avery singing Jingle Bells with his Grandpa.

Living with toddlers is totally exhausting but worth all the effort. Before we know it, they will be teenagers. We are savouring every moment with them now.

A Prayer from Angel Square

Merry Christmas! Again, I feel lucky. We have celebrated Christmas with our families. The season became even more special with the arrival of our grandchildren (and their parents) today. I'd like to follow up my last comments on the arrival of refugees, with a quote from one of my favourite Christmas books, Angel Square.

Angel Square is a novel, written in 1984 by local writer Brian Doyle. It's told from the perspective of twelve year old Tommy, who lives in the working class neighbourhood of Lowertown, here in Ottawa. The year is 1945. It's interesting to read about Ottawa in the 40's and compare Doyle's recollections with what my other has told me about that period. It's also alarming to read about the racial hatred that existed between Catholics, Protestants and Jews at that time. The simple blind prejudice seems ridiculous today. Relations between Catholics, Protestants (who uses that word today?) and Jews have certainly improved a great deal since that time.

And yet there are still problems of prejudice, fear and mistrust of anyone different. This new wave of refugees, is bringing out the very best and the very worst in North Americans. Of course I have been astonished at some of the rhetoric south of the border. Unfortunately Canada also had some pretty low moments this year with language such as the "barbaric cultural practices snitch line". Thankfully that did not come to pass. Over the past month, CBC television and radio have aired some very moving interviews, documentaries and reports on wonderful efforts being made to welcome refugees across Canada.

I recently attended a stage version of Angel Square. There is a Christmas Eve prayer near the end, that resonated with me. This was written in 1984 and the setting is 1945. Unfortunately, as we head into 2016, these words still fit.

"That night I went to bed early.
And I tried a prayer.
I had never tried a prayer before.
 I prayed for a nice time.
A time when nobody thought that some other person's face was funny look at and nobody laughed at other people's parents and said they were stupid-looking and nobody made fun of the way they talked and nobody thought somebody else wore funny-looking clothes or hateful clothes.
   And nobody got beat up because of the kind of hat they wore or because they were poor or because of the street they lived on.
  And nobody got spit on because they had different kinds of food in their lunch or their father came to meet them after school with a long coat on and maybe a beard.
  And nobody got their mitts stolen or got tripped in the snow because their names didn't sound right or they believed in some other kind of religion or read a different kind of bible or had freckles on their faces or had the wrong kind of hair or had to go home a different time from school or didn't have skates or did have skates or weren't allowed to play alleys on Saturday or on Sunday or were or got dunked in water at church or didn't swear or did swear or smelled funny or couldn't eat fish or had to eat fish or wore a hat in church or didn't wear a hat in church or said the Lord's prayer different or didn't say the Lord's prayer at all.
   And nobody got punched in the mouth because they had clean fingernails or fat lips or couldn't understand English or couldn't speak French or couldn't pronounce Hebrew.
   And there were no gangs waiting all the time...
   And you could carry a book along with you or a mouth organ...
   A time when maybe you liked a girl...
   A nice time.
  That's what I prayed for.
  The prayer might work, I thought.
  Or it might not.
  It was a mystery."

Ottawa, a happier city

I just cannot stop writing about this new government. Cabinet ministers have been busy, making announcements and changing directions. It has put a big smile on this city.

Take the proposed Monument to victims of communism as an example. Last week that story changed dramatically. Now, if you don't live in Ottawa this won't mean much to you, but it has been a big deal here. As you can read in the CBC piece, the monument was the Conservatives' idea. The NCC (National Capital Commission ) originally said they could have a site near the Garden of the Provinces, which is across from the National Library on Wellington Street. However, the Conservatives decided to put it right beside the Supreme Court Building. I won't bore you with all the details but this whole matter is an excellent example of how Harper's government operated. Many organizations, including the City of Ottawa, objected to the size and location of this monument. Those dissenting opinions did not matter. It was another "my way or the highway" move by Harper. If he would have been re-elected, the oversize monument would have been built, wherever he wanted it. The ironic thing is -  it is to be a monument to honour those victimized by Communism. The way the Harper government handled the whole thing certainly did not seem very democratic.

Anyhow, this past week, new minister Melanie Joly announced that the monument was being moved back to the Garden of the Provinces. Both the size of the monument and the government's contribution have been scaled back. Across the city you could hear a collective sigh of relief.

A friend of ours works in the Ministry of Health. He told me about the dramatic change of tone there. Civil servants are being asked for their opinions, their ideas, their expertise! Minister Jane Philpott recently conducted an online meeting with 8000 of the department employees, with a question and answer session included! Nothing like that had taken place in the previous ten years.

That's one of the main differences with Trudeau. We are getting to know his cabinet ministers. They are not merely puppets of the Prime Minister. Our local MP, Catherine McKenna seems to be off to a spectacular start with her participation in the Paris Climate Change talks. No longer is Canada the slacker in the environment portfolio.

I 'm not saying Trudeau and his team aren't making any mistakes. However, the general tone of his government is a welcome change. He has surrounded himself with some very talented people. Altogether they are giving many of us that "proud to be a Canadian" feeling again.

Perhaps no file has done this more than the refugee file. When I was in Toronto last month I got off the subway at the Yonge/Bloor interchange, perhaps one of the busiest pedestrian places in Canada. As I changed trains, among that throng of people, the words on the Statue of Liberty ran through my head: "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses ..." In that moment, as I walked with people of every race and colour, I simply felt that we are all one.

And so it has been heart-warming to listen to Minister John McCallum when he speaks of refugees, when he visits refugee camps. To see Trudeau welcome refugees, to see Governor General David Johnson and his family welcoming refugees - this is the Canada that makes us feel proud. The world is in a sorry mess but in the middle of all that, there are reasons for hope. This government is trying to show us the way forward. Good for them.

Hello There

Greetings from Ottawa!

May I offer my humble apologies to those of you who have patiently checked this space for the last while, only to find that I have been a lazy slug. When I am lying in bed at night, trying to sleep and then again in the morning, as I contemplate the upcoming day.....then I am writing away in my tiny brain, fashioning very interesting posts. However, once my feet hit the floor and the day starts, writing goes to the bottom of the list. As usual, I resolve to do better, to be more consistent with these offerings.

Since my last post we have been busy with the usual, mundane, fall jobs: cleaning out the garage, putting up Christmas lights and storing a lot of stuff in the basement. Out of town visitors (my mother-in law, our daughter and grandchildren), Christmas shopping, church bazaars,  a Christmas cake-baking day with my mom and sisters, Pat's choir concert, and Christmas parties have also kept us busy.

During December it is wonderful to see so many people and to attend so many gatherings but it's too bad it is so condensed. I'd love it if a few of these parties were spread out into the bleak, uneventful weeks of January and February.Yet as I write that, I immediately remind myself that this is a silly, frivolous complaint. How lucky I am, to have these outings to attend.

 There was a day this week that really spoke to me about priorities. We had a repair person over to fix the remote on our gas fireplace. He couldn't fix it immediately because there were parts that needed to be ordered. We had a call the next day and were told that the unit  has been discontinued and the parts are no longer available. Therefore we can never have a working remote for the fireplace. If I want to turn it off or on, I have to heave myself off the couch and onto the floor, get down on my hands and knees and turn the dial up or down. I was pretty ticked off about that when I first heard the news. Poor me!

Two conversations happened right after that. I bumped into a neighbour who has two adult sons with autism. She told us, flat out, that she hates this time of year. It is so difficult for her and her family as the special events and changes in routine at her son's group home throw their family life into  complete turmoil. Life is often totally unpredictable for them, in this chaotic season. The next news came from a friend of ours, who has been living with cancer for many years. Now in hospital with pneumonia, she told us that chemo is no longer working for her.

Those two conversations gave me a much needed reality check. When I am tempted to complain about minor ailments, I think about these two women and what they are going through. Or I  look at the images of refugees on tv and ask myself, "How did I get so lucky?"

This resolve not to complain so much, to look at the bright side, can be applied over and over again. Last week we mopped up a minor flood in the basement, as our washer sprung a leak. It was a mess for sure. The good news is that we don't have to buy a new washer. It was only a worn out hose. We have had bad luck with stoves lately  (three in a dozen years), so the fact that our sixteen year old washer is still working, is a bonus for sure. The other good news about that washer flood is that our washer is in the basement. The repair person said that when he goes to houses where the washer is on the main or upper floors, flooding is much more of a problem.

For now, I will leave you with a photo of one of my favourite Christmas displays. This whimsical Santa is hanging from a tree at a nearby house. I couldn't help but stop and take a photo. The lights, the displays, the songs and the gatherings are all welcome treats!

The honeymoon is over

Political honeymoons often last for a while, but not this one. Trudeau's political honeymoon ended at precisely 9:30 PM Paris time, last Friday. Earlier that week, media reports were stating that the foreign press regarded him as a curiosity. His youth, good looks and surprise win in the recent election were their main concerns. Those lightweight topics are gone now. As he entered the international stage for the first time, he was questioned about the heavy duty stuff : will he really bring home the fighter planes and also accept 25,000 refugees by Christmas? Suddenly it's a whole new ballgame.

Is there anything original that I can add to the discussion of the Paris attacks? It is a scary, confusing time with no clear cut answers.  Thank goodness for CBC radio and TV and my parish of St Joes. It felt right to gather at St. Joes on Sunday and join in the prayers for peace and sing hymns like The Prayer of St Francis: "Make me a channel of your peace..."

I spent much of Sunday reflecting on the Paris attacks, with the help of the reports, reflections. interviews and  discussions on CBC radio.  The Sunday Edition, with Michael Enright, offered a very thoughtful program, interspersed with classical French music.

For many people, Sunday was a day for gathering and reflecting, whether in churches or in town squares, here in Canada, in Paris and all over the world. CBC radio's Cross Country Checkup provided an excellent opportunity  for Canadians to gather around their radios and share thoughts and feelings. I was so impressed with the variety of comments from across the country. How lucky we are to live in this country, with this weekly opportunity to connect on Sunday afternoons!

Here is a snapshot of what I heard on Sunday:
- The formation of ISIS was a direct consequence of the over-reaction of the U.S., after the September 11th attacks in New York.
- One person told of how it took three years for her background to be checked by Canadian officials before she was allowed into the country. She wondered how the backgrounds of 25000 people can be checked so quickly.
 - Many commented that there is so much coverage of the Paris attacks but little coverage of recent terrorist attacks in Beirut.
- People fear a backlash against Muslims
 - A young Muslim woman said she was tired of having to explain to people that violence has no place in her religion.

If the radio discussions provided me with a measure of consolation, that was short-lived. I found Wendy Mesley's section of The National to be more negative and fearful. After airing the Republican candidates' views, in favour of increased military action, she asked her guest panel questions like:
How worried should we be?
Is the threat coming closer?
Which is the bigger threat? the lone wolf or the  refugee system?
Should Canadians be worried that the Canadian (refugee) system could be infiltrated?

Yes, it is the job of journalists to ask tough questions. We need the facts. Call me corny, but I also needed to feel a bit better, I needed a bit of comfort. I was grateful that The National did include some moments of hope and optimism in that Sunday night show. They reported on a victim of the shooting who survived. When she thought she would be shot, she was thinking that she wanted her friends and family to "keep believing in the good in people"

For me, Sunday's shows were simply a reminder of the power of words. The tone that journalists choose to use, the questions they choose to ask, the slant they choose to go with, has such an effect on the final product. There must be some very interesting discussions going on, in newsrooms all over these days.

 On Tuesday's The National, there was a touching video of a father talking to his young son about the tragedy. There was also the story of the young men in a Montreal subway. If you have not seen their video, Love Over Fear, have a look. Right now I'm glad to see and hear anything hopeful at all.