Thanks to Ottawa Police

What a weekend in Ottawa!  Thank goodness we have been able to rely on several police forces to protect our city.

It's a privilege to live in Canada's capital. We can go skating on the Rideau Canal, visit the national museums, and attend shows at The National Arts Centre. Living here makes it easy for us to celebrate special occasions, whether that means going to the National War Memorial on Remembrance Day or to the grounds of Rideau Hall when a new government is sworn in. These are our country's special places and we're grateful to have easy access to them.

Parliament Hill is our gathering place, whether it's for Canada Day festivities or other more sombre events. I remember going to the lying-in-state for John Diefenbaker and  then being there years later, with throngs of people, to pay respects to Pierre Trudeau. In the summer, we always take out of town visitors to see the Sound and Light show.  Protests are a part of life in Ottawa and we've been to many.  Last fall we went to the Hill to view the sad displays after the Kamloops graves were discovered. 

So, we're used to Parliament Hill being the place where citizens express their triumphs, tragedies and frustrations. However, this weekend's protest is something altogether different than anything we've ever witnessed. Someone on the radio this afternoon said that some of this weekend's visitors clearly did not understand the significance of some of our nation's capitals  monuments, like the Tomb of the Unknown Solider and the statue of Terry Fox. Susan Delacourt stated on CBC Radio that this was like a "national temper tantrum". 

It feels like our city is being held hostage. No one really knows when this is going to end.  Roads are closed, most of the interprovincial bridges are closed, the downtown shopping mall (Rideau Centre) was forced to close because of unmasked demonstrators, and a soup kitchen felt harassed into providing meals to protesters. How is the city going to get back to business tomorrow? As I write this (10 pm Sunday) school boards are considering keeping some schools closed. After so many school closures, some parents may find out tomorrow morning that there is no school ?!

My sister lives close to a parkway where trucks parked all night. Last evening an unmasked protestor came to her door, asking for access to bathrooms and information about restaurants. The protester was told that many of the neighbourhood restaurants were closed - because of the truck convoys being nearby. My sister was awakened early this morning by the steady blaring of truck horns. Pity the residents of downtown Ottawa, listening to that blaring, all weekend.

Over the past couple of years we have heard demands to de-fund the police. Really? What would we have done this weekend, without a heavy police presence? We were told to stay away from the centre of the city. What could we do except remain in our neighbourhoods, hope that the demonstrations would remain peaceful and leave it all in the hands of the police? 

This afternoon we went cross country skiing along the Ottawa River. Usually the only sounds you hear are the crunchy squeaks as your ski poles pierce the hard-packed snow and the swish as your skiis glide along. 

Today though, there was an unusual accompaniment - the steady drone of a helicopter, as it hovered over the area. No doubt it was a surveillance operation, keeping an eye on the truckers' movements. 

I cannot imagine all the coordination and planning that has taken place, among the various police forces. There is the Parliamentary Protective Service, the RCMP,  the Ottawa Police. and the Ontario Provincial Police.  Across the river, we have the city of Gatineau Police, as well as the Surete Du Quebec. Toronto Police vehicles have also been seen. I am grateful to all of them. Imagine being a police officer last night, working outside, in frigid conditions, in such challenging circumstances! Imagine what this has cost all of us, in policing costs!

So, although police organizations could be improved with additional specialized personnel (social workers, psychologists and psychiatrists) to assist at challenging  situations, we cannot afford to reduce  overall funding. This weekend shows how much we rely on well-funded police forces. Thank you to all our hard-working police officers for protecting our city. 

Louise Penny

Well, here in the nation's capital we are awaiting the truck convoy. It is such a ridiculous, scary, unnecessary disruption that I'm not going to comment on it. Instead, I'll write about something positive and that is my enjoyment of Louise Penny's books. 

The last time we went to Parliament Hill was in early January, to see the Christmas lights, on and around the Hill. I love how they use the Parliament buildings as a movie screen, whether it's in the winter or summer.

However, it wasn't just the Parliament Hill display that entertained us that evening. Maybe it's because we just don't go out at night anymore, but I was surprised at the many homes that were still lit up for the holidays. All those lights reminded me of Louise Penny and a short but meaningful paragraph from her novel, A Great Reckoning:

" It was now early January. A peaceful time of year, when the cheery lights and wreaths were still up, but there was no longer the pressure of the season. Their fridges and freezers were full of shortbread and fruitcake and turkey casseroles. Their own form of insulation against the winter."

I enjoy Penny's novels for many reasons, but one of them is her ability to summarize something in such a concise and accurate manner.  "There was no longer the pressure of the season "

She doesn't go on and on about holiday season decisions and shopping and preparations - the endless job lists going through your head  (women's heads?) in December. In a deft manner she simply acknowledges that Christmas brings with it a lot of pressure. 

Another example just jumped out at me, in the book I've just started, Kingdom of the Blind. She writes about a man who is living with dementia. "For the last year of his life he no longer recognized family and friends. He was kindly to all, but beamed at some.They were the ones he loved. He knew them instinctively and kept them safe, not in his wounded head but in his heart. The memory of the heart was far stronger that whatever was kept in the mind."

Penny's husband Michael died in 2016. He had dementia, so her knowledge is first- hand. I love her observation about dementia. When we visit my mother in-law, people ask us how she's doing and if she recognizes us. Penny's description here, is very similar to what we experience. She beams at us. We are still in her heart, if not in her mind anymore.

Most of my reading is done at bedtime. It is a comfortable way to end my days, to snuggle under the duvet and resume my travels to the village of Three Pines, where her novels are set. 

That is not to say that her stories are predictable. She's not on the bestseller lists because she's predictable. These murder mysteries are riveting and entertaining. I love how her characters develop throughout the series. 

To call them murder mysteries is perhaps a disservice They are much more than interesting whodunnits. As Penny herself writes about her books, in the acknowledgements to Kingdom of the Blind,  "They're the common yearning for community. For belonging. They're about kindness, acceptance. Gratitude. They're not so much about death, as life. And the consequences of the choices we make."

To date, Louise Penny has written seventeen books in her popular Inspector Gamache series. If I like her books so much, why am I just starting number fourteen? Well, I am reading them slowly and interspersing them with other reading, so that I always have some of her books to look forward to. I don't want to be up to date. It makes me happy to know that I have four left, plus the one that she just wrote with Hilary Rodham Clinton, State of Terror. 

And so, on these dark winter evenings, I take comfort in the opportunity to end my days with the characters of Three Pines. They're much more admirable than the characters invading our city this weekend. 

I'm Back!

 I wonder how many times I have apologized here, for not writing more often. Who am I apologizing to? Myself? At any rate, here I am. As of January 10th, (after 15 long months) Mom's estate was more or less finalized. There will be some wrap up work in the spring, but that should be fairly straightforward. The worst is behind us. For the past couple of weeks I have enjoyed the lack of emails, meetings and phone calls. Now it is time to get on with my life. Hopefully that will include the usual New Years resolutions - more writing, exercise, piano playing, and reading.

Robert Munsch

If you want to hear a touching story, check out yesterday's interview with Robert Munsch on CBC radio's The Next Chapter. Like many parents and grandparents, I've been a Robert Munsch fan for a long time. His books hold a special place in our family library. 

In the 1980's we lived in Brampton. That's where our three children were born. Maybe it was in 1987 that we attended a reading by Robert Munsch, at the Four Corners branch of the Brampton Public Library. It was just a small group of young families. Lucky us! 

There's the image of Munsch as a hilarious guy, a writer who really relates well to kids. His books are just plain fun. Then there's the profound Munsch, the guy who wrote Love You Forever, as a tribute to his two stillborn children. On his official website you can read about his childhood and his journey to becoming a writer. It's not a straightforward story; there were a lot of detours along the way. 

While he has enjoyed enormous success as a children's author, he also reveals on his site that he has mental health and addiction challenges. In yesterday's rare interview, he bravely shared his latest diagnosis - he has dementia. "I kind of thought I would like to do this interview as a last hurrah."  

I am full of admiration for this man. What a brave person, to bare his soul and tell the country about his current condition. There is no pretence here, just the bare facts. In a world where many are happy to share only the best parts of their lives, their happiest days,  here is an honest man who plainly states, "I have dementia."  This gifted storyteller is now unable to do what has given him so much pleasure - to tell stories to groups of children. 

While his books will be treasured all over the world, for years to come, I hope that many will also be inspired by the example of his life. In spite of many difficulties he  persevered. He has succeeded in his profession (80 million books sold in North America) and he has brought enjoyment and happiness to families the world over. Robert Munsch, we will Love You Forever. 

Thinking of Dad

 Today would have been my father's 97th birthday. He's been gone for three and a half years now. It's surprising how memories are triggered - sometimes by a date, a song, a photo, an object. Because we live in a house that he often worked on, there are several spots in our house that remind me of him and his many talents.

Last week it was a smell that brought back happy memories with Dad. I was at my childhood home. It's an old place that when built,  was centred on two big oak trees. There is still one of those trees left and this year is a banner year for acorns. (Last year there were hardly any.) That oak tree stands in front of the verandah where Dad spent many happy hours on his "swinging bed,"  watching baseball games at the park across the street. 

Because there are so many acorns this year, I googled acorn crafts and was inspired to gather acorns from home. Perhaps,  on a winter day, I may use them to make a wreath or something else. Anyhow I was there at the house, shovelling acorns into a box. Along with the acorns came some twigs and leaves. They combined to produce a familiar smell. As I transferred them into the box I felt like I was smelling my childhood. 

After all these years I suddenly had a flash of being a kid again, of  Dad raking the oak leaves into big piles for us to jump into. We had a large front lawn, so there was lots of space to take a long run, before jumping into the piles he created for us. 

It's a simple memory, nothing outstanding, but that image of Dad, encouraging us to run and jump and have fun outside makes me feel good and reminds me of how lucky we were to have him. Raking leaves into piles for us was just one of the countless things he did, to provide us with a happy childhood. Lucky us !

Want to be an executor?

 Can you revive a blog after such a long absence? I haven't felt like writing for a very long time. Now, though, with summer behind us and indoor weather approaching, it feels like time to start again. 

For months, well, almost a year now, our family has been in the process of settling Mom's estate. The pandemic has added another layer of complications over this sorry business. 

A few weeks ago, I was at a bank, investigating a complication with one of Mom's accounts. The person serving me frequently deals with estate matters. I asked her if she had ever been the executor of someone's will. She immediately answered,  "No, I haven't, but I think it's one of the worst things that can happen to someone." She's not far off. 

Have you ever had someone casually say to you. "I hope you don't mind but we did our wills and I put you down as executor. You don't mind do you?"  Or, "We were thinking of naming you as executor, That's okay isn't it? "

The thing is, the person asking you this favour has probably never been anyone's executor themselves. They have no idea what it entails. Some people actually think it is an honour to name someone as executor and/or power of attorney for property or business. Acting as Power of Attorney for business or property could take years, if you are acting for a relative with dementia, who lives a long time in that state. The position of executor is not an honour. It is a job! 

When thinking of who to ask to be your executor you should consider the person's abilities. Are they organized? Do they possess good communication skills - verbally, as well as with written correspondence?Do you want your executor to act on their own or are you thinking of naming a couple of executors to work together? Does the person you are thinking of, have the time required to devote to this job? 

For the past year I have held this position, along with two of my siblings. To settle an estate you have to deal with the funeral home, your family members, the Canadian government, the Ontario government, and the municipal government for starters.  We have also consulted with appraisers, an arborist, an accountant, real estate agents, banks, and of course lawyers. I've probably forgotten others. Besides the hundreds of emails, there are meetings, phone calls and  paperwork to keep track of. Along with the legalities involved, there are the more mundane but necessary discussions about the distribution of furniture, family heirlooms and just plain stuff. 

As we near the end of this draining year, I look forward to next year and the years after that. With my position as executor behind me, my time will be my own, to spend as I wish. It's going to feel like a real luxury.

I got the shot!

For many people, this pandemic has been a time of boredom, of extra time - an opportunity to rest, to explore new opportunities, to try new hobbies. Many writers are probably making  very good use of this extra time away from regular activities. So, you would think that I might be finding time to write here more regularly. Alas, this is not the case. Family, estate matters and  house tasks keep my mind and body constantly occupied.  So I will not take the time here, to re-write this draft which I composed a while ago. I humbly offer it, as a tiny glimpse into our busy lives at this stressful time.

Years from now, will  the images, the tensions of this troubled pandemic time leave us? Will we forget the intensity of this time? Or will we, for the rest of our lives, live with the knowledge that a virus can turn our lives upside down, at very short notice? 

While clearing up my assorted notes from this past week, I came across the health card information for 4 families. That's because I spent part of last weekend (March 20) and much of this past Monday (March 22nd) on the phone and laptop, trying to secure vaccine appointments for ourselves and others. Securing an appointment to get a vaccine is like winning the lottery these days.

Last weekend Norah told us about the pharmacy program. Although the websites said it was only for 60 to 64 year olds, she heard that many of her friends' parents had scored appointments. She called incessantly and actually got us an appointment  at a No Frills grocery store in Toronto! While we were grateful to have those appointments, we didn't relish the drive to Toronto and a hotel stay. While we would have wanted to visit our Toronto grandchildren, they were in isolation because of a covid case at their school. It would have been a distanced driveway visit at best.

I spent much of Saturday calling the other pharmacies taking part in the program. (Doug Ford, in his wisdom, set up this program in and around Kingston, Toronto and Windsor. As a Brampton friend pointed out to me, Peel, one of the hardest hit areas, was not given that opportunity. How was the choice of locations made? ) When I called the pharmacies, their messages usually said something like, "If you are 60 or over and live, work or study in Ontario, you are eligible to make an appointment. " So that's what we did. 

Monday was a marathon morning. At 7, I tried once again to snag a camping spot at Sandbanks but of course, came up empty-handed. Camping spots are another covid must have! At 8, I started calling our local health unit to try for an appointment for a friend over 75. It was the first day for that age group in Ontario. By 8:25 I was successful! There was some frustration involved but also some good luck.

At 8:30 I started calling two Kingston pharmacies that had been closed on the weekend. After about an hour I got a real live person who took my email address and promised to send a link. Again, there was some frustration with that website but magically, I was able to secure two appointments for Wednesday!

Then it was back on the phone to No Frills, to cancel our Toronto appointments. They allowed me to transfer those appointments to my Oakville cousin. By the time I finished, about 1:30, I felt like I had scored a home run. Along with my extended phone/laptop activity we also babysat  toddler Lauren for an hour and a half, while her Dad went to a dental appointment. Eliza, was at home in Toronto because of a covid case at her school. There was no online learning available so we had a zoom meeting with her for about an hour while we read Amelia Bedelia books together. It was an action-packed morning!

And so, on Wednesday, March 24th, we drove to Kingston, went into one of the world's smallest pharmacies and were vaccinated! 

Is it fair that we did this? Should we have waited?  At the time we just jumped on the available bandwagon and went for it. Do we deserve this more than others? No. This is yet another one of the many moral dilemmas that we all face in these uncertain times: Should we go there? Should I tell him to pull his mask up over his nose? Do we go into the house while they are there? Should we ask her to move over? Should we invite another couple to sit on our verandah? 

Fast forward to today, April 11th. Most of our siblings and friends have either been vaccinated or have appointments. It gives us a feeling of slight optimism. However, there are the troubling stories of vaccinated people testing positive, long after receiving their shots. And so, the reminders that a vaccination is just one part of the armour, along with masking and distancing. 

At my mother's home we go through a group of items a week. One week it might be the china and silver. Last week it was records, cds, religious articles and some framed photos. We settle our choices over zoom meetings -  a slow process, certainly not as efficient or satisfying as a real meeting.  It is sometimes surprising, which articles conjure up memories and the feelings of loss. It is not necessarily the fancy china or silver. Sometimes it is a worn casserole dish that lost its matching lid many years ago. But Mom used that dish forever and so it has elevated status in our hearts.

And so I feel like I am living under two clouds  - the ever-present, oppressive pandemic plus the sad and challenging task of grieving and settling Mom's estate. I look forward to the days when both situations are finished, resolved, over. Then I will relax and get on with my new life.