12 August 2012 ~ OLYMPICS AND ALL THAT

12 August 2012 ~ OLYMPICS AND ALL THAT

In my last blog I briefly talked about my roots.  I am lucky enough to say that I am a proud expat of Britain.  Now, after over twenty years in my new life in Canada, I am also lucky enough to call myself a proud Canadian.

When I took out my Canadian citizenship back in 1991, there were latent thoughts of being Judas; that I was turning my back on my roots.  I was still young at 33 and my head was not as smart as I hope it is today.  At the ceremony we sung God Save the Queen and at the end we sung Oh Canada.  I knew the words to both National Anthems.  Still do.  To be a citizen was important to me.  It allowed me to have a vote and a voice.  For those of us that live in a free society, it is an invaluable asset.  I rarely vocalise politics and I’m not starting now.  This blog is not about that.

When parents start a family and have three children, they do not divide their love between the three.  Parents multiply their love for their children by three.  I am proud to say that I love my home of Canada as equally as I love my roots of the fair and green isle of Great Britain.  My love is also multiplied; not divided. Two great countries that are still my two great homes.

And so, as a writer of sorts, I feel the need to stay up late tonight.  The urge to pour my thoughts and animated wit on to my laptop screen is too much.  I was caught up in the moment of time called the Closing Ceremony!

There is nothing like the Olympics to rekindle the fire of patriotism; in particular for the host nation.  Here in Canada we are essentially a winter sport country.  We have our hero athletes, too.  Sidney Crosby, from the province of Nova Scotia is a national hero in the sport of ice hockey.  Two years ago, when Vancouver hosted the 2010 Winter Olympics; just as the marathon is the final event in the summer games, the ice hockey gold medal is the last one at the winter games.  Sid was the lad that scored the golden goal in the extra period of the Gold Medal Final against the arch nemesis of the United States of America.  They employ the golden goal in this sport (next goal’s the winner) and he came through to be an icon.  If nobody scores in that extra period of twenty minutes, they play another period.  Then another and then another.  The winning team has to score the winning goal.  No lottery of penalties in this sport.  Strongest, last standing team wins.  Citius, Altius, Fortius.

With London 2012 it pleased me no end that the Canadian TV coverage showed more than just Canadian athletes.  We were fortunate that the broadcasting company focused on other great achievements too.  That meant that I was able to see my ‘other’ team and root for them as well.  And I did.  I was proud of Team Canada’s achievements in London 2012.  But I was proud of Team GB also.

I was a sportsman in my youth.  I did a lot of long distance running; not to compete, just to build stamina and endurance.  I played football, if I speak as a Brit and I played soccer, if I speak as a Canuck.  I also dabbled in water polo, squash, rock climbing, boxing (not for long, though) and a number of other different sports.  But football was my game.

I don’t want to talk about the athletes here.  They are, without doubt, our heroes and icons.  I want to talk about the Closing Ceremony.  The show that was put on for the Closing Ceremony was, for this writer at least, nothing short of amazing.  My other true love is the art of music and words.  I enjoy playing my guitar and I have now embarked on learning the harmonica.  I have jammed with many friends over the decades.  I recently even had a chance to jam with my daughter, Zoe’s, boyfriend.  In fact Tyson keeps his drums at our place now.

So for me, the closing ceremony was an absolute thrill.  I insisted, to the family, that we make a night of it.  We did.  Plates of munchies of all kinds and the big screen hi-def. TV was played through my stereo at a ‘decent’ volume.  What a show.  It had it all.  I admit I didn’t know all of the great talent that Britain supplies to the world.  But I knew most.  I had tears when John Lennon, with Imagine, was played.  Showing a great man of peace in his prime before some idiot cut him down.  To watch the late, great Freddie Mercury interact with the crowd also moved me to tears.  Then there was Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here; so poignant. 

My teenage girls were ecstatic with the Spice Girls, and so was I.  Brian May from Queen, The Who, Ray Davies from the Kinks with Waterloo Sunset.  Brilliant!  Brilliant!! Brilliant!!!  The world was shown that the great is well and truly still in Great Britain.  I am so proud.  It is my belief that this sort of resilient display is what got this great nation through The War. 

Everyone has a mentor; mine has been Sir Winston Churchill ever since I was a lad.  Perhaps it is because of that part of my other love, writing.  This great man wrote his own speeches (often in his bathtub) and it was his words that rallied a nation when, at times, all he had to offer was words.  It has been said that words are cheap, but when they come from an icon like Winston they are not cheap; they’re priceless.

So for me it was one of the best concerts I can recall and the whole world had the chance to join in.  Music.  Joy.  Passion.  Pride.  Love and Peace.  John would have been proud; imagine!  It reminded me of Live Aid 1984.  When, as one world, we focused on one thing; the brotherhood of man.  For me, with all that music, it took me back to that time.  The time when the whole world was together as one.  Such synergy!

Remember that button on my laptop that I talked about in my last blog? (INTERNET + GOOGLE EARTH = MEMORY LANE).  I sure wish I could have pressed it tonight and beamed down to London town and been a part of this historic moment in time.  I couldn’t, of course.  But I recorded it!  I will be able to relive Great Britain’s other ‘Finest Hour’ anytime I want; the Closing Ceremony of an Olympics that was served to the world by Great Britain in gargantuous proportions of talent.

Well done Canada for 2010.  You put on a great show and shared with the world the musical talents of the likes of Randy Bachman (BTO) and Neil Young (a great singer/songwriter) and many others.  But tonight my emotions run high as a Brit.  To get so much talent, athletic and artistic, together for one moment in time, for the world to watch, was an absolute marvel.

What Great Britain told the whole world tonight, in this writer’s humble opinion, is simply this; each of us needs the abilities of all of us.  And if you take one small part away from this equation of life, as we know it, then the whole becomes incomplete.  London 2012 took the whole world, and made that world compete and complete.  As a Brit, as a Canadian and as a member of the most important race in history; the human race, you have my undying and heartfelt thanks. 

JOB WELL DONE!

10 August 2012 ~ INTERNET + GOOGLE EARTH = MEMORY LANE

10 August 2012 ~ INTERNET + GOOGLE EARTH = MEMORY LANE

I still play vinyl.  I still own a Walkman.  But my Kodak film camera, with attaching cube flashbulbs, has long since bit the dust.  I remember my first calculator, VCR, CD player, etc.  All that aside; there is nothing quite as wondrous as the World Wide Web.  For the past hour, whilst enjoying a fine glass (or three) of wine, I have been travelling the earth visiting all of the houses I have lived in as man and boy; quite remarkable!  It really is a virtual trip down memory lane.

Years ago, when visiting England for the first time in ages, I had my lovely bride, Jane, run the 8mm camcorder (no view screens back then) for ages whilst I drove the rental car through the streets of Liverpool where I first kicked a ball as a lad.  I realise now what a right royal pain in the arse I must have been.  But at the time it was important to me.  I wasn’t sure when I would ever be back in this old stomping ground of my younger youth.  There have been many times, usually late at night and before the internet, that I would pop in the tape and take that drive down memory lane.  Homesick?  Perhaps.  The fact is that I have moved around the planet that much, I catch myself asking what I could, or should, call home any more.  But it doesn’t take me long to realise that home, my roots that is, will always be Garston, Liverpool 19. 

Today, and for the past twenty-four years, my home has been Canada.  This is where Jane and I moved to when I came out of the Royal Air Force.  Initially I missed the pubs and the football.  Today there are a lot of ‘English’ bars where you can whet your whistle and I can watch all the footy I want on TV.  I can read my old favourite newspaper, The Daily Telegraph, but I refuse to pay for the opportunity to fail at their crossword; I couldn’t finish it even when I lived in England. 

With Facebook I can have brief chats, share photos and generally mix and mingle with friends of old as well as new.  Up until this moment I have taken all of this for granted.  Not anymore.  I mean, I can pretty much do it all on my laptop.  What an age we live in compared to the Walkman!  The fact that I can carry around with me about two weeks’ worth of music in my shirt pocket and not require the services of a wheelbarrow in the process is amazing!  So at home, I do still play my vinyl, but the digital portability for my iTunes astounds even me.

Ugh!  I can’t believe the colour the garage door has been painted on the first house we bought back in England.  That has to be the worst green ever!  The front lawn still looks much the same; in need of cutting! 

Just took a jog along the sea front in Great Yarmouth.  The tower is still there.  I think it was called the Oasis Tower when we lived there.  Although I can notice quite a few changes, some things still look the way I remember through my child’s eye.  Uncanny that.

But my Liverpool has changed dramatically.  Change is necessary, I suppose, but I selfishly wish sometimes that I could just go back to how it all used to be.  I am not kidding myself here; I am well aware that the quality of life I lead now compared to then is by far much nicer.  But wouldn’t it be brilliant if you could press a key on your laptop and, just like Scrooge’s ghost of Christmas past, you could ‘beam’ yourself down to the times of scraped knees and jam butties and not knowing the difference between whether you were clean or dirty; you left that decision up to your mum! 

Here I am, out on the deck, and my teenage girls are inside watching the Olympics on the big screen high-def. TV with their laptops on their laps and their cellular phone by their sides.  All I needed (and had for that matter) was a football.  I got to watch Batman down the street at number 20 once a week because we didn’t even own a TV.  Yes, they were happy times, but so are these. 

I am thankful that I still have the memories in my own RAM in between my ears.  Bit of techno jargon there!  I know that you know what it means, because you are reading this on a computer.

How did our parents manage without slow cookers, microwaves, washing machines and dryers, dishwashers and so on?  I don’t recall my mum owning a vacuum cleaner until I was about twelve. We were a family of four with no car and coped quite easily getting groceries once a week without making it the huge logistics exercise that it’s become today.  And that was without stores being open on a Sunday!

Recently I was in Germany on business, it was May I think.  I was in my hotel room having a face-to-face conversation on Skype with my family back in Canada.  They were telling me that they had been in the garden all day planting flowers.  I said I can`t wait to see them when I get back home in a couple of days, but my techno-savvy daughters just picked up their laptop and showed me around the garden!  Brilliant!

There is no doubt that technology has come a long way since the first thermos-flask.  Despite all of these great inventions, my favourite still has to be the digital clock-radio; not because you don`t have to wake up to the sound of a pseudo fire alarm bell, but because of the brilliant Snooze Button!

Good-Night…

24 July 2012 ~ A WALK THROUGH THE WOODS; A MATTER OF FAITH

Because life is but a single walk through the woods, I have made it my goal to touch as many trees as I can along the way.  Naturally, not all the trees are the same.  Some trees will be so fascinating that you may not want to let them go and move on to the next.  Other trees need to be avoided at all costs.  Somewhere, during this walk through the woods, you will meet a tree that has you totally besotted and you want to continue your walk holding on to it; and perhaps, between the two of you, a few other smaller trees will ‘emerge’ in these woods of life.  Your very own little grove! 

It has been my experience that some of these paths through the woods will lead you to some difficult situations, whereas other paths will bring much joy.  At times the ‘woods of life’ are basked in sunlight from above and you can see the way clearly.  I can also recall times of darkness, disorientation and uncertainty as to which path to take.  For me, personally, it is at these times on my journey that I turn to my faith.  I may not be the best advertisement for a God-fearing Christian, but I am, all the same.  I have said on many occasions that I believe that God doesn’t make mistakes, but, as a mere mortal, I can’t help but question some of His decisions. Of course, this is where one must apply one’s faith; regardless.  Not always an easy thing to do.  Faith is one thing… applied faith is another altogether.

In recent times, I have watched a particular grove in my neck of the woods take an absolute hammering.  One of the younger trees, without warning, just dropped to the ground and was no more.  The tree was far too young for this to happen; to stop being.  This young tree had a name; Chad.  He was my nephew.

Then one of the older trees in the same grove just seemed to stop, literally.  It just stopped functioning.  For a while it was touch and go as to whether this tree would ever return to being its normal self again.  This older tree also had a name; Rick.  He was Chad’s father.

I began to realise that although I could still see the sunlight from my part of the woods, it was a time of darkness, disorientation and uncertainty in that little grove.  Their grove needed help.  Their grove needed faith and, more importantly, had to apply that faith by believing that no mistakes were being made.  And as I have said already, that is a tough thing to do. 

I am not an expert on the power of prayer, but I do know that I tend to only use it when I am in need; comforting for myself perhaps, or requests of help for others.  I have come to the progressive realisation that, when all is well in my grove, I appear to have no need to apply my faith; through prayer or otherwise.  Others’ needs aside, perhaps I don’t feel the need to burden the Chief Woodsman with messages of thanksgiving when I am not in need of anything in particular. 

In my past, I have had friends of a similar likeness; meaning that when all is well and times are good, they are around to share in the bounty of happiness.  However, when things ‘go south’ they are nowhere to be found when needed most.  I think they call them ‘good-times friends’.  If I am going to ‘apply’ my faith, then I clearly need to reconsider my part in this relationship.  Am I just a ‘good-time’ friend with the Chief Woodsman but of the opposite kind?  Whereas ‘good-time’ friends tend to bail when you need them, I tend to apply my faith at these times only, and whereas ‘good-time’ friends enjoy the glory moments, I tend to shut Him out because I have no need for His abilities, His strength and His kindness; unless ‘applying’ for others.  It may well be that I am not applying my faith as well as I thought.  Fortunately this is an easy fix.  I don’t think there is a need to stop submitting my requests; I just need to get in the habit of applying my faith more often through the good times as well as the bad.  To give thanks, as it were.

So now, when the woods go dark or whether they are basked in sunlight, my walk should be so much easier.  Now I can go about my trek through the woods of life, touch all the trees I am able to, give thanks at day’s end, and submit any needed requests to the Chief Woodsman with the knowledge that we are partners; there for each other, and for others, through ‘thick and thin’.

How nice it is, even at the wise old age of fifty-four, to know that there is still much learning and figuring out to do as I continue my walk through the woods of life.  How nice it is to know that there are still going to be days where an Epiphany of sorts is waiting for me.  And how grateful I am to be able to recognise these moments, and respond with my own prayers of thanksgiving; and there were many, many prayers of thanksgiving when my brother-in-law, Rick, the older tree in his own little grove, fought back and recovered (with the help of the Chief Woodsman in my humble opinion) and has rejoined the rest of us as we all continue with our glorious walk.

5 July 2012

BRENDA  ~ ~ ~  MOTHER-IN-LAW ~ A DELIGHT ~ A PLEASURE ~ A MOM ~ GRANDMA

Three weeks’ vacation.  That’s it.  That’s all.  She came.  She saw.  She left; and she left a rather large hole. But when she left, it turned in to an unfillable whole.  Seventy-one years old and still indispensable.  A success story if ever there was one.  A lover of her family and an ardent lover of her gardens; where God, and the miracle of the seasons bestowed upon us, are appreciated in a manner that I could only wish for, through her eyes.

She may not have liked the way I accidently lit her back lawn on fire in 1986, but I believe that she has forgiven me.  I hope, like I said to her, (in my early twenties worldly wisdom), that it will “grow back lovely next year, Bren” that it did just that.  Unfortunately Mrs. Brenda Tait is not here to shed light on this because Brenda is now on board her flight to England to go back to her regular life with the rest of her family back in her home-land of the British Isles.

Tonight, well past the midnight hour, (Eastern Standard Time), with your daughter tucked up in bed, I feel compelled to write about you, Brenda.  You are a remarkable lady.  Have a safe journey.  Your daughter is still in good hands with me, your son-in-law.

I wish you a good flight.  I wish you good health.  I wish you Bon Voyage and I wish you the happiness that you deserve, and the continuous loving relationships that you hold so dearly with all three of your adult children.

Just don’t forget, Brenda, (Grandma) that your delinquent son-in-law is not the ‘ass’ that he sometimes portrays himself to be.  And that my wish is that when you travel home through these overnight skies, and you arrive home safely, (as I believe you will), that you will take some solace in the fact that your garden ‘fire starter’ actually turned out to be alright.  He’s been married to his lovely bride (your daughter) for over twenty-five years now, and he has become well trained; in fact I have every confidence in him!

You have an unconditional loving son-in-law in me; and for this I promise.  But that doesn't mean he is not an idiot!!!

25 June 2012 ~ FREE AND CLEAR

Recently I was on a flight to Düsseldorf in Germany.  Last time I landed in Düsseldorf it was in West Germany; such are the changes in our world’s borders.  Yet with changes or not, Europe is still a beautiful place.  Although their currency has changed from the Deutsch Mark to the Euro, they still speak German.  This should not come as a surprise because, in Germany, they have been speaking in German for centuries.

As you know by now, I work in the world of aviation maintenance; primarily in the field of technical training.  As big as the world is, in aviation it is a small world.  You can travel a long way to distant countries and still find out that someone knows someone that you know.  If not a person, then a restaurant or a bar or a pizza joint or even a street vendor called Joe who serves the best hot-dogs in the world.  This is what I love so much about what I do.  Being able to travel the world and train aircraft maintenance engineers (AMEs) is a dream job for me.  Of course, travel is not the glamorous world it used to be in days of yore.  But once you arrive at your destination you get to experience and indulge in the local cultures and customs.

I have had the good fortune to share a glass of cold beer with colleagues in my industry in many different countries of the world, many different provinces here in my home country of Canada and also many different states in the USA; and get paid for doing it to boot.  Of course it isn’t always a cold beer because it could be a hot cup of coffee, but you get my point of local cultures and customs.

Recently, in a place in northern Ontario, I was driving my rental car from my hotel to the airport to conduct training for the week.  This particular Monday was a Statutory Holiday in Canada, so the traffic was virtually non-existent at such an early hour.  I arrived with lots of time to spare, having scoped out the training location the day before, when I arrived on the Sunday evening and picked up my rental car from the airport.  That’s why I knew I wasn’t seeing things that were there the day before; even though it did look like a static display.  A statue of sorts.  As I was driving up the hill towards the edge of the airport, through the early morning mist, I could see, quite clearly, two magnificent looking moose.

I say two magnificent moose because the plural of a single moose just so happens to be moose!  The word "moose" came from the Algonquian Indians and so consequently its plural, instead of being "mooses" or "meese", is the same as the singular.  If you’re interested, that is true of most Indian names where a plural is concerned.  Such is the stress free life of the indigenous population of North America perhaps. 

So, although I wasn’t too happy to leave my family on the Sunday of a long holiday weekend to travel up to the Canadian north by my lonesome, that all changed when I was blessed with such a gift as to watch two majestic creatures of Canada just ‘chilling’ a stone’s throw from the side of the road.  With being early I was able to just sit there, drinking my coffee, and enjoy the view bestowed on me.

A relatively simple, and free, pleasure; but priceless nonetheless.

1 June 2012 ~ HE WHO DIES WITH THE MOST TOYS IS STILL DEAD

Now there’s a headline catcher for you.  I wish I could take credit for it but, alas, not.  This headline was on a sign outside a church that I drove past over twenty years ago; and I still make a point of driving past it to this day.  I can’t remember all of their signs, but this one hasn’t left me for a brace of decades and likely never will.  At the time, in my early thirties, I didn’t fully appreciate the gravity of this message.  But now, in my mid-fifties, and a parent to my own three adult children, it has started to make great sense to me. 

With the hope and anticipation that I may enjoy the honour and milestone of grandparenthood someday, it appears to be a good time for me to be reminded that all the wealth and inventory of material possessions that we, as a society, strive for, cannot be taken with you.  In fact, regardless of all material possessions and amassed wealth, the last suit I will wear has no requirement for pockets.  Like it or not, there will still be steaks in the freezer and a half-used tube of toothpaste in the bathroom.  You bow off this mortal coil with exactly what you came in with; nothing.  So the question that bodes is this; what do you plan to leave behind?  The wealth can be spent and the possessions can be sold.  This means that all of the ‘trophies’ count for naught.

It is my hope, like most people, that I will leave behind a legacy of sorts.  Something that can’t be corroded with time, or hocked off for some mullah.  The right legacy should not be high-maintenance and should have a timeless shelf-life when handled correctly.  But how does one leave behind a legacy that clearly states that yes, this man, or woman, did indeed, walk on this earth; and walked well.  Walked with kindness and walked with love.  With wisdom and with honour.  Courage and valour.  Love and empathy.  With compassion and humility.

In this digital era that we live in, it is clear that our life on earth can be captured through the medium of high definition video footage shot in glorious Technicolor.  But is that enough?

My initial thoughts are that the only way to leave such a legacy will require that I live in a manner, such, that I exude and personify all that I believe to be right and good and true.  I can’t help but wonder if it really is that simple.  My best answer at this time is, perhaps.

Now that we have entered June 2012, and I await my fifty-fourth birthday later in the month, I’m going to take this month to reflect on what has been and ponder a wee bit on what will be.  There is no doubt that the church’s headline is true; and, for that reason, I will take the time to go within to make sure that I am on-track, so that when I leave, I will not only be remembered, but I will not be forgotten.

Sunday, 13 May 2012 ~ THE VIEW; OTHER-SIDE, INSIDE-OUT OR OUTSIDE-IN

So let’s start with the grass.  After all, as with everything, grass is viewed.  Meaning it has to be seen.  I wonder how many of us remember that old American (yes, it would appear to stem from the United States circa 1957) proverb of discontent that states “the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence”?  What initially surprises me is that grass has probably been around since the year ‘dot’ and fences – of one sort or another – probably followed in short order; whether man made or animal made.  Yet this proverb is only a little bit older than humble me.

But I digress.  I am here to talk about views; from the outside-in, or the inside-out or even as viewed from the aforementioned other-side.

I was always happy with the view on my side (of the fence), but fell afoul of a clever seduction in recent history.  So, to quote another famous proverb… “Look before you leap”.

So, now that I have been ‘seduced’ to the other-side because the view from the outside, looking in, was enticing; I took my eye off the ball, by forgetting that the view on my side of the fence was perfectly fine.  Once I was inside, looking out, the view changed quite dramatically.  Here’s another one for you; “You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig”.  Yes indeed, it is somewhat profound, I agree.  The point is, from the outside, looking in, my view was distorted by what I thought was a thing of beauty; I didn’t see the pig for the lipstick!  And for a while I couldn’t get that lipstick off my collar.

What I am talking about here is my work.  My career.  My livelihood.  However it could be your partner/soul-mate, your house, your car… anything.  With all of the due-diligence done, I was still taken for a fool.

Being the eternal optimist, I was able to overcome and then I simply moved on.  As it turns out, I am now more in control than I ever was, and better for it to boot.  So I give out many thanks to the pig!

Moral of this story?    Before you make a major decision, even after all of your due-diligence, try to dig deeper so that you can see the view from the inside-out before you actually venture in.