Needles and Pins

There I was, lying on my left side and becoming very anxious to change positions. The distant droning of the air conditioning almost drowned out the voices in the room next to mine. I thought I might doze off, but the pain was building and spreading down my leg. I shifted my weight just enough to ease the tension in my hip, but it soon returned. My head was full of information I had just been given about my condition, but I was having a difficult time processing it as I tried to block out the discomfort. At least the temperature was bearable, except for where the infrared heat lamp was pointed. I had some time ago overcome my fear of detection as I did not care anymore. My butt was exposed and pointed toward the door which would open and close as my torturer would come and go. My only consolation was that my cubicle was at the end of the hall where there was less traffic, but I did see a woman, out of the corner of my eye, peek in one time. Oh well, what is done is done. Now the niggling itch was starting but I dare not scratch for fear of disturbing the flow of yin and yang. Who knows what diabolical things might happen if I did that? I yearned to turn onto my back but after looking down at the pincushion/porcupine array of needles sticking out of my hip, I dared not. At last, the needle guy came back to relieve me of my burdens and after slipping on my pants, I quickly exited to the reception area to be relieved of $72.00. I limped out of the clinic and headed home not quite knowing what to think. I guess I was hoping for a quick cure ... a miracle. Right now as I bask in the aroma of Chinese liniment, I am thinking, maybe imagining, that the pain is a little less than it has been for a while. Could my first acupuncture treatment really be having a positive effect only hours later? Stay tuned.

A Visit to the Cemetery

I did not have my camera with me so this is only a likeness of the real thing.

I happened to be driving by the cemetery where my mom is buried. I do not visit her grave site often, in fact it has been two years since I was last there. It was a beautiful sunny morning and there was not a living soul there. (literally) I parked near her grave and as I walked the short distance to her headstone, it was remarkable how many new markers were there since I last visited. Her spot was in the sun, and she would have liked that. There is a huge cedar tree just to the south of her and would give afternoon shade on a hot day. She would have liked that. Then, later in the day, when the temperatures would cool a bit, the sun would again fall on her plot. She would have liked that. There were some fresh flowers on a headstone a few paces over. She would have liked that too.
I stopped there on this day just to focus my memories and thoughts about her. It is easier without distractions of everyday life to interfere. As I was leaving, I wandered in a big circle to see who her neighbours were. There was Barry B., one of my former clients, a very successful farmer and businessman. He was a good and honest guy, at least in my dealings with him. Then there were Walter and Menno N., two of the best known music teachers in our fair city. Everybody knew them. I contracted to paint their house when they built it new. They were quirky but honest and likable fellows, also very successful. And just a few spots over was Ivan V., a philanthropist business importer and exporter who ran a large orphanage in Indonesia as a sideline. It was a privilege to get to know him and his wife Trudy when I painted and wallpapered his beautiful home many years ago.
It seems my mother is in good company, and she certainly would have liked that.

Remembering

Don't ask. Just fooling around in Photo Shop. Maybe this is what a rainbow looks like on Mars.

Some of you may be familiar with the advice in the Book of Ecclesiastes, Chapter 12 where we are advised to remember our Creator in the days of our youth. The chapter goes on to describe the things that happen to old men. They lose their sight, their hearing, their strength and enthusiasm, and even are afraid to climb ladders. Why is the writer trying to get us old men to remember our maker in the days of our youth? Those days are passed. We cannot undo the past. But just a minute. This is written to young men. Remember now, while you are young. I am thinking that this is good advice for two reasons.

Remembering at a young age sets a pattern for living and thinking. As we are when we are young, at least in our thinking, is often what we are as we age. We just mature and develop in the thought processes and become more wise and learned (hopefully) as we continue a train of thought. Also, I believe we advance from a physical state of being when we are young to a more spiritual and intellectual way of life as we become more restricted in what we can physically do.

Remembering our creator in the days of our youth will hold us in good stead when we are old and decrepit and have only our thoughts and our memories to entertain us.

Long, Long Ago II

There is a cool shady spot in our garden that resists heat even on the hottest days. I found a shaft of soft light illuminating these flowers. I hope you like the photo as much as I do.

After travelling to Cape Breton Island and back, we manged to get the travel bug out of our systems for the time being. We rented a one bedroom apartment in a new building in town, got our meager belongings out of storage, and settled in to our new life. I tried my hand at a few different jobs. I quickly found out that I was not cut out for a factory production job, even though in a supervisory position, and eventually gravitated toward sales. I landed a job as an assistant manger of a new paint store in town. This suited me because I grew up helping my dad in a retail business in Saskatchewan. A store setting was familiar to me. There were shelves to stock, signage to display, and customers to deal with. There was one problem. I was promised a raise after the first two months and it was not coming. We could not live on what I was being paid and our baby was on her way. I began to dislike upper management as I found out that there was a lack of integrity.

About that time, an uncle of mine came into the store one day and asked me if I knew if any of the painting contractors I dealt with would be willing to travel to the north country and paint two apartment buildings he was constructing in Williams Lake. He could not find anyone from that town to take on such a big project. After making inquiries, I drew a blank. He then suggested that he, his sons, me, and my father, who was a builder, travel up there, fix up one of the suites to live in, and do the project ourselves. I was intrigued by the idea and told him I would give it some thought. That very afternoon, the district manager for the paint chain came by our store and I took the opportunity to negotiate from a position of strength. I pointed out that I had not yet received the promised raise and I would have to seriously consider resigning unless I got it that very day. He laughed at me and and suggested that I quit then and there. Much to his great surprise, I called his bluff. I took off the staff jacket, threw it down and walked out. I later heard from my manger that the district boss was supremely upset because he was left babysitting the store as I was the only one duty that day. I did not feel sorry for him, but did have sympathy for my manager who took the brunt of the anger from his boss.

So now the die was cast. I had to pack my bags and once again head up north, but this time without my wife.

Long, Long Ago

I have been getting a lot of interest and good comments regarding my Ocean Falls chronicles. Today I was thinking of the year following our arrival back to civilization and what an adventure that was. At least at the time I, thought it was.
We had our pockets full of money and we were newly released from a life in isolation and a life of immobility. I thought it quite natural that we purchase a car and do some driving. So we bought a new Mazda 808, some camping equipment, and set out for a trip across Canada. It was exhilarating to be able to go where we wanted and not be restricted by boat or plane schedules. Not having to show up for work was also wonderful. But what I recall most about that trip, which lasted 5 weeks, was that it rained all the way there and all the way back. The new canvas tent was a messy, mildewy, rotted good for nothing rag when we got home. I think we counted 3 full days of sunshine on the trip and those were blistering hot and humid days on the Niagara Peninsula staying with Lis's cousin while the blown head gasket on my car was being repaired, on warranty.
Another thing I remember vividly were the nausea incidents travelling with a pregnant wife. Being inexperienced in these things, I was always very concerned but after a while got used to it and realised she was not ill, but only experiencing symptoms of being pregnant. There was the time in Batoche, the site of the gun battle near Duck Lake Saskatchewan during the Louis Riel rebellion. We were in the old school house which was a museum at that time, looking at some old photos, when Lis swooned, and sort of fell into my arms in a dead faint. I held her up, as if in a loving embrace, and the feeling passed before anyone else noticed. And the time when we were at the old Expo '86 site in Montreal. Lis was falling down and I could not keep her up this time but was able to gently let her slip to the asphalt. I propped up her head and tried to give her a drink of water when two middle aged women came by and got very concerned. They asked if they could call an ambulance. I assured them that the young lady in my arms was fine. She is pregnant, said I. Their expressions changed and became very sweet and motherly and they fawned over Lis until she was revived enough to continue on our journey to 'Habitat for Humanity'. They congratulated us and actually followed us around for the next while to make sure 'we' were OK. At times like that, I wondered if we should be travelling, but we kept on going and Lis was feeling better every day. Our daughter was well travelled even before she was born.

Measuring Up

Three years ago, the management of the BC Lions football team was looking for a venue for its annual spring training camp. Someone from the Columbia Bible College in our neighbourhood was introduced to the head coach and mentioned that the College might be a good place to hold the camp. The coach was willing to come out to inspect the facilities.
He first wanted to see where the players would be billeted. He brought a 'tester' or 'guinea pig' with him to sample the amenities. The tester lay down in a student bed and his long powerful legs hung over the end by a foot. The school guide thought this did not bode well, but the coach gave a thumbs up and a nod of approval.
The coach next asked if there was air conditioning as the days could be long and hot. "Ah, well .. er .. actually, no, we do not have air conditioning in the dorms.
"Great!" said the coach.
Lastly, the coach wanted to know if the facility had cable vision. "Ah, well .. er .. actually, no, we do not have cable vision."
"Wonderful!" said the coach.
Quite perplexed, the college guide asked the coach why the inadequate facility was so 'great'.
"Oh, that's easy," answered the coach. "This will make it really easy to weed out the first round of rejects."
They are there for the third year in a row, as I write this.

Relentless Waves

Our winter vacations are usually near the ocean in some warm paradise somewhere. I love sitting on the beach and watching the waves roll in, the bigger, the better. All waves are not the same, but one thing is certain, they are relentless.

There have been waves of trouble in the housing industry as it relates to the banking business, as it relates to mortgages and credit. Everyone by now knows about sub-prime mortgages and the troubles they have caused. The first wave of problems came when those folks who did not deserve or could not afford a mortgage were given one anyway. When these loans came up for renewal, the undeserving homeowner could not make payments and defaulted on the mortgage.

The next wave of problems came from the speculators who purchased homes by leveraging themselves and when the value of the homes fell, they defaulted because the mortgages were worth more than the homes they had purchased on speculation and there were no buyers.

Now we are into the third wave of problems. These are the prime loans, or loans made to hard working and deserving people who bought homes with a high ratio mortgage but could make the payments. That is, until they started losing their jobs. With unemployment nudging 9%, there are a lot of these people out there. There are also a lot of people who are still working but their houses are 'under water' meaning their mortgages are worth more than their houses. Some are walking. This is indeed the biggest crisis right now. These are also the folks who were driving the spending engines that fueled the economy. They will not be spending like that again soon.
Yes, the waves are relentless and there are two more coming.

The 'jumbo prime' borrowers will soon be in trouble because they are the high rollers with the million dollar houses who are effected by economic downturn just like the rest of us. Many of these do not have deep pockets and will also walk.

The next wave will be defaults by commercial and business development that will go 'belly up'. It is inevitable as malls across the USA are already closing. These new malls were highly leveraged no differently than the average new house.

As if that were not enough, there is one more tier of sub-prime mortgages that are coming due in 2013.
If you thought the recession/depression** was in retreat, think again.

** Recession is a cyclical downturn in the economy. A depression is when there is a fundamental change in the economy. i.e. bailouts, monetizing the debt (printing new money to pay the national debt), huge bankruptcies such as Lehman Brothers and GM, and monumental government deficits that will take many generations to pay down.

Training Camp

The CFL's (Canadian Football League) is about to get underway and the teams are all having their training camps now. Our own team, the BC Lions, are training in Abbotsford once again this year. We hear they are moving on to Kamloops next year. They are training at the Mouat fields, just up the street from our house so I walked there on Saturday morning to take in the action. The first four days are 'rookie camp' so I did not see any familiar faces other than the coaches, but the action was interesting anyway. They were broken into their respective groups and each group was headed up by a coach and was going through practise drills. The huge linebackers were grunting and groaning as they pushed each other around. The offensive teams were practicing running and passing patterns. The kickers were punting and kicking and were the most impressive.
Lis will get to see more of these guys than I did. She is working part time at the facility where they are being billeted and fed. She will get to see how much a 'real man' can eat at one sitting. I am hoping that she will get friendly enough with some of the players to get me a few free tickets to a game, and if not that, at least an autograph or two. It is not often that we get so many celebrities in our town at one time.

Tax Free Day

You have all heard of it, at least if you live in Canada. It is called Tax Free Day. The Fraser Institute, a conservative 'think tank', has calculated all the taxes that we Canadians pay, federal, provincial, municipal, and regional district, and come up with how long we work each year just to pay all those taxes. When we have paid all of them, it is then 'tax free day'. Since calculating this day some twenty years ago, it has slowly advanced every year. This year is an exception. It has moved back three days to June 6. Yes, we work until June 6th to pay taxes and the money we earn for the rest of the year is ours!
There are reasons why it has moved back. Our governments, at least on the federal and provincial level, have lowered some taxes, although hardly enough to make a difference. The biggest reason, according to the Fraser Institute, is the recession. People on average are earning less money and when they earn less, they pay less income tax. Also when they earn less, they spend less and thus pay less in sales taxes. We have found this to be true in our own case. So an improved tax free day, in this case, is small comfort.

Tainted Water

Yesterday I stated that I had never eaten anything at a customer's home that made me ill. That is still true, however, I drank something one time that made me quite ill.
It was a hot day and I was offered a bottle of water right out of the elderly lady's refrigerator. I was grateful for it because I do not like to drink tap water as it is heavily chlorinated in our city. I took the bottle from her, unscrewed the cap, and guzzled back half of the bottle before putting it down on the table. It was then that I noticed a peculiar taste in my mouth, sort of musty and pungent. I suddenly realised that when I had taken the cap off, it had not popped or broken on the first twist. I knew right away that she had re-cycled her bottle by filling it up after she drank it and putting it in the refrigerator. How long it had been there I did not know, but I noticed a milky residue stuck to the upper part of the bottle just below the neck. I put my finger in the opening and rubbed the stuff off and it was very slimy. She was not there at the moment and I went to the sink and poured the remainder of the water down the drain. And then I waited for the effects of drinking tainted water. I was expecting an upset stomach, but it did not come. What did come that very night was the first and only bladder infection I have ever had. No, these things are not only for women, but I can really sympathize now. I have been very careful ever since to check the seal on the top of the bottle whenever I am offered bottled water.

Eating on the Job

It is time for another story in my series on "Painting to Learn". Lessons I have learned while on the job. This one involves food and lots of it.

There are not many workers left who carry a lunch bucket. It used to be that there was no alternative. Either a meal was brought to the job, or one had to drive home for lunch. Over the years, the trend gradually changed, until now, workers will leave the job for coffee break and for lunch. I always thought that it was very inefficient to leave the job at all, unless it was for something that was essential for the completion of the work at hand. The cost of ‘going out’ and the cost of time lost, was a motivation for me to ‘stick to it until it was done'. Because of my penchant for efficiency, I have been reluctant over the years to stop for coffee at all, but I have always stopped for lunch right at noon.
The exception to this rule has always been in the hands of the customer. When I first started working in people’s homes many years ago, folks were more hospitable than they are today and more often than not, I would be offered a cup of coffee and a goodie at ten and at three. I rarely turned it down. Lately, it has been the exception and not the rule, but greatly appreciated when it does happen. I have been offered some very interesting things over the years and some incidents are quite memorable.
My experiences are as varied as are the customers I have worked for. There are a few predictabilities that roughly go along ethnic lines. By far the most hospitable people have been the Mennonites and the Dutch, followed closely by the East Indians. When I first started, I was doing a lot of vacant apartments and some new construction, and the only refreshments I had were what I brought from home. My wife has always been a great cook and the lunches she has made for me over the years have always been excellent and I always looked forward to noon and the chance to ‘dig in’. But as I got into the re-decoration end of the painting business, I was working around people, in their homes, and getting to know them, sometimes quite well.
One of my first experiences being offered a coffee break, was at a Danish ladies home. She was very friendly and at mid morning she asked me if I would care for a cup of Danish Coffee. It was an opportunity to try something new and also a chance to sit down with her and find out a bit more about her story, something which I have enjoyed tremendously over the years. She explained to me that Danish Coffee was quite strong and asked if she should make it a bit weaker for me. Not caring too much for strong coffee, I consented to her suggestion. She sat me down at the table and set the cup in front of me together with a bowl of sugar and a pitcher of cream. I poured some cream into the cup and began to stir the coffee. It did not change colour. I thought the ‘cream’ was perhaps skimmed milk and poured some more into my cup. The colour was changing ever so slightly and it should have been a clue. I sipped the brew and almost gagged. It was thick and syrupy and the strongest drink I had ever put to my lips. She saw my reaction and apologized. She told me that she had run out of her usual grounds and had used instant. Instant was just right for me if it was made with one half teaspoon. Normally she put eight teaspoons of powder into a cup but she cut back to six for me!
The coffee I have been offered since then has been OK and some of it has been great. Some people really have a knack for making excellent coffee. Fresh ground gourmet coffee in a high tech coffee maker surely does beat cowboy coffee taken from an old unused tin above the fridge and served with plenty of course grounds in the cup. The goodies can really only be described as varied and interesting, ranging from delicious to downright awful. It would seem that some people viewed having a trades person in the house as an opportunity to get rid of old stale baking or something that was too good to throw out but nobody in the family was going to eat. In an instance such as that, I would eat what I had started, but never take seconds, pleading upset stomach, or dietary restrictions. I never got sick from anything I ate, but did gain weight on some of the extended jobs.
I was ushered into a kitchen one day and there was a dessert buffet that one would expect on a cruise ship. At least ten different varieties of fresh Christmas baking. The elderly Mennonite Grandmotherly type gave me a quick instruction before I dug in.
“ Try one of each, and then eat all the ones you like.” I am ashamed to report that I followed her instructions to the ‘t’.
I called the German speaking Miss Zumpf the night before and informed her that I would be starting her job the next morning. She insisted that I do not bring any food, but that she would feed me, coffee breaks and a lunch. This was a new one for me. I had been offered lunch many times, but not beforehand, so I would gratefully turn down the offer and eat what I had brought from home. It was empty-handed that I entered Katie’s home and was curious as to what would transpire.
After working only one hour, the first coffee break arrived and I was served a delectable piece of Bundt cake, and when offered seconds, could not refuse. She asked me if I liked chicken and said that she would make me a chicken lunch. A chicken sandwich would have sufficed and I would have been satisfied with and been grateful for just that. Shortly before noon, I caught whiffs of chicken and it was no sandwich she was preparing. The aromas drifting my way indicated that I would indeed be feasting before long. The time came quickly and she sat me down at her dining room table, before an immaculately set table with her finest china and silverware spread before me. There was a bowl of mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, dinner rolls with butter, a fresh garden salad with several different dressing to choose from, but no chicken. She sat down with me and said an elegant grace in German and excused herself to the kitchen. When she returned, she was laden down with an extra large baking sheet spread from corner to corner with oven baked chicken. There had to be at least fifteen pieces of golden brown chicken set before me. I was shocked and all I could blurt out was, “Is there someone else coming for lunch?” Apparently not. It was just me and the chicken. Oh, did I mention more Bundt cake for dessert?
I have many regular customers that have called me back many times over the years. Of those, I have favourites and Pat was right near the top. Pat had a wonderful sense of humour and we would laugh out loud the whole time I would be working in her home. She and her husband belonged to an interesting dinner club which met once a month, rotating between their homes. It was planned out for the year and each month would be a theme night. The dinner was prepared by the host couple and they went all out. It was gourmet cooking at its finest. Needless to day, she was a great cook and baker and it was always evident when I was invited to sit down for coffee. The best treat she ever made for me was a large plate full of scones with butter and home made strawberry jam. I embarrassed myself by eating the plate clean, but I sensed that she took it as a compliment. I was appropriately decorating her kitchen in a colour scheme she got right out of a Martha Stuart magazine.
My first experience working in an East Indian home was making me a little nervous. I sensed that there was distrust and suspicion from the minute I walked in the door. I did what I usually do to build a little rapport and took a mild interest in her home and her children. I quietly went about my work and was polite and friendly when I spoke with her. The grandparents were skulking about in the background, giving me sideways glances, and I was relieved that I was not working for them. At mid morning, she asked if I would care for some East Indian tea. I told to go to no trouble for me but she assured me that the whole family was having tea and it was no trouble at all. I accepted, hoping it would not be another Danish coffee incident. The tea turned out to be quite good, mixed with plenty of milk and sugar, not what I was used to, but good enough for a second cup. I think the second cup was the right move because after that, even the old grandpa warmed up to me a bit. Since then, I have had Indian tea many times and always enjoy it, but knowing that if I had it everyday, I would soon be as big bellied as many of them are.
I have learned that there is a subtle change in a new relationship when conversation takes place over a cup of coffee or tea. They extend hospitality, I accept it, and as a result, a bond begins to form. I have heard so many fascinating stories at these coffee breaks and have indeed had many opportunities to encourage and be encouraged by those who sometimes are complete strangers, until we ‘break bread’ together.

Ideals

The Tulip speaks to me of warm sun and cool air and when these beauties are in the shade, they last a long time. Much like my own personality.

I was chatting with a new customer the other day and he told me a bit about himself. He had some very good life lessons to pass on. He was a Scotsman through and through so it was fun to listen not only to his stories, but also to his accent and his manner of speaking. As a young immigrant he saw Canada as a land of opportunity but after beating the pavement for many weeks and being on the verge of going back, he got a job at city hall in Vancouver. There was an election coming and they needed someone to sharpen pencils for the ballot boxes and tie little strings around them so they would not 'walk off'. Rather than being discouraged at such a menial and meaningless task, he tackled it with enthusiasm and his superiors noticed. It did not happen all at once, but he did move up through the ranks and his bosses always told him to be patient and always expect to get ahead. Well, he did get ahead and eventually became a city manager and a manager for then aspiring politician and now Premier of our Province, Gordon Campbell. Today he is retired and on a comfortable pension, having travelled and done all he ever wanted to do. His advice is to be patient, pay as you go, and never be afraid to start at the bottom. Work hard, be honest, and do not make enemies. These are things most of us know, but it is a real pleasure to meet someone who is a living testament to those ideals.

Who Left the Heat On?

Another Tulip that hearkens back to cooler days only a few weeks ago.

Have I written before about how I cannot tolerate the heat? I thought so. Well, here goes again.

There is only one good thing about a hot day like we had today, and yesterday, and the day before, and....... yes, there have been a few of them and there are more coming. Yes, only one good thing, but I can't think of it now. See how my brain goes fuzzy in the heat? You can't escape it. In winter when it is cold you can do a lot of things to warm up, such as pile on more clothes, jump up and down, sit in front of a blazing fire or heat lamp, go to a warm place, or cuddle up to someone you like. But what do you do when it is 32C and you know tomorrow will be even hotter? If I were retired, I would go to the local mall and hang out there like all the other seniors who are pretending to shop but are really just getting out of their hot apartments. Or I would go to the swimming pool and hang out there. Or I would sit in my air conditioned house all day and read good books and blog. But I still work for a living and have to suffer through the day in the heat. I think that if there really was one good thing about a hot day, I would have thought of it by now.

Another Coffee Season is Over

A number of years ago, Lis and I volunteered for kitchen duty in our church. At that time, we had a little 50's style diner with booths, bar stools and the front end of a '57 Chevy coming out the wall above the counter. Very cool. It was called Checker's Diner due to the checkered tile on the floor. It was a place you could come to have a cup of coffee, a goodie and some good conversation. We outgrew it in a few years and converted the church gym to a facility called Center Court where we hold banquets and other food related meetings. Every Saturday night before the early service, there is a meal served for $3. Every Sunday morning between the early and late service, we serve a continental breakfast by donation only. It is these Sunday mornings where we have taken a leadership role and assembled a great team of volunteers. Today was the last time we did this for the year because we take a break for the summer months. We have a great team and as a result, have a great time. We make and serve up to 300 cups of coffee and tea, 5 gallons of punch for the kids, countless bagels, scones, hot bowls of oatmeal, Cinnamon buns, and various kinds of toast. And then we clean up. Having a big commercial kitchen is a great help but it more about the people. We will be back for another year in the fall.
PS Now that I have taught my new apprentice, Bill, how to make the coffee, in 60 cup batches, we are finally getting compliments on the coffee. :-)

My Thespian Grandson

When I was eight years old, my best friend's mom entered him and me in a talent contest. The province of Saskatchewan was divided into regions and each region had a live radio performance of anyone who thought they had talent. My friend and I won first place, singing our hearts out, in our region, and that allowed us to go to the final in Saskatoon where we would compete on live television. We did not win and there was no musical career launched, but we had a lot of nervous fun and we had our moment of fame, center stage, in the limelight.
That particular set of genes did not take root in either of my kids, but rather decided to skip a generation and pop up in my grandson. A few months back he was delighted to learn that after auditioning for the lead roll in a musical drama at church, he got it. He and the Kid's Town Choir performed three times over the weekend and they did a fantastic job. I was so proud of Nathan that I embarrassed myself by announcing to all those around me that the handsome guy up front and center was MY grandson. This is typical grandparent behaviour so it is OK.

After the last performance on Sunday, he told his mom that he "could do this everyday". Chad, his younger brother, was in the choir singing and doing the actions and choreography with the best of them. It is very entertaining watching him. If in the future, Chad is asked for a leading part, I am thinking the drama will have to be a comedy. It is a pure joy watching these guys grow up and discover new talents and abilities. We will see if these genes fizzle out like they did in me.

Hope

I like Tulips so much that after the last petal has fallen in the late May warmth, I begin posting Tulip photos so I can drag out the season a bit longer.

The NHL playoffs continue and us Vancouver fans have finally conceded that it is happening, once again, without us. We lost the series against Chicago, in the fourth game, by playing defensively against an explosive offensive team, thinking it would take only one goal to beat them. It was a coaching error in strategy, in my opinion.
Naturally the fans are terribly let down, but I was wondering what would have happened had we won the series, and even gone on to win the Stanley Cup. Of course, euphoria would have been the order of the day, and there probably would have been short lived riots in the streets with the associated policing costs. But what happens after that? Yes, you are right, dear reader, life would go on. The great hope that we Canuck fans live with, year in and year out, would no longer drive us into a new season. We would have arrived, but what would that give us? I am thinking that it is good to never win. Come close once in a while, but never win. They say that man can live months without food, days without water, but not at all without hope. So, you see, we need that eternal hope to keep us glued to our TV in the winter months, screaming at the top of our lungs, "Shoot the puck". We anxiously await player trades and draft picks and contract renewals all in the hope that maybe it will be next year. I highly doubt it, but we can at least hope.

Surprising, But Not

Unlike most Canadians, I do not dislike Americans. In our travels to the USA, we have never had any reason to disparage them. I like their patriotism, their freedom to speak of their faith openly, their generosity, and their openness. I indeed feel sorry for them because of the abuse that is heaped upon them on the world stage. Like all of us, they have their faults, not the least of which is their appalling ignorance of their neighbours to the north. There are obviously many reasons for this, but for me it is a source of amusement more than annoyance. To be fair, we find many Americans also quite uninformed about their own country. I have American readers and I do not want to offend them, but I may have already. I will leave out the faults of Canadians and will only bring them up in defense of my gentle attack on the Americans.

Having said that, there was a little incident in Toronto Friday night where for the first time, President Clinton and President Bush were on the same stage together. It was interesting and amicable by all reports, but something came to light that was rather revealing. This ignorance of which I speak goes right to the top. As all Canadians know, we are on the eve of having to show a passport in order to cross the US/Canadian border. In our 200 history as neighbours, this is a disturbing precedent, and yet both Clinton and Bush confessed to having absolutely no knowledge of it. How can this be? Clinton has an excuse as he is probably still busy trying to define the word 'is'. Bush, however, instituted this initiative during his watch as president as part of the Homeland Securities Initiatives as a result of 9/11. That such an important step go without his knowledge is beyond belief. Or is it? He is, after all, a typical American.

Too Young to Know?

"Tar Baby"

Conservative MP Pierre Poilievre, parliamentary secretary to the prime minister, used the term in response to Liberal Leader Michael Ignatieff's decision to back away from his predecessor's unpopular carbon tax policy.
"On that side of the House, they have the man who fathered the carbon tax, put it up for adoption to his predecessor and now wants a paternity test to prove the tar baby was never his in the first place," said Poilievre.

I have not read nor seen this term used since I was a kid. I do remember it and believe that it ran its course even before political correctness began to take hold. I agree that it is a derogatory term and should not be used as a reference to people of dark skin.

Given the societal predilection to cry fowl when a public figure uses such terms, why on earth would Mr. Poilievre even think of using "tar baby"? Surely he would know that it would cast aspersions on both his and his party's name. I may have the answer. In seeing a picture of Mr. Poilievre, I see that he is a very young man. Could it be that he is indeed ignorant of the meaning of the term because of his age? He has grown up in a society that has been taught to watch its mouth when referring to other ethnic groups or cultures and if he has travelled in the politically correct circles all his life, it may be that he is sincere in believing that the term means only 'something that sticks', in this case, the carbon tax that sticks to all Liberals.

The Games They Play

If our country's future were not at stake, I would say the games they are playing in Ottawa these days are pretty laughable.
The Liberal mantra has been that the Conservatives are not doing enough to stimulate the Canadian economy. However, now that the Finance Minister has announced the $50 billion deficit, mostly the result of the efforts to stimulate the economy, the Liberals are crying foul. This is a leap of logic, but this is politics. It looks bad on both of them, but Prime Minister Harper is trying to deflect the negative news about the deficit by digging up old video footage of Michael Ignatieff in his former days when he left Canada for some forty years. He said and did a lot of things that can be used against him today. Is it fair? I feel it is justified in that Iggy has an ambition to be Prime Minister and we should know of what kind of stuff he is made. He has not exactly been a loyal and dedicated Canadian let alone a Canada booster for most of his life and yet he wants to run the country. Is this not opportunism with a capital O? In the meanwhile, our future is being mortgaged for bailouts that will not work but only drive up the debt of the nation, something that has to paid back sooner or later. Watch for increased taxes, inflation, and perhaps an election coming to a neighbourhood near you.

On Being Private

In most things, I am not a very private person. I was not always this way. I have found that when people trust me, they open up to me and it follows that because I am a trusting person, I readily open up to people. Or maybe I should say that I share information, ideas, and opinions with people. I think one of my motivations is that I appreciate it when others do this to me, so I want to be like that with others.
One example of this that comes to mind is my willingness to share investment ideas. When I hear good news, I just like to share it so we can all benefit. The opposite of that is when I hear of a good investment and do not share it, then only I benefit, and I have deprived any one of my friends the joy of success. It goes both ways, however, in that sometimes the investment can go sour, and indeed this had happened. This is when I tend to 'turtle' and promise myself that I will just keep my mouth shut next time. Not only is there great pain in helping your friends lose their money, but this sort of thing tends to ruin one's reputation as a wise investor. It seems that ten successes and one failure still makes one a poor investor. The expectation of total success in every venture is unrealistic. Tossing the ball toward the basket in a game, comes to mind. At what percentage of shots that make points, is a player deemed successful? One thing is certain. 100% of shots not taken, fail. So I continue to take shots. My dilemma, increasingly, is, do I tell my friends to take the shots with me.