TODAY, WE REMEMBER BLAIR

It's a given that most people think of today as St. Patricks Day. I suppose until 2011, I did too. 

It just so happens that 5 years ago today, one of the great ones answered their call and as a result my friend Blair McLaren passed away. 

I know that name won’t specifically resonate with the majority of my readers but trust me when I write that he was a very well respected businessman. Though not where his career would end, when I was growing up, he and his wife owned the local sporting goods store affectionately known as McLaren Sports.

Myself & Blairs' daughter Sarah. Happy to be able to still call her my friend.
TAKEN: APRIL 1983

If I close my eyes, I can remember the day I sat in their store and he outlined my feet for a custom made pair of John Kenbli skates. I was so excited that I was floating, and of course my mother was being my mother.

I remember the ordeal as embarrassing and I distinctly remember the conversation as generally uncomfortable. He explained the manufacturing process and expected lead time for delivery. Then, they talked about why the price was the price. 

As he answered all of her questions, in an nano-second he earned her complete and unconditional trust. He promised never to disclose to my father the money she’d spent in his store on my fateful day; and he never did. 

Over time, teaching their daughters to skate, led me to babysitting for he and his wife. I also remember it was the end of an era when they closed the store to focus on building a corporate family business ~ aptly named McLaren Press. 

What his wife and girls don't know is that 20 years later, when I opened IDP Muskoka in 2004, Blair and his brother Scott were one of my very first calls. After all, every new marketing agency with a solid business plan, needs a great trade printer. I remember the meeting. 

It started with Scott (whom lived across the street from me at the time) then he called in Blair. Much to my surprise, the two of them made me an offer to join their team 24 hours later. Though I declined, Blair always remembered the fire in my belly and my overall vision. He was truly the first successful man that supported the concept of women leading in business.

Even with life being as busy as it was, no matter when I ran into him, he never hesitated to stop and ask me how I was doing. Never rushed nor forced. He was always genuine and very happy for me.

Musings aside, the funny thing is that all these years later, I still have those skates. Matter a fact I cherish them. Always have. Always will. 

So, tonight, I ask you to raise your green beer, glass of wine, or a glass of water to Blair.

Loving husband, wonderful father, grandfather, employer, friend. He may be gone but most definitely will never be forgotten.

Cheers, Blair...Thanks for the memories.

MY ONE AND ONLY VALENTINE

Wednesday or Thursday of last week, a coworker asked me if I had anything special planned for my husband for Valentines Day. I simply shrugged my shoulders and quietly mentioned that it's something we've never celebrated. I could tell by the look on their face they were curious, so I told them why. All they could bring themselves to say was that they were sorry. I thanked them for the kind sentiment.

My Momma & Me in Gaspe, Quebec
TAKEN: JULY 1972

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was just past midnight, February 14th, 1987, when the phone rang in my apartment. All my father said was,"your mother's gone." My first reaction was an instant sense of relief; as ALS (more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's Disease) had her suffering for long enough. 

My husband and I were only dating when my mother passed but even if we'd never married, I don't believe that I would ever have taken a Valentine other than my Mom. She was stoic in the end. So brave, though I'm sure she had to of been scared. You see, death was something we were never allowed to talk about when she was ill, that's just how she rolled. If I had to describe the last six months of her life, the one word I would chose, would have to be heartbreaking. 

At my fathers request, I left a good job in the City the May prior so that I could stay with her through the day. I was a waitress in the evenings that summer (for a bit of spending money) but my father needed round the clock help. Out of sheer necessity, he took a six month leave of absence from his job that September but she still needed the both of us. As you can imagine, that time my father and I spent together, changed our relationship for the rest of his life. Our unconditional support for one and other remained in tact until the day he died.

Anyway, I told my coworker last week that I would write about my mom today, as I had every year since I started this electronic journal. I also mentioned that I suspected that she no longer needed to by my Valentine because she'd been reunited with my Dad. 

Having said that, I know there's no written rule that you have to pick and declare only one true love today. So here's hoping you love yours as much as I love mine...As today will always be our day.

Happy Valentine's Day Mom. I miss and love you very much. xoxo

MY BEAUTIFUL EXTENDED FAMILY

For all of my high school summers, I spent my weekdays in a rink and my weekends on an amazing lake with my parents. They occupied a neat stretch of waterfront, where I was lucky to be surrounded by cousins and family. To this day, I feel so very blessed how those aunts and uncles influenced my life; yet my post is even bigger than that.

Throughout my formative teen years, I was never allowed to date. So, with only a radio and/or a book to keep me company, I’d take the mini-bike up the road to visit my father’s sister, or made myself a fixture next door at my very favourite spot.

As I type, I am remembering how fun it was to spend time with the girls next door, yet the reality at hand was my cousins just simply got stuck with me. They were a smidgen older and far wiser to yours truly, so naturally my attachment to them was much stronger than their's to me. All these years later, I am still very grateful for their unconditional patience.

As we aged (and I matured) we all became very close friends. So much so, that I consider them sisters and not simply my cousins. One was in my wedding; and I cherish the other girls children as I do my own.

Truth of the matter is that I've always wished I was a part of their immediate family. Not because mine was any worse than any other teen train wreck that was coming through, my wish simply stemmed from the fact that their Mom was freaking bat-shit crazy cool!

The moral of my post is that one cousin I am closest to and her family are coming to Muskoka this weekend for a celebration. As I chatted with Nan's daughter this morning on Facebook, I went searching through my scanned photos to find an appropriate picture to share my good news as well as my excitement about their visit: this is what I found.

My MAN hugging my Nan. Oh, that's her Dad, my Uncle Vic in the back... Totally stealing the shot!
TAKEN: JUNE  1989

Taken at my cousin Tootsie’s wedding in June of 1989, it serves as official proof. Not just proof that my beautiful extended family still loves my husband more than me but that I believe timing is everything.

Just look at my Uncle Vic in the background (who passed in October of '99). In that specific moment, while watching our keen camaraderie, he totally photobombed us!.

As soon as I looked that the photo I knew it was perfect. With them arriving tomorrow night, it gives them all a little reminder that he too will be watching over us for his great-grandson Noah's weekend celebration.

Happy Birthday sweet Noah.We'll see you all tomorrow. 

Let the fun begin!!

HAPPY 87th BIRTHDAY POPPA

As a family growing up, we never much bothered with birthdays. Matter a fact, I am embarrassed to admit that I’m not even sure when my mother’s was: whether it was the 23rd or the 24th. Even when she was alive, I always confused her birth date with the day my parents were married. That right there shows how much emphasis was never put on the silly recognition of any of it. Then, everything changed when my Dad celebrated his 60th Birthday.

Happy Birthday Dad...!
TAKEN: JUNE 9th, 1988
Photo (c) yagottalaughaboutit.com

With so much focus being put on my wedding, I decided to throw my Pops a surprise party. You see, his happy day happened to fall two days before I got married. His home was shamefully strewn with everything imaginable for a young bride's big day yet as my day drew near, I wanted him to know that he was as appreciated as he was making me feel I was. Twenty seven years ago today, I can report he was truly surprised. Not only by my gesture but by the love of the people that filled his livingroom.

Just look at that smile!

In hindsight, that night was a catapult for he and I. His 60th Birthday was a new beginning of how he and I looked at celebrating the day of his birth. With me being married the 11th and the twins eventually being born the 5th, no matter what we were up to at the time, everything stopped for that one single week a year.

One of the most memorable parties was when the twins celebrated their first birthday and he celebrated his 65th. Our small little 1,000 square foot home across the street from his was bursting at the seams with family and friends. As time passed, each and every year the celebrations got bigger and understandably more cherished. True to the occasion to the end, we spent the majority of his last B-Day together in the emergency room. Though his spirits were good I would have never imagined a little better than two week later our jokes and paper hats would be replaced with funeral arrangements.

I had an American lawyer friend comment last weekend on the affinity that I have of my Dad. He admitted that he has the same with his but that his father is still alive. As silly as it reads I feel like my Dad is still with me too. I still talk to him and we mention him all the time in our home. Though he may be out of sight, he most definitely will never be out of mind. You see, not only was he my Father, he was my friend.

Happy 87th Birthday Poppa. We all love and miss you very much.

R IS FOR REMINISCENT

I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that I’ve been talking to my Dad these last few days. I know you’ll probably not be surprised to read that he isn't answering back; yet there’s an inner peace in knowing that he’ll always be there to listen when need be.

I miss my Dad. I miss him every single day. I miss the lifetime of guidance he gave me and I am grateful that I was with him when he passed. The last six weeks he was alive it was like every day was an adventure. We looked at pictures, he told me stories, and together we searched for his one true love. We never did find her before he passed but she has found me since and we remain in contact to this very day.

10 years since he left me... My dad is still my closest confidant.
TAKEN: JUNE 1985
 (Photo © yagottalaughaoubtit.com)

Just look at us!

It’s hard to believe I was a babe when this photo was taken. I had my own apartment and was dating the third of my four T’s. (I’m not sure if I've ever shared that I only ever had four serious boyfriends & that their names all started with the letter T. Weird eh?)

That said, my number three T drove a Corvette and was as arrogant as they get. Boy, he may have been easy on my eyes but there was no conceit in his family, because he had it all. YUP, my cousins Nan & Jan just totally rolled their eyes! 

Oh, young love. There really isn’t a formula. So, I guess as I reminisce, if there’s one spark of wisdom I have for my daughter it’s that she shouldn't fret. She's not the only gal that ever hooked up and invested in an asshole, her mother did too.

All I can say to her, all these years later, is... Thank goodness Tom has always remained in my very valuable “lessons learned” file!

Ya Gotta Laugh About It!!

L IS FOR LOST

My word choice today is about how I am feeling, not about a misplaced possession.

You see, last night I got a message asking me to call the Son in Law of our cottage neighbour in the City. Instantly, my heart dropped. I was home alone, so I replied that my husband would call when he returned from running his errand. Half an hour later, my biggest fear came to fruition. Our much loved neighbour Lois, had passed.

When we bought our cottage, not only had we been blessed with our own perfect little haven, we'd inherited the most amazing neighbours. As a young couple new to cottaging, Ken & Lois helped us any way they could. They were the brains of cottage life, and we were the brawn. (Meaning...They could fix anything, and we could pack up and carry anything.) In hindsight. it was a match made in heaven.

Rest In Peace Lois.... You'll be with us forever.
TAKEN: JUNE 2013

Though we lost Ken in 2011, we were still cheerfully blessed each summer with Lois’ company. She remained as spry as ever, and swan everyday no matter how cold the water was. I am going to miss her swimming over, climbing our dock ladder, and enjoying a whirl down our slide. Not only am I going to miss her company, I'm going to miss her very sincere smile. 

I suppose I chose this particular photo, because from now on, every time the sun peeks through the trees, I’ll instantly think of her watching over us.

Rest in Peace Lois; be sure to give Ken a hug and a kiss for me. 

We love & miss you both very much.

...HER STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

You know the saying... "Weddings & Funerals"
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 8th, 2014

It was a little more than a year ago that I stood at the base of this stairway and snapped this picture. When I posted it to my Facebook, my caption simply read, “It’s a beautiful day for a February wedding!”

Well, last Friday had me standing at the base of the stairway again. Except this time, I was faced with attending a Celebration of Life for the Mother of the Groom from that very memorable day.

Though the Priest tried to explain who she was & how loyal she was to her faith, I left the church feeling he'd not done her legacy the justice she had ultimately earned.

For instance, though he mentioned that she sang in the choir and was a member of the Woman’s League, he failed to mention was that when she was healthy, she walked up the hill from her home and never once missed Mass. She also attended every funeral, to pray for those that had passed and to pray for the grieving families in their time of need. What he didn't say, was this stairway was a very large part of who she was her entire life. 

Friday, the fourteen of my first cousins that flocked in attendance (three that had flown in) wept. You see, what he failed to mention was that she had affected all of us in a very positive and supportive manner during our formative years and beyond. Though I'm sure we all have different memories, I found her home, and my memories surrounding it, to be some of the most cherished for me. Why? Whenever I was there...She always made me feel that I was loved. 

I have to believe that with a heart as big as hers, St. Peter wasn't waiting for her to let her in; I'm positive that once she passed, he instantly arrived at her bedside and immediately gave her a personal escort to a place she'd envisioned her entire life. I have to believe, that my photo simply illustrates the memorable journey they took together, via her personal stairway to Heaven. 

Rest In Peace Auntie Phyllis. We all love you and will miss you very much.

HAPPY in MEMORY OF MY MAMA DAY

I got up this morn and was at my desk by six.  For the second night in a row, I didn’t sleep very well, so I just got up and at 'em. About an hour in, I checked my email to be greeted by a friendly hello and a “Happy Valentines Day”. Though I instantly greeted them back, I didn’t have the energy to explain why the annual Hallmark frenzy's something I have never really acknowledged.

Around nine, doing my very best bad hair/fuzzy slipper shuffle, I wandered into the kitchen and announced to my husband that I felt the need to Blog about my Mom today; then added, “I guess I should wish you a Happy Valentines Day”. My husband simply hugged me, kissed me on the forehead and no other words were spoken. For us, today has never been anything other than an  In Memory of My Mama Day.

I was four years old when this photo was taken.
Photo is  © yagottalaughaboutit.com

It’s hard to believe that it’s been twenty eight years today since my Mother passed. As I was daydreaming over my coffee before dawn, I remember it was shortly after midnight when my Dad woke and discovered she was gone.

After all of her suffering, my immediate thought (all those years ago) was that it was meant to be.

You see, she was just that stubborn.

If she knew she didn't want to take her journey on Friday the 13th, she'd of dug into her depths and simply refused to let go. That was my Mama. Always in control, never doing anything she didn’t want to!

At my ripe old age of 29, I have come to realize that we are all just a genetic discombobulation of both of our parents. Good traits, bad habits, even mannerisms all relate back to how we are hard wired. That said, not a day goes by that I don't thank my Mother for giving me her Business sense and her gam's. She had the most amazing mind, that was complimented nicely with a great pair of legs and beautiful smile.

Thanks Mom. Today I remember you.... I love and miss you very much.

HAD A DRINK WITH MY DAD

What can I say? All of that hype and today is the infamous Canadian Boxing Day.

 I just saw a neat American cartoon that read: When I was little I always thought Boxing Day was a holiday when you piled up all the boxes from Christmas presents, set them on fire, and danced around the flames. I also wondered why we never celebrated Boxing Day! Good One!!

My Dad loved the holidays. His steadfast sense of family, the food, the cheer. More food, more cheer. Anyway, I know that I’ve shared stories about my quest to keep finding those silly Petro Canada Olympic glasses. Just so we’re clear, my obsession is exactly that, which is ongoing and very real. (Read: HEY DAD... GUESS WHAT I FOUND?)

CHEERS... I LOVE YOU DAD.
TAKEN: DECEMBER 25th, 2014

Just as I would if he were still alive, yesterday, he and I shared a Christmas drink.

As I was sitting there staring out the window & sipping, I wondered if he’d have any solid words of advice for what I have going on in my life right now. 

I envisioned him sitting on the sofa next to me. He’d listen to what I had to say and be non-judgmental. Then, I suspect he’d rattle the ice cubes in his glass signifying it was empty and tell me everything would be fine.

You want to know something? I don't think my father ever once asked me for a second drink. He’d just rattle the ice in his glass letting me know that his first one was finished. That was his cue. Life is funny like that; how certain moments ignite specific memories.

You want to know what else is funny about life? That it's bat shit crazy hard, right up until the moment it isn't.

SO spark up them boxes, control the flames and have a really great day!

… HE SENT DIMES FROM HEAVEN

When we purchased our first home in December of 1988 we were ecstatic. It was three houses up from my Dad on the opposite side of very street I grew up on. We knew nothing about home ownership and had no idea that the math of the investment would have Kraft Dinner and tomato soup be our most cost effective grocery staples (both of which my husband refuses to eat to this day) for a very long time .

Times were definitely tough. To increase that hardship, I unexpectedly got pregnant. I remember the day the rabbit died. I also remember telling our next door neighbours before telling my husband. That very moment came flooding back to me a couple of weeks ago, as I stood in the exact spot in their backyard.

It was actually Poppa Peter's Birthday... But he let Jukebox believe the Party was really for him!
Taken: August: 1992

Nana Anne, Poppa Peter & Auntie Andrea have been in my children’s lives since the moment they were born. They've unconditionally loved all of us and us them. Poppa Peter passed from complications to diabetes seven years ago this month and Nana Anne unexpectedly left us this past summer. That unexpected (very heartbreaking) event has Auntie Andrea & I as close as ever.

A couple of weeks ago, Andrea and I got chatting on a Friday night and she told me a story. After her father's funeral, her sister needed to have had a chat with him and asked him to send her a sign. “Don’t send me pennies from heaven Dad” she asked a loud, “...I wanna see at least dimes!”

From that moment on, dimes began to appear in the strangest places. Since his death, the most poignant spot had to be the morning Nana Anne passed. The pets were on the bed with her, and there was a dime on the floor beside her. 

Do you want to know what's even more amazing? Because 911 was called, the Police arrived before Andrea. She continued to tell me that she'd never sat in Poppa Peter’s chair since he’d passed. Well, unbeknownst to the Police, they cleared the chair off in preparation of her arrival. When she went into shock, that is where she was placed.... Into her father's chair

When I was over to the house that following Saturday & Sunday after our chat... Jacquie, Andrea, and I, lovingly reminisced about them both. As we worked (moving, sorting and loading a trailer for landfill) we talked of the dimes that were being sent from heaven.

When the guys picked up Poppa Peter's chair (the very chair the Police sat Andrea in) there was a dime sitting underneath in full view. What a moment. You know what the dime beside the bed and under the chair signify to me?

Nana Anne wasn't meant to take her journey to heaven alone. I'd like to believe that he came to greet her. Once she passed, he wanted to reassure Andrea that he was there for her too.

I don't know about you... but I'll never look at a dime the same way again.

Rest in Peace Anne and Peter. We will always love and miss you both very much. 

...I GOTSTA A BOOTY CALL!

This time last year I was the happiest I’d been in my personal life in a very long time.

Everything at home was tickety-boo and I was surrounded by a couple of amazing folks that unconditionally supported me leaving the best job I’d ever had. Even today, reminiscing about their support and friendship keeps me totally content that I've made the right decision in starting over.

I've processed some of my worst moments in this chair.
TAKEN: September 23, 2014

Now that you’re all warm and fuzzy inside, here’s the zinger. Yesterday, the external hard drive (that I consider my daily life line) died. 

Like any death, I am feeling completely alone.

I've never thought of myself as a work-a-holic, I've always preferred focused; that was until I sat at my desk this morning & realized exactly what I had to rebuild. Like any death, it’s absolutely heartbreaking.

In order to self-preserve I have always looked to humour. After getting off the phone with one of my two above mention faves I felt better. They listened to me cry but also heard me laugh. Their work ethic gives me the strength to push through and hearing their voice reminded me I’m not alone.

I haven’t spoken nor emailed my other fave. He knows who he is. Always the class clown, he’s forever rationalizing any negative thing in life by equating it to sex.  My best guess is that he would probably playfully remind be that yesterday was nothing other than a really HOT Booty Call. 

Truth? I wasn't ready to hear what he had to say when I asked why LIFE wanted to screw me so bad... Guess it's because I know he would have had me in tears with laughter and I'm honestly not quite ready for that yet.

NOTE TO SELF: Call him first thing tomorrow!

The True Bond of Brotherhood

Our family lost a friend last weekend. She was one of the 'Mom’s'. 

You know the type? One of the ones that unconditionally drove the boys to and from basketball and watched in the stands. One, whose car would arrive at the oddest times in my driveway to fetch her strapping young boy. She will be truly missed. She was only 51.

As a group, we've only experienced this once before; but this one hit so very close to home. My children loved her, not to mention that her son's truly their "Brotha from anotha Mutha." 

It was a very small, private service. I was honoured to have been invited to attend with my son, and the third Musketeer with his Mother. I have to admit, that watching the three lads together (in a less than ideal situation) made me realize just how bonded they truly are. Completely and unconditionally inseparable.

The BOYS with Staccs.
TAKEN: June 2011

As predicted, my daughter called me afterward to make sure he was OK.

"Do you think he knows I would have been there today if I could have?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” I said.

Then I did the only thing I knew before I left my lad to head home.

I hugged him tight as I could and told him without hesitation that '...we all love you very much.’ 

Sleep tight Sharon. All of your hard work and suffering's finally over.

My Post Tonight Is For Puddin'

It was two years ago tonight that I dialed up the breeder I’d been working with: Due to a series of unpredictable events, I was simultaneously and very impressively balancing a full blown panic attack. Trust me, I'd had better moments.

I remember it well. My daughter was with me in tears as I haphazardly explained that my Daisy Marie had been killed and that the OSPCA had prepared me that my Spottie Dottie would never return. Crying, I asked if the last of the litter we’d been discussing had been sold.

My heart sank as she explained that it had, then she totally redeemed herself when she said that the last puppy’s potential owner decided to leave her behind. Turns out they didn't want to spend the money on her because they’d had their heart set on a male. Suffice is to say, we immediately drove to get her and brought her home. 

A very rare moment in my life... That I believe... Was truly meant to be. 

My little water dog is not so little anymore. Happy Anniversary Puddin'
Taken: June 10th, 2012 & June 10th 2014

Don't get me wrong, she can be a great big hairy bitch; coming from one, I figure that's why we get along like soul mates. We're kindred spirits!

Bonded by my skill for bribery using food (and because we've spent so much time together in the last six months) not only do I feel she can read my mood, I believe she has a full understanding of my scheduled caloric intake for the week. I'm not kidding. When she sees an extra piece of toast getting prepared, with both the peanut butter and jam on the counter, she know she's hit the motherload!!

Happy 2nd Anniversary Pud. I promise to never EVER serve you marmalade.

You can thank me later!

My Mom....

Happy Mother's Day Mummy.... I miss you very much.
Taken: July 1947

This is my Mom. 

If you haven’t met her via a previous post, allow me to introduce you to my mother Inez.

She was 17 years old when this photo was taken and the only one I own that was taken before she was married.

Though I have very few pictures of her, that doesn't mean that all of my  life long memories aren't vivid, colourful, and still very much alive.

She was a fighter.

She won most every battle she set her mind to, but sadly, she eventually lost the war. She passed in 1987 of ALS (more commonly known to the masses as Lou Gehrig's Disease).

Any sadness in my reflection aside, I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge that today is OUR day. The one & only that is dedicated especially to the both of us for a job well done.

Happy Mother's Day Mummy...

I love and miss you very much.

'WELL THERE IT IS. A LIFE'...

This afternoon I logged onto my Facebook to find this amazing homage, posted by my very favourite Comedian, on his personal Facebook page. It moved me so much that I wanted to share. I immediately asked his permission and Ron enthusiastically said YES. 

Rest In Peace Farley.... Very well said Ron!

Ron James with his dear friends Farley & Claire Mowat.
This photo is personal property of RON JAMES.
All rights reserved.

I don't make a habit of posting the ubiquitous photo of me with my arm around celebrities mugging for a 'selfie' but when that 'celebrity' (and the term seems so tawdry and trite given his status in 'Letters') was one of Canada's literary lions, who recently passed into the 'Big Mystery', I make an exception. 

Farley Mowat and his wife Claire were my friends, who kindly invited me to lunch at their home in Port Hope while on tour several years ago. Look at them in this photo! Beaming! Lovers until the end! They were SO cool!! Authentic. How could you not be, given the world they were born to and the adventure they lived together?! Snug in their cozy cottage, packed with totems of a life fully realized, they shuffled from room to room referring to each other as 'Mr. and Mrs. Mole'. The cantankerous rebel who did not suffer fools was hostage to his woman's twinkling eyes and she to his. 

Over lunch they spoke of their travels to the far points of frontier, like the Orkney Islands of northern Scotland! You won't find that destination on a Carnival Cruise Line itinerary! They told me how they'd walked beaches there looking at spear points, awls and primal scraping tools from the last Ice Age. No shuffleboard on the 'Fiesta Deck' and buffet for this pair of octogenarians! They were engaged in the wider world of wonders. Curious. Searching. Exploring. As betrothed to each other as the planet they loved.

I sat at the foot of this sage all afternoon enthralled. Nursing my second shot of London Dock none-the-less that he poured us...before noon! I remember thinking, 'This is what it would be like if Yoda drank!!’ His World War 2 Major's hat on the wall…caricatures from earlier days when his beard was full and shoulders broad…photos of he and Claire sailing...he and his Labrador retrievers…bawdy jokes in the bathroom…myriad awards…on a late model television set sat a dory Paul Watson hand carved for him in prison…original leather bound editions of Franklin's expeditions! And then his books. They sat high on a shelf in the living room. 48 of them! 48!! And it struck me: 'Dear God Farley', I said, 'the titles aren't in English!' They were in every language but Romulan! 'Never Cry Wolf' in Arabic…'And No Birds Sang' in German…'A Whale for the Killing' in Spanish...The Dog Who Wouldn't Be' in Chinese…'Lost In the Barrens' in Dutch...Siberia', in some tongue you'd be speaking while you milked a yak in Irkutsk! 

Farley looks at me with a humble sigh and says, 'Well, there it is. A life'. 

And his life inspired. Sitting in a dreary classroom at Chebucto Road School in Grade 7, reading 'Two Against the North' and 'The Viking's Grave', sired a desire to commune with the power of Canada's holy lands beyond the tree line. I actualized that childhood dream ten years ago and kayaked Arctic Finger Lakes in the Barren lands, three hours north of Yellowknife. The world Farley's words had painted in a kid's imagination still shone bright in memory. I joined a Dene elder from Fort Resolution who’d come to hunt caribou for a pot luck supper in Fort Resolution. Cresting a hill in the chill of dawn, I saw a raven flying low to the land and remembered Farley's words in 'Never Cry Wolf', that when you see a raven, wolves aren't far behind. Sure enough, there they stood, Javex white and splendid proud in morning's magic hour. 'Farley was right', I thought! 'Wolves and ravens are buddies in the hunt!' And to think the disparaging moniker of 'Hardly-Know-It' was applied to him. Only in Canada could the ivory towered dilettantes and philistines he held in such justifiable contempt turn so viscously on their own. I beg to differ with their slander readers. I saw those wolves as well as many other things, because Farley Mowat taught me how to look for them in this world, thanks to his books.

'Well there it is. A life' 

And what a life it was Farley. What a life. Thanks for sharing it with us. ~ RON JAMES

(c) Ron James. All rights reserved.

H IS FOR HANDSOME

Over the years, because of the industries I've worked in, I've worked alongside far more men than women. I've worked with the odd Herb Tarlek, a ton of Les Nessmans' and only one Johnny Fever. Oh, there’s been the whole bunch of ‘God’s gift to Women’ men, which I willingly admit are the absolute worst.

I remember one such idiot about fifteen years ago. He always made a point of sitting next to me. Then, in this particular Board meeting, he made his move. Without warning, he took a deep breath and whispered into my ear “you smell amazing.” To which I quickly locked my eyes with his, approached his personal space bubble and whispered into his ear… “I don’t do charity work.” Mission accomplished: he never bothered me again!

I guess my point is that someone that's typically defined as good looking by society, doesn't automatically make them handsome in my books. A truly handsome man is the complete package. Not only in how they treat women (both socially and professionally) but that how they outwardly appear, only scratches the surface of what’s on the inside.

I am so blessed to have some truly handsome men in my life. My husband, my boys, (Michael, Timmy, Zack) are all at the top on the top of my heap. However, the most handsome man to ever enter my life, left before his time, in 2005. 

My Dad & I soaking up the sun.
TAKEN: SPRING 1967

Athletic by nature, he was fiercely intelligent;  he had charisma and a great sense of humour, as well as a very true love of people. 

He was caring, giving, with a heart so big I am surprised it didn't burst from sheer goodness before it stopped beating on its own.

My late father Herve was the most handsome man I’ve ever met and suspect I ever will.

He WAS the complete package. Not only was he handsome, he was my friend.

...and I miss him every single day.

My Momma’s My Only Valentine

I know you’re probably expecting me to scribe some mushy ode pledging my undying love for my husband tonight, so I apologize in advance, because that’s just not going to happen. 

Today is the anniversary of my Momma passing. So, for every year since (today marks the 27th anniversary) I've always dedicated my day to her. Different years bring different emotions.Watching the Olympic Figure Skating unfold, I am truly missing her and I wish she were here, even though I don't have a picture of us to share.

Mom snapping my pic in my solo costume
for the annual figure skating carnival.
(Just like me... she was always behind the camera)
Taken: April 1981

My goodness she was a passionate woman. She kept an amazing home, argued for the sheer debate, and loved her Monday night Bridge Club. For the last ten years of her life, she unconditionally supported me at the rink and loved it.

As I excelled, so did she: as a certified Judge. She always said it was to help offset the cost but I always felt it was because I was perpetuating a passion we both shared.

As you know, in time memories can wane. When it comes to my Mom n' me & the rink the memories remain vivid. 

From her bringing me a hot meal every Tuesday & Wednesday night for six years, to my parents picking me up every single Friday night each and every summer I lived away from home....

She was as committed as I.

Today is the one day I think of myself and where I am in life right now and where my mother was in her life cycle at the very same age. Those points are drastically different. 

One thing is for sure. There isn't a song that blasts through my earbuds, that in the first five bars, I can't see myself in a pair of skates. Yes MOM... I always have a dance partner; my knees are bent, my shoulders back, I always have my head up and I'm smiling with confidence.

She was my biggest fan and she definitely pushed me. Let me tell YA... There are far bigger parenting choices that can doom a child and their future now a days. Just sayin'

Happy Valentine's Day Mom. I love you very much.

Our Precious Daughters...

I love you Sweetie. You truly are a precious gift.
Taken: December 2010

I chose to share this picture of my daughter today for a very specific reason. 

Not only do I remember being in the exact moment that my shutter closed, I remember how very proud I was of her that day.  

Look at her beautiful face. 

Taken more than three years ago, as she approached my husband and our dogs, you could tell she was truly comfortable in her own skin. She was glowing: with confidence.

My point today is that I vividly remember our precious daughter and her entire 18th year. 

Extremely shy by nature, she had taken a placement through school and was participating with them in the annual Santa Claus Parade. She’d had a tough 17th year. After a terrible bullying incident that lasted months, she begged us to change schools. We finally agreed. She transferred in June and by September she had started her life anew. 

Her 18th summer brought her first serious boyfriend into our home and she truly discovered that hard work equated to monetary reward. A quiet leader in so many ways, she raised her hand to spearhead the homefront; and to this day, she's never once wavered with her message to the rest of us about the importance of family and our staying together. She truly is amazing and I love her very much.

Why so reflective? My heart is heavy and my eyes are damp today. At 2 am this morning I awoke from a deep sleep and I wandered into my office to see if my fear had come to fruition and it had. After a short battle with an unexpected illness, my friend Dodi’s daughter died last night. She was in her 18th year.

Staci and Brianna had never met. Their paths had never crossed; nor did they even know that their mothers knew one and other. As I sit here in shock, I can’t help but stare at this picture of my beautiful daughter at 18 years of age.  I can't begin to fathom just how shattered my heart (and my world) would be if she'd passed in the night. 

Rest in Peace young Brianna…. You were a very brave girl but your pain is finally over. 

Will It Really Only Hurt For A Minute?

I wish I truly understood why some people bring out the worst in me. If I had to venture a guess I'd say it's some kind of a boy that cried wolf syndrome. You know, unconditional trust followed by ongoing disappointment that just numbs me to hollow words. Eventually, I can no longer trust them.

I wish it were more complicated than that but I fear it's not. If there's one thing you take from this? I can't emphasise enough that you should never push a loyal person to the point where they no longer care.

In the last few weeks (while feeling lost in this shit storm) I had two old friends/colleagues feed what I would consider to be our expired friendship parking metre. The first one I have delightfully accepted back into my friend-zone but the other one did not pass go and did not collect his $200. THAT right there was a Monopoly reference, not how much I pay people to talk to me!

Chuckles aside, not even last night when they disclosed "I miss you" did I waver.

True to myself, all day today I made a list of the pros and cons of how easy it would be to slip back into comfortable dialogue. At the end of the day it doesn't matter what my list said. Over the past few years I have lost count of the number of times they have admittedly 'unconsciously' hurt me.

I could say "it's in the past and that's not the direction I'm going"  but I know if I were to let them come back into my life, I would basically give them an open invitation to once again pummel me into submission. My 50 Shades of Grey books say that kind of activity could be an adventure sexually; but lets face it, this is 100% emotional. Emotionally, the wounds in place are deep and the build up of scar tissue thick.

I snapped this photo in my hotel  the morning I flew to Montreal.
The rest is history....
Taken: November 7th, 2013

With one more ma'am hurdle crossed, this 'fat lady' (though I prefer big boned) is officially tuning up to sing.

It may read like she's going to sing a sad song (and on the lower end of her register) but trust me she's gonna be GREAT.

I promise, knowing that it's only going to hurt for only a minute?

You ain't seen nothing yet!!!

Christmas Came Early For This Cat…

You know what? I got up this morning and went to work. Then, after about an hour, decided I didn't want to work any more in 2013 and that was that. Christmas came early for me this year and it feels really great.

As you all know I have been transitioning since last summer. I wasn’t exactly sure where I’d land but at the end of the day I ultimately knew I was in search of a couple of very specific things. An understanding and appreciation for my skill set was up there but being happy superseded everything else on my wishlist.

I know I always joke that 'you should aim low to avoid disappointment’. Truth of the matter is that disappointment come in all shapes and sizes, every single day, to everyone including yours truly. So, I guess I realized last night that no matter how this transition happened, there would be disappointment surrounding it; with those that gained great wealth from my skill set, with those that didn't listen (nor wanted to hear) the warning signs, and particularly with those I left behind.

There will be talk and chatter about how everything unfurled: that’s just human nature. I know for a fact that those with the biggest egos will point fingers about how they were right. Again, I land at the amazing ones I left behind. The one’s I empowered to reach for something greater, that never had any support before I arrived there 3+ years ago.

As I shovelled the driveway a third time today - this was my view.
What can I say? I really can see the light at the end of the tunnel!

Taken December 12th, 2013

They say timing is everything and yesterday I had a pre-planned lunch with one of my very favourite clients. 

On our way to the restaurant I took a call from my husband & I explained that I had packed everything up and it was done. 

With my client in shock, over our meal we talked about my decision as well as the nepotism that always runs rampant in a family business.

I explained why I felt the way I did but also admitted that when anyone leaves a job it’s like pulling a finger out of a glass of water, the water automatically fills back in. His response was “Oh, Rhondi… but with you... it’s like pulling out an entire fist that's been submerged to the elbow!”

...Guess you know why he will always be one of my very favourite clients.

Wish me luck!