Go West Young Woman

Which could be sub-titled "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly".

Sunday be the day we pack up the family and head out. West, that is. I'm not so sure about swimming pools and movie stars but rumour has it that my brother is the proud owner of a new hot tub. Which is always a good thing, me thinks.

We are flying out to Manitoba to visit my brother for a few days, driving down to Osh Kosh for the world's best air show (or so I am told), back to my brother's for a day, then onwards to my hometown in Saskatchewan. Which, you could say, we will have fun, fun, fun until we get there. Because that is where we will bury my Mom's ashes next to Dad. Then back to my brother's for a bit before we return home. Two weeks in all, give or take a day or two.

Hence the subtitle.

So I'm really looking forward to some parts of it. And others, not so much.

Although I'm valiantly attempting to convince myself that this 'second funeral', so to speak, will be a good thing in that this one will be much less formal and will give us more of an opportunity to do some things we might have wanted to do the first time but didn't couldn't.

Like give any among us who might be so moved a chance to get up and speak, for example. Which both the Kit Kat and the Blue Jay plan to do. As does their mother. Still, not exactly something I'm looking forward to, if you know what I mean.

But a vacation (of sorts) is still a vacation, I suppose. No small feat these days. Especially for the family who never strays too far from home.

So wish us luck. Send us good vibes. And most importantly, keep us in your thoughts and prayers, please.

Oh yeah, don't forget to come back in a few weeks. Well, come back before then if you like. You never know when or where I may just drop a post. But we'll be back home the second week in August. Hope to see you here then.

Y'all come back now, ya hear?

The Beauty of the Games

The beauty of the Special Olympics isn't found in the ceremony and pageantry. It's not in the visiting dignitaries or those waiting to be introduced on the main stage. It's not even in the medals (purty as they are).

No, the beauty of the Games lies in the fact that it's the one place in this world of so-called "normal" that these youths and adults not only get to just be themselves but are celebrated for being themselves. Where, for once, they are not trying to 'fit in' to what everyone else thinks is acceptable, appropriate behaviour. It's the one time a year when they are celebrated for who they are. And celebrate they do.

I will never forget the first time I attended the Games, three years ago. The one thing that struck me so much on that occasion was how every single athlete was roundly cheered through to the finish. How that very last swimmer, who could still be a very long way behind after his fellow athletes had finished the heat, was still cheered just as heartily on to victory as was the first-place finisher. Cheered on to his victory.

And yet it's not just the athletes who flourish in such an environment. Rereading one of my favourite books this past weekend, I came across what struck me as the perfect words to describe why the Special Olympics are so vital, not just for the athletes but also for their families.

In the chapter aptly-titled "Acceptance", Barbara Gillis writes:

We all need people who see us as good and competent parents and who do not blame us for wrong is 'wrong' and difficult about our child. We all need places to go where people look past the fact that our child doesn't talk or doesn't respond to our directions. We need people who admire his physical beauty and his curiosity, or who recognize how clever he is in his mischief. We all need to go where our family is accepted as it is, and delight is taken in us and each of our children. And we all need people who show us the way, leading us by their example to the confidence or pride we have been struggling for. An ounce of this love can offset a pound of criticism and hostility. In its presence we open up like a day lily to the sun. If it isn't there, we have to find it...

The day lily survives the night, closing its bloom, protecting itself until morning, when it again shows its fullness to the sun. We can protect ourselves and exist in the places where people deny our child and us the sun of acceptance, approval or praise. But we and our child must have our sun. We must have people who shine on us and places where we can relax, open and grow.

This past weekend the Blue Jay and our family basked in the warmth of the sun. There are no better words to describe it.

Cross-posted on A Primer on Special Needs and The Law

Off To The Games

We're off to Special Olymnpic Summer Games this weekend. And hope to make a big splash. So wish the Blue Jay luck, please.

And, in the meantime, I leave you this.



To keep both your spirits and your energy up.
Sheesh, I should have half as much of either.

Maybe I need more water?

H/T to Kris for the video link

No Dogma, No Doctrine, Just Faith

Which is what I am sorely in need of at the moment.

At first I thought that perhaps I had been so focused on rejecting anything even remotely resembling dogma or doctrine in my life for so long that I had cast aside faith at the same time. But then I realized that wasn't quite so. That irregardless of dogma or doctrine, I have no faith. None.

That wasn't always so. As a pre-teen, likely into my early teen years, I had a very strong faith. A very strong belief in and love of God; a deep, sure knowledge of what He wanted from me and an absolute desire to live my life that way. And, in return, I knew the final result. I knew that He promised would come to pass. Wasn't life simple then?

But that was before I drifted away from the Witnesses. Away from the Witnesses, but towards nothing else, I guess.

Yes, I believe in God. Yes, I believe that He sent his son, Jesus Christ, to earth to die for our sins. Yes, I believe the Bible is God's word. The problem is that it all seems to end there. That although I do, honestly, *believe* all that, it seems to have no connection to my life. That what I know with certainly in my "head" does not resonate in my "heart".

Okay, it may not be quite that simple, not quite that cut and dried, but it's close enough for the purposes of this post.

As a child, I was taught that "Faith is the assured expectation of things hoped for". And yet, over the course of the last several years, I have come to believe that hope is bad for the soul.

Born out of the Blue Jay's health issues, I learned that when you actually begin to hope for something, you truly begin to believe that it might just be true. And then, when you find out otherwise, it's devastating. But if you have no hope, if you expect nothing, anything good that comes your way is gravy. A blessing. Something to be treasured and appreciated. All up the up, none of the down.

When Mom was so sick in the hospital last year, I struggled with the concept of "hope". Or, more accurately, with the idea that there could be some form of good, some form of hope, to be found in the situation. That there was even any point, any value, in looking for any.

I recall reading one of the books the palliative care team provided me, entitled "Finding Hope" and mulling over a blog post on the subject. The book that promised to help me find and nurture hope in my life came up short.

But to cut to the chase (a little too late for that, I suppose), the bottom line is that I have no faith that I will ever see my Mom again. It's not just that I don't believe I will ever see her again. It's that I believe I will never see her again.

And that ... that just hurts. Indescribably so.

In a few weeks, we will take a trip out West to visit my brother, do some traveling and then, finally, bury my Mom's ashes next to Dad. And as that time draws closer, I am left with a renewed sense of overwhelming longing and loss.

This, my friends, is not closure. It's agony, pure and simple.

It's life without hope faith.

Quintessentially Canadian

I had been following this story in the newspaper over the last few days but never bothered to go find the YouTube video until a friend emailed the link.

Now having viewed the vid, I have no choice but to blog it. Not because I particularly like the song (it's a little too country for me) but because it's so quintessentially Canadian.



Some people, they say, get mad.

And some, they say, get even.

But Canadians, well, we'll get even eventually. In a round-about sneaky nice kind of way. When and how you least suspect it.

Just ask United ... $3,000 later. After all, doing the right thing and repairing the guitar in the first place would have only cost them $1,200.

But all is not lost for United. Apparently, the video is now going to be one of their training tools. According to Rob Bradford, managing director of customer solutions at United, “It could be used to improve the way passengers are treated around the world”. You think?

One Taylor guitar ... $3,500

Repairs for said guitar ... $1,200

Amount of United's donation to the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz ... $3,000

Publicity generated for Dave Caroll's band (after over 2,000,000 hits on YouTube) and the sight of United's mad scramble to save it's public face ... Priceless!

Ooh La La

Why is it that every time the kids go away for a few days ... I feel like I'm on an instant vacation?

No matter how busy my week might be, no worries about what I might actually need to get done while they're away. Forget the fact that my own vacation isn't until the end of the month.

It's instant vacation. Vacation-in-a-bottle, like.













And now? Now, I'm heading off for a nap.

Just because. I. Can.

An Open Letter to Mr. Harper

Dear Mr. Harper,

Please find below my suggestion for fixing Canada's economy. Instead of giving billions of dollars to banks and car companies, that will squander the money on lavish parties and unearned bonuses, use the following plan:

There are about 20 million people over 50 in the work force. Pay them $1 million apiece severance for early retirement with the following stipulations:

1) They MUST retire. Twenty million job openings - Unemployment fixed.

2) They MUST buy a new Canadian CAR. Twenty million cars ordered - Auto Industry fixed.

3) They MUST either buy a house or pay off their mortgage - Housing Crisis fixed.

4) They must send their kids to school / college /university - Crime rate fixed

5) Buy $50 of alcohol / tobacco / petrol a week... there's your money back in duty / tax etc

It can't get any easier than that!

P.S. If more money is needed, have all members of parliament pay back their falsely claimed expenses and second home allowances.

H/T to Kathleen

Tinged With Sadness

I AM Canadian.

And Proud of it.

And yet, today, that pride is tinged with sadness.

A few days ago, musing that I could not believe it would soon be July 1st, I suddenly got a clear, vivid image of Canada Day last year. And it hit me like a kick in the gut.

Every year since we have lived in this house (16 years) we have spent Canada Day with the kids at the park. To enjoy the festivities. While they ran and played (and later hung out) with their friends, munching on hot dogs and free cake, while they enjoyed the soap slide, I would stretch my picnic blanket out on the side of hill and revel in the sun, while reading a book and enjoying the music.

Every Canada Day except for last year's, that is.

My brother and his wife happened to be down for a visit. And as it turned out, it was three days before Mom was admitted to the hospital. For the last time.

I didn't know that was to be then of course but I do know that I was not in the mood to go to the park. HWWLTBO and the girls went, as usual. My sister-in-law went to. But I just couldn't get up the ambition. Despite the fact that, unlike today, it was a beautiful sunny day. I wrote a Canada Day post and messed around on the computer for a while.

I kept saying I would go. A little later. Eventually my brother sat down at the computer and tried (key word, tried) once again to teach me to fly on the simulator. So the two of us stayed home with Mom.

I remember that Mom was laying down and my brother and I were on the computer, when there was a knock on the door. A close friend had recommended a friend of hers (actually her ex-husband's ex-wife, but why get technical?) as a possible respite-provider for Mom and I had asked her to drop by.

I took her into the bedroom to meet Mom, who was laying down at the time. When Mom opened her eyes, I introduced them. She smiled sweetly, said "So nice to meet you" and promptly closed her eyes. Gone again.

I was very taken with Marg though. Stood at the door and chatted with her for quite a while, getting a real sense of who she was. And how she seemed made for this type of work. Turned out I was right, we had her stay with Mom a few different times in the hospital when we were away for a weekend and she was truly a gem.

But thinking back on last year Canada's Day, I feel a deep blanket of sadness settle over me. I put on my "Canada Eh!" T-shirt this morning and I know I should, I know I will try to go to the park this year. And try to forget last year.

Try to forget that in a few days will be the anniversary of Mom leaving our home for the last time. Try to forget how sad that makes me and how truly I sorry I am that I couldn't keep her home any longer. Because even though I know I couldn't, I still feel bad about it. For her and for me.

Some would say that life goes on. Indeed it does. And on and on and on. So Happy Canada, eh.

Healthcare Debate or The War of Misinformation?

I must confess that I missed President Obama's televised "Questions for the President: Prescription for America", apparently a town hall-style event in which Obama answered questions on health care posed by audience members. I would have liked to have seen it, if for no other reason than to finally get a real sense of exactly what he is proposing and exactly what it is that has so many riled-up.

However, I am less much interested than what (if any) reforms Americans may ultimately make to their healthcare system than in defending all the misinformation which appears to proliferate like rabbits about the Canadian system.

Although I must admit that from over here it looks like the majority of Americans seem to neither really appreciate nor understand what an enviable position they are could be in at the moment - presented with an opportunity to take a close look at all the various systems around the world (none of which work perfectly, I would posit) and pick and choose what might work for them, in the process creating something entirely new, something entirely American. Pity that.

I found this video over at Take Five and although quite long, as Punky says it is definitely worth the time to watch. Although, personally, I think more for what is doesn't say than what it tries to say. Or should I say, what it purports to say.



Many, many moons ago I did a piece over at the Flight Deck (two pieces actually) about the Canadian healthcare system. Which, by the way, in heading over there to get the links, I reread, including all the comments on Part I. Might I suggest, if you have the time, you do the same? It really was a good discussion.

But I digress. What I want to specifically comment on is the End of Patients' Rights video, above.

On the surface, the video shows the many errors with both the Canadian and UK systems of healthcare. These two systems (and their stated flaws, accompanied by heartbreaking personal antidotes) are held up as examples of why and how a government/national healthcare could never work and should never be tolerated by US citizens.

We are accompanied on the tour by Mr.Rick Scott (who although not said to be an actual doctor, certainly comes across as the trusted medical professional) who helps to point out (in case we somehow can't see it for ourselves) the faults of nationalized healthcare. And why US healthcare is so much better.

I will give Mr. Scott this- he does actually (twice I believe) refer to reform of the American system (and thus, by implication, I suppose) the need for reform and states that this is " a great opportunity to improve healthcare in America".

And he points out what he sees as the four key components to such reform; namely, choice, competition, accountability and personal responsibility. None of which I, personally, have any problem.

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Seems Apt Somehow ...

Although you would think we should be able to do something more for these people than just adding a Michael Jackson song to a montage of protest photos.

No matter how well the vid turns out.

H/T to Punky at Take Five

Me No Compute

It's nice to see I'm not the only one mystified at all the Michael Jackson hype, that there are many at least some others shaking their heads over the whole debacle.

Because me no compute.

One of the commenters at Lex's states that as a child of the 80s, he can understand some of what’s going on "because Jacko WAS music when [he] grew up. He was also the King during the formative years of many of those who are in charge in the world of media (it’s a relatively young crowd if you think about it). So to them, an idol has passed."

Which reminded me of the comments of one of the DJs on our local radio station this morning; she was quite upset about his death and made a comment to the effect that the only thing that might compete was Elvis' death except he was only someone she and her friends listened to growing up, not someone they were "into" like Jackson.

I was 17 years old when Thriller was released in 1982. So yeah, I guess you could say Michael Jackson was the "in" thing when I was growing up. I can't tell you how many times I watched that video or danced to that song back then. Hell, as a teenager I witnessed the birth of both MTV and Michael Jackson, the superstar. And to think my own kids think they're so cool.

And yet still I shake my head. Me no compute.

Lady Di was only four years older than me. Meaning that I was 16 when she married Prince Charles. I suppose that makes us contemporaries for lack of a better word. And what teenager girl couldn't help but be awed by that fairy tale wedding ceremony?

Yet I recall shaking my head in disbelief when she was killed in 1997. As just one example, I was amazed how my husband of all people, he who has really no interest in anything celebrity, seemed stuck on such a *momentous* event as her death. I didn't get it. And still don't.

Not that her whole life wasn't an interesting story, from her fairy tale marriage to her charity work to her divorce to the conspiracy theories around her death. But. The way it went on. And on. And on. Sorry, I just don't get it. Me no compute.

I was 12 years old and traveling through the US with my Mom, brother, aunt, uncle and little cousin when Elvis died. How well I remember that day. We had stopped for the night at a hotel in Phoenix on our way to the Grand Canyon when the news of his death came on the radio. Of course, it was BIG news. And sad news.

But I was stunned at my aunt's reaction. Basically, she lost it. There's simply no better way to describe it. She cried non-stop all that afternoon and night and into the next day. It may have been probably was a lot longer than that but that's all I can say with absolute certainly so many years later. I mean you honestly would have thought her husband or her 3 year old son (whom she ignored through her tears) had died ...

Me no compute.

No, I simply do not get our fascination with celebrity. How and why people make them larger than life in their own lives. Or how it is that some find people like Michael Jackson "more real than reality", although I agree it's an apt enough description.

On average, one person dies every second as a result of hunger. That's 4000 people every hour. 100 000 people each day. 36 million people each year.

And if that's not compelling enough for you, one child dies every 5 seconds as a result of hunger. That's 700 children every hour. 16 ,000 children each day. 6 million children each year.

How can that compare to the death of any single celebrity, no matter who they are?

Between February, 2002 and April, 2009, 120 Canadian soldiers have given their lives in Afghanistan. Fighting for you and I. How can that compare to the death of any single celebrity?

Obviously, I could go on. And on.

Yes, I recognize that these celebrities had people in their lives who truly loved them. Who will mourn their passing. And of course, that's something I can relate to. Of course, I am saddened for those people. In the abstract.

But the way the rest of us carry on?

Nope. Me no compute. Not one little bit. Frankly I think we're all most of us are simply nuts.

And none of this even touches who or what MJ himself really was. Imagine if I were to actually go there...

Life's Lessons

1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.

6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.

8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it..

9.. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.

12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.

13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.

16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger..

19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

20. When it comes to g oing after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.

25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.

26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words 'In five years, will this matter?'

27. Always choose life.

28. Forgive everyone everything.

29. What other people think of you is none of your business.

30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.

31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

33. Believe in miracles.

34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.

35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.

37. Your children get only one childhood.

38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's,we'd grab ours back.

41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

42. The best is yet to come.

43.. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

44. Yield.

45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.

Written By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of The Plain Dealer , Cleveland , Ohio.