Everyone has a story

Live Deliberately

2012-01-20T20:24:00.000-05:00

I know it’s almost February, but I have taken some time to process this in my own mind. It’s a new year, and I am grateful. On January 1, 2012 I woke up with the revelation that this would be a year of RESTORATION and RENEWAL! What a relief. Last year seemed to be the year of death and dying. I believe in my heart that broken relationships will be restored. That those who need a healing will be renewed. Broken dreams and dashed hopes will take on a new sense of urgency this year as people have a renewed hope in their purpose in the world. Their purpose is restored in their hearts.

I don’t tend to get on the resolution bandwagon, but I read an article by Gretchen Rubin who spoke of taking one word and putting a theme to the year. By creating a theme, your actions are essentially filtered through it. I toyed with idea of a one-word resolution, but I just couldn’t bring myself to a resolution. A phrase rang in my soul, though.

Live Deliberately.

I like that. Live Deliberately. It gives up the old living-by-chance approach. My success as a freelance writer, a novelist, a magazine publisher or any other job or role I am in, simply cannot be left to chance.

In 2012, I choose to live deliberately.

Everyone has a story. By living deliberately, I can help write my own, rather than allowing others to write a story I may not want read or be a part of. How about you? Give it a shot and create a theme for the year...and let me know what you came up with.

What Truly Matters

2011-12-26T14:45:00.000-05:00

Christmas was different this year. Actually, 2011 was a different sort of year all together. We lost many people in a circle of influence during the past 12 months; a friend’s 10 year old son, a friend’s 27 year old son and then his father just months later, a life-long family friend, my daughter’s friend’s father in his early 30s, my mother in law, and most recently a family friend’s mother on Christmas day. There are others, too. We went to at least 8 visitations and funerals this year, and couple others that we couldn’t be at.

This year was different. It served to remind us how fleeting life can be and how significant relationships are to our own existence. Many have written that social media has caused us to detach from relationships, thus becoming more isolated and leaving countless people feeling alone despite having hundreds of “friends” and “followers.” I think there’s some truth – if we allow the social media to replace real people.

Our family chose to simplify this Christmas season. We helped others with Christmas gifts who otherwise had virtually nothing, and we chose to downsize our own celebration. Having been very blessed in recent years, it was a deliberate shift back to the focus of family time, face to face time, and being in relationships with each other.

Christmas day found us in church after opening gifts with our children, age 11 and 13. Gifts were kept meaningful and simple, a shift from digital technology that dominates the world around us. As we later gathered with my parents, we opened gifts which were again deliberate and scaled down from years past. We shared a traditional meal, played Bingo and Apples to Apples, and watched Red Skelton. As we drank tea and munched on Christmas cookies, I reflected that we are so blessed. We drank tea from 40 year old Centennial Rose china and ate our meals with gold plated cutlery, while others in the world think about their next meal, and live just one day at a time.

It’s okay to be blessed. It’s a blessing to be so blessed, but let us not lose sight of the things that truly matter in our lives – the people, the relationships, and the memories that we make. As the Christmas season quickly closes and we move on to the next mass marketing campaign of Valentine’s Day, I hope that we will spend the coming year focusing on this simplicity that matters. Take the time to connect to real people, face to face, and care about them – don’t just poke, like or tweet. Help out a neighbor, open the door for a stranger, buy someone’s lunch, lend a shoulder for a tearful friend or stranger. We are all in this together. When we take the time to slow things down, we learn that each of us has something to share with each other. Let’s again become a community.

Everyone has a story. Take the time to listen to someone’s. They have a story to tell. They may have a story that needs to be told, one that you need to hear.

Back to Christmas

2011-12-23T21:50:00.000-05:00

I have been encouraged this holiday season. An increasing number of people, including co-workers, store employees and people on the streets are reverting to saying “Merry Christmas.” Not one retailer has wished me anything other than “Merry Christmas” and I think that simple gesture helps to bring in the spirit of season.

After a number of years of political correctness being shoved down the throats of Canadians, Common Sense seems to be making it’s long awaited return. In all likelihood, Common Sense is just visiting for the holidays and we will soon resume taking a stand for nothing…other than a stand against offending someone. But the holiday is called Christmas, no matter what you believe. December 25 is Christmas Day, just as July 1^st is Canada Day if you’re not Canadian, and February 14^th is Valentine’s Day even if you’re not in love.

If you happen to be one of those who is wrapped up in celebrating a completely non-offensive and politically correct holiday, do you enjoy living? Don’t change Christmas for the rest of us. Actually, if you aren’t celebrating Christmas, what exactly are you doing on December 25^th?

Everyone has a story. Let those who celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ have Christmas. That’s the story that gives you Christmas anyways.

Welfare Mentality

2011-12-23T21:26:00.002-05:00

“I have to start school in January or they’ll kick me off welfare.” It was intended to draw sympathy to the person’s plight, but it stirred me. It actually disturbed me. Truth be told, it’s disgusted me.

Call me prejudice or oppressive, but take a moment to hear me out.

The latest statistics that I could find show there are 201,600 welfare cases in Ontario, with 382,000 total recipients.

Welfare was created to help people through difficult times. That’s noble.

Welfare was not created to develop a lifestyle. That’s enabling.

Approximately $1200 per month is paid to a parent with one child (plus the child tax benefit which I understand is at least $200 to a non-working parent, tax credits, GST returns and other government incentives). A run down on the province’s website that summarizes the benefits for those receiving social assistance can be found here, including dental and vision care as well as prescription coverage.

There are many individuals and families who maintain employment, yet do not receive the same benefits.

My struggle with the claim of attending school to maintain welfare is this: there is no internal drive to become a “better person.” There fails to be an intrinsic value on bettering one’s self. No drive to gain employment. No drive to create a self sustaining life or contribute to the community.

Instead, a mindset has been developed that makes welfare a career of choice.

How has our system of social supports created a segment of our communities that are content to only receive without giving? Even more disconcerting, to limit one’s potential? If we allow our neighbours and fellow community members to limit themselves, aren’t we allowing ourselves to be hurt too? We are in this together.

I am not disgusted with the person who made the statement. I am disgusted that we have allowed this to become a viable option.

Everyone has a story. I hope that I can be a part of showing people that they have so much more potential in their life and I hope that you will join me to encourage people in your circle of influence. To do otherwise is to allow mediocrity to become the standard, and leave a life’s story unwritten, unread, and untold.

It's a lifestyle. Live with purpose, on purpose.

2011-10-20T20:43:00.001-04:00

I think it all began when I was a child living in the Old Atkinson house on the fourth concession. It was a big white farmhouse that had been abandoned for a few years when my parents decided to move in. The landlord kept the rent cheap and said that we could stay there, as long as we did the renos and refurbs. At least, that’s how my memory plays it out.

There was a Christmas in the 1980’s that stands out. We had three extra house guests. Three men who were invited for Christmas from a London outreach centre. I don’t recall their names, although one was called “Stretch.” As gifts they were each given a bible, socks and a pack of cigarettes.

I can’t really say why this stands out, but it is well embedded in my memory as a significant event. Looking back, I think it spawned in me a desire to serve. To serve those in need of material needs, basic needs, emotional needs, and need to know Jesus.

In 2008 I traveled on my first “missions trip.” As a part of a team of 10, we went to Russia to do some construction work. We spent the week working exceptionally fast at framing and dry walling an apartment for an orphanage. We spent two weeks in Russia, tucked away between Mongolia and Kazakhstan, just above China. There was a moment in time as I walked down the dirt road on a cold September morning that it struck me. I was on the other side of the world. Walking on a dirt road, forgotten, even unknown, by much of the world. And in that moment, God knew where I was.

I took advantage of a day off to venture into the inner city slums with a group from the church that brought us over. This area of town was known for heroin use. There were needles on the children’s playground. It was a world that I had never seen before. I walked through the apartments with the Pastor and met with various residents. They welcomed us in, knowing we were from the church. One family was kind enough to put the bag of heroin in the small oven while we visited so it was, well, out of sight I suppose.

We met a man who was a sniper and daily relived the memories of the multiple lives he took in the name of service to his country. He lived a dirty, tiny apartment with rotting floors that had deteriorated from leaking pipes. But he saw the hope that was offered through Jesus.

In 2009 I traveled to Cuba with my son. People were so caring, so loving towards us. We blessed them with material goods for ministry, but left with far more in our heart and memory. The efforts they took to make us feel welcome was so unnecessary, yet they poured our their love to us.

I climbed a homemade ladder to cut coconuts from a tree. We helped paint a home. We gave children animal puppets and watched their faces light up.

We left with more that we came with. We came home with a change in our hearts and attitudes.

Last weekend, we took a different sort of trip. We loaded up the van and headed to Columbus, Ohio for the weekend. The Ohio Central chapter of the Heaven’s Saints Motorcycle Ministry reach out to the homeless once a month with material supplies, food, friendship, and prayer.

I haven’t seen in our city what I witnessed in Columbus. Men and women living in tents, some held together with duct tape. Some living in plywood shacks, ones that they call home. I expected to see a level of greed when it came to giving out blankets, clothing, and food.

But there was none of that.

These men and women were all polite, humble, and engaging. They were a community, a sort of family.

Tattoo, Angel, Ron

We met a women, Angel, who lived on the streets and struggled with addiction. She found salvation in Christ through the outreach ministry of the Heaven’s Saints who led her to a new understanding of Jesus. Angel is now off the streets, living in an apartment, has a job, and has been clean from drugs. She knows it’s still a struggle, but there was a genuine smile and glimmer in her eye that you just knew she was the real deal. A success of sorts.

We met Dale, a homeless man who was cutting trees to make some money. Last week he was cutting a tree when the chain saw kicked back and seriously injured his legs. He received 181 stitches, a prescription for pain medication and sent back to his shack with a walker and a wheel chair. Dale had no money for medication and was suffering excruciating pain. The Heaven’s Saints came along side him to help carry his burden. Together, we took him to the pharmacy to have his doctors prescription filled. We prayed with him. He later told us that he had been laying in his bed in the shack in the woods, praying that the Heaven’s Saints would arrive because he knew they would help out if possible.

We met Mike, a homeless man living in a tent by the railroad tracks under an overpass. Mike lost his job last December. He lost his home and was staying in hotels until last month when he was forced out to the street. Broke. Homeless. Mike hasn’t lost hope though, he will keep looking for work. We were able to bless him with a blanket, pants, batteries, propane, and food.

We met another man named Mike. He was just a young guy with incredible art skills. I looked through three of his books and papers that he had compiled. Bob, who was ministering with us that day, has strong connections in the arts community and he was able to give suggestions and make connections for Mike. We wish him the best.

Finally, we met Frank. He moved to the US from Germany over 20 years ago. Due to job loss and health problems, he has found himself homeless and living in a tent. Frank has nerve problems in his back that his in undergoing surgery for in the coming month. The procedure he is having costs roughly $1200 twice a year, and needs to be done repeatedly. He has been able to get the cost covered for the first two years, but is then on his own. Fortunately, he has a friend who recently landed a good job and is able to bring Frank on board to the company in two months, after his surgery. I asked Frank if he would be looking to leave the tent community after he started his new job. His response spoke volumes to the closeness of the community, the family. “No. Not for a while. I want to stay and help the others out with their needs.”

Sharing another’s burdens. Not taking them away, or carrying them for them. Helping carry their burdens.

I believe that each of us who serves selflessly ends up receiving more than we give. Whether we volunteer in social services working with young children, helping to mentor a young mother to build her skills, when we secretly give much needed money to a friend in need, or travel the world doing work on the ‘mission field.’ we are blessed with a satisfaction of doing the things that we know we should do.

Tattoo, Sam, Ron, Me

I continue to come back from these sorts of trips with a real sense of blessing. And a better understanding that all of our belongings are just, well, just stuff. We really need very little to get by and be happy. Relationships are what sustains us, above our basic physical needs.

Relationships. People who care about each other. People who come alongside one another and help carry their burdens. People who can sit and talk, and care, and pray.

Relationships.

What began in the 1980's in the old white farm house, has crept into the fabric of our family. Missions.

Everyone has a story. No matter how down and out any person may seem, everyone has a story. Missions is a lifestyle, not an event. Live your life on purpose, with a purpose.

Hitler? I don't see it.

2011-09-11T18:40:00.000-04:00

This morning. That’s when I decided I would vent a bit about this particular, shall I call it, “trend.” For years, I have had a goatee, or a beard, or a soul patch, or some sort of facial hair. Everyone has a preference to the look they choose, and certainly not everyone is accepting of it, nor do I necessarily expect them to. Our appearance, that which we create is part of our identity and can be changed as we see fit. If I shave it all off, you can see both chins and the main one feels funny, so I keep a little blanket on my face.

But over the past few months, I have encountered an increasing number of people who feel it is acceptable to make comments about my appearance. These range from “What’s that on your face?” to “When are you going to shave that off” to “Are those pubic hairs” to “I don’t know if I should call you Hitler or what.” Really. Pubic hair and Hitler? Understand, please, good natured ribbing amongst friends is entirely different than mere acquaintances making such statements. It’s the dynamic of a relationship that changes the way a message is received.

I wouldn’t consider walking up to someone and saying, “Your butt is looking particularly large today,” or “That hairstyle really compliments the road kill you peeled it off of,” or even “Do you have a nest of baby vultures living amongst your follicles?” I wouldn’t say it for a simple reason. It’s rude.

I am quite comfortable with who I am. I like the way I look, with the exception of a few pounds but I am working on that. I am me.

Basically, I am sorry you don’t like the way I look, but I probably have a few comments to make about you too. The difference is, I have the respect to keep it to myself and accept you as you are.

Everyone has a story. I am the main character in mine, perfect for my own story line.

Memories

2011-08-24T09:12:00.000-04:00

When someone dies, we mourn. We mourn the loss of their life, but we feel the loss in our life. It’s like a small part of us ceases to exist except in the recesses of our mind.

It is said that scent is the strongest trigger for memories, and I suspect it’s true. There are a few smells that bring me back to childhood, like the smell of the dump. We used to live near the dump in Dorchester. My friend, Russell, and I would treasure hunt there all the time, before it was considered trespassing. The smell of the swamps where we used to capture salamanders, frogs, and turtles. The smell of cedar reminds me of an old trunk that my grandma had in her house. The fresh aroma of harvest takes me back to growing up in the country and riding in the combine with the landlord. Certain smells, specific memories.

Sounds also cause memories to creep back into history. There are songs from the 80’s and 90’s that take me back to school dances and the days when my wife and I began dating. Our wedding song takes me to a specific date with beautiful memories. Sadly, these songs are now considered classics...and I didn’t even know I had aged that much.

But there are clear memories that have no mystic trigger, they are just memories. When someone dies, the memories come back, for some it’s like a flood. Some may feel they are drowning in the flood of memories.

What do you do with the memories? If you happened to have grown up with someone who went on to fame, you have a direct connection to the sorrow that everyone is supposed to feel. If you don’t feel the same sorrow, does it make you a lesser person? Maybe a bit heartless?

In 2011 we have seen the loss of NDP Leader Jack Layton, Shawn Tompkins (MMA trainer at Tapout in Las Vegas), Amy Winehouse (Singer), Kelly Thomas (homeless man), Betty Ford (Former American First Lady), Saif al-Arab al-Gaddafi (son of leader Muammar Gaddafi), Serge LeClerc (Canadian pardoned criminal and politician), and Shrek (New Zealand celebrity sheep), as well as hundreds more.

Your level of mourning depends on your relationship and experiences with each of these people, even Shrek. We live in relationships so we are inevitably impacted by loss and suffering, but context is required. I was active in the local NDP and union issues at one point so I felt a degree of loss for Jack. I went to school with Shawn Tompkins so it was closer to home and he was my age. I didn’t care for Amy Winehouse’s music or the image she represented, but her family is left to carry on without her. Kelly Thomas, well, that’s a sad story. Saif al-Arab al-Gaddafi was a celebrated death by many in the journey to Libyan freedom. And so it goes.

Although we may not appreciate someone, may not agree with their political stripe or their past actions, we put aside the negative and understand that there are those who were close to the deceased who will have to move forward without them. Yes, even Shrek.

Our memories will remain with us. Does sharing the negativity of the past help in the healing? I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think the celebration of someone’s loss and suffering is intended to be a positive experience.

Everyone has a story. How will yours be remembered?

Destination: Unknown

2011-07-15T11:46:00.000-04:00

My father-in-law and I had planned a motorcycle ride along the north shore of Lake Erie. We were to begin in Port Stanley and work our way over the next few hours to Niagara Falls. We booked a hotel on the American side where we would spend a night and would come back to Embro after a second day of riding.

As plans often do, they changed. He called me just a couple days before and explained that his wife had been in a car accident and felt he should stay home with her. Good call.

Since I was on vacation for the week, my wife was working and my kids are enjoying doing almost nothing on summer vacation, I figured I would still take a day trip. The hotel in New York state was cancelled and I was just going to enjoy a day without a destination. All I knew was that I would head east.

I mentioned this to a friend, Terry, who has over 200,000 km on his 1999 Harley Davidson Ultra. He too was off for a day so we agreed that he, his wife Cathy, and I would take a day trip.

We started off shortly after 9:00 a.m. I had no plans, just that I wanted to stay as close to the lake shore as I could. I have ridden the roads in the area for many years, so I wanted a new experience.

East of Port Burwell, a portion of the Lakeshore Road is closed. Years back it was determined unsafe for traffic due to the erosion, so there is a detour before coming back onto the main road.

We stopped in a the ever popular destination for bikers, Port Dover. This is the location of the Friday the 13th rally. I have only been here twice when it wasn’t the rally. It’s a town of about 5000 residents that embrace the beach culture.

We continued east on our ride. It’s easy to end up back on the main roads, it’s as though the rural stretches squeeze vehicles off of the back country and out to the highways.

Somewhere east of Nanticoke we ended up on a long stretch of road with a maximum speed of 50 km/hr. The road hugged the lake and weaved it’s wave between cottages and summer retreats. If you find yourself on this section of Lakeshore Road between Highway 53 to the west and Highway 49 to the east, slow down; there’s much to enjoy. Families sharing in memories, sailboats in silence, geese with their babies, and minimal traffic. Just don’t expect to get anywhere quickly.

We eventually made it to Niagara Falls, riding along the Niagara Parkway past million dollar homes, now up for sale. The excess is ridiculous. I don’t understand how anyone needs that much. Maybe it’s me.

When I was preparing to leave on the one day trip, I mentioned to my wife that I might chronicle the day and write up some sort of nice travel blog for bikers. As often is the case with my writing, nothing goes as planned and the story actually began at the Number 11 Bridge in Allanburg.

The Niagara region is packed with rivers, the shipping lanes for cargo vessels and the thoroughfares for sailboats and motorboats. We rode into Allanburg shortly after 5:00 p.m. and soon found ourselves parked for at least 20 minutes as the bridge was raised for a cargo ship passing through. Terry and Cathy rode up to the bridge to watch the spectacle while I stayed back to hold our spot.

While I stood around, a man who was parked behind me came up and mentioned that my rear tire looked flat. Indeed it was. I had just spent $282 on a new tire only 6 days previous. I was choked. I pulled off to the side and strolled up to Terry to let him know the situation.

At the Bridge 11 is a family run restaurant called Indian Flame. The owners, Rika and Asha Bhagria offered up some suggestions and offered me the use of their phone book to track down some options. The problem I quickly found was the timing of the incident. It was after 5:00 p.m. so most everything was closed.

Back at my bike, I noticed a guy riding his Harley Davidson just across the road waiting to turn. I waved him over and his came over to offer assistance. Jeff rides a beautiful bike. I think it’s a street glide with a light bar. He has it chromed out fully with mag rims and a perfect custom paint job. Spotless. He called around on his cell and found no luck. Getting a CAA membership would cost me $189, include 200 km of free towing, with additional mileage at $3 per km. Steep! I was more than 200 km from home so this would cost me. This was without a repair still! Jeff is a constable with the Niagara Police and he went above what he needed to do, making call after call to get the job done. Still, though, no luck. I gave Jeff my card and a testimonial DVD from Barry Mayson. Thank you Jeff for stopping to help out.

Terry returned shortly afterward. He rode up to a garage and they offered him a compressor to see if we could get enough air in to ride down to the shop and leave it overnight. No luck. Air leaked out as quickly as it went in. We eventually found the source of the leak too - roofing nail.

Cathy suggested we rent a truck and load up my bike to go home. I called U-Haul. After much confusion, nothing. They had only one one-way truck available. It was about 20 minutes away from where I was at and the shop staff wouldn’t stay open to wait for me. It was now 6:45 p.m.

Rika had come outside to check on us in the mean time. He and his family had only been in the area for about 16 months, but spend most of their time at the restaurant. He was apologetic that he couldn’t have been of greater assistance.

I decided to spend the night in Niagara Falls and get my bike towed to a shop in the morning. I asked Rika if he had a spot to store my bike for the night. He readily allowed me to park on the restaurant patio and chain it to a post. This was the first thing that went well.

Terry, Cathy, and I had dinner at the restaurant. Rika said that he knew the owner of the Howard Johnson motel up the road. He called and got me a cheap rate - Niagara Falls in the summer is not a cheap place to stay. It cost me $52.20 for the night. Our discounted hotel in New York at $113.00, but I am sure it was nice place.

When dinner was finished, Terry and Cathy headed for home. They didn’t need to stay as long as they did, but that’s what friends do. Stay to the end. “Heaven’s Saints Don’t Quit.”

Rika drove me up to the motel and made sure that I was all set before he left. He didn’t need to do that either, but he did.

Originally, there were no standard rooms, only a suite that I was able to get for $80 (regularly over $120), but there was a standard room available. The staff explained that it is a dark room, window faces a concrete wall, might smell like smoke since the last person failed to comply with the rules and wasn’t in an ideal spot. If I wanted it, it would only be $40. I figured I’d stay there since I would be forking out more money in the morning.

Aside from the poorly painted door and the blood stain on the bed, the room was fine. What could I expect for such a cheap space right? The motel staff gave me a toothbrush and deodorant for the next day, but they were out of toothpaste.

I walked around to a couple stores looking for a good motorcycle magazine to read that evening, but found nothing worthwhile. I bought my toothpaste and some snack food and went back to room 117.

In the morning, I mentioned the blood stained bedding to staff and called myself a cab. $27 plus a tip to get me from the hotel to the restaurant, a trip of just 7 km. Should have called Rika!

When I arrived at the Indian Flame, Asha served me up a coffee. They only charge $1 for a cup of coffee, and it’s good coffee too.

Rika is from India. He moved to Canada with his family when he was 13. Now, 47 years old and married with four children, he explained to me that this restaurant is his dream. They bought place 16 months ago and sunk a lot of money into restoring it to as a restaurant. Everyone helps out at the restaurant, except their youngest child who is in public school. Each member of the family that I met was very polite and friendly and helpful. Rika’s son made sure that he unlocked my bike before he left that morning for his driver’s test. True to his word.

Rika and Asha practice Hinduism. I am a Christian. We have different beliefs, and I am sure we don’t fully understand each others’, but we talked over coffee about our beliefs and values. He spoke strongly about the Hindu value of non-violence, unless there is no other option. He shared that over the past 50 years, India has never initiated violence against another country. He seemed proud of that.

I learned a bit more about their gods, Lord Brahma (The creator of the universe), Vishnu (The preserver of the universe), Shiva (The god of destruction). Different than the trinity that I place my faith in, Father, Son, Holy Spirit. I asked whether Jesus Christ fits into their beliefs anywhere and Rika advised that they believe in all beings.

I seem to get stretched during these encounters. Not regarding tolerance, but rather understanding. Again, through our differences, we co-exist and share in conversation and can talk respectfully about beliefs and values. I offered Rika a testimonial DVD as well, which he readily accepted. Thank you Rika and Asha for looking after me. You went above and beyond!

I had earlier called Clare’s Cycle to ask about a repair on my tire. I only needed a tube replaced since the tire was fine, except for the small hole. Corey came to pick me up with a trailer. Still cost me $30, but cheaper than calling a a towing company to get me.

Corey seemed to be a young guy, but he’s been at Clare’s for 16 years and knows his stuff. He is proud of working for a Honda, Suzuki, and Yamaha dealer. I trusted him right away, and I am often skeptical of mechanics. I had mentioned to him that there problems with the lights since I bought the bike in 2007. He offered to take a look.

After 45 minutes, Corey had my bike back together, tire on, tube replaced, axle greased (the shop that put the new tire on last week did not do this), rewired my lights, soldered the connections, and had me on my way. They guys in the shop were great. Respectful and professional. Including the trailering to the shop, my bill was $134.90 - Checking out my electrical was complimentary, except for the $2.99 light bulb. Thanks Corey!

I made it home later in the afternoon and reflected - my plans aren’t always the plans that are laid out before me. I tried to get a truck, I tried to get a shop. No luck. What was before me though, were people who were gracious in caring for me - Rika and Asha at the Indian Flame, Constable Jeff - off duty Niagara Police officer, Corey and the others in the shop at Clare’s.

Had I gotten my way, I wouldn’t have met these people and shared in their lives, to hear some of their stories. Everyone has a story.

30 Days of Blessing - A Summary

2011-07-02T12:44:00.003-04:00

Well that's a wrap. I am a day late getting this posted, but I was out on July 1st, spending the day on a ride in support of the Bravery Beads program that the Optimist Club of East Williams operate. The run covers 240 km throughout three counties. At the conclusion of the ride, a barbecued rib dinner with beans and salads was enjoyed by all.

Once we were home, it was time to load up the van and head to Canada festivities and take in the fireworks put on by the Kinsmen. Through all the joy of children and glow of fireworks, I was once again reminded of the blessing of family.

June was the month that I reflected daily on the small blessings in my life, and a few more seemingly significant ones as well. Maybe it's that I noticed it more, but the month of June seemed to be filled with sorrow and pain, as well as blessing and thanksgiving.

Have you ever been faced with the experience that so much bad news has come your way, you almost want to start laughing because there's not much more you can do?

Let me summarize what has happened in the past 30 days:

My wife's aunt Laura who had been battling cancer was given just two weeks to live. My wife made the trip up to Angus to see her, and a week later, Laura passed away. We then traveled back up to Angus for the funeral and were going to stay overnight to attend the new charter celebration for the Wasaga Beach chapter of the Heaven's Saints M.M., but their Vice President took a bad fall and the party was cancelled.

Family friend, Pat, who has lived one of the cleanest lives I knew and had been diagnoses with cancer, faced treatments and was though to be clean, was found to have cancer throughout her lungs and now into her liver as well.

My grandma's husband who has fought and survived cancer three times, was found to have a spot on one of his lungs.

My wife's friend, Anne, called her and advised that she was suspected of having ALS and wanted to see my wife. Within a few days, it was confirmed, ALS was the diagnosis and she was given just three to four months to live.

Our friend Nancy took a fall at a baseball game and was taken to hospital with a concussion.

Our friends, Dave and Dori, received news that their 27-year-old son, Greg, had passed away. He had health problems as a child and wasn't expected to make it into his teen years. Nonetheless, it was a surprise. His funeral was on last Tuesday.

One of my co-workers took a leave of absence from work to undergo cancer treatment while a second co-worker also faces the prospect of cancer treatment, although the course of action is still unknown.

Add to these major events, I came down sick and fought it for over two weeks, lost time at work due to training seminars (including the trauma training that made me re-evaluate my career path), and a workload unlike anything I have experienced in recent years.

There is a song by Mercy Me called Bring the Rain, and it captures how many people around me have felt this month. If have the time, take a listen and reflect.

As I look back, June's daily record of blessings may have been the ideal time, and the ideal coping strategy, to get through a month that was plagues with problems. The problems surrounded our family. If I hadn't paid attention on a daily basis, I wonder if I could have maintained perspective. I'll never know.

Here's a list of the blessings from June, despite the trials listed above:

1. Acceptance

2. Freedom to choose my ride (car, van, motorcycle)

3. Trees

4. Quiet time

5. Smiles

6. Safe and loving family

7. Encouragement

8. Not to have a drug addiction, to have a clinic that helps those who do. That I contribute to the lives of children and families. For a cup of tea in the quiet times. That I am bigger than mosquitoes.

9. Monotony

10 and 11. Quality customer service, a son with patience.

12. Music

13. Not being a sports fan

14. Appreciate small events in an ordinary day

15. The love of others

16. Refreshing hope that 'good' is out there

17. My employer

18. Bug repellant

19. Quiet, honest conversation with family

20. Teachers who are patient and compassionate

21. Health, and the medication that helps through challenges

22. To be a friend

23. Local public library

24. Memories of a positive childhood

25. Relationships

26. To ride with a group who can enjoy the ride as a pack

27. Safety

28. Naps

29. Coffee, a humourous joke, a visit with a friend

30. Ordinary days

With that, I reflect and see very few earth shattering moments, but I don't think that's what it is all about. Being able to find the small blessings in a typical day that helps us to manage during the difficult times when life surrounds us with a sense of hopelessness.

Thank you to those who joined me on the month long journey. It was the most popular post on my blog over the past month.

Keep looking for the small blessings in your life. Everyone has a story, without the blessings, no story is complete.

Anti-Bullying Task Force - UPDATE!

2011-06-30T20:36:00.003-04:00

It's been just over a year since grade eight student Bryten Brown took his own life. Bryten was a student at Lockes Public School and was subject to ongoing bullying. When his death was announced in the media, I wrote Hypocrites, highlighting the bandwagon that many in the community were riding.

In the days that followed, the Thames Valley District School Board Superintendent announced the creation of a task force made up of community members. One Step Forward spoke to my hesitation on the creation of this task force. It was originally touted as a community task force, but was soon shown to be made up of the heads of existing organizations. I was not in support of this. Maybe I am naive in this regards, but the people who are going to know about the effects of bullying are the moms and dads who have to face their hurt and pain that their child faces when he or she returns from school. It's the children who are hurt and ridiculed for no other reason than to be hurt. They know what's happening out there. They are on the front lines. What was supposed to be a Grassroots movement, soon took on the look of bureaucracy.

This is the list of Community Members on the Task Force:

Dr. Linda Baker - Centre for Children and Families in the Justice System
Dr. Karen Bax - Centre for Children and Families in the Justice System
James Daniels - Thames Valley District School Board, Student Trustee
Inspector Jeff Driedger - St. Thomas Police Service
Chief Brad Duncan - London Police Service
Dr. Barrie Evans - Thames Valley District School Board, Psychological Services
Jane Fitzgerald – Children’s Aid Society of London and Middlesex
Chief Rod Freeman - Woodstock Police Service
Ray Hughes – CAMH Centre for Prevention Science
Dr. Peter Jaffe - Centre for Research and Education on Violence Against Women and Children, UWO
Janice Jeffrey - Thames Valley District School Board, Safe Schools
Cal Johnstone - /A\
Lynne Livingston - City of London
Chief Bill Lynch - St. Thomas Police Service
Corina Morrison - London Anti-Bullying Coalition
Beth Murray - Thames Valley District School Board, Student Trustee
Superintendent John Perry - London Police Service
Dr. Graham Pollett - Middlesex London Health Unit
Rod Potgieter - Family and Children’s Services of St. Thomas and Elgin
Marc Roberts - Oxford-Elgin Child and Youth Centre
Deputy Chief Brent Shea - London Police Service
Jason Smith - Fusion Youth Centre, Town of Ingersoll
Terri Snell - St. Thomas/Elgin Anti-Bullying Coalition
Barb Sonier - Thames Valley District School Board, Superintendent of Education
Director Bill Tucker - Thames Valley District School Board
Barry Wagner - Facilitator
Carolyn Walker - Thames Valley Parent Involvement Committee
Toni Wilson - Thames Valley District School Board, Safe Schools
Kate Young - Thames Valley District School Board, Public Affairs

In the year that has passed, I would venture that little has changed for the better, with one notable exception. The principal at Lockes, Dave Westaway, has made strides in his approach to the issue of bullying. I give him credit for that.

The community has quieted down for now, waiting for the next event in media drama to unfold in the community so they can rise up and yell, for a few minutes anyways. Very few people have maintained an active role. I know of at least one person who was raring to go in the early days, only to be outed as a bully himself. Bullies often rise to power...but that's another blog for another day.

Today, I received a copy of the task force's "Report to the Community". It opens with these words, "Bullying behaviour and its negative impact on society continues to be of major importance to the Thames Valley District School Board. On May 19, 2010, following the tragic death of a St. Thomas teen, the Director of Education for the Thames Valley District School Board established a community Task Force to help him in his quest to end bullying" (italics mine).

The Director of Education is Bill Tucker. He is one of the past Principals at Lockes Public School.

While not a true community driven committee, I do give them credit for this statement, "Representing both current and new partners for the school board, all 29 invited members committed to work together on this special task force. As a leader within their organization, each representative brought to the table the commitment of their organization to find ways to work together to bring an end to bullying in our community. As a Task Force, it truly was many voices coming together to work towards one vision to eliminate bullying." I hope so.

Short of providing the full report here, I will include the summaries of the responsibilities of each organization involved as per the report:

/A\ London will work with TVDSB to develop a public awareness campaign based on an Anti-Bullying Pledge. (Note: The Task Force was very supportive of the idea of a student pledge put forward by /A\ and suggested the entire community should be encouraged to take “The Pledge”). (See Appendix page 8)

CAMH Centre for Prevention Science has developed a cyber-bullying presentation for Junior-Intermediate students with a follow-up workshop, and a cyber-bullying presentation for parents, designed to promote development of critical thinking skills concerning online safety, privacy and impersonation issues. (See Appendix page 8)

Centre for Children and Families in the Justice System’s anti-bullying initiatives in juvenile justice settings and therapeutic group homes will address peer aggression, adolescent suicide, assessments for youth, anti-bullying training for staff, ongoing consultation, and A School Based Anti-Violence Program (ASAP). (See Appendix page 9)

Centre for Research and Education on Violence Against Women and Children, UWO is planning a forum on media violence for parents and educators on Oct 20-21 which will deal with critical issues in the development and promotion of violent attitudes and behaviours. (See Appendix page 10)

Family and Children’s Services of St. Thomas and Elgin, the Children’s Aid Society of Oxford County, and the Children’s Aid Society of London and Middlesex have collaborated to develop a position paper outlining their role/involvement in the prevention of and intervention with bullying. This report is based on their mandate and legislative functions. (See Appendix page 10)

Fusion Youth Centre, Town of Ingersoll and thirty agencies have come together to address issues in schools, the community and organizations and are developing a policy. (See Appendix page 11)

London Anti-Bullying Coalition will continue to provide service to its community members, such as: school board/schools, media, community groups, parents, police and students. (See Appendix page 11)

London Police Service, in partnership with the Thames Valley District School Board, is dedicated to the promotion of safe schools through its collective efforts to eliminate bullying. These include School Resource and Safety Officers, specific curriculum and a focused approach to bullying situations. (See Appendix page 12)

Middlesex-London Health Unit has identified both whole school and classroom activities, including supports for individuals, to support schools with their work in promoting positive behaviour and addressing bullying. (See Appendix page 13)

Oxford-Elgin Child and Youth Centre has worked with the community to develop a group to work with children and parents of victims of bullying. A curriculum has been developed by the community partners and is being implemented in September 2011. (See Appendix page 15)

St. Thomas/Elgin Anti-Bullying Coalition will be presenting an eight week session (starting in September 2011) called "Kids Bounce Back” for children 7 – 10 years old who have been bullied. They have developed two pamphlets: “What Can You Do To HELP?” and “Is Your Child Bullying Others? “ (See Appendix page 15)

St. Thomas Police Service’s Community Resource Officer and Adopt a School Officers continue to attend senior elementary and high schools on a daily basis, where among many others, programs and resolutions directed at anti-bullying are administered by the Community Resource Officer as well as the Community Services Officer. (See Appendix page 15)

Thames Valley District School Board will be developing workshops on cyber-bullying and creating educational videos on bullying for students, parents and teachers as well as creating book kits on bullying for its elementary and secondary schools. A focus for 2011 – 2012 will be on the mobilization of “upstanders”. (See Appendix page 16)

Thames Valley Parent Involvement Committee (TVPIC) has organized a joint forum on media violence to create the links, supports, and understanding needed to build stronger, vibrant, inclusive communities for all members – and youth in particular. (See Appendix page 16)

Woodstock Police Service has established programs in the community and is working to accredit the City of Woodstock as a “Safe Community.” They are working towards establishing a second secondary school resource officer. (See Appendix page 17)

I have been skeptical of this Task Force since the beginning. I feel that key people have been left out of the process, mainly concerned parents who are truly interested in sustaining change. As the Task Force now dissolves into history, there is a new group developed from those origins that pledges to meet twice a year to ensue that the anti-bullying initiatives will be carried out as intended. I will watch to see what unfolds.

There also remains an aspect yet untouched, at least to my knowledge, and that is the bullying in the classroom. Bullying in which the adult, the teacher, bullies and targets the children. Children are excluded, centered out and mocked in the "safety" of the classroom. This has been brought to me repeatedly, from various people within the community and via email.

I read today that Aylmer teen Arden McAnulty was advised that she was not welcome to attend the Grade 8 graduation at Davenport Public School, one of the schools within the Thames Valley Board. Arden left the school in grade seven to attend a school in Peterborough in order for her to get specialized treatment for dyscalculia.

Nick Lypaczewski from the St. Thomas Times-Journal wrote, "When McAnulty left for Peterborough, her biggest concern was that she would still be able to attend Davenport's graduation dance." She was originally approved to attend the party by school officials. Arden also had signed letter from the school board, but later learned the committee in charge of the dance had voted to turn her away.

According to Mike Sereda, Thames Valley District School Board supervisory officer's association chairman, the parent committee expressed their disapproval of McAnulty walking across the stage but, in the end, he says the school thought she should be recognized. (italics mine - notice it wasn't Mr. Sereda that supported the decision to allow her).

Committee member Maureen Jenkins told QMI Agency, "She has not been a part of the Grade 8 class, and our position is that you had to be a member of the Grade 8 class to attend." Arden was not able to access the needed programs at her own school. She attended Davenport longer than many of the graduating students. There was Arden, centered out, excluded, by the school board that aims to stop bullying.

Everyone has a story. This one's not done yet.

Mrs. Mattock and the Snowbirds

2011-06-25T14:00:00.002-04:00

I was given the chance to do some photos with the Canadian Forces Snowbirds today for the local weekly newspaper. It was a pretty straightforward assignment; pilots and crew were spending some time at the local hospital visiting with long term patients. For me, the story began before their arrival though, when I was introduced to Linda Allen.

Linda explained to me that her 89 year old mother was just diagnosed with terminal cancer. Turning 90 in October, Linda wondered if there was something special she could do for her mom.

When the Snowbirds arrived, they spent about one hour with 20-30 patients of the Complex Continuing Care wing of the hospital. These pilots and crew were remarkably down to earth. They clearly enjoy this part of the job and take time to speak with each person answering a multitude of questions. Capt. Padruig Macintosh explained to me that when they are seeking new members of the elite flying team, they look beyond their flight skills and actively search members with an engaging personality who truly enjoy the art and joy of speaking to people in different settings.

As Capt. Marco “Polo” Rusconi spoke to the patients about the simple nature of the jets, comparing it to driving a car, he explained that they don’t have auto-pilot nor is there radar. He said the benefit of flight, though, is that there is no traffic in their way which allows them to focus on their flight partners. One very interested patient in her 90’s asked a series of questions about fear, training and length of service. Capt. Rusconi explained that their training is like Lego: The picture on the box is nice, but you have to put the parts together. They spent hours upon hours learning each piece of the show before putting it together for the final product; one that is worth watching.

With 100 flights each year, the Snowbirds train to face situations of all kinds so that if a problem comes up, they are prepared. They learn not to fear, because they are prepared. Many patients weren’t convinced, and one said it’s okay to be afraid. I wonder what she is facing in her life.

I talked with Capt. Rusconi, he spoke with passion about Canada. Flying coast to coast, he sees it from a birds eye view. Hailing from Victoria, British Columbia and now stationed in Moose Jaw, he expressed his love for the beauty of Ontario. He spoke of the lakes and the sheer green of the forests we have here. Canada is indeed beautiful. I have driven it coast to coast a couple times. If you haven’t traveled this country, you need to, there’s nothing like it.

As we had waited for the Snowbirds to arrive, Linda shared that her mom, Helen Mattock, was a War Bride. She moved from London, England, to Woodrow, Saskatchewan. Moving from England to Woodrow was such a shock to her, Helen often wondered if she had made the right decision.

On May 23, 1947 and now living in Moose Jaw, Helen gave birth to Linda and often recalls the story that Snowbirds flew past the hospital that day. Even today, at age 89, she beams proudly and says, “There is nothing more Canadian than the Snowbirds.”

There was something that Linda could do for her mom. Helen was a patient at St. Thomas Elgin General Hospital, where we were to meet the Snowbirds in just moments. Cathy Fox, Communications and Public Relations Specialist at the hospital, who has known Linda for some time, made arrangements for the Snowbirds to pay a special visit to Helen. This would be a moment in time that wouldn’t be forgotten.

As the Snowbirds finished up with the group of patients from Complex Care, we walked through the halls of the hospital, past curious onlookers. Up the elevator three floors, I explained to the Snowbirds what the background story was of Helen Mattock.

When Cathy and I arrived in the room, Helen was sleeping, but was woken by Linda who was very excited that the Snowbirds would take the time from their day to visit with her mom. Once awake and told that there was a surprise waiting for her, the legendary Snowbirds entered the small hospital room to make the day of Helen and her family.

As the pilots and crew surrounded her bedside, she shared the story with them of the memorable day in 1947, when she figured something special must have been happening. One of the pilots interjected, saying, “There was something special happening that day, you had a baby!” This baby, 64 years later, brought the Snowbirds back to her. These men are genuine in their care for people and it showed on their faces as Helen embraced this experience.

Capt. Marco Rusconi spoke of training as Lego, but it can be used in our lives as well. We will finish our life with a full picture, a completed plan, but the parts need to be worked on first. Each moment in time, each event we experience, is but one piece of the finished product. Today, along with Canadian Forces Snowbirds, I was blessed with sharing in a moment in time for this family.

The simple act of taking 10 minutes to make someone’s day could be the most memorable time of that person’s life. Remember, everyone has a story. Is yours going to be a complete story of events shared with others? Are you making memories along the way? Are you touching the lives of people you don’t even know? I encourage you to make a difference. Tell your story. Write your story. Live your story. Everyone has a story.

UPDATE: I received the following email from Linda on Wednesday, July 14, 2011...

Dear Todd, I am giving you the news that my Mother passed away yesterday the l3th quietly and peacefully and knowing full well the snowbirds paved her a way in the clouds as she requested ha ha. Thankyou again and may we be in touch.

May Helen rest in peace, and may her family be comforted. Todd

Rear Row from Left: Capt. Padruig Macintosh, Pte. Craig Rautenstrauch, Me, Cpl. Winston Rose, Capt. Brett Parker
Front Row from Left:Capt. Marco Rusconi, Capt. Denis Bandet

Steampunk Art

2011-05-28T15:42:00.001-04:00

Back on May 5 I attended a fundraising luncheon for a community based program called Wraparound. The event this year was held at the St. Thomas Public Art Centre and featured food, a silent auction and a guest speaker. Pretty typical fundraiser all in all. Nicely organized, good setting and an engaging speaker.

McDougall's "Elgin" will be hanging in my office

In the midst of this, the art centre has a small shop at the front featuring the work of local artists. Paintings, prints, sketches, necklaces, bracelets and rings. At the bottom of the countertop display was a ring unlike anything I had seen. It intrigued me immediately. I tried it on. I’m sure it was made for me. I hesitated on buying it since I had just purchased a print from another local artist, Clark MacDougall.

I was told by the volunteer at the centre that the piece was made by a young local artist who would be thrilled that I was interested. I went home and thought about it. As it turned out, there was more money in my savings account than my wife thought so I made a quick withdrawal and went back the next day. Still there, I made the buy and went to work.

Still intrigued by it’s design, I contacted the art centre. I wanted to meet the artist and learn more about him, his art, and his inspiration.

Riley's work

It took us nearly three weeks to finally make it happen but 24 year old Riley Eichler and I met at Tim Hortons in the west end of St. Thomas. By now I knew that the design was called “Steampunk,” although I didn’t really know what that meant. Riley explained it comes from a belief that during Victorian times, technology had progressed further than the historical record would indicate. Steampunk art creates personas or devices that reflect that time period using technology such as gears. While he doesn’t consider his work as steampunk, he says it’s a label that people have put on his work and he’s good with that since it’s recognized.

Whenever I arrange to meet someone for the first time, I am always shocked how two strangers can come to a common destination and figure out who they are there to meet; No indication of who the person is, what they will look like or what they will be wearing. I guess we stereotype and hope for the best.

I did some homework on him. I know Riley is a young artist. I have listened to his music - he plays in a band too - and knew I wouldn’t be looking for a guy in a suit. More likely, I expected something alternative and grudge-like. Fortunately, when I went into Tim Hortons, there was only one young guy sitting by himself. Glasses, mohawk, stretched ear lobe, leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders and a pierced lip.

Riley and I are from different worlds. We have different outlooks. He believes that man created God. I believe that God created man. His friends say, “If there’s a hell, I’ll see you there.” Mine say, “Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.”

Either way, here we were. Two worlds colliding over coffee and art. No judgements, just the opportunity to share in an interest. Isn’t this how it should be?

Inside of a watch

Riley began this artistic venture when he found himself with some broken watches. He tore them apart and found creativity. “I liked all the stuff. It was shiney and pretty. No matter how cruddy on the outside it’s like a jewel on the inside.”

We could learn from this.

He explains further that there are, “so many angular pieces, gears, colours, steels and brasses. I like to mess around with the different forms and textures...It’s a spectacular array of colour and texture that nobody sees.” It’s from this inspiration of design and texture that he makes something crazy and new.

When I bought the ring almost three weeks ago, I wasn’t even sure if I should wear it. At the end of my first day I had cut just below my knuckle and still had a light scab on the day I met with Riley. I asked if he expected people should wear his art. “Definitely,” he said. “I consider them to be more like sculptures than jewelry. They are delicate, but they are made to wear for special occasions.” I wear mine. I like it. It’s a talking piece for sure.

Steampunk art, as his jewelry is classified, speaks to Riley. “I like the aspect of a statement on recycling. Taking old antiquated technology and creating something new and bring attention to it.”

Riley doesn’t identify himself as a jeweler. He is an artist. A musician. A photographer.

Another watch. Such detail.

In high school, he took music up to grade 11. Sitting behind a drum set during that time in life he came to the realization, “I am not a very good percussionist.”

He also took art in high school and says, “I couldn’t draw so well.”

After realizing he couldn’t draw and wasn’t a master percussionist, Riley explains, “I took drama class and it helped me come out of my shell, speak to a lot of people and became more comfortable with who I am. The arts programs are pretty important. Some people shrug them off but if you are the right kind of person for it, it’s what you need.”

I guess it’s the same with sports. I am not an athlete and I’ve never been mistaken for one. There are many students though, who find their role in school, and in life, through sports. For many, sports isn’t just about a healthy lifestyle, it’s about who they are in the same way that others find themselves through art.

But we wouldn’t consider eliminating sports to same extent like we do the arts.

Riley's band.

Today, Riley is a musician and an artist. He is a vocalist and background track composer with Orphan Grinder, a photographer with a unique eye, and ring designer with a flair for contemporary history in his design.

Before coming to St. Thomas, Riley lived in London, Ontario. “I grew up in White Oaks, very multi cultural. Moving here it’s like reverse culture shock. Here, there’s a bias but it has gotten better over the last few years.” He adds, “Racism is old fashioned and has no ground in the global village that we live in today. We all have to band together.”

Having lived in St. Thomas for the past nine years, Riley shared his perspective on the city. Many youth and young adults talk openly about their disdain for the city. Most talk about leaving and never coming back. I’m sure the talk is the same in most cities among the younger residents. Riley wears an “I Love St. Thomas” button on his spiked leather jacket so I asked him why he stays. “When I moved here I loved this town. The train was going up and down the tracks. They had Alma College (which later burned down. Google satellite images were taken the day of the fire and you can see it if you zoom in on city). So much cool stuff, independent businesses downtown and now they are all gone. There’s nothing to discover in downtown except boarded up buildings. I’m frustrated. I loved what the town was about.”

Much of the city’s history as the “Railway Capital of Canada” is vanishing, but they are working on the train station. There may be no trains running anymore and CN is in the midst of tearing out the remaining tracks, but we’ll have a train station. There’s also a museum, but I personally don’t know anyone who has been there.

“This town seems to want to continue pushing the industrial factory but this is the information age. It’s like they are too stubborn to see it,” explains Riley. “I think it would be cool if they would offer up some of the space for electric cars. Modernize the town and create jobs. People would want electric cars. It’s a big enough town for people to use electric cars to get around. We could make an impact on the world if they had the guts to do it. It’s not ‘safe’ to do this.”

Interesting. Not where I saw the conversation going. I intended to meet Riley about the unique ring design and we end up discussing local economics.

I wouldn’t have suspected a strong opinion on business, but Riley was quick to correct me and explain that music is business. “In the band you have to be taken seriously. You have to know what you are doing or people will walk all over you.”

What’s your inspiration? “My need to be creative. I kinda happens,” he says. He plays piano every day, but creativity comes in waves. “I do my art when I feel like it.” It isn’t forced. Maybe art can’t be forced? “I don’t always work on the jewelry. It’s when I have the creative spark, whenever it hits me.”

My ring - a Riley Eichler original

My ring was made three years ago. It’s the first piece that Riley made. The round centre is from a lady’s watch. There is a brass gear just under it from an old pocket watch. The two scythe shaped piece came from the inside of a large mens watch, with the smaller individual gears on each side from a woman’s watch and a pocket watch. All to come together into one piece of art.

Since then he has sold pieces in Arizona and Minneapolis. My ring is the only one in Ontario, but he did sell a pendent here a few years ago. Riley hopes to open an online store with etsy.com, but in the mean time you can view his art online at his deviant art page and make payment arrangements through Paypal. His work isn’t priced. He says, “I see what the customer wants. I’m fair.”

What do you want your future to look like? “I hope to get a record contract sometime and have a store to sell my art.”

Nice meeting you Riley. I wish you success in your art and ambitions.

Everyone has a story. We all won't agree on everything, but we can love each other and be passionate about what we do.

30 Days

2011-05-25T10:23:00.051-04:00

With the weather through much of the world growing in intensity and severity, I found myself reflecting last night on the simple blessings that we take for granted. Things like safety. Hundreds have been killed in recent tornadoes while I sit peacefully on the deck in my back yard enjoying the sun, or complaining about the rain drops while I am out on my motorbike. Something is out of balance, out of persepctive.

I decided that in June, I will attempt to post an addition to this blog posting each day with something I am thankful for and share a bit about why. My intention isn't to brag or gloat, but to purposefully look inward at the simple things that are so often overlooked or, as I said, taken for granted.

I hope you will join me in this month long journey of introspection.

Todd

Day 1: June 1, 2011...

Here we are. Day one. In some ways I expect this will be easy, but in other ways I’m not so sure. I could take the simple way out and write about being blessed with family and friends, a roof over my head and a job to go to, but I hope to go deeper than this. What about my family am I thankful for? What’s so special about my friends? Most people have a roof over their head so what makes mine a blessing? What is it about my job that I am thankful for?

Today I am blessed with acceptance. I am thankful that I was raised in a way that taught me to love people, even though we have differences. If you read my blog about Steampunk, you would have seen that Riley and I are from different points of belief, different walks of life. Despite our differences, we spent some time together exploring art, local economics and appearances. After that blog was posted, I received an email from a mutual friend; one I didn’t realize we had. My wife and I met her nearly 10 years ago as a neighbourhood youth who decided to come out to our youth program and we have kept in touch over the years since. She wrote to me saying:

“I've always known you and you family to be open to everyone, that's what made me stick around in the first place. But now reading this article it really thrusts Jesus' love through you forward into the open. Never in a million years would I have thought someone like Riley and you would be together in the same place. I really appreciated this article as someone who loves Jesus and the church, but at the same time has very many friends who completely reject it. It's good to read that you don't project a bias over people.”

This meant a lot to me. It seems natural to love people as they are. Just because I don’t necessarily agree with a person’s views or lifestyle, beliefs or actions, it doesn’t mean I can’t accept them.

I have worked in social services for roughly 16 years. I have met people from all walks of life. Some living a comfortable lifestyle who are experiencing a challenging time, and some living well below the poverty line in conditions I personally wouldn’t choose to live in. Through it all, though, we’re people. We all have something we are faced with. We all live our lives in the way we feel is best for us. Differences will exist and that’s okay, it would be a boring world if we were all the same.

Today, as we begin June and my 30 Days, I am thankful for, and blessed with acceptance. It has allowed me to be an influence in the lives of others, and offered me the chance to meet some great people along the way. I hope to write about more of these people who are walking down a different path that I am.

Day 2: June 2, 2011...

Today I am blessed with choice. We take it for granted that “no one is going to tell us what to do.” Of course there are laws and rules that govern us, but we are permitted choices within the realms of the law.

I am not thinking on a grand level this morning, though. It’s still before 7:00 a.m. as I write this and the sun is shining on the new day. No clouds in the sky. No rain in the forecast. My choice today: Take the car or Take the motorcycle.

It might seem trivial to some and not worthy of writing about, but I am also fortunate to have an employer that allows me to use any mode of transportation that I choose to conduct the business of my job. It isn’t very common to see a worker from the social service field arrive at someone’s home on two wheels.

On days like this, when the weather is beautiful and roads are clear that I am blessed with the freedom to choose my ride. Today, I choose my motorcycle.

Day 3: June 3, 2011...

About eight years ago, my wife and I decided to sell our house and build a new one. There was a new development being built on the south end of the city and we were going to build a new four level backsplit house. Two years previous we bought our first house, a three level split ranch style home built in the late 60’s.

We had chosen our lot, met with a builder and put some money down on the new property. Our house was listed and on the market. After a couple of open houses and offers that didn’t pan out, we sat down together and considered our options. We could continue to try and sell, we could rent it out, we could carry both mortgages and make our house available to missionaries on sabbatical.

Something struck us though. New homes are larger so we would have room for, well, more stuff. Stuff was something we didn’t need. Lots were smaller than ours; one of the perks of buying in an older section of the city. Yards were wide open. Open for all to see; seems that we wouldn’t have any privacy. We could have brand new trees in the yard. Well, sort of. More like one sapling in the front. Why were we building?

As we looked over our older, less prestigious property, we realized our home, though smaller, left more room in the yard for our family. With two young children, they would have a safe place to play. A green space to have adventures and dreams in.

We had good neighbours already, but the yard was also fenced in for our pets and the entire back yard was lined with tall cedar trees. Privacy. Shade. Nature.

The decision was made. Take the house off the market and stay put.

There was something else, though. It stood out to us and still does. We have so many species of birds that we see each year in our own yard. Beginning every morning near 4:00 a.m., throughout the day until 9:00 p.m. or 10:00 p.m., they sing and chirp. The new subdivision didn’t have those.

As much as I enjoy the birds, that’s not what I am blessed with today. Instead, trees. Without them, there would be no shelter for our feathered friends. They build their nests there every year. We've been able to watch as the robins, doves and starlings start their family in our yard. The baby birds drop into our yard as they learn to fly. The fruit that grows on our cherry tree, this year with abundance. The quickly growing maple that our son plucked from the ground shortly after a seed took root beside out house, and was replanted in the back yard that will give shade for years to come. After a few short years, it stands over five feet with a full canopy.

Today, I am blessed with trees. So simple, but so valued to our family.

Day 4: June 4, 2011...

It’s Saturday morning. The weather forecast calls for clear skies this morning, showers later this afternoon, and possible thunderstorms overnight. In reality, where life really happens, the sky is dark, the thunder rumbles, and the rain is falling. My black lab, Cooper, is terrified and trembling at my feet. With every flash of lightning and crack of thunder, he shakes a little more. Poor boy.

I planned on buying some wood to work on my deck a bit more today. It’s been built in stages over the years, a lower level first, then an upper level with upright beams with the plan to add a sort of pergola afterwards. That was supposed to be today.

I was pretty stoked about doing this too. We’ve had so many ideas over the past three years or so, and had finally settled on a plan. I hoped to finish it in a day. Now, no work will happen and I have a ride tomorrow; Distance for Dale, with the Skeleton Riders M.C. Another day, I suppose.

Just a few days ago I was reminded about a passage in Psalm 23, “He makes me lie down in green pastures.” God didn’t suggest that a break be taken or give the choice to lie down, instead, He makes me lie down.

I haven’t been so busy with work as I have been over the past two weeks, and again in the coming week before I finally slow down in mid-June. Today, in the midst of business, I guess I am being made to lie down.

With that understanding, on Day 4 of the 30 Days, I am blessed with quiet time. Time to unwind. Time to reflect on the week that was and the one to come. Time to consider where I am at in my own life, my walk with God, my career plans, my family, our future. Am I where I need to be? Without taking that break, without ‘lying down in green pastures’ we don’t process what’s happening in our lives. Where is that balance? Am I in the right space?

Are you?

Day 5: June 5, 2011...

It's been a good day. The weather was wonderful. The bikes ran good and other than one dropped bike at the end of the run, it was flawless. The biker was okay, just a bit scraped up after a slip coming into the lot at the end of the day.

We met in London to take part in th Distance for Dale. Joel, from the Christian Motorcyclists Association (CMA) offered a biker blessing before we hit the road, adding "Keep your tach in the black, and the rubber on the road." The Heaven's Saints M.M. was there as well, with the Skeleton Riders M.C. and the Black Diamond Riders M.C. Two worlds colliding in a common interest.

I noticed something today. As the pack roared through the small towns that made up our ride, many onlookers watched as a couple dozen bikes rolled past homes and businesses. It seemed almost inevitable as I looked at the onlookers; one single aspect of the day that stood out beyond any others. Smiles.

Today, I am was blessed with smiles. Smiles from citizens, wannabes, curious onlookers, children, families, and fellow bikers. Smiles of all shapes and sizes. All different, but all smiles.

Day 6: June 6, 2011...

I spent the day in a training workshop with Dr. Diane Benoit, focusing on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in children, and the effects of trauma on children. We watched videos and listened to 9-1-1 calls made by children who were witnessing domestic violence. In one instance, the child's mother was killed. These weren't staged. This was real.

I entered the field of Social Services about 16 years ago. I knew it was where I needed to be.
People would talk to me. They still do.
People would tell me things that they wouldn't share with anyone else. They still do.
I knew that I had the compassion to help people through some of their darkest times. I think I still do.
I had the patience to work with virtually anyone. I thought I always would.

Today, I am left with a definite unsettled feeling inside. What I felt listening to those calls, hearing the terror in a child's voice, learning how little I can really do, has left wondering what my role is in the the field. I felt bitter and angry towards the adults who imposed this on their children. I struggle with the balance between clinical practice and basic healthy relationships. I believe that a healthy relationship can do more than a counselling session, but maybe it's not enough anymore.

I suppose this carries over from Saturday, when I needed to reflect on whether I am in the place that I need to be. Where I should be? I am not convinced anymore. I have a lot to consider. What are my options? This month long journey is going to be tougher than I thought. Especially having to write about it everyday.

At the end of this day, though, despite the self questioning, I come home and get back to work writing. I am reminded that I am blessed with a safe and loving family. My children are settled, compassionate, and loving. My wife loves me after being together for 20 years. I love my family. I am blessed in deed.

Day 7: June 7, 2011...

Another long day. Some of you knew I had spent a few days in St. Catherines back in March at a training conference to learn how to effectively facilitate the Triple P program. There were a number of comments on my Facebook page about the amount of time I was in the hot tub at the hotel. Today, no hot tubs, just six hours on the road and three hours of testing; testing to ensure I knew how to effectively facilitate this internationally renowned program.

My co-worker and I were facing anxiety in the eyes. We were the only two people in Elgin and Oxford counties about to be accredited to facilitate the program. This was a test we have been waiting for for six or seven weeks. A test we have been preparing for, but were now about to put into practice. We had to write a test ahead of time that took us over three hours to complete, plus do a role play as if we were facilitating specific sessions of the program.

Our facilitator today was different than the one that taught over the three long winter days in March. She is the only person in Canada qualified to test and teach. Where many would be proud of this accomplishment, she was so down to earth. Her personality set us at ease, knowing full well that we were unnecessarily anxious. She was encouraging. She was gentle in her words. She was kind and pleasant, but she also held us accountable for any short comings we showed in the testing.

Looking back on this day, considering whether to skip a blog entry, I decided that there was something that I could add to the 30 Day blog. Today, I was blessed with encouragement. Even as professionals in our fields, I benefited from the gentle words of encouragement that helped set me at ease.

I am now fully accredited to facilitate the Triple P Group program!

Day 8: June 8, 2011...

Here we are, past the one week point of this 30 day journey. The day was generally uneventful. Worked on paperwork this morning, team meeting in the afternoon and an open house at the methadone clinic. A friend joined us for dinner before we took in the Annual General Meeting of Family and Children's Services.

Uneventful in a typical day of my life. I have just come inside from having tea on the deck and doing my part to help contribute to the food chain of a bumper season of mosquitoes. What can I write about in terms of blessing today?

I am blessed not to have a drug addiction that ties me to a methadone clinic everyday.
I am blessed to have a clinic in town that those with addictions can seek services from.
I am blessed to contribute into the lives of children and families.
I am blessed to have quiet time in the evenings with a cup of tea.
I am blessed to be bigger than mosquitoes and can squash the life out of them.

Day 9: June 9, 2011...

Hmmm, I just don't know. Today was exceptionally ordinary. I went to work in the morning, in a meeting first then paper work the rest of the day. Sometimes it gets tiresome. Monotonous.

We have made plans to attend the funeral of my wife's aunt tomorrow. She died of cancer. Only in her 50's, it seems that this disease is increasingly prevalent. My friend, Pete, lost his 10 year old to cancer recently. My grandma's husband has battled it three times and today I learned there is another spot on one of his lungs. A family friend, Pat, who has lived a very clean life had undergone cancer treatments recently and it was thought she was clean from all cancer. Also today, I learned that cancer has reappeared throughout her lungs. The family is devastated by the news.

I don't get it. I don't know how it can be showing up in so many people. There are others that I am aware of in our circle of friends and family, but these are the ones that are closest to home.

Today I am blessed with monotony. Although there are times when I am tired of the same old, same old, I am thankful that I am not faced directly with the sickening disease.

Day 10 and 11: June 10-11, 2011...

I missed a couple of days, I apologize. We travelled out of town to attend a funeral on Friday, I came down sick on Friday evening and battled through the day on Saturday with all the symptoms - stuffed nose, runny nose, body pain, headache, sneezing, coughing, sore throat and watery eyes, although we did go garage sailing Saturday morning because I promised my son that we would go out in search of treasures.

On our way out of town Friday, we stopped at McDonald's in Ingersoll for some breakfast. Simple order; four sausage and egg mcmuffins, one is up sized with coffee, the other three with orange juice. After I paid for the order, my wife mentioned that we were short a drink. As it turned out, the staff working our order had only charged us for three meals. We were given the fourth one at no cost as it was her error. Very polite customer service. I was impressed. I had worked at McDonald's for five years and I understand the challenges of fast food customer service.

Saturday morning, we stopped in at McDonald's in St. Thomas before we went garage sailing. I was sick. I didn't want to go out, but there were treasures to be found. This time, we went through the drive through. Another easy order; two medium decaf coffees double double, one small orange juice and eight hashbrowns. The total amount seemed low so I had the girl at the drive through window read it back to me, two coffees, one orange juice, two hashbrowns. She corrected it and I paid the full amount.

We got to the window to pick up the food and realized there were no napkins in the bag. I asked for some. I was told, "They should be in the bag." Well, she's right. They should be, but they weren't, that's why I was asking for some. After we drove away, I also realized that our coffees were smalls. The bill said we were charged for smalls too, so I suppose I couldn't make that big a deal out of it.

Two McDonald's experiences in two days (we don't normally do that but they do have good coffee, I'd say better than Tim Hortons). Both with some similarities - incorrect orders, both with some differences - quality of customer service.

So as I look back on the last two days, I find myself blessed with customer service. I am appreciative of the service we received at the Ingersoll store. I am grateful to the manager who recognized the need to correct her mistake without placing blame on the customer. I am thankful that I offered to pay for the missed order but being told, "It''s okay. It was my mistake. It's free for you."

By the way, my son did find something he has been looking for over the past few months. For a few years he has had 15 gallon aquarium in his room, but the number of fish continued to grow. He saw an aquarium for sale at one sale and told be as we walked up the driveway, "If it's less than $40 I'm buying it." This was a 40 gallon aquarium with everything included except fish. It was a new stand, canopy, decorations, quality filter and a heater. Everything for just $30. We didn't even try to bargain. This was a good deal. So, added to my blessing of quality service at McDonald's, my son was blessed with his new aquarium, which came to him through patience.

Day 12: June 12, 2011...

My neighbour, Peter, is a yard saler. Almost religiously he sets out in his truck every Saturday morning in search of treasures, much like we did yesterday. Peter has an eye for deals. He buys instruments and tools that he can refurbish and resell at a profit, much like the drum set he bought for $50 from another neighbour and sold for $700. Sure he had expenses into the drums but he turned a tidy profit.

A couple of years ago he found an old bass guitar that had some level of refurbishing done to it. Certainly nothing special and nothing that most people would want. He gave it to me to share with someone else who was interested in learning and said that she could play it for three or four months, and if she was still interested she could buy it. After a few months, she decided to pass on it, saying that parenting was taking up much of her time. Peter told me to keep the guitar in case I find someone else who was interested.

Today, my 11 year old daughter brought my bass guitar to me and asked me about some notes and songs; I haven't played in a couple of years. As I started to play around with the bass, she brought out the old one that Peter had. After picking up on a few note patterns, we played unplugged for a song or two.

I had forgotten how much I enjoyed playing my bass guitar, so today, I realize that I am blessed with music. Maybe today has re-birthed in me a desire to play again.

Day 13: June 13, 2011...

I often find myself on the outside of conversations about sports. I haven't ever been overly interested in sports. There was a time when I followed basketball and tennis, but really, I don't care. I am more of a home body. I enjoy taking in a London Knights game and I have been to one Toronto Argonauts game, but that's about the extent of my live sports interests, unless my kids are playing in the game.

I do jump on the band wagon sometimes, I must admit. I enjoy watching the Superbowl, but I cheer for the most mundane reasons. This year...Green Bay. Rationale...I like cheese. See? Not much substance to my sports interests.

Tonight is game 6 of the Stanley Cup finals. Vancouver and Boston. I am only hoping for the Canucks because they are Canadian. The game is on in our house and we are getting a little caught up in the excitement...or the frustration of it all. Boston scores 4 goals in the first 10 minutes or so. Vancouver, nothing. Maybe "we'll" lose tonight so "we" can win in Canada. Either way, tomorrow, it will be something to talk about, but I don't really care.

It is surprising, though, how worked up we can get over a game we really don't have an interest in. Today, I am blessed with not being a sports fan. I don't think I could handle the stress of being a fan.

Day 14: June 14, 2011...

Today was a simple day of simple events. Basic day of paper work as I wrap up reports for the end of the school year, lunch at home on the deck with my wife as we enjoyed the afternoon on our finally finished deck before going back to work for the afternoon. After work, I power washed the old deck boards to freshen it up so it would match the new boards, before finally enjoying dinner on the deck again.

Two specific events stand out from the day. After spraying the deck, the gardens were all watered and the robins decided it made for perfect hunting grounds. It's really something to watch these bold birds hop up to the deck just feet away from me, tilt their head to the side listening for worms, and like avian ninjas they grab their meal.

The second event is just adorable. Before putting the potatoes on the barbecue, my wife asked our daughter to stick each potato with a fork and put them in the microwave. She did it exactly as she was told. She stuck a fork into each one, and then put each potato, with a fork sticking up, into the microwave. Fortunately, she didn't turn it on.

Today, I am blessed with the ability to appreciate these small events in an ordinary day.

Day 15: June 15, 2011...

Today marks the halfway point on the 30 Day journey to look at the blessings in my life on a daily basis. I thank those who have come along, read this blog, retweeted and shared it with others. I have a confession to make; it's been more difficult than I anticipated. It has forced me to be more aware, even of things that seem trivial like the robin hunting worms. I have tried to steer clear of the obvious, but sometimes certain events lead one to look at their own home and family like on Day 6 after the trauma training.

Today also finds us at another Stanley Cup playoff game. Really, tonight is THE game to watch. Tonight is the night, or as the crazed fan just screamed into the TV, "It all comes down to this!" Has there ever been a more defining moment for either of these teams?

Has there ever been such a defining day in my life? I don't think so, and in some ways, I hope I don't ever have one. It's a lot of pressure, some would say it's all unnecessary pressure, and that it doesn't matter. But if you had worked your entire life to capture the prize, to achieve the pinnacle of success, could it really mean nothing?

My life won't compare to a cup game. My prize won't receive the worldly glory that the winning team will enjoy in a few short hours. My prize will never be seen around the world, and that's okay with me. I live my life to the best of my means. I work for my pay cheque. I have my home. I love my children. I love my wife. I love my God. I have good friends. I am chosen by my parents. I get to ride my motorcycle and serve alongside my brothers. I am loved. Isn't that worth more?

Today, I am blessed with the love of others. It's a simple, true and enduring love. Once again, I am seeing that it's the simple things that mean the most.

Day 16: June 16, 2011...

I spent the day in First Aid and CPR training. I used to keep up with the renewal every couple of years, but, like many things, I have let it slide. With my new position at work, it was a requirement so I soon found myself signed up again. I was surprised how quickly the information came back to me, especially when I am so forgetful. I think I'm forgetful, aren't I?

Anyways, this afternoon when the kids were done school they embarked on their first day of delivering papers. They put it off for a while but when they were asked by the newspaper to be the delivery persons in the neighbourhood, they took the opportunity to make some money. I'm proud of them for taking on the additional responsibility. They are good kids really.

We ended the day with a show on Auschwitz which my son chose. Not the typical Thursday evening viewing for a 13 year old. This came after the school concert which was the best, most enjoyable one I have seen in all my years of attending them. It was filled with music, singing, dancing and drama, but this time, the kids seemed to actually enjoy it! The play focused on building characteristics such as compassion, empathy, cooperation, and such traits.

When you spend years in social services, there is a problem that creeps into your life - you see the worst. The good seems to fade away and darkness tints your perspective. You need to be reminded that there is good, and there is hope.

Today, I was blessed with a refreshing hope that there is good out there. Kids are learning how to be respectful and compassionate, empathetic and cooperative community members. Kids can have good clean fun and enjoy being together without getting into trouble, unlike the vandals that tore up the downtown of Vancouver last night creating a shameful mess of a party well earned despite the outcome of the game. Great job tonight kids. Thank you for a truly enjoyable evening.

Day 17: June 17, 2011...

In the last few weeks I have received certification in the Prevention and Management of Aggressive Behaviour, Triple P (Positive Parenting Program), CPR and First Aid and attended a workshop of the Effects of Trauma on Childhood Development. I am feeling a little overwhelmed with all of the training opportunities that I have had, but I am privileged to have had them. Had I spent the money out of pocket it would have easily been over $2000, but today, I acknowledge that I am blessed with an employer that sees the value in furthering the knowledge and skills of it's employees.

Day 18: June 18, 2011...

Today turned out to be busy, but it started off with a couple of hours dedicated to sitting on our now-completed deck and reading. I finished off an older book entitled "A Just Society", by James Penman Rae. In it, he talks about some revolutionary shifts in Canadian culture to make the country truly democratic. I don't agree with everything he says, but for a book written in the 1968, he was a man with a great foresight. I came across the book when I met his son. After speaking for some time, he offered me his copy of the autographed book to read at my leisure.

Once I completed that book, I moved on to "On Writing" by Stephen King. I picked up this book when I met Morgan last year. I have never been a Stephen King fan. His genre hasn't been by cup of tea, but reading this how-to-write book gives a greater understanding of Mr. King as a person. It is part autobiographical part educational journey for the reader. It isn't so much a How-To book as it is one man's journey into the craft or art of writing.

My daughter and I headed out afterwards for some garage sailing. We found a few things that I would have purchased at retail and only spent $2.25, when it would have cost me well over $20. A good find in deed!

The afternoon and evening was spent visiting with friends at a trailer near Parkhill. It's good to be with friends, which is where my blessing was found today. There were a lot of mosquitoes out there! I think of malaria. I consider how people in other less developed countries are exposed to disease and sickness, while we simply spray a mist over our bodies and we are generally protected. Of course there are always a few pests to get through the barrier intended to protect us, but today, I am blessed with bug repellant. Without it, the time with friends would have been miserable as I would have been distracted by the intense bodily harm and that 'hands' of tiny little bugs.

Day 19: June 19, 2011...

Father's Day. This one should be easy, but I wanted to put more thought into it and be specific about the day. We had my mom and dad over along with my wife's dad and step-mom. We hadn't done this before at our house, but it was an enjoyable time with everyone. We barbecued and spent the evening outside, hearing my dad tell stories about life and people.

Once the evening of visiting was done, that's when I enjoyed the blessing of the day. Dusk was upon us and we lit a fire up in the chimnea - I suppose we aren't supposed to do that, something about a by-law, but nonetheless we did. For an hour or so, we roasted marshmellows, just my wife and our kids. We sat by the fire and talked about life, our life, our joys and some challenges. Overall it was just such a peaceful and true time together.

This Father's Day I am blessed with quiet and honest conversation with my family.

Day 20: June 20, 2011...

As the school year comes to a close, my workload seems to steadily climb. I am feeling the pressure and it isn't always a good thing. I have assessments to complete, referrals to make and plans to establish. I have seven school days left.

I was in a classroom today of grade threes and fours. This is a classroom made of quite a mix! One little girl said, "I'm a music box! Somebody turn me on!" When the boy next to her touched her hand, she broke out into song. There was no reason for this to happen. It was completely random and out of the blue. The teacher allowed this momentary outburst, but closed the performance at the second song. The teacher was patient, understanding and seemed to notice the student needed to let out some energy, be validated in her feeling and be given an audience.

What stands out to me though, is the teacher. Her calm demeanor, her pleasant nature. As I spoke to her, she understands these kids and is fully aware that her classroom is a blend of all types of students. Not everyone could pull off teaching this class, but she does it. She does it well.

Today I am blessed with hope that there are still teachers who are patient and compassionate with their students, even when the differences can be disruptive.

Day 21: June 21, 2011...

What has seemed like an uneventful day has taken a turn otherwise. Last week my wife received a phone call from a friend who has been off from work for a couple of months. They aren't close friends, but nonetheless, friends. She called to advise that doctors suspected she had ALS and wanted to see my wife again. The prognosis for those diagnosed is not good; they often die within 12-24 months of diagnosis. There is some treatment available, but no cure.

Today, my wife called to check in with her after the mornings' tests. It was confirmed. ALS is the diagnosis and she has been given only 2-3 months to live. I don't know her but my heart hurts for the family.

Just moments ago, I received another call from my friend Terry. He had just received word that a mutual friend's son had passed away today. When Greg was a child, there were complications with his heart and he wasn't expected to make it out of childhood. He lived until he was in his early 20's. For that, the family is grateful, but the loss hurts dreadfully.

It is easy to take our lives for granted. I have health concerns, but I manage well. I am treated for my conditions and I live a relatively normal life. Today just highlights the blessings that I have. I am blessed with health. I am blessed with medication that allows me to live a normal life. Friends around me are hurting, suffering, and going through deep sorrow at the recent losses and diagnoses. My heart breaks for them, yet I am blessed to be with them on their journey. No one should face their struggles on their own.

Day 22: June 22, 2011...

I have already been reflecting on this month. When I summarize it all in the beginning of July, I am sure it will be an overwhelming experience. Today, though, I spent much of my thoughts on my friends Dave and Dori. They are the ones whose son passed away yesterday. When I talked to Dave tonight, I could hear many people in the back ground. These were friends and family who had gathered to give comfort in this time of loss.

I was reminded that this is the second friend in two months to have lost a child. The fourth of my lifetime. While I can't imagine the pain of such a tremendous loss and emptiness that follows, I am blessed to be a friend who can give some level of support during these times. My heart aches for my friends, but my desire to be their friend surpasses my own hurt.

Today, I am blessed to be able to be a friend in time of need.

Day 23: June 23, 2011...

I used to yawn when walking into a bookstore or a library. All those books bored me to tears; they just sat there doing nothing. I was friends with a couple guys who loved fantasy novels and thus each trip to the mall, which was intended to look for girls, would include a visit to the book store. I dreaded these times, yet they would swoon over the selection as they enjoyed the search for the newest release. I just didn't appreciate the alternate worlds they would visit or lives they would experience through reading.

My mom was an avid visitor to the local library. She, always the frugal shopper, knew there was money to be saved at the library where all the book could be read at no cost. She wasn't into fantasy or non-fiction. She read true stories; information to help someone in need with a situation they were facing.

When I had my own children, it seemed ingrained in me that there was need to expose them to the world of books. I knew from my own education that early literacy was essential and it was my parental responsibility to ensure this happened. Something seemed to happen though. I began to enjoy the library. Co-workers would talk about their recent reads and offer me up an opinion, but I wasn't interested in their fiction stories. I wanted to read true stories, maybe an autobiography or a true crime or a summary of the biker wars.

Over the past decade or so, I have read more books that I did in the first couple decades of life (don't do the math on that one, it doesn't really add up right). I stayed away from fiction until recently. What I have learned through my own venture into fiction is that any story, for me to be interested, needs to be written in the first person. I want to hear their story, especially in a fiction novel.

Last night I went to the library to clear up some outstanding fines on my account, and those of my kids. $36.00 later, I justified that I had just done my part to support the local library. I thought my mom taught me that libraries were a free sources for books? I must have missed a vital piece of the lesson somewhere about returns.

I give credit to the library for stirring up my interested in reading. In writing. When I look back, maybe there was a reason that I need a book in the first person - everyone has a story...

Today, I am blessed with our local public library. I hope that you will support yours.

Day 24: June 24, 2011...

There are some things that stir up a child like emotion of excitement. In St. Thomas this weekend, the Great Lakes International Air Show takes flight. I remember when I lived in London, my family and I would take a day to attend the London International Air Show. In recent years, that show has drawn to a close, but the show in St. Thomas has taken it's place.

I remember seeing the jets up close. I remember watching the pilots perform precision maneuvers, sending the crowds into simple awe. There's just something about the power of the jets. Maybe that's what I enjoy about being out on the road riding my motorbike. Power that only select few can appreciate. I would cherish the chance to take flight in one of the jets, just to feel the rush.

Although the main activity of the air show happens on Saturday and Sunday, some of the planes and jets are out and about, including the legendary Snowbirds. As they flew over the house this evening, I felt that tinge of excitement. I remember that feeling. My kids also have shared in the joy of watching them fly over in perfect formation. It's a sight like no other.

Today I am blessed with the memories of childhood; the memories of the air shows and the snow birds. On a side note, I am meeting the Snowbirds pilots on Saturday for a photo op for the paper. That will be a special experience for me. Wonder if I can get a flight!?

Day 25: June 25, 2011...

The day started off quite cool, but I enjoyed a couple cups of coffee on the deck as I read a back issue of Writer's Digest. This magazine has served as a source of ideas, insight, and wisdom since I discovered it a year ago. More than that, though, Writer's Digest is 80 pages of encouragement. I have often doubted my writing ability, although I receive rather positive feedback from people. The contents of this magazine are spot-on what aspiring writers and established writers alike, need. Suggestions for queries, how to succeed in the business, how to survive the solitary lifestyle, a review of first book deals, and writing conferences to attend. Articles help refine a style, teach writers to build their identity and establish a brand to be recognized.

After an hour or so, and a few ideas on paper, I had to put down the magazine and my notebook to get ready for my time with the Snowbirds. My morning with them was more than I expected. I won't retell the story here, but you can read about it on another post I wrote today by clicking here.

We were later visited by friends from out of town and enjoyed a barbecue together with some social time. We shared stories and laughed, maybe at Nancy's expense, about her recent concussion. We received word that the Canadian contingent of the Heaven's Saints M.M. won the tug-of-war title once again. Both Ben, Nancy's husband, and I were on the winning team last year.

The day was simply enjoyable. Simple. Encouraging. Fulfilling. Today, I am blessed with relationships. Being able to share in the time with the Snowbirds, meeting Mrs. Mattock and the company of friends was a gift from today.

Day 26: June 26, 2011...

The story about Mrs. Mattock and the Snowbirds took a different turn last night. I was contacted by Scott MacLean, producer at Global TV News in Regina, Saskatchewan, who was doing a follow up on one of the Snowbirds mentioned in the story, Denis Bandet. He had come across the photos that accompanied the story and requested my release to use them in the story update on Capt. Bandet, which was to have run last night, and possibly this evening as well.

You just never know where life can take you.

Today I went on the 1st Annual MADD Ride (St. Thomas Chapter). Roughly 25 bikes turned out for the ride, barbecue and door prizes. For a first ride, it went relatively smoothly. I learned of the ride on a flyer at the grocery store, but when I emailed earlier in the week for details, the request went unanswered. I searched online for information. Nothing. I went back this morning to read the poster and it stated the ride was at 10:00 a.m., so I arrived at 9:45 a.m. We left the park near 11:00 a.m. and enjoyed the ride through the area before coming back to the park for the barbecue and door prizes.

What I realized on the ride was how much I appreciated a well put together ride. Riding in a group can be an enjoyable experience, if it's done right. Especially in large groups, where people don't know each other or their riding styles and preferences, it is the responsibility of the Road Captain or the event organizer to ensure that standards are made known - hand signs, stops, blocking, riding patterns - either staggered or side by side. This helps to keep us all safe on the road.

Today, I am blessed to ride with a group that, even with differences, can come together and enjoy a ride as a pack.

Day 27: June 27, 2011...

This is quite simple, no back story needed. My wife and I were out on the motorcycle tonight, heading to Simcoe for a funeral visitation. Just before TIllsonburg, we were nearly taken out by a rogue kamikaze sparrow, but we avoided contact. A few kilometers down the road we hit construction. A young guy in a red pick up truck passed us on the right hand side, besides illegal, it's also exceptionally dangerous on an urban two lane road. On the other side of Tillsonburg, the truck traveling three vehicles ahead of us lost a load of (thankfully) empty potato sacks that ended up creating an impromptu obstacle course on Highway 3.

Today, I am blessed with safety. God's hand of protection was upon us.

Day 28: June 28, 2011...

Last week sometime, I was home for my lunch hour and decided to watch something different. I know I am quite behind on this trend, but I settled on Prison Break. That night, I invited my wife to watch the show with me, then my son got in on the action.

In the days that have passed, we have watched whenever we get the chance, thanks to Netflix. I think we have a new addiction, although come September, Sons of Anarchy will come back into our lives.

I was off work today to attend a funeral for the son of a friend, so last night we stayed up to watch a few episodes of Prison Break. The problem is, lack of sleep. Choosing to sacrifice the precious need for sleep for the simple joy of entertainment. We all do it.

After getting back home later in the afternoon, I took a nap. I don't often get a nap, but I am a fan. Today, I was blessed with a nap.

Day 29: June 29, 2011...

After a day off yesterday, I jumped right back into work this morning with meetings and appointments throughout the day. After one such meeting, I left with a package of coffee, straight from Guatemala, along with a story on the volcanic grove that the beans grow in. I learned that the higher the nutrient level in the soil, and the higher up the mountain (or volcano in this case), the stronger and fuller flavour of the bean. The soil on volcanic hillsides are loaded with nutrients to grow the best coffee.

Today was the last day of school for my kids. I picked up my daughter and her friend to spend the evening with us. While I waited for the girls to be dismissed from classes, I watched as three boys celebrated the end of the school year with shouts and fist pumps. There was a point when when of the boys swung his back book laden pack around and hit another boy in the face. As I shared this with my daughter and her friend, my daughter said, "He was facebooked!" We laughed. That was good!

The evening ended with a short visit with my daughter's friend's dad, James. He's a writer, and maybe even a source of inspiration and encouragement to me. He has been writing for years and while we don't talk often, I always appreciate his thoughts and opinions on the writing culture. He's met and interviewed various writers over the years and expresses a sincere joy in their work.

Today, I am blessed with the gift of coffee, a humourous joke, and a visit with a friend.

Day 30: June 30, 2011...

Today is the last day of the 30 Day blog. It's been an ordinary day. Worked at the office, ran a few errands, made a few phone calls. Nothing special about the day. But as I reflect on that, an ordinary day is a blessing in itself, for not every day can be filled with adventure, drama and trauma.

I had the chance to catch up with an old family friend today. I read an article from Writer's Digest. I sat on the deck with my wife and had barbecued hotdogs. I tinkered with my motorbike. We head out for a ride tomorrow. An ordinary day. How wonderful.

Tomorrow, I will write about the month as a whole, putting it all out there to show what my family has faced in the course of 30 days. For now though, I am blessed with an ordinary day; the day before we celebrate Canada!

Creative Economy

2011-05-01T10:16:00.000-04:00

The following is an article I wrote in Fall 2010 for a local magazine. Unfortunately, it didn't make it to print, so here it is for anyone interested.
(Photos: online sources. Exception Kelley Armstrong - April 30)

The Creative Economy

Ideas, knowledge, creativity and innovation. Words that describe the Creative Economy. It is a simple assumption that this kind of economy is rife with artisans and dramatic actors, but in fact, it is far more. It is broad reaching in it’s embrace, even described as “industry agnostic.” In it’s simplest terms, the creative economy consists of people who are paid to think, invent, design, inform, craft and motivate.

In the recent report, Creative Potential: Straddling Two Mega-Regions, released by the County of Elgin, it explains “The creative economy is as much about architects as it is about artists, programmers as it is about potters, it is beyond bohemians and includes brokers; stock, insurance, real-estate and more.”

Major urban centres such as London, recognized internationally for it’s medical research and Waterloo with world-renowned RIM and it’s business friendly Blackberry, these cities stand in the forefront as the core of Southwestern Ontario’s economic growth. Creative economy, however, knows no bounds and is not tied to physical centres.

Centrepiece Marketing is one example of the creative economy emerging in Elgin County. Michelle Fournier began Centrepiece Marketing in Port Stanley as a means to “promote and bring Canadian talent to our area, to introduce them and develop a fan base.” Once she began though, Fournier adds “it grew immediately into a provincial demand. The beauty about Elgin County is that there is a uniqueness about it offering an intimacy that large cities cannot. My musicians appreciate the closeness that they get from a smaller community.”

This is the impact that Heather Adams, Administrator and Economic Development Officer of the Town of Aylmer agrees with. Creative economy “provides new and expanding options for diversity in lifestyle and entertainment opportunities that we can access right here at home – both for our local residents but also for tourism attractions.” Adams adds, “Locally we have many undiscovered businesses that operate in this economy who either are providing a niche service, not well known or are in fact internationally known and do not have local visibility”

Kelley Armstrong and me at her recent book signing

Such is the case with local author Kelly Armstrong. With books including The Reckoning and Tales of the Otherworld, Armstrong is a #1 New York Times Bestselling Author who resides east of Aylmer. Quoted in the Elgin County E-Newsletter, Armstrong describes her surroundings in Elgin County as “an inspiration in the sense that I have purposefully picked a very nice, quiet place here.” The location is ideal for Armstrong explaining “I am less than two hours from Toronto so I can easily commute and attend business events.”

Fournier echoes this sentiment. “Elgin County is beautiful in many ways. I live in Port Stanley and it offers a lot of inspiration. Touring through the county also does. I love the fact that we have such great abundance of produce, wineries, art galleries, walking trails, restaurants and a wonderful sense of community.”

While some may see life in the creative economy as small in scale, even novel and touristy, others embrace it with a recognition of it’s unique business advantage. Fournier explains “I have been approached by larger companies as they appreciate the foundation of a smaller rural county rather than being in a larger city and getting caught up in that environment.” This exemplifies that while larger urban centres play an important role, there is a shift in the economy and the mindset of business.

As industry and agriculture shift in Elgin County, open doors and creative minds are giving rise to the new creative economy; a new style of economy that knows no bounds.

A Life Long Passion Like No Other

2011-04-25T19:49:00.001-04:00

We arrived in Stanstead, Quebec shortly before noon on Good Friday. After a drive that took too long as a result of excessive traffic in Ontario’s capital city and a stay at the Comfort Inn in Cornwall, we traveled through New York and Vermont, crossing back into Canada at the border of Vermont and Quebec. We knew that Dennielle’s brothers lived in Stanstead, the border town across from Newport, Vermont, but as we left the gate at customs, the GPS indicated “Arriving at destination on right,” only 250 meters from the United States. They weren’t kidding that they lived on the border!

For Anglophones traveling into Quebec, Stanstead is an accepting small town of 3000 that speaks both national languages with fluency. Stanstead’s history is steeped in the granite industry, with the most durable stone of it’s kind in the world. Settled in 1790, the stage coaches once traveled through it going between Montreal to the north and Boston to the south. Smuggling was a major concern with the border town that a customs port was established in 1821. The town’s website claims that many pioneers made their fortunes through smuggling. Looking at the old pictures in one of the locally owned restaurants, you can envision the days when the streets were dirt and prohibition in the USA created an industry boom here.

Out for a walk and a tour of the town, we stopped into the Granite Central Co-op and Museum. My brother-in-law, and film producer, Damon Cox (Instead Cinema) stopped in to show us a recent addition to the town; a model train set up and a collection of Lionel trains.

The model train group out of Sherbrooke recently moved into town and took up residence in the Museum. Moving a train set doesn’t sound like a large undertaking, but I have never seen anything like it before. It’s huge, filling 700 square feet in the museum. In moving the mountains, towns, meat packers, parks and mines to Stanstead, the display was cut into 16 pieces with the 800 wires cut, labeled, moved and reassembled in 84 days. When you take the time, you begin to notice small details that highlight the passion these collectors and hobbyists have. Tiny men are positioned as mountain climbers, a young boy looks over the granite bridge exit as he waits for the train, and a couple sit at a park gazebo celebrating their wedding. This isn’t a one track set either. Multiple trains run by remote control on different tracks, with lights, switches and sound effects. One young man was so engaged in his own role play, it was as though he were the engineer shouting orders to other men on train, “Stop here, there are three men we need to pick up!” or “Hurry, change the switch on the line!” (See more photos at the bottom of the page.) (Watch Instead Cinema video here)

I was most interested in the collection of "O-Gauge" Lionel trains (photo above). Damon was coming back to shoot film footage for the Stanstead En Action the next day. I would come along with him to talk with the owner of the Lionel trains that lined the walls of the museum, Robert Sheldon.

Robert was instrumental in bringing the model train exhibit to the Stanstead area. His collection of Lionel trains is captivating. Row upon row upon row were the legendary engines, cabooses and box cars. Hundreds of them. I was told that what I saw was just a fraction of his collection. I looked forward to meeting this man and hearing his story.

Saturday afternoon, after Damon returned from another project he was working on, we headed over to the museum, just around the corner from his apartment. I was introduced to Robert who readily agreed to sit with me, even though he was finishing the work for the grand opening on Tuesday.

Robert and I met in the office of the museum around a table of black granite, native to the area of course. He is 72 years old and is extremely knowledgeable and passionate about his train collection. The obvious had to be asked, “How many trains are on display, and how many do you have in your collection?” There are 1621 on display in the museum. His total collection is over 11,000 pieces with a value into the millions of dollars.

Centre train (Union Pacific) weighs 30 lbs and is fully electronic

Robert is a life-long resident of Stanstead, growing up on Rue Junction (Junction Street) where the train line ran past the family home. Four or five times each day, the passenger and cargo trains rumbled along the iron lines where he and his sister would greet the engineers with waves and smiles. He was born and raised to be in the world of trains.

At five years old, his father bought him a Marx tin train. This was his introduction to model trains. At age eight, he noticed a Lionel train running in the window of Gravlin’s, a sportsman supply store. The store also sold the legendary trains which operated in their storefront window year round. After watching it for some time, Robert asked his father for a Lionel train. Far from a resounding “YES!”, he was instead told to save his pennies, especially considering the lack of care he placed on the Marx. Not one to be discouraged, even at such a young age, Robert went out in search of a job. He quickly found one as a pin setter at the local bowling alley. He was now making money, $10 a week and was on his way to becoming a proud Lionel train owner.

Soon afterwards, he made his first purchase, a hopper for $4.95. Almost a half week’s of wages. In today’s terms, if I spent half of my weekly salary on a train, I would have some serious explaining to do to my wife. I guess that’s not an issue when you’re just eight.

His next purchase was an engine for $25.00! Two and a half weeks of wages. He still needed a tender (coal car) through. A train and a hopper would not fit together. During a visit with family in New York, his aunt took him to a local Lionel distributor to purchase a tender. Now he was on his way!

At 18, Robert committed half of all his earnings to purchasing Lionel trains. Working as an apprentice in an engineering company, Robert continued his career working in the tool and die industry before moving into the granite industry in 1976.

During the years that passed, Lionel had been putting out catalogues of all their engines and cars as a part of it’s advertising and promotional campaign. It showed all the new models, upgrades, changes and additions. By this time, Robert was hooked. He was now collecting and made it his intent to purchase every product in every catalogue that came out.

The collection of Lionel train cars is as broad as it is vast. Hours can be spent looking at the different designs from Alka Seltzer to military rocket launchers. There are whimsical ones such as the “Instant Aliens” car, and historic ones announcing an “All Shook Up” Elvis tour. The ones that seem to capture most people are the engines. The raw power of a train engine, no matter the size, draws your eye immediately to it. From $12 to $2000, Robert purchases these engines as they come up to add to his collection.

There is one engine, though, that stands out from the others. One that is not on display. The 100^th anniversary train was made from a zinc cast and is gold plated. The difficulty with zinc is that when mixed with any impurity, it begins to disintegrate. There were only 75 of these zinc cast anniversary engines made in 2000. While others were cast of a more durable and longer lasting metal, today only six of the original zinc trains remain worldwide.

Robert bought his zinc cast train for $3750, the J1 5034 Hudson. Only the most serious collectors have these. Robert has been offered over $25,000 for this train. It is in near new condition, with only signs of corrosion where the wheel meets the track, it has never been moved from it’s mooring. The original wood base remains intact as well. Would he sell it? Not a chance.

There are also three engines with tenders on display sitting side by side. Each weighs a hefty 30 pounds. Fully electronic and remote controlled, the antennas run through the hand rails on the sides of the engine. Robert can run the bells, whistles, steam from a stack and steam from the wheels as it begins chugging along the track. But there are no tracks set up in the museum for the O-Gauge Lionel trains. They are too big. The space needed simply isn’t available.

As we came to a close on our time together, Robert explained the Christmas cars. In 1972, Lionel began giving out special Christmas designed cars to all of their distributors but they were not made available to the general public. They continued this until 1988, and resumed the practice in 1991. In 1992 though, the designing responsibilities changed. The owner of the company decided that the car could be designed by a child of an employee. The winning image would be forever immortalized on the side of the Lionel Christmas car for that year. Robert has that one on display too.

Today, Robert’s collection seems complete, except for two of those Christmas cars. He is missing 2009 and 2010. When he was setting up the display at the museum, he left room for the two cars with anticipation that he would have them in time for the grand opening. He explained to me that he is online every day in search of the missing cars. He had found them last week and had set his bid at $300, but he was outbid at the last minute of the online auction. Back to searching. This will be a collection that is never complete as long as Lionel continues to build these treasures.

Everyone has a story. Robert’s began beside the rails in the small town of Stanstead, and he remains active in his community today. (More photos below)

Photos from the 700 square foot display at the Granite Central Co-op and Museum:

Grain depot

If you look closely, you can see two men climbing the mountain side. The lower one is wearing a blue shirt, the other a yellow one.

A boy looking over the edge for the coming trains

A couple celebrates their wedding day in the park

Meat packer in the background, people wait for the train at the station in foreground

Working to clean up beside the lines

More photos of Robert Sheldon's O-Gauge Lionel Train Collection:

Lionel 1948

All Shook Up ELVIS

Sports Channel

Instant Aliens - just add water!

One of many engines on display

Polar Express engine - all passenger cars on display as well

Lionel freight engine

Wall of passenger cars

Break the Chains of MS (MS Liberation Treatment)

2011-04-02T10:34:00.003-04:00

“My four year old son has never seen me without a cane” said Ken Roberts last night at 50’s dance to raise funds for his MS liberation treatment. Tears and emotion choked him as he thanked everyone for their support. Ken goes down to Albany, New York later this month to have the surgery.

I met Ken almost 10 years ago. We go to the same church. I have never known Ken without the MS diagnosis. I have seen it progress, though, and change the man over the years. He is holding on to his faith and hope in God that this surgery will be an answer to prayer. Prayer that he has believed for years.

Prayer isn’t always answered the way we want. It isn’t always a “yes,” like God is our puppet and we are the puppet master. I would venture to say that while seemingly ‘unanswered’ prayer has gone out over the years, Ken is holding on to faith. He knows that God moves in different ways that we do. God isn’t bound by human realms. If he were, I don’t think I would want to serve that God anyways! I want a great big God! One who is beyond anything that I can imagine.

We decided to make the dance a family event. My wife and I, with our 13 year old son and 11 year old daughter headed out after 9:00 p.m. last night to attend our first 50’s sock hop ever.

Our kids have been raised in the new millennium, where most music has some sort of techno sound mixed into to. It’s re-mastered to make even the worst singer (See Fergie at the Superbowl halftime show) sound good on the radio. They didn’t really know what they were missed.

With my wife and daughter with their hair up in pony tails and wearing scarves, we entered a different time and place. It was such a wonderful time! Ken’s wife Jody did much of the planning and she did it well. Silent auction, numerous fund raising games that I hadn’t seen before such as one where you pay a toonie, writer your name and phone number on a playing card. At the end of the night, if your name is on the joker, you win $50. The cards were all taped face down into the letters MS. You can’t forget what all of this was for.

Music played and people danced. Poodle skirts, bee-hives, up-do’s, rolled up jeans, white t-shirts and cigarette packs tucked into sleeves. We were in a different era, and it was good.

My son said to me “This music is catchy!” My daughter and wife danced to Chubby Checker’s The Twist and many others. I danced with my daughter. My wife danced with our son. We sang, we visited, we had a truly nice time.

Despite the reason for the event, it highlights for me, once again, simplicity. Fun music that everyone across the generations can enjoy. Simple clothing. Dancing wasn’t all foreplay. It was just simple and to be enjoyed.

Jody said this morning that the dance was very successful and I am happy for them. They need the community to support them, this isn’t a free out-patient procedure. They are looking to raise $15,000 with the majority of it needed as soon as possible. Ken will make four trips to Albany to undergo the process.

Monday night at Harry’s Charcoal Broiled, there is another Break the Chains fundraiser for the MS liberation treatment fund. From 4 until 8, a special will be offered with proceeds to going to the fund. If you are in the area, come out and join the family for a meal and support the cause.

Everyone has a story. Ken’s is a long one in his battle with MS, but the story isn’t finished yet. I’ll keep you posted.

Portraits of Honour - Remembering our Fallen Troops

2011-03-29T19:15:00.000-04:00

I received a call on Thursday night from a friend, Henk, who is active in the Kinsman Club (now called Kin Canada). He invited me to come out with the club on Saturday to take a road trip to meet Dave Sopha. This was a trip that would also include troops from the Combat Engineer Regiment (CER) from St. Thomas. The troops were selected to catch an early glimpse of the Portraits of Honour, a 50’ by 10’ mural commemorating fallen Canadian soldiers in Afghanistan.

I had not heard of Dave Sopha, but the project sounded unique, and likely it would be an emotional experience. I decided to go along, and brought my son with me. Jordan, my son, is a Sapper in the Royal Canadian Army Cadets. I felt this would be a chance for him to gain some insight into the reality of the lives lost in battle. He didn’t want to go at first. He wanted to stay at home instead. Eventually, it wasn’t a choice, he was coming.

Like many Canadians, Cambridge artist Dave Sopha watched news reports of the Canadian soldiers killed in Afghanistan. Repeatedly facing heartbreak at the loss of troops, he was emotionally compelled to create a lasting memory for Canadians across the nation. Portraits of Honour is the result.

As a national service project of Kin Canada, Zone K Deputy Governor Brad Bedford, contacted the Commanding Officer at the CER to offer a once in a lifetime opportunity; to meet the artist and view the work before it begins it’s national tour in June. Brad explained that the project has the “full and complete support of the Canadian military.” To date, Kin have donated $3000 to assist with the development of the project.

W.O. MacDonald stands with CER

When we arrived at the National Kin Canada Headquarters, all the visitors filed in small groups into an elevator that took us to the lower level that has been transformed into the artist’s studio as he works towards the completion of the mural. Dave explained that each face on the mural takes approximately 80 hours of work. He starts with their eyes, taking time to get them right, then moves on. There are at least seven layers of painting to each face. After spending so much time, staring into their eyes day after day, he knows them. He can see their life in their eyes. He is their best friend.

Anyone questioning the value of such a project need only to speak to Warrant Officer Reginald MacDonald. He has served tours in Afghanistan in 2004 and 2008-09 explaining that just witnessing this mural was a, “great honour and very emotional.” With his first Afghanistan tour in 2004 with NATO and his second as the Senior DET Commander, W.O. MacDonald, came to the Combat Engineer Regiment in August with 22 years of service. He personally knew twenty of the men and women memorialized on the mural. Seeing their faces brought him to tears as he spoke to the CER members of the heroes and their sacrifice. Many tears were shed as each regiment member reflected on the lives represented. Men and women who will stand guard for Canada joined in solemn respect for the lives of their friends, colleagues and fellow troops who have given the ultimate sacrifice for Canada.

Chief Warrant Officer McGinnis has not served in Afghanistan, but has served in peacekeeping in the middle east. He explained to me as we traveled on the bus that “We are making a difference, but it will take time.” He explained that “we are building schools and we are opening up knowledge, giving a broader concept through education.” CWO McGinnis also helped me understand that the construction of roads increases integration and awareness of other people. This isn’t the information that you hear on the news or read in most papers. There is real work happening that we miss out on every day.

When we visited Dave, there were 154 soldiers represented on the mural. He hoped not to have to add any more. The following day, Canada lost another soldier. Corporal Yannick Scherrer from Montreal Quebec was killed by an improvised explosive device while he was on foot patrol. He will be added to the mural.

The Portraits of Honour will travel to the city of each fallen soldier with all money raised through donations and sponsors, directly supporting the Military Family Fund. The tour wraps up on November 11, 2011 in Ottawa.

Combat Engineer Regiment with Dave Sopha (Front Centre)

When my son and I arrived home, he thanked me for taking him adding that he was glad he went.

Jordan, Dave Sopha, Me

Everyone's Got One

2011-03-16T11:11:00.001-04:00

I think we all have these. You know, these little idiosyncrasies that could make us look obsessive compulsive if they went too far?

I have noticed my own. If the volume on a stereo is digital, it must be an even number. There should be a natural break in the song, tv show or conversation on talk radio in order for me to turn it off. I tell the time to the minute, I just can’t bring myself to round it to the nearest 5-minute interval.

My mom simply CAN NOT walk past a pen on the ground without stopping to pick it up. It might not be any good, but she can use it for parts. She collects pens. Pens from all over. Not necessarily different styles, but also for the logos and designs on the pens. She has hundreds of pens, so, she needs the parts to rebuild a pen if needed.

My daughter laughed at me when I told her about my radio and volume issues, but then said she can’t get out of bed in the morning before she fixes her pony tail. Her toaster setting must be set to a number, can’t be in the middle and she presses “OFF” on the phone twice after every call.

A friend of mine, Peter, has to back his car into a parking spot. He won’t bring himself to simply pull in.

Facebook friend Barry says that he has to have the coffee table lined up with the couch and any picture has to be straight. Rob also has to straighten things out. They just can’t leave things out of place or crooked.

Danielle, another friend says “improper spelling and grammar, especially when there is a spell check feature. It drives me crazy! I am always correcting spelling and grammar!”

Kari posted to me, “pictures and furniture definitely have to be straight for me, too, and if I'm by myself walking I often find myself counting my steps, I'm also obsessed with making sure things are spelled right.” She read her posting five times to ensure correct spelling.

Pennies on the ground? I gotta have ‘em. It’s free money!

This morning on 103.1 Fresh FM, Natalie, D and Gord talked about theirs:

Gord has to check that the stove is off at least once before leaving the house.

Natalie checks that her front door five times

Darrin can't leave his car without locking the doors with two honks on the remote.

They posted on their Facebook page, “ Do you have any obsessive compulsive tendencies that you'd like to admit to

C'mon! Get it off your chest once and for all” and received many replies.

“ Hitting clear on the calculator many times just to make sure its really clear”

“Cannot eat off anything other than a white, circle/oval plate. If you serve me a steak on a blue plate, it tastes different!”

I think we all have something. From a clinical perspective, there is likely a diagnosis. The leading authority for clinical diagnosis is the DSM IV - Diagnostic and Statistical Manual 4.

The first edition (DSM-I) was published in 1952, and had about 60 different disorders. Today there are over 200 so I am sure that there is something that would fit.

Until we are all diagnosed, let’s embrace our uniqueness and our quirks. We are all in this world together. I heard it said this winter that every snowflake is unique but they all stick together. Another lesson to be learned.

Everyone has a story.

Surrogate or Adoption

2011-03-15T13:59:00.002-04:00

Maybe I see the world through a different set of lenses, but I have hesitated on writing this for some time for fear of offending some of the readers who will encounter this blog. I have come to a point, though, that the offence is something I am willing to face in light of speaking my opinion.

I have met a couple of individuals at different times over the last three years who are surrogate parents. I thought this was quite admirable; Taking the associated risks of pregnancy to help another couple fulfill their desires to grow a family.

After all, that’s the ‘right’ thing to think isn’t it?

Something just didn’t sit right with me. I couldn’t pinpoint it and I wrestled with it for some time. If this was such a loving and selfless act, why was I struggling to embrace the concept?
I am pretty sure I have figured it out and it’s a two-fold response.

First, while there are mixed reports on the exact number, it is safe to say that more than 25,000 children in Canada are without parents and are awaiting adoption . That’s more children than the entire country of Palau. (Useless fact: There are four countries with a population under 25,000)
These are children who are in the care of child welfare agencies as well as those adoptable through private adoption agencies. These are children who have faced the loss of parents through accidents, abuse, neglect or by parental choice to sign over parental rights.

These are children who need love. These are children who need family.

There are risks to raising any child, and more so when a child is coming from a potentially traumatic past. I read on one website a response “Many people prefer international adoption to domestic adoption since it comes with very few uncertainties” Really? Few uncertainties? With an adoption in Canada as much information as possible is gathered to ensure that prospective parents are equipped with the needed information to embrace a child into their family. I’m not clear on how overseas adoptions are as thorough. Maybe someone can help me better understand?

Second, I think this speaks to our culture's “need” to have our “own.” Take this anonymous reader response on adoption versus surrogate:

"Personally, I would want a surrogate. But only if it was my egg implanted. (do people do that?) I would not want to adopt, because I'd want a baby that was genetically mine and my husbands, but I never want to experience a pregnancy."

Genetically mine. Is it possible you could love an adopted child as much as a biological child? I sure hope so! My wife and I didn’t give birth to Cooper, our black lab dog, but he’s our dog. My wife and I didn’t give birth to Dozer, our pug, but when he died we lost a part of our family. Now don’t misunderstand, I am not equating a dog to a child, but I hope you see the point. There are many animal adoption agencies because the need is recognized.

Children though, maybe not in so much need? More than 78,000 children are in the care of child welfare organizations in Canada. Almost half have parents who have lost parental rights according to Canada’s Waiting Kids, now living in foster care or institutional placements.

An adopted child is no less “mine” than an adopted child. Ask my parents. They adopted me and I am theirs through and through.

Oh, there it is…that’s why this issue hits home for me. I am an adopted child. I was chosen.

Yup. It’s a personal matter. When Butch and Ellen had me it was a time of celebration, just as it is for many new parents. Due to complications, Ellen died just 15 days after my birth, and Butch was left as a single dad. He wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t be ready for that. It wasn’t in their plans. Nonetheless, he was facing a time in his life of celebration and sorrow. Joy and grief. In time, he made the decision to give me up to my parents.

They knew each other. Butch and Ellen, and Derek and Vicki were friends. They traveled together, Ellen and Vicki went to school together. They were each at each other’s weddings. The tie was tight. Derek and Vicki willing accepted me into their lives as their son at Butch’s request. (Maybe one day I will tell the whole story on my blog.)

And so it was. In fact, I was to be the first of many. As circumstances were though, I ended up as the only child. The chosen only son to Derek and Vicki. I am not “genetically” theirs, but I am theirs. And they are mine. No amount of science or medical intervention would change that.
Another anonymous poster said this:

“We adopt because we want a family and to give those without a family, a family. It has nothing to do with our DNA, or being pregnant. There are so many children already here that need a loving family, a regular child-hood. We would never be so selfish as to pay someone to give birth to our child when there are millions without a mommy & daddy.”

I see adoption as destiny. Accept it or reject it, it’s your call. But as an adopted kid, sure am glad I was accepted.

Everyone has a story. Do you have an adoption story? Share it at rowleywriter@gmail.com

More information on Canadian adoption:
http://www.canadaswaitingkids.ca/support.html
http://www.canadaadopts.com/
http://www.adoption.ca/
http://www.oacas.org/

Don't Break the Cycle

2011-03-12T10:38:00.002-05:00

It starts in Kindergarten. You’re the new kid in the school and you need to begin establishing yourself. Now, you’re only 5 years old so you don’t even know this is happening, but your teachers do and they keep all the dirt in a student record that follows you for the next 13 years or so.

In the mean time, you work away making good and bad choices, but you make it to grade eight. Life is good! You own the school. You’re a senior. All the younger kids want to be like you because you are the top of the school’s food chain.

When grade nine starts and it’s time to start again at the bottom. You are a bottom feeder, a basement dweller. A minor niner. It’s tough to adapt for some people. Once heading up the grades, you are now nothing to the grade 12s.

Given time, usually four years, but sometimes five or more, you make it to the top again! This time though, 10 percent of the students have dropped out. They have struggled to find their place. Challenges were beyond ability. Peer settings were not conducive to success and belonging. Those who survive go on to become high school seniors. The elite of the secondary school.

Seems like we’ve been here before doesn’t it? Oh right, back in grade eight! Relive the days of being on top of the world, heading up the schools hierarchy of students. Then it happens.

Post Secondary Education. First year of university or college. You get on campus and you wander around in awe of the grandeur, but also worried like a lost puppy in a city you’ve never seen. You’re at the bottom again. The feeling here is different though. You are encouraged and supported. You have a greater sense of purpose, of future, even belonging. There is some intense learning about to take place. Everything you’ve done up to now has helped you get here, but this is a new game. This is a game changer.

Fast forward, three, four, eight years. You have your degree in hand and you’re out the door into the world. Time to start the career. You find it, the one you’ve been working so hard for, and guess what? You’re at the bottom of the pecking order again. The bottom rung of the ladder. The new guy. You are working with people who have years, even decades of experience. You, well, you just got here.

Statistics say that most people are changing jobs every two to three years now. Not everyone though. Not that cranky old guy that knows how to crush your spirit. Not the cantankerous women who has been sitting at the front desk for twenty years. She knows how to rob the joy from the very depths of your soul.

You need to find your place and hang on to your own self worth. Then the day will likely come when you reach the top of your game and it’s no longer a challenge to you. You’ve seen countless new staff come on board and look to you for answers and guidance. Now, well now it’s time to move on to a new adventure. It’s getting boring here. You can’t move around anymore.

Starting again, at the bottom of the ladder, looking to the top, where you want to be.

It’s a good cycle really. One that shouldn’t be broken. This cycle can empower us to stay on our game, to be continually challenged, even renewed. Staying on top too long can make you forget how vulnerable and replaceable you really are.

I just changed jobs after 11 ½ years. It’s a safe change though since I am slated to return to my old position in one year. Day one was like the first day in a new school. I was five years old again. I was in grade nine again. It was the first day of college again. It was time to find my fit in a new job setting. One that will stretch my comfort level beyond anything I have experienced. It’s good.

Change is needed, otherwise we become stagnant. We become too comfortable and we reject progress. Challenges keep us fresh or we risk resting on our laurels.

Starting in a new job, a new team, even moving to a new province or country to take up a new life brings with it a set of feelings and emotions that cause disturbance in our inner being. It’s good though, don’t worry. You are on a journey to become who are meant to be.

Each of us has a purpose and a destiny. Staying in the safety and comfort zones will rob you of your true potential. We each have more ability than we can imagine! You really do! Each of us is a creation, a unique, purposed and caused creation that has a distinct role to fulfill. Take courage – it’s there to be had – and try something new. Start something new. Be something new.

French poet and philosopher, Paul Valery (October 30, 1871 – July 20, 1945) once said, “The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up.”

Physicist Albert Einstein (March 14, 1879 - April 18, 1955) is to have said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results” and “A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.”
Everyone has a story. How you choose to live your life helps to build the plot line of your story. Will your story be one of mystery, drama, adventure, revolution, motivation, encouragement? Or will it sit on the shelves in the cognitive library of life, where no one takes a second glance?

Welcome to 2012

2011-03-11T12:22:00.001-05:00

It’s really an incredible time in the world. I went to bed last night, utterly sick of the rain. I just want to get out on my motorcycle again. The rain was still coming down as we settled down for a night of sleep. Although I was sick of it, the sound is peaceful and helps one to settle nicely.

This morning was a different story.

Today it’s similar to living in the movie 2012. I woke up today to crazy snow and slippery roads. Everything is covered again. It’s actually quite beautiful. My offices were both closed today because of weather related problems like power outages and loss of phones, but we got the kids off to school.

Then we turned on the radio. Life took on a decidedly different look.

More than 100 weather related accidents around the region.

Massive earthquake off the coast of Japan.

23 foot Tsunami destroying parts of Japan with hundreds of lives lost.

Tsunami warnings in 50 countries including Canada’s west coast.

Volcano tremors in Hawaii.

Some damage in Hawaii from waves stemming from the earthquake.

Suddenly, things are put into perspective. I can’t explain why natural disasters happen and why hundreds, sometimes thousands, of lives are lost. I don’t understand why countries battle and why people riot. I can’t fathom the brutality of some world leaders. But one thing I do know and that is that my God is a good and just God. I wouldn’t want to face any of life’s challenges without Him.

No matter what you believe, there is something in each of us that stirs the knowledge that there is something more to our lives. During these days, draw near to that small inner voice. If history teaches us anything, our situations are not getting any better in the world. There will be people who look like they can save us all – just look at the US Presidential Election. It simply isn’t true. Out of crisis, a hero will emerge, that’s the pattern. Watch for it. Be aware. Trust only that which is true.

Everyone has a story. The stories aren’t from the heroes in the media, it’s the people that are humble and show a servant heart. There will be many who step up over the next few days, but very few who any of us will ever hear about.

Why do they look like that?

2011-02-02T09:51:00.003-05:00

I was recently in Chatanooga, Tennessee for an officers meeting and it was suggested to me that I write about the appearance of a biker. People often comment on the “tough guy” image, with the leather, bandanas and wallet chains, but there is a reason for everything that we wear that runs beyond the image.
Helmets are a pretty clear necessity, so all I will say is that many of us wear them because they are required by law, others because we want to keep out brains in our head in case of a crash.
So, with that said, let’s begin with the leather: jacket, chaps, gloves and vest. There is an tremendous sense of freedom when riding. Even in the hot summer weather, there is a windchill, espcially at night. Leather keeps bikers warm. The bugs and stones don’t sting as much. Leather can be warm when not moving, but once on a run it keeps biker comfortable. Remember too, that cruising along at 100 km/hr is invigorating and freeing, but crashing is another story.
When a biker hits that ground and slides around the asphalt, the leather helps to protect from road rash. It helps keep stones and road scrap out of our bodies. Leather is a good protective measure that all bikers have in the back of their mind.
Vests specifically are worn primarly by bikers who are part of a club, group or association. Called “colours” or “cuts”, they serve as identification. Bikers wear them with pride because there is a brotherhood and they are a part of it. The vest also provides a measure of protection, but it is better identified as a means of recognition in the biker world.
Boots are worn for safety as well. Riding in running shoes or shoes with little traction is not safe. When riding it’s not a big deal, but when stopping and sitting at lights, there are several hundred pounds of metal that need balancing and a solid foundation is needed. If you don’t have good footing, there is a risk of sliding and no biker wants to drop their bike…especially when other people will see it happen.
Bandanas on the head of a biker are usually a specially cut and sewn style of bandana called a doo-rag (or do-rag, du-rag). If you ever smell the inside of a baseball hat you know that it doesn’t take too long before it smells pretty foul. Wearing a doo-rag helps absord the sweat and keep as much as possible out of our helmet, this keeps us from having to buy a new helmet once it smells beyond normal. There is also another common reason for wearing a doo-rag. Many bikers are bald or have shaved heads. Doo-rags help fend of the effects of UV rays that cause sunburns. It’s just a preventative measure. For bikers who have longer hair it keeps hair out of their face which can be a safety risk when riding.
Bandanas on the face is another practical measure. Longer beards tend to slap a bikers face when riding, and it can be surprisingly painful and annoying. Wearing the bandana keeps wiskers where they are not in the way and helps keep bugs out of a bikers mouth.
Why a chain on our wallet? If you have ridden for any length of time, you know that eventually your wallet will work it’s way out of your back pocket. Chaining it to our belt is just a means of keeping it safe and sound. Some bikers also hang their other keys on the chain, and this is just for the same reason – keeping track of things.
Sunglasses are pretty straight forward; we wear them because it’s bright out there. Riding a motorcycle, you soon realize that it is brighter than the inside of a car. There is no shelter for the sun’s rays so bikers need to protect their eyes from the sun. Glasses also help protect a biker’s eyes from pebbles, bugs and other road debris that is common on roads.
Sunglasses at night are often worn as well, but they are either clear or tinted with a yellow or amber colour. This is to protect from bugs and debris as well, but with the tinted lenses it also helps to brighten the road. Bikers who wear contacts also wear glasses to prevent their lenses from drying out in the wind.
That’s pretty much it. Style isn’t the priority, safety is. The next time you see a scary biker covered in leather you’ll understand why he or she looks that way. Also, next time you see a guy riding a sport bike in shorts and running shoes, you’ll wonder why he isn’t wearing the right gear to be safe.
Stay safe out there because everyone has a story. You need to be around to tell yours.

Shocked in Walmart

2010-12-29T18:31:00.002-05:00

I had to run out to Walmart to buy some tissue for my daughter who has come down sick over the holidays.

On Christmas Day, our children open their stockings before my wife and I roll out of bed from our Christmas slumber. The first words uttered by both were “Thanks for our spin brushes!” Imagine excitement and appreciation over a toothbrush.

We are blessed with thankful and giving children. While shopping before Christmas, my daughter asked for her $10 allowance in fives. My wife gave her two fives and she promptly walked to the Salvation Army kettles and gave away half of her money.

As we opened gifts, we received appreciation for every gift. Seriously, every gift was appreciated, from socks and underwear, to shirts, to a DSI and a camera. It didn’t matter if it was what they wanted, they were thankful to receive. Sometimes we take for granted that our children are truly good kids who are respectful and kind.

I was reminded tonight while in Walmart that not everyone is as thankful. Cashier asks me, “How was your Christmas?” I reply that it was good, but that it passed so quickly. I asked how hers was to which she replied, “It wasn’t that good.” Empathetically I said, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

At this point I expected to hear a comment about an illness or sad event within the family. Instead, I was almost shocked to hear this:

“It’s wasn’t anything really bad, I just didn’t like what I got.”

This young lady, probably 19 years old, maybe early 20’s explained that she was given “stuff to live on my own. I guess I got the hint.”

Gee, wonder why! I don’t think I want an ungrateful princess living under my roof either.

Thankfully, I don’t.

It’s good to be reminded of our own blessings, but it’s a shame that others live with misfortune, or selfishness. These things become choices. She could look at her gifts in such was that she is now more prepared for independence as she embarks on a new phase of her life, but instead she looks with greed and selfishness. Such a way to wreck a perfectly good Christmas.

Everyone has a story. What’s yours? Are you thankful for your blessings?

Dear Tepperman's

2010-12-29T18:17:00.000-05:00

Dear Tepperman’s,

My family was out and about on Boxing Day when we heard your advertisement “Pay nothing, no money down, no payments, no interest for 18 months on approved credit!”

We had been looking at getting a new TV since our 52” rear projection LCD was in need of a $400 bulb. We drove to the store on Wharncliffe Road in London, passed through the doors that proudly announce “Family to family, that’s the difference.” How nice!

We looked around that vast home furnishings and made our way to the TV and electronics section. We ideally wanted another LCD, but the 60” plasma was very inviting. We decided that since we were already approved for $10,000 we would go ahead and take the $1500 television - for $0 down, no payments and no interest.

Well, that was until our sales rep advised that he required a 15% deposit on the TV. Um, no, I don’t think so. We shared with him the ad on the radio. He looked at the ad in the paper which supported our position. We weren’t planning to pay anything. Mr. Sales Rep asked another rep who said, there was no money down except for 15%, a sort of “goodwill gesture” that we would fulfill our end of the contract.

Anyone see the irony in his statement?

So we asked again, are you going to give us the TV with nothing down, no payments, no interest? No.

Well, we spent cash this Christmas, without taking any debt on. We didn’t need a TV right now, but 18 months without payments and we could have paid it off anyway. Instead, we walked away without a new TV. More importantly, Tepperman’s lost a sale that day.

“Family to family, that’s the difference.” One thing you forgot Tepperman’s...my family doesn’t lie to me.

Regards,

Todd Rowley

2010-12-04T20:41:00.000-05:00

Most people know her as Barbie, one of the tattoo artists at Hardcore Tattoos and Piercings, located at 397 Talbot Street in St. Thomas. By the end of November, she hoped to be known in the Guinness Book of World Records as the artist who has given the most tattoos in a 24 hour period. The number you ask? At least 802, but Barbie has higher aspirations.

Mandy gets some work done by Barbie

A longtime St. Thomas resident, having attended both Arthur Voaden Secondary School and Central Elgin Collegiate , Barbie began at Hardcore Tattoos and Piercing six years ago as an apprentice. Having completed her high school co-op placement there, it was Barbie’s “love of art” that drew her to the unique field of choice. Much has changed in six years; she has completed her apprenticeship and has been tattooing full time for the past three years. Barbie has even taken first place in the “Biker Theme” category during the tattoo competition at the Canadian Biker Build Off held annually in Wellend, Ontario.

Kat Von D from LA Ink fame set the original record at 417, which has been shattered a number of times since and the record now sits at 801. Barbie is confident that she will set a new record, hoping to surpass 850, possibly closing in on the 1000 mark. Barbie planned to tattoo an outlined 3” by 3” cancer ribbon, with shading in a choice of colours to reflect the cancer being recognized. With each tattoo, a $20 donation was required with all money raised going to support the Canadian Cancer Society.

With a number of supply donations from community businesses, Barbie has been well stocked with the needed gloves, masks, cleaners and razors. Stencils were prepared and everyone was in place.

I was there at noon on November 27 when Barbie began the task. Francie Bisson was number one, getting her first tattoo ever, inked forever on her leg. Francie lost a sister and an aunt to cancer. One down. 801 to go.

By 5:00 p.m., a friend of mine had his done, and he was number 80. Seems like things aren't moving fast enough by my calculations to pull this off, but I know Barbie was excited about his and the team at Hardcore wanted her to succeed.

I went back at 8:30 p.m. to follow up. It wasn't looking good. Barbie was in pain. Her back was sore, but much worse, her hand was stiff, sore and swelling. She iced it, she wrapped and kept at it. Until 10:30 p.m. when she called it quits. Over 200 tattoos were done, but far from the record.

Barbie decided to take a week off to heal from the ordeal. She was in pain, but more so was disappointed. It's okay though. Remember the $20 donation that was required? In just ten and a half hours, Barbie was able to donate over $6000 to the Canadian Cancer Society. That's something to be proud of.

Everyone has a story. Francie is wearing hers for everyone to see.

X'n Biker - Canada's Christian Biker Magazine

2010-10-12T16:49:00.001-04:00

Earlier in the year I was conversing with my mom about my job. I explained that I had been in the same field for roughly sixteen years and that I had just about enough of it. In a field with high turnover and quick burnout, I am long past my expiration date if the statistics are to be believed.

So what is it that I would rather do? Well, I just wasn’t sure.

I love being out on my motorcycle, attending different bike events and charity rides. I enjoy the friendship that happens just because of a shared interest.

I enjoy writing. Not just any writing though, writing that can share someone else’s stories and experiences. Writing that is personal and relatable. Writing that gives some entertainment, but also has a point - usually.

I appreciate travel. When my son, Jordan, and I went to Cuba on a missions trip, I explained to him and other younger travelers that they will get out of an experience what they put into it. I believe that. When you are given the opportunity to embrace a new culture, a new experience or a life story of a person, you are being given a gift to make the most of.

Wouldn’t it be great to be a writer for a motorcycle magazine?

I spent considerable time combing the magazine racks at various stores in the area. I went online to check out biker magazines to see what was happening. There are so many magazines out there competing for advertisers, rack space and web traffic! Bagger mags, custom mags, H-D mags, sport mags, off road mags, test ride and new product mags. Some are very well put together, others, well, there are others that are no more than a poorly produced newsletter online.

Then it struck me. Something was missing. There are no Canadian Christian biker mags on the market. There was one running out of California that was a well put together publication, but it seems to have ceased production. There are a couple of other Christian “magazines” that run online but seem to stem from an existing religious organizations that promote their ideology rather than the Christian biker culture and the works of God in the world.

There it is, the idea that is slowly moving through the gears, revving up to the launch of X’n Biker - Canada’s Christian Biker Magazine, coming in 2011!

X’n Biker will provide well written articles of interest, news and encouragement. I am hoping for a Chaplain's corner with submissions from various Ministry Chaplains, a note from the editor/publisher, clean humour, a ride list, a Question and Answer section serving as a forum for bikers to pose questions and offer answers, a “First Ride” page, and a “Current Ride” page profiling various bikers' rides. I would like to include a ministry profile story at each issue. We are all in this together, sharing God’s Word to the world we are in and need to be supportive of each other in this mission. Most importantly, X'n Biker will also feature testimonies and reports from the front line of our unique mission field.

Everyone has a story. Every Christian has a past and every sinner has a future.

If this is an endeavour that you are interested in pursuing on a voluntary basis, send me a sample of your writing or photography for consideration. All submitted materials will, of course, be subject to editing and space consideration, but the integrity of the submissions will be maintained.

Morgan and Skip

2010-10-02T12:48:00.001-04:00

It’s been too long since I had the chance to sit and write. Today, I am making the time amidst the chaos of home renos. My lost time started with our van needing repairs, followed by a bathroom that needed a new floor, which leads to far more work than anticipated, followed by a repainting of our living room which was the wrong colour so that is now being used in the kitchen that my wife is painting while I stop to write. The kids are back in school, youth groups begin, my son started cadets this year and is already on a weekend camp venture.

The past month has been somewhat of a blur really. At the same time, two distinct introductions stand clear in my mind. Morgan and Skip.

While I was up north, when I wrote the post about howling coyotes, I had the chance to meet Morgan. He is a friend of my mother-in-law’s. I have long heard of this somewhat reclusive man and wanted to meet him in his home. I briefly met him a number of years ago, but little more than in introduction.

We made plans to visit him and when we arrived he greeted us at the door welcoming us in. Morgan lives in a round 45 foot cabin, all one room and very cozy. He explained to me that he has a different view of the industrialized world which is why he has chosen to live in his cabin. Morgan’s water supply comes from his catch basins connected to his downspouts leading from his metal roof. He has only a small generator to power his radio in the cabin, and a series of propane powered lamps that line the inside of his home. He prepares all of his meals on one of two wood stoves, the other solely for heat.

Morgan’s home is decorated with memories from his past with items such as linens he purchased in other countries, photos from past projects and pottery that he made by hand. Morgan has traveled the globe. His last travel was by tall ship that he help sew the sails for. He has photos that were taken of a home in Peru that he helped rebuild. The home was a collapsed ruin from the 1500’s. The archeologist in him was interested in the ruins themselves, but the engineer in him was more interested in recreating the past, and it won over his other feelings.

Morgan was honored that I would want to take pictures of his home and when I brought out my Canon EOS 30D he was immediately interested. He once was an avid photographer but when the digital age dawned he turned the page on the chapter of his life. Morgan brought out his old camera that was like new. I hadn’t held anything like it in my hands before. It was about half the size of my camera, but at least as heavy. Looking at his photos from years past, he was quite to photographer for his time.

Did I mention that Morgan was bare chested and wearing skirt? We talked over dinner about cross dressing and his belief that women began cross dressing during the war when they began work in the factories as men went off to battle. The women workers had to trade in their dresses for pants and a new age took shape. Morgan, although he won’t wear his skirt in town, since some people couldn’t handle it in the small northern town, wears it at home as it is comfortable and freeing. I don’t think my kids could handle it if I wore a skirt. Imagine if I showed up at a bike event in a skirt! Good for you Morgan. As odd as it struck me, I respect his stand for what he believes.

I will keep in touch with Morgan. I will write him soon, since he doesn’t have email.

Two weeks after meeting Morgan, I met Skip. I received a call from our chapter president, Terry, saying that Skip called him and was interested in working with the Tillsonburg Chapter of Heaven’s Saints Motorcycle Ministry. Cool. Who’s Skip? Apparently he had seen us flying the flag on the way to Friday the 13th in Port Dover and became interested. A few weeks later he read an article that I had written about a fund raising ride we were doing for Fresh Start that ran in a local paper. He went online, read about the ministry and called us.

On the day of the ride, Skip came out to meet us at the church where we began our ride. Nice man. He’s in a band called Mercy Train. He has a long history in the music industry, playing with people like Janis Joplin and Steve Miller. I know those names, sounds interesting. As it turns out, Skip is the Skip Prokop from Lighthouse. Now I was able to begin putting this all together. While our Chaplain, Dave, and I were talking with Skip, he explained that while he was on our website, he was encouraged and moved that we took a stand for our beliefs, spoke the word and didn’t hide behind our colours. Skip felt lead to work alongside our chapter should the circumstance arise that we needed a band for any events. Before we parted way, Skip gave us his email address, a few CD’s and a bio that he had printed off.

As the week went on, I learned more about Skip, listening to the Mercy Train CD, reading online about the man and the bands like Lighthouse and The Paupers, and hearing from someone that since Skip had contacted us, we shouldn’t “let him go” as he was the best and most sought after drummer in the music industry of his time.

When I got around to emailing Skip, he called me and left a message to call him at home. As soon as I did, we made arrangements to get together for lunch at his place. Interesting. Skip is a four time Juno award winner, has gold and platinum albums as well as numerous other awards from his time with Lighthouse, which by the way, continues to perform today.

When I arrived to meet Skip at his home, it was the usual getting to know a person sort of thing. His home had just been completely renovated and we swapped stories as I had just had to tear apart my bathroom, and would be working through the rest of the house over time.

As we sat at the dining table and drank coffee, I listened as Skip opened up about his life, his success, he challenges, his good times and the bad. He is a living example that no matter how big a person gets, he can still be humble, humbled, and real.

Of no real difference to anyone reading this, I had homemade chicken soup that his wife made, and my first ever toasted salmon sandwich. It was good and I realized I have been missing out on this tasty slice of life. Mmmm. I wonder if she caters?

Mercy Train is currently in studio right now working on the new album coming out in 2011. We listened to the tracks that they have down so far and I must say, it is going to be a great album and I would encourage anyone to get their hands on a copy. These guys have a solid full sound that spans worship and rock, with a consistent message throughout about God, his love, grace and of course, his Mercy.

I will be heading with Skip to the studio next week to meet the rest of the band and spend some time with them while they record.

To add to an already unique experience, Skip let me hold one of his Juno awards, and like Morgan’s camera, I had never held anything like in my hands before. Skip’s wife wanted his awards to be on the shelf in the living room, although he doesn’t hold on to the past with anything other than his memories. He is indeed humble. Talented and gifted, but humble and gracious.

I am so blessed to meet people on my own way through life that, if it weren’t for God’s hand, I just wouldn’t meet. I am constantly reminded that whether it’s you or me, Morgan or Skip, everyone has a story.

Howl in the Night

2010-09-09T07:24:00.001-04:00

There are some sounds that stir up very basic and raw emotions. Some man-made while others rise from nature. The rumble of a motorcycle. The roar of engines at the drag strip. The sudden crack of thunder in a summer storm. The cry of a newborn baby.

As the sun was set, the dark ink-blue sky settled into the tree line and the blue turned black. Night time settled on rural landscape in northern Ontario. I was multi-tasking, as I often do. We had just returned from North Bay, from shopping for back to school clothes and sharing a brief reunion with a girl who once attended our youth program. I stood outside barbecuing burgers and reading chapter two of Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger as the porch light gave the only functional glow. One of the sounds that stirs a soul rose from beyond the darkened tree line. The howling of coyotes filled the distant air.

Haunting.

A raw, basic connection was made when the sounds of the wild and heart of man met at a precise moment. Leaving the urban landscape to spend a weekend in the north reminds me that there is much more to life than the daily grind of work, the traffic, the constant night glow of streetlights and cityscapes. There is a very basic co-existence with nature.

I felt as though I was thrust back in time to a point where I shared the space with the wild. In the city, it’s easy. People rule and nature must adapt to the ‘advances’ of mankind. Here though, I think I am on their turf, subject to their rules. With every howl, I was reminded that I was not alone in the darkness. I am no longer the predator, in fact, I could be prey.

I was awakened at 3:00 a.m. I was in the house. I was sleeping, until the dog in the living room barked. The howling of coyotes was now so loud, it was heard from inside. I learned in the morning that they were in the yard around the house. Now, I understand that we were safe and sound in the house, but with only a patio door made of glass separating us, we were like animals in a zoo. I was on the inside, being kept from the animals. Maybe they were at the windows and doors looking in on us like circus side shows and their howling were laughs as they shared stories and jokes of other people they had seen in days passed. Maybe they tried to feed us and get us to wake up and do tricks for their pleasure and entertainment.

Probably not. But everyone has a story. Maybe, just maybe, even the coyotes.

It's okay to be a man hater, apparently.

2010-09-09T07:04:00.002-04:00

The man haters club. I know women in this group, and I am told often of their membership affiliation. “I’m the President of the man haters club.” Do I need to know that? Being a man, I wonder why this is acceptable.

I don’t recall the last time it was acceptable to say to a black person, “I am the President of the black haters club” or to a a woman, “No offense, but I hate all women.” I dare you to try and get away saying, “I hate gays.” These things don’t happen without recourse. These statements are seen as racist, sexist or just plain hate-speech.

Help me to understand this, then. Why is it acceptable to make comments about hating men? “All men are pigs.” “All men are cheaters and liars.” “I will never trust a man.” “I am the president of the man haters club.”

Do you know what happens if a man stands up for himself? Is he applauded for his ability to rise up in the face of adversity and the onslaught of criticism? Is he praised for using his voice to represent men everywhere? No. He is told that he is proving an ingrained belief pattern of male supremacy, or that he is proving that he his male privilege. Really?

I was told earlier this year that by an openly gay man that employers should get to the place where they are able to explain to potential candidates that their beliefs don’t fit the mold and they should look elsewhere. What beliefs? Christian beliefs. Biblically founded beliefs. He wanted to be heard, respected and listened to. Me, I couldn’t speak openly because I was being intolerant. He has his beliefs, I have my beliefs. His are right, mine are wrong. Interesting. I would like to say mine are right and his are wrong, but, once again, I would be considered intolerant and subject to further criticism.

I said to this man, whether anyone is black or white, straight or gay, Muslim or Christian, I really don’t care because we are all people. I asked what the problem was with this approach. He told me that I wasn’t appreciative of the plight of the gay culture. Seriously?

So I called a gay colleague, who is well aware of my beliefs and values, and I of his. We have talked many times, shared many laughs and talked about our respective families. I explained my thoughts of this past conversation and he assured me that despite our differences of which there are many, mutual respect rises above the differences.

Everyone has a story. I wish we could all be open and respectful of our differences.

Church in a bar? Cool!

2010-09-01T13:51:00.000-04:00

I found myself at Boomer’s Roadhouse in Waterford, Michigan on Sunday. I don’t tend to frequent bars, but sometimes a motorbike event takes me to one. This was different though. The owner of Boomers opens up his bar one Sunday a month for the Michigan Chapter of the Heaven’s Saints Motorcycle Ministry to hold church. Church in a bar? Absolutely!

When Jesus gave the command to go into the world and preach the gospel, He wasn’t talking about building a church building and hope they show up. It’s not a reality anymore that the church building is the refuge place for those in pain and seeking comfort. Christians need to get into the world and meet people where they are at. These Heaven’s Saints are taking the commission and going into the world.

The wait staff are also there voluntarily. This is one day that they are not paid to work, but they serve us with joy and exemplary service. The general feeling amongst the bikers is to bless the staff there, with courtesy and great tips.

At this service, Michigan Chapter Road Captain Roger Crawford shared his story in an interview style setting with Michigan Chapter Chaplain Victor Torres.

Roger is a Vietnam Veteran. “I was a peaceful man, but Vietnam turned me violent” he said with tears already choking his words. His first week at war he witnessed 70 men dead in an attack. Picking up body parts was a part of initiation into Vietnam.

Roger wanted to be a mechanic, instead he was made into a medic. “I saved some lives, I guess.” The pain is clear as Roger spoke of his trauma. Vietnam hurt this man, this brother. When anyone was killed or seriously wounded in a battle, the front line men were moved to the back for a 3-day break. Problem is, at the back, there’s ample access to heroin, pot and alcohol. Roger had his share. He explained that the troops would get stoned, high and drunk for three days. “It’s how we handled death.”

This created the foundation for the next 30 years of Roger’s life. When he returned from battle, he was a violent man. He knew the drug trade and turned to it as a means of making much needed money. He became a dealer. “That’s what I learned in Nam.”

Roger was also abusive. His voice shook as he opened himself to judgement as he spoke of the abuse he put his wife through, “She should have left a long time ago, but she stayed.” In 1991, Roger made a “deal with the DA” and had his wife charged, so he could stay a free man. This was indeed a low point for Roger.

In time, Roger hung himself in an attempt to end the painful life that was all too familiar. His attempt was unsuccessful and he woke up 8 days later in the hospital. His first words, “Did I wreck my bike?”

Three years ago, Roger ended up at Boomer’s Roadhouse, much like this Sunday. Victoria Torres, Victor’s daughter, sang Amazing Grace - which I believe is one of the greatest songs ever written. Roger shared that his father’s favorite song was Amazing Grace, and he had just passed away. Hearing Victoria sing the words to the song was “like my dad was standing behind me, talking to me.” Roger explained at that moment, God’s hand started to work through his life. In the parking lot at Boomer’s, amongst the chrome and shine of polished bikes, Roger asked for God’s forgiveness. His life began to change, he hasn’t smoked pot since that day. Roger says, “You have to want to change.” Despite all that he has been through, it was three years ago that Roger heard God’s call on his heart, and he wanted the change.

John 10:7-10a says, Jesus therefore said unto them again, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep. All that came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not hear them. I am the door, by me, if any man shall enter in he shall be saved.

Roger has a story. A story with a blessed lesson. No matter what, no matter the mistakes, the pain, the drugs, the alcohol, the violence, God is calling in your life. You have to want to accept, you have to want to change.

Everyone has a story.

A Day of Firsts

2010-08-22T23:09:00.000-04:00

It was indeed a day of firsts.

Last year when we traveled to Cuba on a missions trip, I shared with the younger team members that they would get out of the trip just what they put into it, and encouraged them to embrace the opportunities that lay ahead. It’s a philosophy that could really be carried out in daily life.

This morning we attended the fair where my HSMM brother, Super Dave, was sharing the message. I had not heard him speak before in a public setting and was pleased with his God-given confidence. Hearing Super Dave share a message - a first. Afterwards, some of the other HSMM brothers and sisters were talking about our experiences in the past and how blessed we are to be in fellowship with one another.

As my family and I walked through the fair we came across a fry truck selling poutine, and we wanted some. Let me tell you, many places claim to have poutine, but these guys knew what they were doing. Real hand cut home fries, hot gravy - not lumpy or with the skin floating on it - shredded white cheese on a plate well worth the $5. If you ever run across Mustards Last Stand, stop in try the poutine.

The usual petting zoo was at the fair; the one with the goats, the pigs, the llama, the alpaca, the porcupine, the....wait a minute. Those two porcupines were there only to look at. They really are quite adorable creatures. Also there was a two week old lion cub. We each took the time to pet this little guy. If you have ever pet a young sheep, it feels much the same. Tight fur that feels fresh and new. He had playful eyes and sharp claws. The pads on his feet were like soft leather, much like those on my childhood pet raccoon, Mandy. Another first for the day.

There was an elephant at the fair this time as well. Such amazing creatures. Giants, but gentle at the same time. I know guys like this.

The afternoon and evening were spent with friends. Sue and John are a great couple. They are real, down to earth, honest friends. We laughed, we shared stories of our work in ministry, our kids played together, played cards and ate good food. Sue and John are Mennonite, not horse and buggy mennonite, but Mexican Mennonite. I tried these cheese stuffed peppers that were deep fried in dough. Thems is some good eatin’, and another first for the day.

John recently bought a .22 caliber shotgun. I have never shot a gun, aside from a pellet or BB gun, so we took the time to get armed and do some shootin’. There it was, another first for the day and I gotta say, I quite enjoyed it. Makes one feel like a man!

As we headed out for home around 9:00 p.m., I took a road that is mainly inhabited by horse and buggy mennonites. It would seem the Amish were all heading home from church at this hour, I had not seen this many buggies before on one road. Horse and buggies on the road at night is different than in the daytime. I was on my motorbike and didn’t want to scare the horses, who are pretty comfortable on the roads anyway, so I took it slow. I was distracted at one point with a seemingly random light shining in amongst the trees. As I rode closer, I saw that it was an Amish lady, dressed in black, using a flashlight to lead another Amish Mennonite in a wheelchair. That’s not a sight you often see.

All in all, after the 15 or more buggies, we made it closer to home, only to hit rain, but we arrived safe and sound.

The evening ended with word that my HSMM brother, Campy, had lost his 93 year old mom this afternoon. He was able to be with her, holding her hand as she died. God bless you and bring you peace Campy.

No matter our age or the life we have left in us, we just never know the day or time when it will come to a close. Embrace each day you have. Take the ‘firsts’ in you life and make memories. You get out of life what you put into it.

Everyone has a story. Make yours.

Friday the 13th

2010-08-18T07:46:00.000-04:00

It’s a strange phenomenon, this biker brotherhood. Friday the 13th in Port Dover was a spectacle to be experienced. There really isn’t anything to do there aside from the repeated walk through the village admiring bikes of all kinds, all sizes and makes, stock to tricked out customs that only the rare gifted mind can create.

In Dover, we are all bikers, or at least, bike enthusiasts. Colours or not, affiliations or not, Harleys or Hondas we all get along for this special day reserved for the small port side town of 4000. The town swells to well over 100,000 people with some estimates upwards of 250,000 people with over 15,000 bikes. All for one day, then we go home.

While we were immersed in the sea of people, handing out free water and Barry Mayson DVD’s (former Hells Angels President turned Christian and founder of Heaven’s Saints Motorcycle Ministry), we shared laughs and stories with our own ministry brothers from Windsor, Tilbury, Harrow and Michigan. We packed it in around 4:30 p.m. when the crowds grew smaller but the parties pick up and the shirts come off. This definitely isn’t a family event after a certain hour.

We continued the next day in Tillsonburg with The Day After, held at the Upper Deck Youth Centre. It was a day of socializing and relaxing. We see each other at rides and the occasional barbecue, but often we miss the chance to get to know each other by embracing the down time. That’s what this day was for. And it was a good day.

We learned later that it was tragic for others.

International Heaven’s Saints Motorcycle Ministry President Curtis Jamieson and his wife Patty were in a car accident that totaled their truck. Other than Curtis’ pulled back, the couple is fine. Brothers TT and Lamar were riding in Alabama on Friday when a car pulled out in front of them. Lamar clipped the car and was injured, but is generally alright. Tommy “TT” struck the car straight on the side and later died on Saturday of his injuries.

I know Curtis, Patty and TT. They are brothers and sisters in the ministry and they all have a heart for God. Curtis and Patty are two of the most enthusiastic people I have ever met. Their love of God is contagious!

TT was always smiling, moving around and may have needed a bit of Ritalin, but he was a joy to be with and his sense of excitement spread wherever he was. His passing brings a loss to the Saints, especially the Phenix City, Alabama chapter, from which he was the President. TT joins fellow Saint and founder Barry Mayson in Heaven. We can be sure the two of them are drinking in the pure joy of the heavenly brotherhood.

Everyone has a story. How will you be remembered?

Shattered Solitude

2010-08-10T10:45:00.000-04:00

I was sitting on what was to be a quiet lunch break when I found my solitude interrupted by people seeking the intrigue of the location. I had parked my motorcycle at the edge of a 300 foot cliff overlooking the north shore of Lake Erie, hoping to sit back, enjoy my home packed lunch and do some reflection and writing. This was short lived dream.

An older couple was touring the countryside in the old convertible when they noticed the worn sign directing them to the cliff. The couple lives in the lake side village of Port Dover, a couple hours east of here. Port Dover is a lovely little village with the character of a post card photo that makes you long for days gone by. But whenever a Friday the 13th rolls around on a calendar, Dover transforms into Canada’s own one day Sturgis event. This year’s event, which falls in August, expects to see over 15,000 bikes and over 200,000 people take over the village of 4000 residents. My family will be among the hoards of motorcycle enthusiasts, riders and hardcore bikers.

The couple who stopped by the cliff location where I sought some peace had never before been to the cliff. It is such a unique location at the end of a dirt road that is not commercialized in any way. Other the barrier in the small parking area, the cliff and the effects of gravity are accessible to anyone feeling inclined to view the rapid decline.

As they were leaving, a young guy showed up. We had a bit of small talk – it’s difficult to ignore a guy sitting on a motorcycle at the cliff’s edge I suppose. When he walked back my way after a short trek along the edge, I had my notebook out to do some writing. Marcio, as it turned out was his name, asked if I was writing in my journal. I explained that I was an aspiring writer and he told me his journal was in the truck he had parked in the lot just of the hill. Curious, I asked why he had a journal, since there are few males who would admit to such a past time.

Marcio was visiting family in the area for the first time since the earthquake in Haiti. He lives in West Virginia but had travelled to Haiti on his first missions trip; he is just 21. The trip was not to help with restoration, but rather his team had arrived prior to the quake and was just seven miles from the epicenter when it struck the island nation. Marcio and his team were relatively safe, with only minor injuries, but the home of the family next to them fell and killed many of the more than 20 people living there.

The team was heli-vac’d out of Haiti to the safety of a country not in ruins. Instead of coming home, Marcio returned to Haiti to help with the rescue and rebuild for the next four and a half months. In one single day he witnessed the mass grave filled with 150,000 bodies. We can’t imagine. We don’t want to.

My quiet and peaceful lunch was shattered by people, but I am reminded of the blessings I have. That I can take time to ride out to the cliff’s edge to meet people and share stories of travel and life’s adventures. I am reminded at opportune times that everyone has a story. It may not be the time that you want to hear if, but if you stop and listen just maybe you will be filled with passion and inspiration to pursue your own dreams and desires.

Tractor Parade

2010-07-24T20:09:00.000-04:00

We watched the news last night and a story caught my eye. Finally, something different! This wasn’t a walk or a run for charity, this wasn’t a motorcycle ride (although there is nothing wrong with these and I enjoy everyone I am on), no, this was something new.

Taking place in Dresden was “The Greatest Tractor Parade: Farmers Driving Out Cancer!” Their website states “The purpose of the parade is to raise money for the Canadian Cancer Society. Meanwhile we’ll be having fun trying to break the Guinness World Record for the “largest parade of farm tractors”. As of this morning, the record was 601 tractors, at an event in Sterling, Ontario. This was going to be different. On the news, reports were a tally of over 700 tractors.

We decided to hit the road and enjoy a novelty that was pledged to be a one time event. We soon found the back country road where the parade was to begin. The time came and the rumbles began as tractors of all makes and models, all sizes huge and small started their engines. Okay, this isn’t quite what happened. Many did start, but far more stayed idle for some time as the line up of tractors was so enormous. It would be some time before they were ready to leave the staging grounds for some time.

For three hours, we watched John Deere, CASE, International, White, New Holland, Moline, Kubota, Massey-Harris, Massey-Ferguson, Ford, Cockshutt, Leyland, Farmall, Allis-Chalmers and Duetz. The came in small hobby farm-sized tractors with front-end loaders to move around “natural fertilizer”, medium sized ones that seemed to dominate the parade, and some ridiculously large ones that I just struggle to fathom the need for. But then again, my choice mode of transportation has just two wheels. A tractor has four right? Except for the one with only three, a fair number with six, a few with eight and even one with ten tires! Who needs that?

The parade started at roughly 12:45pm. We left at 3:45pm, not long after tractor number 602 left the staging grounds. I like tractors. One day I would like to have one, although I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s a guy thing. But after three hours, come one. I had the chance to speak with one lady who seemed to be in the know and she explained that the count was upwards of 1200 tractors and the organizers were overwhelmed with pride. That’s right, 1200 tractors. Just three hours into the parade and we were just past half way. For us, that was a wrap. We started up the car and headed the opposite direction of the parade. You know how annoying and challenging it can be to get around one tractor while your trying to get to your destination? Imagine passing 600!

Everyone has a story. What a story these farmers will have as they share their experiences in the world’s largest parade of tractors who raised over $70,000 for their cause.

Check out the video link here.

My Indian Brother

2010-07-24T09:51:00.001-04:00

After work on Tuesday, a few of us gathered at Legends Tavern for 35 cent wings. We shared some great laughs as we often do, but for me, this evening was a bit different.

Riding with a motorcycle ministry, it is easy to wear my colours outside of my own city. At home though, there is the likelihood that I will encounter people I know, and the awkwardness can creep in. I need to stand completely unashamed of my faith, (which, by the way, is easier to do when it’s not emblazoned across your back), so this time, I rode my bike and wore my colours to the bar. I was not ashamed, even though there were people there who I knew, and a few that felt the need to stare, confused why a Christian flag, and a "Jesus Is Lord" rocker would be at the bar. I’ve been in the bars before with my colours, but typically at the end of an organized ride or fund raiser. Not this time. And it was different.

After wings, Dennielle and I rode down to the beach. We stopped at Mackies in Port Stanley. I have been to Mackies more times than I care to count and consumed more calories that I can count, but there was something different this time.

Mackies is a great place with Orange-ade - the stuff legends are made of - and the best dipping sauce. I have no idea what it is, but it’s fantastic on fries and this sauce kicks Swiss Chalet’s butt. The other great aspect of Mackies is their recognition of motorcycles and local sports celebrities. Joe Thornton’s jerseys from his various teams and leagues are signed and plastered up throughout the place, and outside there is a designated parking section for motorcycles only. There’s something almost magical about bikes and the beach.

When I was walking through the restaurant, I noticed a man with biker colours on, but I didn’t recognize them. They looked Native and that was new to me.

Dennielle and I sat outside for a while just taking in the sights and sounds of the beach. Two people, presumably a couple, were casually scouring the beach with metal detectors in hopes of finding enough for retirement. I read that Dave Booth of Scotland who had only had a metal detector for five days made a discovery that rocked his world and changed his life. He discovered an “incredibly rare cache of five gold treasure pieces that were grouped tightly together - three intact necklace and two fragments of another.” Reportedly, the discovery soon had international interest. According to Kelly Code Detectors, “these four golden neck pieces, referred to as ‘torcs,’ are estimated to date 300 an 100 BC. Early speculation has been that his "Stirlingshire Hoard" could fetch more than $1.5 million!” I think it is safe to assume this isn’t happening in Port Stanley, but if it did, this couples lives would be forever changed.

Aside from treasure hunters, the beach had many families enjoying their evening out, splashing in the water, giggles and childhood yells could be heard. Seagulls had all come home from the Wal-Mart parking lot for the night and were occasionally stirred up as children ran through the flock.

After some time, the biker and two women came outside. They were taking some pictures and I offered to take a couple of the three of them, Lake Erie in the background. As guys in colours do, we got to talking and it turned out that Bill was there with his wife, Sha, and her cousin. Bill and Sha ride with Lenape Nation M.C. out of New York state and were in the area to visit her family.

Most members of Lenape Nation M.C. are part of Six Nations in New York who have come together to share their love and enjoyment of riding. Bill and Sha rode up to Ontario on their 2008 Harley Davidson Street Glide. I admit a shred of envy. It really doesn’t matter what you ride though, as long as you ride.

We talked together for quiet some time about our lives and our groups. We shared some laughs of course; Bill has a patch on his colours that reads “Think you can trust the government, ask an Indian.” Bill has been riding longer than I have but it didn’t matter. This stranger, now biker friend, and I connected well as we swapped stories of rides and rallies. The huge biker world that is often referred to as family has an uncanny ability to break down barriers of all kinds - race, colour and creed. Bill and I know that each are welcome if we find ourselves in the other’s home town. Pictures were taken with our colours together and emails were exchanged before we parted ways to meet again on the road somewhere down the line.

Interesting how on the same day, in one place, colours can separate you from people, yet in another they can draw you together as a commonality.

Everyone has a story from the road. What a great evening.

The Big (3D) Picture

2010-07-23T18:47:00.000-04:00

I have heard it said that for everything there is a season. Sounds good, right? It gives a sense of hope, that “this too shall pass.” I suppose that’s what some folks hang on to. Remember though, with every seasonal change, it leads back to that same place, just one year later. Maybe this year of seasonal changes now carries with additional burdens, failures and struggles.

I don’t like the picture it paints.

Maybe, just maybe, the picture is determined from the manner in which we look at it. Remember the 3D pictures of the mid-90s that half of us saw, many said they saw it, while a few felt alone, like freaks in circus of a different time? Life could be much the same as staring into one of those pictures.

There is a group of people that just can’t grasp that there is more than meets the eye. They live in a life of solitude and isolation from success. They don’t take more than a passing glance at the picture. Sure they see others living a life, or trying to fit into life, but they remain uninterested, even lack ambition to consider why they would want to be a part of it. They don’t even make an attempt to see the picture. They spend their days waiting for “their” cheques, smoking cigarettes and drinking Tim Horton’s coffee like it’s on sale. They hang out in small parks just passing the day away. Content with mediocrity (at best).

The second group sees the “successful” people and they want to be like them. They mimic their behaviours in hopes that something will pop out. They tilt their head, squint their eyes and play the part. They haven’t figured out how to get there, but they are a determined bunch. Given enough time and encouragement, they just might get it!

The remaining group, possibly the group in the minority, know there is something in that picture to be seen and appreciated. There is something to be grasped. Their determination pays off. They have listened to those who have gone before them to learn what is needed. Their determination ensures that they look at their circumstances from a variety of angles before coming to an appreciation of the facts.

So there is hope! Like the seasons, we will take a time for rest and renewal. We may lie dormant, status quo if you will, to later break through our cocoon of protection to venture into another year will bring with it a time of overcoming, healing and success! Refuse to carry a life of burdens and struggles! Be an overcomer. Be the minority that goes after the big picture.

Everyone has a story. Will yours be one that people want to hear?

Bull!

2010-07-21T22:43:00.001-04:00

Sunday was a great time of friendship and fellowship. Not a typical church service, rather one with over 40 bikers. Bikers from all sorts of various backgrounds, from former club members to born and raised church goers. There were pentecostals and baptists, free methodists and presbyterians all gathered under the banner of ONE God.

One man able to make it out to the service was one named Michael. Michael is a 35 year old man who has lived through experiences that many of us cannot even imagine.

Speaking with Michael, you soon realize beyond his 6 foot four, 450 pound stature and his face of tattoo ink, he has a soft heart, and gentle spirit. Michael wasn’t always like that though. He was once a cold calculated man involved in organized crime and the gang life. As a former gang leader, he found himself high up in the Edmonton Alberta crime world. After having his legs broken, his head crushed, his back broken and countless other injuries, he today is an active volunteer in his church community where he serves as a mentor for area youth. After being left die, Michael “Bull” Roberts was saved, both in body and in spirit. He wants to give back.

Michael recently wrote his story, and to his surprise, won an Award of Merit and the General Readership Award. He told me he was surprised; it was his first book! When I asked Michael what stirred him to write, he shared that as a child he was interested in writing but his father beat the dream out of him. Today, his heart is soft. Healing seems to have occurred in his life. I look forward to meeting again with this new friend.

Everyone has a story. You can read more of Michael's by picking up his book, "The Tender Heart of a Beast." ISBN 978-0-9813883-0-4,

Imagine the Freedom!

2010-07-11T23:07:00.002-04:00

I have just finished up three weeks of vacation time. During my time, I rode over 3000 km on my motorbike, watched movies with my children, played tennis and badminton, read during some quiet time, connected with great friends, played in the pool with my kids, went on a couple dates with my wife, had some time in prayer and enjoyed some good music. Life was good.

During this time I appreciated my time with my children. I was able to enjoy their contagious laughs, their beaming smiles, their peaceful company and their endearing personalities. I loved the chance to just be a dad. I was blessed with the time with my wife to take in an anniversary dinner and a movie that was beyond any expectation. We watched the cliff swallows dive around in search a hearty meal to share with their young. We sat together around campfires at a motorcycle rally and grew in our friendships with biker brothers and sisters. It was a simple life built around relationships.

Lotto 6/49 has the right slogan for their sales; Imagine the Freedom. It isn’t about the money as much as it is about the freedom to focus on the joys in life. The simple ones like watching the birds, the complex ones like realizing your children are getting to the age when you are providing much more guidance and basic parenting, when your role is changing and you either embrace it or dig in and refuse to accept the shift. It’s the adventures of a 2500 km road trip in 5 days with friends of all appearances and backgrounds. It’s knowing you have people in your life that you can call at any hour and know they will be there for you. It’s all about relationship. Personal relationships, familial and marital, friends and co-workers, spiritual and faith filled in Christ.

Despite not having a burning desire to return to work, I know I am blessed to have a job. A good one at that. A job that allows me the finances and flexibility to enjoy life outside of work. I fully realize that it takes up a vast amount of my time, but it does not make up my identity; I am not my job. My job serves as a means to enjoy the life that awaits outside of it.

So don’t frown on your circumstances. They do not dictate who you are, but rather your true nature shows in how you handle your circumstances.

Everyone has a story. You choose the ending.