Lessons learned at a sad time.

My grandfather died eight days ago.  He had been so ill for so long, so his death was not a complete surprise, but it is still a sad experience.  He was a great gentleman, mentor, and a lot of fun.  The saddest days are over.  Visitation, funeral service, flowers and cards have all had their usual places in the grieving process.  I don’t want this to turn into an obituary though.  That has already been written and published on a funeral home website, in a newspaper, and read over a local radio station.  Instead, I want to talk about things I learned and observed during the past week.

My hometown is not entirely rotten.  I’ve been overtly critical of the place where I grew up and have lived most of my life.  True, I dislike a lot of its traits, but I love a lot of the people there, and I even find some of the more bizarre traits amusing.  I concluded that if one has to spend four days dealing with death, a small town is the best place to do it.  Caring and praying people are easier to know in places like that, it takes little time at all for a concentration of them to appear when needed most.  There was profound proof of this in the wonderful support shown by so many people through their calling by the house, bringing food because we didn’t feel like cooking, or helping with the organization and unexpected logistics the situation caused.  About 70 people visited the open house held by my parents.  We would have been lost without the help from church ladies who looked after catering and a dentist who gladly allowed guests to leave their cars at his parking lot.  I walked around my hometown one day and was quite thankful to be in a place where friends and neighbours do these kinds of things.

I would be hiding the truth or lying if I didn’t admit there are some incredibly unpleasant, belligerent, and outright toxic relations among extended relatives in the branch of the family affected by this recent loss.  Knowing this, some wonderful people who are not actual relatives were there without question to assist and offer support beyond imagination.  There is the couple who drove an hour to pick me up at the airport, took me to a restaurant for lunch, and helped my family every day, even accompanying my tired parents on the long car trip when they returned me to my Gatineau home.  There are friends who have had similarly bad relationships in their own extended families that provided support.  There is a couple who drove four hours to be there for the weekend and had routinely visited my grandfather and prayed for him daily during his difficult final decade.  Another couple drove two hours from their cosy vacation home on Georgian Bay to visit on Saturday.  For what I lack in extended family, I am richly blessed with what I call my “family of choice.”  These are people who over 25 years of my family being connected with the same small community, have become friends of infinite value.  I am so thankful that each of these people have made the choice to be friends of my family and I, and that we in turn chose each of them as our friends.  I love my family of choice and even made sure I said that during my remarks at the funeral service.  Many of these people had also become my grandfather’s family of choice over the recent years too.  Each of them enriched his life and I hope he enriched each of theirs.

During the four sad days at home, I was again reminded that children bring hope of life continuing when the life of someone old has ended.  At the funeral service, my niece, occasionally referred to in this blog as Buttercup, accompanied her sad Grandma and Grandpa when they made their remarks.  Just seeing a happy little girl reminded me that youth is evidence of the continuum of life.  A thoughtful staff member at the care facility my grandfather had been living in gave my Mom a small, carved, wooden bird to remember my grandfather.  Mom told Buttercup the bird had no name and she responded with “How about Joy?”  What a perceptive and thoughtful three year-old to come up with that!  I told her that her Uncle James was sad because his Papa was gone and she said “I know.”  Anyone who thinks children don’t understand situations involving death is very mistaken.

Buttercup’s six year-old brother, Mr. Six was no different, but offered some entertainment as well.  While his sister and grandparents were at the front of the funeral chapel for their remarks, I saw his head appear from under the chair next to mine.  He smiled and then began to inch his way like a caterpillar across the floor to the lectern where the other three were standing.  Normally, this sort of behaviour would have been stopped immediately by supervising adults, but on that sad day, it made us all happy to see a happy little boy enjoying life.  Later on, Mr. Six and I were looking at old photos of our late Papa.  He especially liked the ones of his curly mustache and the one where he is sitting in an old wheelbarrow having a drink by an outdoor garbage fire.  Mr. Six made me cry a bit when he started talking about those because they were reminders of Papa’s love for life and his eccentricity.  I hugged him and told him I loved him.  Mr. Six responded; “I love you too Uncle James.”  The innocence and positivity of small people is large and powerful.

Ontario still backwards on beer sales.

Ontario residents can finally be trusted to buy beer and food in the same place, albeit still with intricate restrictions that continue to characterize the backwards booze laws of the province.

Just before Christmas, selected supermarkets in selected locations began selling beer.  The catch there is that the locations were carefully selected and limited to six packs which may only be sold during the hours of when the local locations of The Beer Store (the virtual retail beer monopoly owned by three corporate brewers) are open for business.  The government touted this move as a great liberalization of alcohol sales.  It really isn’t.  The restrictions will still have beer drinkers in southern Ontario heading to Quebec, New York, or Michigan for better prices and selection.  Wine and liquor sales, aside from sporadic distillery or winery-owned stores, are still firmly under the control of the Liquor Control Board of Ontario (LCBO). 

Yesterday, the Alcohol and Gaming Commission announced that non-alcoholic “artisan” products can now be sold in stores owned by individual craft breweries.  Apparently the Ontario government could not previously trust anyone to buy both a bag of cheese curd or bottle of maple syrup and beer at the same time.  Small business owners who produce these products are of course quite pleased, but there is a significant measure of irony in the commission’s decision.  For years, the owners of independent convenience and variety stores in Ontario have wanted to be able to sell beer in their shops.  Their demands have never been met and there’s no sign of that changing soon.  The argument always was that selling beer in variety stores could make it too easy to sell it to those who are under the legal age or are already drunk when making the purchase.  That argument makes no sense since just about every variety store in Ontario sells cigarettes.  It’s against the law to sell those to anyone under 19 and there is a pretty hefty body of evidence showing smoking is not a healthy activity.

Allowing a local maple syrup producer or cheese company to have its products in the shops of craft breweries is basically allowing beer to be sold in small shops with a variety of goods, but not explicitly in variety stores.  This is extremely unfair to the independent convenience store owners who want to sell beer in their shops.  Is there really any difference between selling craft beer beside locally produced cheddar or sausage and selling beer from a big corporate brewery next to jugs of milk or potato chips?  The Ontario government’s changes to regulations on beer sales are not progressive at all.  They are simply a continuation of the decades-old method of ensuring unfair competition between retailers and enforcing alcohol sales through complicated and convoluted means.

La fin des vacances.

Les vacances sont finies. Après deux semaines de la famille et les amis loin de là où je vis et travaille normalement, le moment est venu de revenir à mon autre maison. 4 janvier 2016 sera sans doute un retour à la vie normale pour la plupart des gens. Alors que je conduis dans la moitié sud de l'Ontario de retourner à Ottawa et de Gatineau, les enfants seront en poupe bus jaunes ou en marchant le long des trottoirs enfin enneigées à l'école. Leurs enseignants, et toute autre personne qui a eu différentes mesures de temps de vacances au cours des deux dernières semaines seront dans leurs voitures ou sur les bus et les trains qui retournent au travail. Je suis impatient à un retour à la vie normale. Rien ne commence une nouvelle année meilleure que la vivre et de travailler comme un moyen de mettre les résolutions en action.

La fin de la saison des fêtes prend généralement la forme d'un fondu à la normale. Décorations de Noël sont prises dans les maisons avec des arbres étant disposés dans des méthodes allant d'un voyage à la décharge municipale, des feux de joie, ou tout simplement d'être laissés à l'extérieur comme un habitat pour les oiseaux d'hiver. Les enfants sont les ennuyer et agité, mais réticents à admettre qu'ils manquent de l'amitié et de l'école de stimulation intellectuelle apporte. Une visite avec M. Six cet après-midi a confirmé cette observation. Les centres commerciaux sont déserts. Peu de gens sensés se sentent comme acheter quelque chose d'autre après près de deux mois de la célébration axée sur la consommation. Les températures ont finalement tourné froid, un chiffon humide, trop froid mordant. Ceci est resté à l'intérieur et regarder la télévision au temps de nuit. Ce matin, à l'église, la saison de Noël était techniquement toujours en vigueur, mais en chantant des chants de Noël à côté d'un décor, d'épinettes imposantes sentait maladroit, même si elle était pleinement dans les paramètres du calendrier de l'église. Je suppose que cela soit la preuve le monde séculier n’a encore aucun contrôle sur la religion.

Les deux derniers jours complets des vacances ont été bien dépensés pour moi. Un lecteur de randonnée a été prise le samedi qui a commencé avec quelques arrêts dans la ville natale (il ya quelque chose de sain à obtenir un calendrier gratuit à partir d'un magasin local de matériel), puis nous nous sommes dirigés au nord. En chemin, nous avons visité un magasin de liquidation qui est en quelque sorte un sanctuaire dédié à la culture économe de cette région. L'entrepôt géant sur la propriété d'un ancien silo à grain a été entouré par les véhicules de chasseurs de bonnes affaires. A l'intérieur, l'équivalent de la fièvre de l'or pour le pas cher avait lieu. Les mères et les épouses ont été fouillant dans les poubelles à la recherche de vêtements pour leurs maris et leurs enfants. Un homme a été ardemment lorgne boîtes bosselées sur une étagère dans l'allée de l'épicerie. Je regardais avec lassitude à l'étagère des médicaments et des articles de soins personnels. Souhaitez-vous acheter une bouteille de sirop contre la toux pas dans une boîte en carton et de manquer le sceau de sécurité sur le bouchon?

De la terre de la liquidation nous avons procédé au nord vers le parc provincial MacGregor Point, sur le lac Huron. Peu après son arrivée, nous avons rencontré des amis et le plaisir commence. Dans un monticule entouré de cèdres avec une vue sur la rive, un incendie a été faite. Le café a été brassée, la soupe a été chauffé, et sandwichs au fromage grillé. Chansons ont été chantées et composées. Une promenade à travers les bois et les camps d'hiver douillet suivi. Ce fut un après-midi d'hiver en plein air parfait avec un retour à la maison content.

Je devais ma dernière visite de vacances avec ma sœur et sa famille aujourd'hui. Comme je l'ai dit auparavant, les enfants étaient agités. Ils ont besoin d'un retour à la première année et l'école maternelle. Les biens qui me restaient dans toute la maison de mon parent et les nouveaux I obtenus au cours des deux dernières semaines ont été arrêtés ce soir et la plupart ont été mis dans la voiture de sorte que le voyage peut commencer plus facilement dans la matinée. Je l'espère, il est un lecteur bon retour sur la route de la vie quotidienne normale après ce qui était vraiment un séjour heureux.

The end of holidays.

The holidays are finished.  After two weeks of family and friends far from where I normally live and work, the time has come to return to my other home.  January 4 2016 will without doubt be a return to normal life for most people.  While I’m driving across the southern half of Ontario returning to Ottawa and Gatineau, children will be riding yellow busses or walking along finally snow-covered sidewalks to school.  Their teachers, and anyone else who has had varying measures of holiday time over the past two weeks will be in their cars or on busses and trains returning to work.  I am looking forward to a return to normal life.  Nothing begins a new year better than actually living and working as a way of putting resolutions into action.

The end of the holiday season usually takes the form of a fade to normalcy.  Christmas decorations are taken down in homes with trees being disposed of in methods ranging from a trip to the municipal landfill, bonfires, or simply being left outside as a habitat for winter birds.  Children are bored and restless, but reluctant to admit they miss the friendship and intellectual stimulation school brings.  A visit with Mr. Six this afternoon confirmed this observation.  Shopping centres are deserted.  Few sensible people feel like buying anything else after nearly two months of consumption-driven celebration.  The temperatures have finally turned colder, a damp, chilling cold too.  This is stay inside and watch television at night weather.  This morning in church, the Christmas season technically was still in effect, but singing Christmas carols next to a decorated, towering spruce felt awkward, even if it was fully within the parameters of the church calendar.  I suppose it is proof the secular world still has no control over religion.

The last two full days of the holidays were well spent for me.  A rambling drive was taken on Saturday that began with a couple of stops in the hometown (there’s something wholesome about getting a free calendar from a local hardware store) and then we headed north.  Along the way we visited a liquidation store that is somewhat of a shrine to the thrifty culture of this region.  The giant warehouse on the property of a former grain elevator was surrounded by the vehicles of bargain hunters.  Inside, the equivalent of gold fever for the cheap was taking place.  Mothers and wives were scavenging through bins, looking for clothing for their husbands and children.  A man was eagerly eyeing dented cans on a shelf in the grocery aisle.  I looked wearily at the shelf of medicines and personal care items.  Would you buy a bottle of cough syrup not in a paper carton and missing the safety seal on the cap?

From the land of liquidation we proceeded north towards MacGregor Point Provincial Park on Lake Huron.  Soon after arriving, we met friends and the fun began.  In a knoll surrounded by cedars with a view of the shore, a fire was made.  Coffee was brewed, soup was heated, and cheese sandwiches grilled.  Songs were sung and made up.  A walk through the woods and cosy winter camps followed.  It was a perfect outdoor winter afternoon with a contented trip home.

I had my final holiday visit with my sister and her family today.  As I said before, the children were restless.  They need a return to first grade and nursery school.  The belongings I had left throughout my parent’s house and the new ones I obtained over the past two weeks were rounded up this evening and most were put into the car so the trip can more easily begin in the morning.  I hope it’s a safe drive back on the road to normal, everyday life after what was really a happy holiday.

Le changement d’année.

Pour moi, 2015 fini beaucoup plus comme il a commencé, en compagnie d'amis et la famille de sa ville natale. 31 décembre se composait d'un voyage à proximité d'une petite ville et la navigation dans une librairie, puis le thé dans un café voisin. Puis ce fut au cours de la maison de soins infirmiers à visiter mon grand-père malade. Visites avec Papa ne sont pas faciles. Il ne peut pas marcher et la conversation a été entièrement basée sur les événements, les gens et les lieux du passé. Les meilleurs visiteurs de chose peut faire est de simplement monter avec amusement. Hier, il a demandé qu'une réunion soit mise en place avec quelqu'un de la Colline du Parlement pour faire face à une situation non précisée. Allemands ont également été déplacés apparemment dans la maison de soins infirmiers. Ceci est techniquement vrai qu’il y a beaucoup de noms allemands sur les portes des chambres, et l'installation est affiliée à l'église luthérienne. La semaine dernière, mon frère-frère était premier ministre du Canada par intérim. Après avoir souhaité le vieux patriarche de la famille bien-aimée une Bonne Année, je me rendis chez des amis le long du chemin de la maison à leur souhaiter la même chose. Une pinte de Labatt 50 et quelques noix de bière à la saveur à deux heures de rires.

J'y ai rencontré des amis pour le dîner du réveillon du Nouvel An dans un restaurant populaire dans un village voisin. L'influence allemande est forte dans la cuisine locale ici, donc je commandé une escalope de porc qui était d'environ trois pieds carrés avec un bol de choucroute sur le côté. Pour faire bonne mesure, je commandai une bière d'une brasserie Est de l'Ontario. Je ne peux pas supporter lager-même si elle est un appariement plus authentique pour les escalopes. Le parti a déménagé à une maison d'amis dans une ville voisine après. Plus de gens sont arrivés, tous que je connais depuis de nombreuses années et a été très heureux de voir à nouveau. Presque tous ont eu une sorte de connexion à la ville où je grandi et ai appelé ma maison de famille depuis 25 ans. Jeux ont été joués, la nourriture a été mangé, histoires et des blagues racontées. Conservateurs amis ingénieurs et un fonctionnaire politique poliment encore avec humour tolérés ma défense de Bernie Sanders, mais nous sommes tous d'accord sur la folie de Donald Trump et le drame exagérées entourant Justin Trudeau. Je ne veux pas être trop tard pour en revenir à mes parents lieu. Il était près de une heure de route, la neige tombait, et je ne voulais pas être sur la route quand les routes étaient pleines de crétins de conduite en état d'ébriété. Après son retour d'un autre ami à son domicile, je me suis félicité 2016 relatifs silences avec juste le bruit du moteur de la voiture et les pneus sur une route rurale. Je le klaxon à quelques reprises à minuit. Peut-être que ceux qui dans leurs chambres ou du bétail dans les étables adjacentes vie ferme remarqué.

Une nouvelle année n’est pas de changement drastique. Il est à propos de faire le point sur les priorités de la vie et de l'amélioration de ce que nous faisons déjà. Certains vont décider de perdre du poids. D'autres vont essayer d'arrêter de fumer. Une attitude plus confiante, joyeuse et positive est mes plans pour 2016. Ce ne sont pas des résolutions déraisonnables. Ils vont permettre à d'autres choses qui sont déjà une partie de la vie quotidienne pour avoir de meilleurs résultats. Il y aura des moments de difficulté et de frustration, et le premier jour de la nouvelle année avaient déjà sa part de ceux pour moi. Cela ne signifie pas que les 12 prochains mois vont être une catastrophe. La vie ne continue seulement aussi bon que l'attitude de la personne vivant-il. Je ne suis pas à croire ces prédictions stupides pour l'année à venir rendu par une variété de soi-disant experts.

Le premier jour de l'année 2016 a également apporté une grande quantité de joie. Je visitais ma sœur et sa merveilleuse famille et a joué avec M. Six et Buttercup que je l'aime tellement. Je suis allé faire une promenade pour visiter ma grand-mère solitaire et personnes âgées. Je marchais à travers un parc couvert de neige dans une ville que je l'ai été relié à 25 ans et je me sentais amusé par la façon dont il y a une plaque sur chaque structure dans le parc qui a été fait comme un don parce que les citoyens réfléchis croyaient qu'il était nécessaire et le conseil municipal était trop pas cher de construire quoi que ce soit de leur propre chef. Parcs et espace naturel obtiennent traditionnellement moins d'attention dans les villes où les temples séculaires pour le hockey et le baseball sont en forte demande. Je marchais sur un pont donné par la veuve d'un ancien propriétaire de la concession Ford, puis le long d'un chemin construit dans la mémoire d'un pharmacien fin qui passe par un petit jardin à la mémoire d'un ancien membre du conseil de loisirs et son épouse. Plus loin, il y avait un banc de parc donnant sur la rivière, le nettoyage, l'emplacement naturel étant chargé avec ironie que le banc a été donné en mémoire de l'homme qui a couru une fois le dépotoir de la ville.

2016, nous l'espérons être une amélioration par rapport à 2015. Je veux mettre l'accent, la confiance, et gai, positif, de la détermination. Ce sont des résolutions impossibles difficiles, mais pas.

Bonne année!

The change of year.

2015 ended for me much as it began, in the company of hometown friends and family.  December 31 consisted of a trip to a nearby small city and browsing through a bookstore and then tea at a nearby café.  Then it was over to the nursing home to visit my ailing grandfather.  Visits with Papa are not easy.  He cannot walk and the conversation was entirely based on events, people, and places from the past.  The best thing visitors can do is just ride it out with amusement.  Yesterday, he demanded a meeting be set up with someone from Parliament Hill to deal with an unspecified situation.  Germans were also apparently moving into the nursing home.  This is technically true as there are many German surnames on the doors of the rooms, and the facility is affiliated with the Lutheran church.  Last week, my brother-in-law was Acting Prime Minister of Canada.  After wishing the beloved old family patriarch a Happy New Year, I called on some friends along the way home to wish them the same.  A pint of Labatt’s 50 and some beer nuts brought flavour to two hours of laughs.

I met some friends for New Year’s Eve dinner at a popular restaurant in a nearby village.  The German influence is strong in local cuisine here so I ordered a pork schnitzel that was about three square feet with a bowl of sauerkraut on the side.  For good measure, I ordered an ale from an Eastern Ontario brewery.  I can’t stomach lager—even if it’s a more authentic pairing for schnitzel.  The party moved to a friend’s home in a nearby city after.  More people arrived, all of whom I’ve known for many years and was quite happy to see again.  Almost all of them had some kind of connection to the town where I grew up and have called my family home for 25 years.  Games were played, food was eaten, stories and jokes told.  Conservative engineer friends and a political functionary politely yet humourously tolerated my defence of Bernie Sanders, but we all agreed on the insanity of Donald Trump and the overblown drama surrounding Justin Trudeau.  I didn’t want to be too late getting back to my parents place.  It was nearly an hour’s drive, some snow was falling, and I didn’t want to be on the highway when the roads were full of drunk driving twits.  After returning another friend to his home, I welcomed 2016 in relative silence with just the sound of the car engine and the tires on a rural highway.  I sounded the horn a few times at midnight.  Maybe those in their farmhouse living rooms or livestock in adjacent barns noticed.

A New Year is not about drastic change.  It’s about taking stock of life’s priorities and improving upon what we already do.  Some will decide to lose weight.  Others will try to quit smoking.  A more confident, cheerful, and positive attitude are my plans for 2016.  These are not unreasonable resolutions.  They will enable other things that are already a part of daily life to have better results.  There will be times of difficulty and frustration, and the first day of the new year already had its share of those for me.  This does not mean the next 12 months are going to be a disaster.  Life only goes as good as the attitude of the person living it.  I’m not one to believe those silly predictions for the year ahead as made by a variety of so-called experts. 

The first day of 2016 also brought a great amount of joy.  I visited my sister and her wonderful family and played with Mr. Six and Buttercup whom I love so much.  I went for a walk to visit my lonely and elderly grandmother.  I walked through a snow-covered park in a town I’ve been connected with for 25 years and felt amused by how there is a plaque on every structure in the park that was made as a donation because thoughtful citizens believed it was necessary and the town council was too cheap to build anything on their own.  Parks and natural space traditionally get less attention in towns where secular temples for hockey and baseball are in high demand.  I walked over a bridge donated by the widow of a late Ford dealership owner and then along a path built in memory of a late pharmacist that passes by a small garden in memory of a former recreation board member and his wife.  Further along, there was a park bench overlooking the river, the clean, natural location being loaded with irony as the bench was donated in memory of the man who once ran the town garbage dump.

2016 will hopefully be an improvement upon 2015.  I want focus, confidence, and cheerful, positive, determination.  These are challenging, but not impossible resolutions.

Happy New Year!