It's just plain broken!

As many of you already aware, my next younger brother Dave lost his life at the ungodly age of 56 in a motorcycle accident when a driver coming the opposite way decided to turn left right in front of him on Wed Aug 2nd, 2023. Fast forward to this past week, and the driver's case was finally put in front of the legal system, a full 14 months later, and only due to the fact that the guilty plea was submitted.

The driver was an 60 something year old lady, and although there has been much speculation on the minds of many close to our family as to why she made the decision, there equally as many anguished periods of bewildered contemplation in trying to understand why the gears of the legal system were grinding at such a frustratingly slow pace. Information surrounding the accident was kept close to the chests of the authorities for a painfully long stretch, and our family struggled with the snippets that did find their way to us, often prompting anguish and heartache.

At the beginning of October (I have forgotten the actual date), the Crown met with those in the family that could attend to discuss the ramifications surrounding a handful of delays and decisions that were having a profoundly disturbing effect on the proceedings. Despite the delay, my family was relieved to meet with the potential of learning information that came directly "from the horse's mouth", as it were ... or at least we thought.

The delay in legal action, it was explained, was due to the backlog of cases, and to the rights that the accused had to 'appropriate' representation, specifically her ESL needs requiring a translator. These two issues were creating a potentially horrific cascade of dominos that might allow her to walk away without meaningful repercussion. I am sure that anyone reading this can empathize with the emotional roller coaster we had just been loaded into. As it turned out, for the case to proceed to a legitimate trial, all of her rights had to met to make the mark in the court calendar, and (drumroll) if the case couldn't be scheduled within 18 months, the pending charges would be dropped.

Wait ... WHAT?

The only saving grace (odd term in this case) was if she were to plead guilty to a lesser charge, making an illegal left turn, a plea that would remove my brother's death from the case entirely, she would still face some form of punishment, even if it was simply a fine. Any sane individual in our family's situation would find that unpalatable and insulting, but there it was, staring us dead in the face, it's balled fist ready to strike. With the Crown and the attending officer choosing their words very carefully, they responded to the angered outcries of consternation coming from our side of the table, as it became obvious that Dave's demise was about to slip through the cracks in the legal system like so much melting ice.

All of this came to a head when our family was invited (another odd choice of word) to Zoom the court proceedings surrounding her plea. Imagine if you can, being the mother of a child who was robbed of a full life and the person responsible be allowed to pay a fine in traffic court, but that's what my mother had to deal with, and the flames of her pain were 'fanned' by the defence attorney's attempts to paint his client as the victim. Since our family was muted and unable to interact, there were questions that arose that begged to have answers, so following the conclusion of the trial, my mother reached out to the system for answers, but the responses only served to exacerbate the confusion.

The defence stated that my brother was going 77 kph just prior to the collision, but anyone who knew Dave in any way, shape, or form would know that he was a very conscientious and defensive cyclist.

The response received indicated that tire marks indicated a speed of 40 kph at the time of impact, while the accident recreation report cited it was likely that Dave was accelerating towards a speed of 77 kph. There was dash-cam footage of the collision showing the car cutting off Dave, leaving him little or no time to react, so does it even matter how fast he was going? The fact that the defence was allowed to insinuate that Dave was at fault in some manner was treacherous and deceitful.

The defence also stated that the accused required a full year to pay the $1000 maximum fine for her discretion, due to the fact that she existed on a monthly income of $800 per month.

Who can possibly live in the city of Barrie on $800 per month? It's obvious that she has either (a) hidden streams of income, or (b) someone assisting her. 

What remains is an unpalatable gross negligence that the Canadian legal system equates my brother's life to $1000.00, and the pain, anguish, suffering, and financial implications of his family's life without him in it the carnage of what we Canadians are forced to accept in today's world. Compounding all of the decrepit details was the revelation that she would no longer be allowed to drive ... unless it was an emergency. 

Seriously? Who gets to define what amounts to an emergency? Her? Her family?

Our legal system is just plain broken folks, FULL STOP!

I love you Dave, always have, always will.

God rest your soul as you family struggles with how Canada has decided what your life was worth. Our clan will continue to support Dave's immediate family as they deal with the continuing injustice that has befallen them.

No ordinary guy!

When you decide that you have found THE ONE, and you both agree to make it official, you have to accept their family dynamics into your life ... NOT that I am complaining. Actually, if I'm honest, far from it, but we all have our curiosities, stories, and skeletons, so when you get the opportunity to learn a wee bit more about that "adopted" group, it's usually an eyebrow raising affair.

My bestie has an Uncle Dick ... or I guess it's appropriate to say she had, since he passed recently ... the older brother of my MIL Pearl. Although I was able to spend some quality hours with Uncle Dick over the past few years, I didn't really know his story very well. I learned a lot of new information when we gathered at his home following a beautifully loving farewell service.

His birth names were James Samuel. At that gathering following his service his curious nickname was discussed at length and was punctuated by a lot of head scratching and shoulder shrugging since no one could offer information about where the moniker came from, other than the fact that he had been addressed that way for decades. Joyce has always known her uncle as Dick, but the gathering of life-long friends at his service would reveal that he was known as Jim or Jimmy as well.

How confusing is that?

Now Dick is a name that you don't hear much anymore, aside from the obvious snickers it generates from today's young'uns, and it seems to have fallen out of favour. I've know a few Dicks over my years (the NAME not the quality), but all of them were originally labelled Richard, and for a variety of reasons, were "shortened" to Dick. If you wish a more all-encompassing explanation, CLICK HERE, but suffice it to say that once the 1970's hit, and with it an expanded sexual liberty, the oft used nickname for the male appendage became wide spread, prompting the name to fall out of the top 1000 baby names quickly. 

Getting back to Joyce's uncle.

Almost as a polar opposite of the insinuated meaning for male parts, Uncle Dick was a genuinely astonishing human being who was quick with a smile, full of one liners, generous to a fault, and definitely "old school" ... but he was born in 1925 so no one could blame him! One of the polarizing personalities throughout his years in his adopted home town of Georgetown, Dick was an iconic symbol of what it was to be a good person, establishing life long friendships in his neighbourhood, on the golf course, and at the coffee shops in town. Above all else, Dick was the consummate family man, insisting that all family gatherings take place in his home, spreading his love equally as he revelled in his grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Where did this gem of a human learn to be so awesome?

Born in 1925 into the abject poverty of Upper Gagetown in rural New Brunswick, he quickly learned that there was a popular way to live life, and then there was the Painter way ... actually, the Paynter way ... but that's another story for another time. The family suffered the untimely passing of their father in 1933, what history buffs will recognize was during The Great Depression, with Dick a wee lad of 8 years (grade 3) at the time, the family decision was that he would forgo the remainder of his school experience to help the family's need. He found work thanks to his older brother Charlie in a logging camp, chopping wood for the cook to run the stove, true 'blue collar' employment that would be a continuing theme throughout his working life. As it would turn out, trees would become a central component of his earning years, investing 30 years at the paper mill in Georgetown after moving to Ontario with his beloved Ruth.

In a rather cute story, Dick met his soul mate Ruth thanks to his job building roads in rural NB. He was recommended a rooming house run by Ruth's mother, and since her daughter would need a ride back into town every now and again, the rather smitten Dick was more than happy to oblige her needs. After a few shared journeys, the rest is history, as the saying goes.

Shouldering more than their fair share of hardships, the family would lose 2nd born son John Paynter in WWI, drawing the remaining siblings together with even tighter bonds, John's military pension helped make ends meet during some really tough times. Life in Upper Gagetown during this point in history meant no running water, no indoor plumbing, and even no floors in portions of the home. 

Fast forward a gaggle of years, Dick and his older brother Charlie relocated to Georgetown, and in a stroke of financial genius, purchased a large triple lot in the city's northeast end. They severed the lot into 3, sold the one, the proceeds helping build two identical homes side by each in 1955. Living beside your brother means that your two families become intertwined, the kids viewing their cousins more like siblings. Add to this that my in-laws, Pearl and Jim, lived in the same city not far away, and the recipe for a tight family becoming even tighter was a certainty. Unfortunately, Charlie and his wife Helen would predecease Dick, as would his beloved Ruth, but everyone's favourite uncle would remain a stalwart force in the neighbourhood for 49 years until being 98 years young eventually forced the family hand, his health deterioration causing a fall that forced a hospital stay and Covid infection that proved to be too much for his system to handle.

James Samuel Paynter mercifully passed in his 99th year.

Joyce and I offer our most sincere, heartfelt condolences to Joyce's Mom Pearl for the loss of her bestest buddy Dick, her cousin Kevin and the rest of the Georgetown Paynter clan, and Joyce's many relatives who made the trip from near and far to celebrate a life well lived.

He was CERTAINLY no ordinary guy!

I'm honoured and humbled

Sometimes we're good, but more often than not, we've surrounded ourselves with good, and that often leads, to coin a phrase from my good friend Kevin Simms, to SUPER good! Those are the things that fill our hearts with warm fuzzies, feed our souls with positivism, and prompt a 1000 watt smile. Thanks to many quality choices over my 35+ year coaching career, I wa
s blessed with relationships that made me a better human, and a prime example of that was a deep friendship that blossomed thanks to our love of a fringe sport here in Canada ... Rugby.

Ron Andrews and I met while pounding the sidewalks out front of Barrie Central just days after making the leap from the elementary panel to secondary, a partnership formed over a passion for coaching and a love of rugby. Moving forward, we got up to a host of shenanigans over our 20+ years together, many of them immersed in high school sports as we co-coached our way through teaching careers at Barrie Central then Barrie North. In my personal truest personification of the saying "the whole greater than the sum of its parts", we shared in a lot of success and jointly created portions of our resumes that prompted my nomination of Ron for the Barrie Sports Hall of Fame in 2019, and his reciprocated nomination of me here in 2024. 

My induction ceremony is still fresh in my mind.

Below is the acceptance speech I gave at the behest of the BSHOF committee on that night. I decided to share it here because it makes some poignant points which I feel strongly need to be heard by as many as possible.

Members of the Barrie Sports Hall of Fame Committee, fellow inductees, esteemed guests, beloved families, and cherished friends,

As part of the input from the Hall of Fame committee, it was suggested that a small acceptance speech would be appropriate … emphasis on small. Those of you who know me well are astutely aware that I don’t shy away from the microphone, so I’ll do my best to keep to an acceptable time frame. 

My apologies in advance, be they required.

It behooves me to open with a heartfelt, sincere thank you to my former colleague, co-coach, mentor and incredible friend, Ron Andrews, for not only nominating me, but leading me, supporting me, and embracing our friendship over so many years. We are kindred spirits, he and I, with nary a disagreement during our entire relationship, something I have come to know as extremely rare and special.

Without that relationship, there wouldn’t be this honour.

Any person bestowed such an honour has a lengthy list of those in their lives that sacrificed to allow the bullet list of accomplishments leading first to nomination, then enshrinement. I am no different, but considering that my experience permeates a number of organizations, sports, and institutions over 30 plus years, to list individuals would inevitably mean that some may be missed, and that would not be my wish. My ever-present goal was to ensure that each of the coaches and athletes I interacted with came away with an understanding of how much I appreciated them and their efforts so I am confident that they know how much our shared time meant, and great a part they played in the pathway to me standing before you tonight.

I thank each and every one of them with all I have.

As such, I do feel compelled to declare my sincerest and profound gratitude to my wife Joyce since it was her willingness to become SuperMom in those early years that made that resume possible. She's the rock that we built our Life on together as she shouldered the load of our toddler's needs and all that comes along with that, while I was chasing my passions. It's considered corny to say, but I absolutely grow more in love with her each and every year. 

My gratitude also absolutely extends to my children Maddison and Keaton, since they each sacrificed hours with dad and tolerated me swooping in for dinner, bath, and bedtime routines, before I bolted out the door again for a night game or practice. When they were a little older, some of that time was spent sharing their chosen sports, and they shouldered that “blessing” like Champions, enduring the tenuous combo of DAD-COACH, each blossoming in the circumstances as we jointly realized more than our fair share of success. I will never regret coaching my kids, but you’ll have to ask them if it was worth it. I will unequivocally state that standing here before you is one SUPER proud dad.

To be here today is a dream come true, but not for the reasons that some might surmise at first guest. Having this incredible honour bestowed upon me and my family, in my mind, is the ultimate justification for the countless hours invested in other people's children in my determination to ensure that the young people I had opportunity to work with came away from their athletic experiences with the same pride, satisfaction, and sense of accomplishment that was gifted to me when growing up in this amazing city. 

For me, coaching has always been about paying it forward, a lesson I learned at the knee of my dearly departed father, gone now 18 years. He would be sitting there in the front row, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. I am wearing his Queen's Football Hall of Fame ring tonight that a part of him is present to 'see' this.

Let’s not call it by any other name … I was, and continue to be, blessed. 

Blessed to have had life-altering moments as an athlete thanks to the coaches who gifted me hours out of their lives, igniting the flames of my own coaching desires.

Blessed to have had all those parents trust me with their greatest treasures over 35+ years of coaching, supporting the team’s efforts with such positivism and joy ... and, of course, with their financial sacrifices.

Blessed to benefit from so many gifted, dedicated, focused, enthusiastic, and determined young people for willingly accepting my guidance and input, applying it with such skill and poise.

Blessed to have coached with some giants who allowed me to stand on their shoulders, accepting me and all of my quirks, sharing their expertise, and bolstering my passion with theirs.

As I am sure any of the members of the Hall in this Builder Category can attest, enshrinement is a singular recognition of a team award, or more appropriately, teams. No coach can be successful without athletes and families willing to embrace his/her teachings and recommendations, no championships or accolades earned without the singular, unified mindset of the many.

I accept this honour with a humbled heart on behalf of what I estimate to be thousands of athletes.

Being a Barrie Boy through and through, I have been attended a number of these Hall of Fame ceremonies for athletes or teams I've worked with, vicariously celebrating their recognition as they shone the spot light on our beloved city's sporting successes, daring to dream if that could be me at some time in the future. For the Hall to acknowledge that my career’s good fortunate was worthy of special attention makes my heart swell with pride, and for that there are no words of thanks that will suffice.

To everyone in the Barrie Sports Hall of Fame that played a part in this, not the least of which is the artist, Sheila Romard, who’s talent created the picture behind that curtain, you all have my sincerest thanks for making an old coach’s dream come true.

To my fellow 2024 inductees Dan Mariouelli, Emily MacTavish, and duo Mitchel Islam & Alexandra Paul, if you've come away with the same feelings as I surrounding this incredible recognition, you'll most certainly have spent the day after taking stock of your blessings, a profound sense of humility flooding your soul. You all spoke along similar themes in your acceptance of your induction, and as I hung on your every word, a flood of warmth filled me from the toes up as I realized how blessed and fortunate we all were and are to have Barrie to thank for helping make our lives spectacular.

I can't say enough about the volunteers that comprise the committee that guardians the Hall. Your efforts, energy, and time are remarkable, generous, and appreciated. In fact, I am so moved by the entire process, I publicly  profess that I will offer my own energies to the committee that others will be gifted this experience in the future. 

Would any of you Barrie Boys or Girls care to join me? I can't think of a more worthy endeavour!

For the Love of the Game v2.0

As the old saying goes, "Lightning never strikes twice", an adage reflecting on the the rarity of one singular location being afflicted with nature's electrical fury, so when I returned to GBDSS the other day for more refereeing duty, I was reminded of the post I published last fall (see below) about an equally rare event ... the scoreboard bagel!

As many of you already know, I am actively pursuing a retirement side hustle in refereeing. I fell in love with basketball at an early age ... thank you Jimmy Stevenson ... and after 50+ years playing, coaching, and now officiating. I felt like I had pretty much seen it all.

That changed the other day when I witnessed an example of the true love of the game with my front row seat!

I travelled to the quaint city of Midland the other day for an assignment to officiate at Georgian Bay Secondary, a shining, beautiful newer high school that I had not previously been privileged to experience. The game featured a regular season clash between Barrie's Nouvelle Alliance Tournades and the host GB Bears. I had little to no previous knowledge of either's 2023 standings but I was astutely aware of historical trends siding with Nouvelle's proficiency on the hardcourt.

Watching the teams warm up, I immediately recognized that while enthusiasm was plentiful, the skill level was a work in progress, and I surmised that the teams would prove to be fairly equal, making for a potentially exciting game. As the first quarter played out, the visitor's side of the scoreboard built steadily, turning over with regularity thanks to some decent defensive pressure that produced a number of transition layups. The home team wasn't specifically outmatched, but try as they may, they couldn't turn quality scoring opportunities into points.

As the first quarter horn sounded, the game was already a lopsided affair, yet I found myself internally cheering for the hosts. I had been a part of games in my coaching career where despite superlative efforts, the success was a long time in coming, but I had rarely seen or been a part of a game with a goose egg. 

As the second quarter commenced, I had every confidence that GB would finally find the mark.

After all, their coach wore a huge grin as they employed his offensive systems, often resulting in point blank range shots with time to execute the skill without pressure, but despite his cheers and use of time outs to praise their efforts, the rim's aperture seemed to be shrinking with each passing minute.

As the GB players took to the court to start the second half, I fully expected to see some long faces and chins on chests, but to my delightful astonishment, their faces were adorned with wide grins and mouths chattering with excited energy, so I was hopeful that the bagel would be dealt with. Sadly, the proof was in the pudding, and the second half proved to be a continuance of the first, the Tornades steadily building their total while the Bears' shots careened off the rim. I will admit that my sense of internal professionalism was in serious jeopardy as I willed the ball with all of my might to find it's target, and even with the cheers of the partisan crowd to bolster their efforts, that cursed orange sphere would simply not cooperate for the home side. 

In the end, the final horn signalled the completion of my duties, and with it, any opportunity for redemption, the zero shining as bright as a dying star. I realized that I had witnessed something previously unseen. As the equipment was dismantled and I changed my gear for the trek back to the beach, I anticipated a few downtrodden souls to pass on the way out of the gym. 

The parental praise, the big smiles, and the laughter of self-critical replays of the game's action told a much different story.

Despite the lack of scoring success, the game proved to be an enjoyable, positive affair for the home side, and I came away with a new found appreciation for the saying, "For the love of the game". The easy thing to do would have been to complain about fairness, or coaching, or officiating, but these families were anything but sad.

Kudos to NA for their execution and effort, but also for the way they addressed the situation. It would have been easy to slip into making a mockery of the game, but they play with all possible integrity and sportsmanship. 

Kudos to GB for giving it everything they had.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. While I'll still admit that winning is waaaaaay better than losing, it begs the confession that if one plays as well as one can, the outcome truly doesn't matter.

I give the host players and coaches my personal standing ovation!

This year's assignment involved host GBD Bears and the visiting NPSS Timberwolves, and based on history, I was fearful that GBD might suffer a similar fate since NP has enjoyed their fair share of success since opening a decade ago. What struck me straight away as both Sr teams warmed up was the reduced numbers of players for both sides, perhaps still the remnants of Covid, and watching for a while as both struggled for success on shot attempts, I wasn't at all sure who I would pick as the stronger.

Once the game began, however, it quickly became apparent that the tables had turned for GBD as their side of the scoreboard ticked over with regularity, the NP side registering the bagel for the entire first quarter. Like last year's game, the effort was high, the execution not so much, as NP offensive possessions came away 'shotless' thanks to GBD pressure resulting in errant passes and multiple held ball situations.

The threat of the bagel disappeared in the third quarter when a long range heave on a dying shot clock bounced its way around the ring before going through, much to the delight of the Timberwolves players and fans. In the end, there would be no repeat of last year's rarity, at least not on the scoreboard. 

What was repeated were the smiles and laughter coming despite the loss ... a credit to the positivism of the young man who was the NP coach. Kudos as well to the GBD coaching staff for staying the course and turning what was a challenging season a year ago into a promising one for this one.

Life is GOOD folks ... and Life in retirement is GREAT!

Big Box woes!

 After almost 61 years roaming this planet, I have learned that there are some things I have no control over, regardless of how much they burn my hind end, and the prudent advice from so many is to shrug and let it slide. I admit that I find that easy to do ... sometimes ... but encounter times (FAR too regularly!) where my consternation rises to levels that make shrugging a challenge. One weekend in the recent past, Life presented as one of those times.

It all started out well enough.

I ventured northward to Midland to assist my referee board (BDABO) with the new official training that was being run at the North Simcoe Recreation Centre. This is an annual Jr Girls' basketball tournament organized by our executive, and since I'm the newly named Secretary, I felt it important to lend a hand. The plan is to bring our brand new and inexperienced officials into a common location and pair them up with an experienced official for a morning of one on one advice and input. I was a little more excited than normal to offer some input since two of the 'newbies' were former players, one from SCDSB days, Curtis Shakespeare, and one from GC State days, Ben Dance.

I don't mind sharing that the morning was a glorious affair, highly entertaining, thoroughly satisfying, and an incredibly useful investment of time. The schools that participated featured a host of young ladies who were most eager and enthusiastic, presenting more than enough challenge and ripe with learning opportunities. 

Life felt awfully good on the drive home, but the roller coaster was simply cresting the hill.

Sitting down at my laptop to complete the evaluations that I had to complete, I checked my email and found a reply for the service request I had made to Best Buy about my Shokz ear buds. 

The back story is that I purchased a pair of Shokz Open Fit Ear buds last March to use while cycling because they were bone conduction types, allowing for music while still allowing me to hear the traffic around me. They were 'just what the Dr ordered' until a service request became necessary because the right bud had lost its ability to charge fully, meaning that it had less that half of the battery life of the left one. I had bought the extended protection plan to the tune of $79.99 for 3 years, so I figured that I was well covered by the Shokz warranty combined with the extended plan.

How silly was I?

The email I received from Best Buy included a gift card for the purchase amount plus taxes, and it struck me that even though I could use the value to purchased new ear buds, how would that affect the plan I purchased? I used the Best Buy customer portal to find the contact info and reached a young female who, upon hearing of my query, informed me that the plan was now defunct because they only applied to the old ear buds. Okay, I agreed, I understand what you're saying, so replace them instead of giving me a gift card, so that the plan I paid for would still apply. Barring that, refund some of the plan cost since it was only 4 months into a 36 month plan.

NOPE! Not the way they do things.

I was pissed, but tried to sound calm as I politely asked to be passed along up the 'food chain' to lodge a complaint with someone who had the power to change my frustration. NOPE again! She 'wasn't authorized' to do that, which only stoked the flames, and left the only choice of calling back and going through the whole auto-answer hoops. 

In the end, I'm out $79.99, and I politely but sternly informed the young gentleman I was now communicating with that I was very displeased and wanted a record of the conversation sent to customer service. He reacted exactly the way corporate had trained him and with a sugary-sweet voice, "I completely understand your frustration Stephen, and will ensure that your concerns are directed through the appropriate channels." 

Huh? Does that mean yes?

So, the weekend started out brilliantly, then crashed and burned like the loser of an aerial dog fight, complete with the whining sound effects of a falling jet fighter. All I could do was wait patiently to see if someone decides to follow up. To add insult to injury, the salt in the wound came with another email asking that a customer satisfaction survey be filled out. They got what they deserved, albeit minus the crass language, but I bet they don't keep that one on file!

As a parting shot, be forewarned when dealing with Best Buy, and don't purchase the extended protection plan ... unless you enjoy padding their pockets with a donation!

I know, BIG breath in, hold it, and slowly exhale.

PEI or Bust!

In an emotional response to some unsettling things of late, my bestie and I decided that there's no time like the present and booked an spur-of-the-moment vacation to Prince Edward Island to check off one of the items on our Bucket List. We decided that the drive was not intimidating (Uhh, foreshadowing), so it provided us with an opportunity to see some areas of Canada and the US that were previously unknown to us, and we came away with an complete sense of satisfaction! We'd highly encourage anyone who has not yet ventured that direction to embrace the challenge and Git 'R Dun!

What follows is a list of thoughts and impressions that stuck in my grey matter:

Quebec City, QB

We decided that the trip out east would be done inside Canada so we booked accommodations in both Quebec City and St John, partially because neither of us had been before but had heard about how wonderful they were, but also since they offered geographical features that generated some giddy excitement. We're beach lovers after all.

We enjoyed pretty fair driving weather until we neared Ontario's most eastern city of Cornwall, encountering rain for most of the drive to QC. We bypassed Montreal in a teeming downpour, but were pleased with some sunshine as we neared the day's destination, and after checking into our hotel (complete with bike storage containers!), we did a walking tour of the old city, starting at the Citadel. If you've never been, the ambiance and architecture of the old city is a "must see it to believe it" place! I could write paragraphs on the beauty of the old buildings and the 'buzz' of the energy, but none of it would create the feelings we experienced as we looked the part of tourists, craning our necks this way and that. 

After a 2 hour stroll, and with the light waning, we decided to grab something to eat on the way back to the hotel, somehow stumbling upon Pizza MAG just off Rue Saint Louis, and were treated to one of the best pizza dinners we've ever experienced! Our young waitress was very patient with our lack of Francais as we scanned the menu, and after filling our bellies, she explained that the kitchen had made an error with one of the pies so they were giving us a two-fer! 

What? Nice!

St John, NB

Our trip to St John the next day was much less wet, although we still had to deal with roving rainclouds, and like yesterday, the skies cleared as we arrived, allowing us to enjoy a beautiful, picturesque walk from the hotel to the harbour where we grabbed a most delicious fish and chip meal on a patio overlooking the ships. We were both astounded by the level that the tide rose and fell, the barnacles and seaweed evidence of at least a 6 m change (20'ish feet for the non-Metric types). Again, our server was most patient and pleasant, and we walked off our full bellies with a stroll around the harbour in the twilight.

Like QC, I don't have the words to do the sights justice, so I'll simply invite you to put it on your list.

Prince Edward Island

Since we were driving from the New Brunswick side, we opted to use the Confederation Bridge to access the island with it's 13 km expanse having the stereotypical sense of astonishment on our faces as we marvelled at the feats of engineering to build such a structure. Our rented cottage was not too far from the bridge exit, and arriving at Augustine Cove, we were greeted by an equally jaw-dropping vista of the beautiful seaside at our cottage. We were staying on the south side of the island, the portion that featured red sandstone cliffs and shallow waters that were profoundly impacted by the tidal pulses that exposed 2 or 3 football field long low tide beaches allowing us to walk the width of the cove with only occasional shallow water crossings. For two bumpkins from Ontario, despite living on a beach, the sights left us gobsmacked!

If you know me, you'll not be at all surprised to hear that we brought the bikes! 

I have to admit that I was not at all prepared for the hilliness of the island, my rides accumulating close to 1000 m of climbing over a 100 km. The highlight of the week was the day that I set out for Charlottetown, some 40 km away, with the intention of picking up PEI's famous Confederation Trail to come back, a retired rail line much like the Simcoe County Rail Trail here at home. I was treated to a twisty, winding path of crushed limestone for nearly 75 km, passing through a host of little hamlets, and I even found a wee frozen yoghurt stand kind enough to refill my water bottles. The CT traverses almost all of the island for those that were of the mindset to do some bike-packing.

Another sight that needs to make the list is Cavendish Beach, but you'll have to grab a day pass since it's a part of the park system down there. We walked along the beach for an hour and a half before deciding we couldn't reach the end, the 5 m sand dunes, deserted beach, and assortment of sea life highlights for our efforts.

If you're in the east coast, ya gotta have some lobster, eh?

We decided to splurge on an authentic church supper in New Glasgow, a curious little hamlet in the north west of the island, and despite its hefty price tag, came away with a positive experience. for $50 a person, you get unlimited chowder, mussels, and deserts plus a lobster + potato/coleslaw salad side dishes for an entree. Although pricey, the whole experience made it a worth while adventure.

Of course, any trip to PEI would be incomplete without some lighthouses, so a few mini-roadies allowed us to explore the outer regions of the island, but it was a weird feeling to drive for literally hours to reach somewhere on an island. I guess we're just not used to that living in Onterrible. Another sight-seeing oddity if you're interested surrounds PEI's plethora of little white churches, and on one trip out to the most eastern portion of the island, we passed by 15 of them! No, we didn't count them twice! 

Maine, Vermont, and New York!

Since we chose to arrive in PEI via the Canadian route, we decided to return via the USA, and learning a few things along the way made it a great choice. Our first overnight was in Portland, Maine, and thanks to some appreciated advice from the hotel staff, we took in the beauty of the Portland harbour with its sights, smells, and lighthouses. The Spring Point lighthouse was at the end of a man-made pier comprised of massive chunks of concrete, whose size made for a wonky walk since there was a considerable space between the boulders. After surviving that experience, a little more detective work revealed that Spring Point was actually an old fortress, the hill (or so we thought) was actually buttresses, barracks, and armourments that must have been a part of the harbours defences at one time. 

Being inherently frugal (I'm a former teacher, after all), I convinced Joyce that we should take the "senile" route across Main, Vermont, and New Hampshire on route to New York so that we could avoid the ridiculous number of tolls using the turnpikes. As much as that decision treated us to some incredible vistas, especially through the incredible mountains of Vermont, it did make for some 'white-knuckled' twisty-turny descents as we raced the foreboding rainclouds rolling in from the west ... yep, more rain! We even found a cute little Swiss chalet style store, high up in the hills, to purchase some Vermont old cheddar, a fav of our daughter and hubby. 

Keeping with the trip's theme, we drove through some incredible rain storms in NY state on route to our hotel in Farmington for the night, but the fringe benefit was the Presbyterian car wash that got rid of all the red dust from PEI. 

Back home in Da Beach

In the end, a host of memories were made, items checked off the Bucket List, and new plans for future travel hatched. 

Ahhh, retirement is quite okay, if I'm honest.

Happiness secrets

I often sit down at the laptop with no particular goal in mind and tour around the Internet in search of little gems that move me on an emotional level. Although those of you that spend some time cruising social media and the like may have potentially seen some of the posts that I've shared of late, I consciously choose to put them out there again in the off chance that they passed by your notice. I use an Apple app called Notes to store the ones that I really enjoy, and while I do make an effort to find the source of the inspiration, sometimes it just isn't possible. Like the case below, I share and give full credit to the author, whomever he/she may be.

As I said, this stirred my soul, and I feel strongly that moments like this should be shared.

Can I let you in on a little secret?

Not everyone likes you.
I mean, maybe not right now, but at some point in your life, there will be people that don’t like you.

People that don’t get you.
People that roll their eyes when you start speaking.
People that ignore you when you walk into a room.
People that won’t make room for you at their table.

Want to know another little secret?
It doesn’t matter. 

Not even a little.

You see, you aren’t here in this life to make everyone happy. 

You aren’t here to be everyone’s favourite. 

You aren’t here to be perfect. 

Everyone can’t be your focus.

And once you realize that truth and stop trying to understand why some people ice you out or talk behind your back or don’t like the sound of your voice, well that’s when you can really start living!

Next time you enter a room and start to panic about someone there not liking you, remember this secret ... 

It doesn’t matter.

The people that love you, they matter.
The things that bring you joy, they matter.
The values around which you build your life, they matter.

Even if you don’t matter to everyone, you matter to the important ones.
So, get out there and live your life. 

Let the haters fade into the background where they belong.

And let your true self shine bright.

It matters!

I can't count the number of conversations I have had about the folly of trying to please everyone and lending weight to the opinions of others. While I do feel there is a small part of me that values the opinions of those that hold value in my life, I can confidently state that the opinion of others is of little consequence to me because I am very comfortable in my own skin, have successfully developed a keen sense of who I am, and like the person born out of all of that. I know that makes me a bit of an outlier, and I dearly love some people that find ignoring the thoughts of the naysayers difficult, but IMHO there's a fine line drawn in the sand when it boils down to how much of the weight from other's opinions I'll choose to carry as I walk through this life.

I'm comfortable with me, and I feel strongly that I am happier because of it.